I never thought that I would call anyone stupid for booing Hillary Clinton, but...

Setting a date to get out of Iraq is like having your psychiatrist say, "Let's see if we can wrap up things with your scizophrenia by the end of the hour."

I'm more confused about life right now than I ever have been. It's not a bad thing. Everyday, something happens to me that makes me grow and learn and become stronger. The problem is that things are coming at me so fast I can't process them. I could write a book about what's happened to me in the past month that would be a sequel to what's happened in the past year and a half which would be preceded by the first of a three part series about my life since I turned 17.

On Friday, I found myself stuck babysitting someone who I had thought was interested in dating me. When I met him for a drink, I became caught up in a world of dysfunctional relationships, self hatred, and major drug abuse. This person was no longer my date, he was no longer my friend...for five hours he was my patient. However, I didn't have to keep my professionalism.

I told him he was selfish, I told him he was manipulative. When he said he wasn't hurting anyone, I made sure he knew he was. When he said, "Just drop me off at this corner, my grandma will come pick me up," I said, "And do you think that she really wants to deal with your sorry ass right now?" I told him to grow up and start acting his age. I told him he was one fucked up mother fucker. I was not going to play the game that his ex-girlfriend (who I had met that day at the pub) had played for 10 years. I wanted him to know just what a piece of shit he had turned himself into, what his addictions had turned him into.

His ex helped me out enormously, she spent a lot of time on the phone with me coaching me through his behavior. She even called around to see if I could drop him off at any of his friends' houses, since he refused to go to his. But I was horrified the more I spoke with her. "If he gets out of the car, just let him go," she said, "At that point, it's not worth it." What had this woman put up with? Why was she even dealing with it now? She kept saying, "You know, he's said a lot of really good things about you," and I made it perfectly clear that I was not interested. "It's a different story when he's sober," she told me. I thought, God, you're like the poster girl for a co-dependant relationship.

I spent five hours with this man until he sobered up enough to get out of my car and walk into his house. The next day when he sent me a text saying that he was sorry, I wrote back, "I hope you don't think that a text message makes an adequate apology." Apparently, he did, which is why he will spend the rest of his life in unhappy addiction and never know what it's like to be with someone like me.

That was not what I signed up for, but in a way, I'm glad it's what I got. I don't ever want to be caught up in that situation. Looking at it from the outside, with no feelings attached, really opened my eyes. Any woman who puts up with that kind of behavior, even one time, is a dumb bitch. But the whole expirence left a bad taste in my mouth and made me feel as though I needed to bathe my soul. I haven't slept well all weekend, I just don't feel right. Maybe tomorrow I will meet someone that will restore my faith in humanity, but I doubt it. The inherent goodness that I have always believed in is quickly being destroyed by reality.

6/6/06 has come and gone and we all made it without witnessing the end of the world. While I'm glad that I will be able to pursue a career in nursing and paramedicine without the weight of armageddon on my back, I'm a little disappointed that I still have to take my lab practical tomorrow. Guess it's a good thing that I decided to study instead of listening to all the extremists.

I often get the question, "Is working in the emergency room anything like the TV show?" I usually just explain to people that no, no it's not...there are no cute doctors. However, sometimes I go into the fact that the television version is overly dramatic, I mean, who jumps up onto a gurney to do CPR?

Last week, I had to jump up on to a gurney to do CPR.

It was exhilarating, I'm not going to lie, but it was also terrifying. CPR is a brutal sort of process and when you pump on someone's chest and their ribs crack underneath your hands, it's scary. So there I was, doing compressions on this old woman while the stretcher is rolling down the hallway and I've got myself convinced that I've broken her rib cage. It's not like this is the first time I've done CPR. I'd just never done it on someone as tiny as her. After two compressions, I was pumping with one hand.

She made it, I'm happy to say, no broken ribs to date. There was a certain sort of satisfaction that I felt along with that, though I didn't feel it until hours later when my heart stopped pounding. We had another patient start to crash while the old woman's code was still running, so my head was spinning even when my shift ended. When the shit hits the fan, you don't follow a normal thought process. A normal person would run away. Instead, something else takes over and it feels like your true self comes out. Your world changes because you are changing someone's world.

Even in the middle of all of that, even during the time when I thought I was going to tear my hair out from all the madness, I knew that it is what I love. It's what I live for. There are times at my work where I feel horizontal to the ground I'm being pulled in so many different directions. It's during those times of chaos that I feel most in control. God made me like this for a reason and I'm going to pursue that to the fullest.

I made a promise to myself that I would stop letting guys treat me badly and it's been working out well so far. Sometimes that's hard, like when I turned down the chance to get with my super hot co-worker. I'm at a point where I just don't need to put myself through all the stupidity of a hormonally charged fling. I finally realized that I'm way too cool to be with guys who don't appreciate me. It's been a lonely few months and not being with guys actually makes my self-esteem lower a little. I mean, what's with these guys who go for such superficial and boring girls? It's rough but bearable. Plus, I can sit back and enjoy everyone else's stupid problems without feeling that stress and rejection. Hooray for me.

Naturally, my little world had to go awry. My friends and I got to talking to some guys last night and I really hit it off with one of them. As the night progressed, we both got a little tipsy, but I decided to risk it and go out with him tonight. I was kinda freaking out about because I'm just so awful at this whole dating thing. For me, it's over before it's even begun, but I was really interested about getting to know this guy better.

I knew that it could be very weird...he's 33. Now, I don't have a problem with that, one of my best friends is 37 and another close friend is 47. In fact, I was looking to date an 'older' guy simply because the ones my age just don't make the cut. I was concerned that he would find my youth to be a turn off, after all, he's a college grad with a successful career and I'm a student who lives with her parents. I'm not ashamed of who I am, I was just worried that he would see me as immature.

So, I met him for coffee. He was ever cuter than I remembered and I was really enjoying listening to him talk. He had great stories and a great sense of humor. He invited me back to his place for a movie, which I was very cautious about. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and took him up on the offer.

On the way over there, we chatted some more. That's when he decided to drop the bombshell. I think what he said was, "Would you be freaked out if I told you that I have two daughters?" I calmly told him no and asked how old they are. Then I wanted to know if he had been married. Yes. And they've only been divorced for three months.

That changes things. A lot.

I was already asking myself what I was doing dating a man 11 years older than me, throwing an ex-wife and two kids into the mix wasn't helping. We were hitting it off really well and I actually like him, but this quashes any sort of serious dating, not that that would happen anyway. Plus, I don't want to be the rebound, I don't want to be his strange (for those of you that know the term). I'm the first girl he's been with since his wife and he must be completely infatuated with me. I'm young and beautiful (not to toot my own horn) and I have nine piercings, which I know is kind of exciting for him. I'm the fucking 22 year old hussie that dad started dating when he broke up with mom. She'll hate me. His girls will hate me. I should run screaming from this situation.

...and I probably will. But for the moment, I'm asking myself why the first guy I've been with who is actually dateable is in the worst possible place for dating. I want to see him again and he wants to take me to dinner next week. Of course, I'm up to my eyeballs in schoolwork and he has his kids next weekened. The fun is only starting.