Highlights

Since I cannot take pictures to capture the awkward moments I enjoy, I will now post symbols of the moments. For instance, testosterone.

This pertains to a certain client I had in the clinic this week. Mr "Smith" was in for his appointment, so I took his vital signs, and ushered him into a patient room where his wife insisted that she join him. Everytime I asked him a question about history, medications, allergies, etc. his wife answered. When I finally got to the part where I asked him the reason for his visit, his wife answered.
"TRT." She said, with her chin up.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what that stands for," I said, finding no results for TRT in the reason for visit search engine.
"Well, we do," the wife answered sharply, daring me to question her again. I did.
"Well, I don't, and the computer isn't coming up for a result for the abbreviation."
"How about you figure out a way to enter in that information. Put TRT and that's all. It is completely unnecessary for you to know what it stands for." I shrugged my shoulders, entered in the information and left as quickly as possible. As I was leaving, I took another look at the patient who let his wife answer nearly every question for him, and didn't keep her from her rude tone. Then I realized that our head nurse practitioner had mentioned that some man was coming in this week for a hormone imbalance. Aha, TRT... Testosterone Replacement Therapy. I think maybe the problem was that the wife needed some ERT...Estrogen Replacement Therapy.

Here's my next pic, to illustrate a rude moment of mine.

I got to enjoy a birthday dinner with Krystal, my adopted sister. : ) Afterwards, I was trying to make conversation with some of the other peeps, including future coworkers, and I started talking to Ryan. I said, "Ryan, you know what? You should totally start brainstorming for how to design our Fall Getaway t-shirts for this fall. We've got to make them really awesome this year, because the ones in the past have really sucked."
He looks at me, and says, "Even last year's?" *warning bells... warning bells*
"Oh yeah, definitely." (Last year's shirt is modeled on me. Really not too bad, but the brown color, matching our monk theme, is rather drab. Ryan, I apologize again if you ever read this).
"I designed that shirt." uh oh. I debated briefly whether I should immediately apologize for sticking my foot in my mouth, but some crazy desire to not seem lame overcame me, as dangerously as a flash flood.
"Oops. Well we all have to start somewhere, eh? There's nowhere to go but up!" Yeah... not very smart. Ryan asked some girls around us whether the shirts were that bad, and though they tried to say that the design was nice and it was mostly the color that sucked, it didn't go very well. I ended up leaving right afterwards, trying to flee the awkwardness. But it kept me awake, so I wrote him an apology letter, which he graciously answered quickly with forgiveness.

It seems the tables have turned... mwahahahaahaha

I work at a clinic on campus three days a week doing things like taking patient history, blood pressure, weight, height and samples. But do my patients know my job description? Noooope, half of them think I'm the doctor, and another quarter think I am a nurse, and the quarter that actually knows I'm nothing isn't very nice. The ambiguity of my job lends patients to spill their guts to me. Hehehe. Sometimes I'm confused on how they really think the graphic details of whatever it is...their sex life, their drinking habits or diet... really could help their doctor treat their health. Yeah... no one cares whether you fell after taking three steps or two, point is you fell.
Also, since the patients are already uncomfortable by my questions, they don't really know what I'm supposed to ask them, so I can ask whatever I want. And I'm a very curious person. This doesn't work on the quarter of people who know I'm a student with no skills. They ask me whether I really need to know their weight in a very haughty way. Yes we do. Then they tell me I took their blood pressure wrong, which could very possibly be true, but their complaints usually correlate with a high number. No, I'm sorry, but you really do need to exercise.
An added joy of asking awkward questions happens when a former professor walks in, unexpectedly. Often they recognize me and feel ashamed that they are humans and need check ups. For instance, a professor from a smaller class came in for her yearly GYN appointment. She knew me well enough to wave outside of class, but not enough to really know who I am, so it was a perfect mixture for a really uncomfortable patient history interview. She kept commenting on how awkward our meeting was, saying "This is so weird. I knew I shouldn't have come on campus. Oh gosh. I can't believe you know these things about me." I'd blush, but secretly reveled in her embarrassment, thinking back to a C on a test. But she really is a great lady, and a brilliant professor, so I asked her whether she wanted someone else to ask her the questions. But being the passionate educator she is, she allowed me to finish the history. After her appointment I apologized that it was awkward, and in typical nerd fashion I told her she was one of my favorite teachers. I think she appreciated it, but would have preferred a student-professor relationship that allowed her to keep her clothes on.

Graduating from awkward? I don't think so.

Let’s rewind to the week of graduation. My dear friend Annemarie and I have practically taken every class together in Biological Sciences since first semester Freshman year. I practically got a minor in “Annemarie Studies.” We’ve often dreamed of the day we would walk from our apartment to Little John while reminiscing on the past four years.

But the night before our 9am ceremony, Annemarie told me that her parents were going to pick her up and take her to breakfast beforehand. At the look of disappointment on my face, she quickly assured me, “Oh, but of course you’ll come.” Heck yes I’m coming. Not only was I not going to give up my morning of remembrance with Annemarie, but since when do I turn down breakfast?

So the next morning, the entire Verdin clan showed up in carvan to drive us to first sign in at graduation, and then go for breakfast. Bojangles? Chick-fil-a? Pot Belly Deli? So many good breakfast options in the Clemson area, and I was starrrrving.

After we waited in the torturous sign-in line, we once again got in the suburban, and headed… in the direction of the Madren Center? Huh? Well maybe we were going to eat breakfast there because some of Annemarie’s family had spent the night in the hotel. But when we got inside, a Senator greeted us at the door.

“Are you Annemarie? Congratulations on graduating. It is very impressive to persevere through 4 years of college. Well done. I have this tiger-paw pin for you, just like the one I wear.”

Annemarie took the pin and said thank you. I was just standing next to her, so she introduced me to him, “This is Lauren, she’s graduating today too.” The senator gave me the head nod.

* - Before this goes on any further, I should interrupt myself to let you know that Annemarie’s dad is a state senator. That’s where these connections come from.- *

We continue on into the Madren Center towards a room that is full of nicely dressed men and women. This is when it dawned on me that this was no continental breakfast. This must be the Trustee’s breakfast. How odd! As this thought was hitting me, I saw President Barker near the door. Then he was walking towards us, and like some scene from a strange dream he walked up to Annemarie.

“Annemarie? Wonderful to see you. What an exciting, meaningful day for you. Let’s talk about what you’ll be doing next year while we walk down this hall. I’d love to take some pictures with you and your family.”

So President Barker with all Annemarie’s extended family (and me!) in tow walk down to a fireplace area. President Barker asks some people sitting on couches to leave with just a word. Then we went around the room shaking people’s hands and meeting them.

“Annemarie’s sister? Wow, you should be proud of your sister. Follow in her lead. She graduated college and is going to med school. Work hard like her.”

“Annemarie’s brother? What an honor you have to have Annemarie as a sister. She is graduating from Clemson University. That’s a big, big deal you know. “

Then he comes to me. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Annemarie’s friend. I’m graduating today, too.”

“Cool.” Then he turns to place the professional cameraman.

“Time for photos with the family. Can we get all family members to gather around?”

So I took this as my cue to hang around near the fireplace while the family paused. I took this time to bitterly wish I had a camera so I could take just one picture with the President. I was also jealous that Annemarie’s family was all at graduation, when I had barely convinced my mom to come. But my pettiness soon wore off at Annemarie’s blushing and the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Then came time for the grand event- the placing of the class ring on Annemarie’s finger. And that was really the point of the whole gathering with President Barker. Annemarie’s dad didn’t get to see the ring ceremony, so it was a surprise for Annemarie.

Then President Barker tells Annemarie that his assistant Cathy will be taking her over to Little John. She asked whether I could come, too, and he says, “Sure, you can take your friend.” Yeah, that’d be nice, since I’m graduating and all. But I wanted breakfast, so I made her ask if we could stay and get a little breakfast.

“Why of course, Annemarie, get some breakfast! We don’t want you to be hungry for your graduation! Just tell Cathy when you are ready to go. I’ll be shaking your hand at the ceremony before you know it. And your friend can go with you if you want.”

Breakfast was delicious with little pieces of pineapple wrapped in bacon. I wandered around following Annemarie as different trustees congratulated her. Same story for each one; they gush about what a big deal graduating from college is, then I’m awkwardly standing next to Annemarie, then Annemarie introduces me and the trustee says something like, “cool” or “hi.”

But besides the whole jealousy part and the fact that my University President had zero interest in my graduating (you should’ve seen the “Do I know you from somewhere?” look he gave me while I shook his hand at the ceremony), it was such fun to see Annemarie’s humble response to it all. When she wasn’t getting flashed by the paparazzi’s cameras, I went up and whispered in her ear “I’m nevvver going to let you forget this, mwahahahaha.”

Bring it on

It's been waaaay too long since I've updated this blog. Several things probably contributed to my vacation from recording my many awkward moments.

1. A desire to just be normal for a while. Maybe I was tired of being awkward. Maybe I wanted to fit into society like any other 22 year old girl. But this has failed. Why hide such an essential part of who I am? I had my year of attempted normalcy, now it's time to again revel in those strange, uncool, awkward moments that plague my life.
2. A feeling that I didn't have enough time to craftily write up an antidote about my weird life. But I must simply acknowledge that my posts will never meet up with my perfectionistic standards, and post the raw materials.
3. The personal nature of my awkward moments in the last year. Sometimes it might be good to hide the awkward things that happen with your friends, because they might read this blog and be offended that I think our encounters are awkward. So I resolve to fulfill my awkward quota through strangers who will unknowingly be published on my blog. mwahahahaha.

So here's to another year of awkward. It's my mid-June resolution. Coming up next will be some highlights from the last month. Bring on the awkward- I'm ready.

Crashing a Wedding

Looking back, it seems obvious that crashing a wedding would be awkward. Maybe I knew this deep inside, and decided it was time to get some material for a new post.

Basically my friends Nick (who lives in one of the apartments my dad owns) and Lyndsey got married last Friday, and I really wanted to go but wasn't invited. After a lot of convincing from friends who were better friends with Lyndsey, I decided to come along anyway. I just hoped I could be inconspicuous.

The wedding was much smaller than I thought, so I decided to hope that Lyndsey would think that Nick invited me, and Nick would think Lyndsey invited me.

But at the reception, Nick came towards me with a really weird expression on his face. While I was debating between apologizing, making excuses and just running, he went up to me, and was like, "Oh! I'm so sorry I haven't paid you rent yet! Remind me to give you a check before you leave." Then I just felt guilty for making him think about other things on his wedding day. Oops.

Funniest part- when Nick and Lyndsey were leaving the reception to go to their car, they ran between two lines of friends holding sparklers. When Nick and Lyndsey came by me, Nick saw me, swerved, and came at me with something in his hand. I was really startled, but took what he was handing me. It was his rent check. haha.

Communication Troubles

I've often considered myself proficient in English. At times I've even felt like I excelled in my native tongue, but sometimes I have so many thoughts rumbling around in my head that I can't channel out one single message. I'll give you two examples from last week: 

1. English conversation class. I've been volunteering at a meeting for International students where we sit around at tables and one native speaker at each table leads the group in conversation in order to improve the conversation skills of Internationals. Last week we played a board game that had a question or prompt on each spot you moved to, like, "What is your greatest ambition?" or "Talk about your greatest fear." 

At my table I had a thirty year old Chinese woman and a fifty year old Turkish man. Neither one of them spoke English very well and we had to work very hard to understand one another. When it was my turn, my piece landed on the prompt, "Do you think people are basically good? Why or why not?" Knowing this was a controversial issue, I began timorously, "Well... I think people are born selfish. You can tell from looking at toddlers that people do not naturally want to share. They learn from society that their behavior is inappropriate and have to modify their behavior in order to be accepted."

Turkish man and Chinese woman looked baffled. Chinese woman asks, "So you do not like people? I love my husband and my child. They mean everything to me. I think they are basically good." 

Before I could say anything, Turkish man agrees, "Yes, you are saying, zat people are not good?? I LOVE people. Zay are so good. You must look... how do you say it? Optimistically? at the world." Then he looks at Chinese woman and they have a bonding moment, and then he asks me, "Do you have a husband?" 

  "No."

Chinese woman joins excitedly, "A boyfriend, maybe?"

  "No."

Then Chinese woman and Turkish man become very happy. Turkish man states with confidence, "Oh! Well this is why you do not like people. You will one day find a man, and then you will think people are good." 

I tried to explain that I was not a bitter people-hater, but it was too late because snack time had arrived and no one wants to miss snacks to listen to the pessimistic single girl. haha. 

2. At the Greenville-Spartanburg Airport. 

Heather and I flew to Texas last Friday from Greenville (GSP) to Houston. Unfortunately we had to leave Clemson at 4am to get there, and I didn't get in bed until 1:30 am the night before. So I was a little out of it when we were about to go through security. I wasn't going to bring my laptop to Texas, but I threw it in my backpack at the last second before we left for the airport. Thus, when the security man asked me whether I had a laptop in my backpack, I said no. 

When the x-ray machines showed that there was a large electronic object in my backpack, they asked me again, "Is there a laptop in your backpack?"  I said no. Finally the little security guy was like, "Well, what in the world is in your backpack?" I said, "well... books...a calculator...scantrons... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...and my laptop."

The security guy seemed really frustrated, but the other security man, who was Hispanic said, "It's okay, she no speak English." I was so grateful for this excuse for my stupidity that I didn't argue at all. 

Aikido Awkwardness

The problem with aikido being so awkward is that it is a very physical class. Aikido is a martial art based on the art of the Samurai. My friend Kelly and I take it at a "dojo" in Seneca where our teacher set it up. Our teacher is an American, probably in his late forties or early fifties, and used to work as a bodyguard in the secret service for Clinton and Bush. He has a lot of experience, but he sure does say some creepish things. 

For instance, he told one girl student that she looked like a sexy librarian. Then he told the class, "oh, you know those sexy librarians with the glasses and blouses. They wear their hair up, but one day they will just take their glasses off, pull down their hair and unbutton their blouses." Awkward. 

Then, during the same class when he was talking about protection, he looked at some sorority girls in our class and was like, "you girls need to be careful. Maybe you're at a fraternity party and have had something to drink and Billy tells you he wants to show you his fish tank. You say, 'sure Billy!' But when you get up to Billy's room, he locks the door behind you! You say, 'but Billy, where is your fish tank?' and he will say, 'I don't have a fish tank, but now I will show you my guppies!'"

Yes, it is important that girls aren't stupid and know how to protect themselves, but I think the teacher enjoyed telling it unnecessarily. He just makes kind of creepy comments. Like last class, after we watched a video showing some aikido moves, the teacher said, "Don't you wish that boyfriends and girlfriends had an instructional video that they could watch before they do it? And you are never to old to need an instructional video. Just because you are 30 doesn't mean you know what you are doing." So I'm like, great... let's go wrestle with people. : O

Among all the awkward moves and stories was the class where the teacher told me, loud enough that everyone in the class looked to see what was going on, that the way I was doing the move on my partner looked like I was giving him a blow job. He continued and was like, "you have your face right there like you are looking at "it." It doesn't look pretty. What if someone decided to take your picture right then? What would they think?" Then he wanted to show me what it looked like by doing what I was doing to my partner, to which my partner did not seem excited as my teacher repeatedly showed the class how I looked when I was doing this move.

It doesn't help with any of this awkwardness that there are more guys than girls. I've been trying to just work with girls lately because usually the topic of discussion mentioned beforehand is sexual, and it make me uncomfortable to work with the guys. But I will say that the comments do make class more interesting.