Today (going into tomorrow) is my last shift at KGH. Its pretty crazy. This summer went by so fast, too fast really to be able to enjoy it and make the best of it. Of course now, its cold and gross outside all the time, as if signaling that I have once again missed the opportunity to really explore and have fun with my summer.
I'm actually irrationally nervous about my last shift. It just feels lately like every time I leave with the knowledge that I have not done something truly regrettable or negligent, I am indebted to the gods. I guess that is the nature of an understaffed, overworked hospital, especially when you're a new grad. Its sad to say and sounds even more horrifying when you're not a nurse, but its true. I've randomly thought about calling in sick and become delirious with excitement, but Julian, my moral anchor/restraint has made me feel guilty about even considering it.
I brought my laptop to the goat with some intention to work on my story but I haven't been able to start. I have a familiar feeling that it is all in vain, and that it will never be good enough to really consider honest writing, let a lone a novel. It feels strange now, reading a published book and analyzing every sentence and comparing it to my own work in progress. Sometimes it feels super educational, one of the most enjoyable learning experiences I've had. Other times, it seems to serve to just remind me of how vacant and fragmented my own writing it. Its hard to decide what will be an 'artistic' decision/risk and what is simply poor or inadequate writing. You don't want your writing to be like anybody else's but you certainly don't want your writing to be inferior/inadequate when compared to the stuff out there, in meaning, intention, purpose, etc.
12 hours from now I will be halfway through my last shift. 24 hours from now I may be fully rested from it and I can be sure to have accumulated the last bit of fuel for nursing nightmares. . . at least for a while.
I'm actually irrationally nervous about my last shift. It just feels lately like every time I leave with the knowledge that I have not done something truly regrettable or negligent, I am indebted to the gods. I guess that is the nature of an understaffed, overworked hospital, especially when you're a new grad. Its sad to say and sounds even more horrifying when you're not a nurse, but its true. I've randomly thought about calling in sick and become delirious with excitement, but Julian, my moral anchor/restraint has made me feel guilty about even considering it.
I brought my laptop to the goat with some intention to work on my story but I haven't been able to start. I have a familiar feeling that it is all in vain, and that it will never be good enough to really consider honest writing, let a lone a novel. It feels strange now, reading a published book and analyzing every sentence and comparing it to my own work in progress. Sometimes it feels super educational, one of the most enjoyable learning experiences I've had. Other times, it seems to serve to just remind me of how vacant and fragmented my own writing it. Its hard to decide what will be an 'artistic' decision/risk and what is simply poor or inadequate writing. You don't want your writing to be like anybody else's but you certainly don't want your writing to be inferior/inadequate when compared to the stuff out there, in meaning, intention, purpose, etc.
12 hours from now I will be halfway through my last shift. 24 hours from now I may be fully rested from it and I can be sure to have accumulated the last bit of fuel for nursing nightmares. . . at least for a while.
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