A New Winner
Mr. K and I have been talking about my eventual reapplication to nursing school. (See, you just knew nursing school had to be involved, didn't you? But wait. They've really outshone their previous efforts.) And, in an uncharacteristic fit of something I've heard termed planning ahead (strange concept, but I'm game) I opted to check the website today to make sure that none of the requirements had changed. Not to be paranoid, but I'm fairly certain that the nursing school application committee, when not reading applications, is holed up with a generous supply of vodka, pens, and paper, working on ways to thwart would-be nursing students. I'm pretty sure there's giggling involved.
Anyway, I figured there might be another class added to the prereqs or something, and I have time now to take the class before the application deadline. Clever, no?
No. Because there is a new requirement but it's this: the three recommendation forms I submitted from doctors with whom I've worked closely will no longer be sufficient. I still need three recommendations, but now at least two of them must be from members of the nursing school faculty. Let me repeat that: in order to get into nursing school, I must have letters of recommendation from people who teach classes that I am not allowed to take unless and until I am accepted into nursing school. Clear? Oh, and they have to rate me in specific areas, such as my leadership abilities, my judgement, my skill at creating and supporting cultural diversity (no, even Ms. K could not make this nonsense up--it's all true), and my self-confidence, among other things. The website did not offer any helpful suggestions as to how I might obtain these recommendations from people who do not know me; neither did it offer a place where I might leave my own suggestions regarding this matter. Just as well. It would have involved some anatomical impossibilities.
So, to celebrate what I am coming to think of as Asshole Day, I've come up with a list of appropriate ways to pay homage to this instance of brilliant thinking. For instance:
From now on, I will only see movies that have been reviewed by people who have never seen them.
I will only eat at restaurants that have been recommended to me by people who have not eaten there.
Allergic to dairy products? Then you're just the person I need to help me choose the best ice cream store in the greater Seattle area.
If you're tone deaf, I have a job for you. Please help me choose some music to buy that you think I'd like.
I'll be asking some vegetarian friends to help me choose between barbecued pork recipes, the Seahawks quarterback to recommend a good manicurist, and a friend of mine who doesn't drive to help me choose my next car. If I knew any non-english speakers, I'd hire them to read my school material for me as well. It would all make about as much sense.
You can help, too. I'm looking for someone to select yarn for me. However, you may not actually see the yarns you're selecting from. You may not feel them, or smell them, or handle them in any way. You may see the label, but be warned that there is no way to be certain that what is on the label is even true. Since they all want to get picked, it's possible that some acrylic could sneak in there and claim to be lambswool. Since you can't touch them, how would you know? There are people out there who have seen all the yarns, and have seen my stash, and know exactly what I like and what I'm knitting next. You may not speak with them. If they offer their opinion, it will be discarded. So, what will it be? Unidentified yarn sample number one? The one that claims to be cashmere? The one that sounds as if it might be blue based on the possibly-false label?
No, I'm not bitter and pissy and thoroughly fed up with all this. Thing is, I don't WANT to be pissy. I love what I do. Nothing feeds me like connecting with a person in a meaningful way, like giving someone that small comfort or support or encouragement or understanding or whatever it is that changes their day for a second or a minute or an hour. None of that, however, will sway the minds of people who place more value than anything on the opinions of people who know nothing about me.
I used to joke that I wouldn't be surprised to find the school requiring a swimsuit competition for nursing school admission. I never thought it would get to the point where that actually sounded marginally better.
All right. I'm off my rant. You may return to your knitting.
But, hey. Thanks for listening. I feel better already.