Quid nunc?

Hi! My name is Jamie. I am the World's Most Indecisive Person. You may remember me from such agnonizingly lengthy debates as the "Should I go to law school or divinity school?" And, "Should I sleep away the rest of my semester at nursing school or drop out (and sleep away the rest of the semester)?"

Well, never fear, I have Come To Another Crossroads in my life.

And that crossroads is, "When shall I move?"

Note that I have never, for one moment, pictured myself settling down here in Yankeeland, getting all down with the accent, dropping my "r's" and adding "w's" where none are indicated, as in: "Cwall Tony and have him pahk the cah." I'm not going to learn how to "cook sauce" the way someone's Aunt Clementina did and I am definetely not bearing any children in this godforsaken place. Children I would envitably have to christen "Mary" or "Vincent/Vinny" and send to catechism school three times a week, even though I'm a lapsed Catholic and my husband isn't even Christian at all (lucky him, he escapes the whole Christian hypocrisy thing).

The only thing about moving is I like my job (yes, I do, really) and I like the people I work with, and moving would be the equivalent of "floating" for some six months to a year before I got used to my new job and everything. Can't. drag. me. out. of the. safe. telemetry. subacute. floor. womb. yet.

I've talked to other new nurses on my floor and they feel the same way: moving away, as much as we may want it, also harbors the inevitable and horrifying reality that we'd actually have to work on another floor, in another state, without our homies. Because we're a dysfunctional family like that, and as much as we bitch about each other, we also love each other, in that deep and mysterious way only that cleaning up poop together and doing chest compressions and bagging someone in the middle of a code can bond people.

Any way, must shelve that terrible thought (wrenching myself away from security zone, that is) for now, because I am way too lazy and complacent to actually do anything about living in the middle of some warped Italiano version of Westside Story right now.

In the meantime, a fun sidebar. Ibrahim and I have taken to making fun of that new country song, which I imagine is entitled 'Jesus Take the Wheel.' It's some kind of Christian themed cr praise music / undeniable country western mainstream crossover. I suppose it's difficult to classify, because country music is and has been fond of mentioning Jesus, especially lately. And I suppose religious themed music making its way into mainstream existence is nothing new-- a few years ago, the self-professed Christian band Jars of Clay had their single 'Rain' make it's way on to Top Forty music stations nationwide.

Except 'Rain' was a whole lot more subtle about its religious content, which doesn't seem to be at all the trend these days (ever heard Michael W. Smith's "I Can Only Imagine?" on a non-Christian radio station lately? There's certainly no question about who he wants to meet in the afterlife, or whenever, when he croons earnestly, "Will I dance for you, Jesus? Will I sing Hallelujah? Will I be able to speak at all?") Personally, I hope if he does meet Jesus, that the conversation goes something like this:

JESUS:
So, you're Michael W. Smith?

MICHAEL W. SMITH
[modestly]
Yes, sir, I am.

JESUS:
[in quiet contemplation, absentmindedly fiddling with crown of thorns]
You know, I really do need to find someone who can get this damn thing off my head. Contrary to popular belief, I've had the damn thing ever since my execution by Pontius Pilate--the bastard-- and those Roman soldiers really wacked that crown good and stuck into my noggin. It sucks to me, by the way. Being The Prince of Peace isn't all fun and games, you know! I had to turn the other cheek and forgive their lame asses! I could just kill Matthew, Mark and Luke for including that little homily in the Gospels, but of course I can't do that either.

MICAHEL W. SMITH:
[now clearly nervous, and stepping from foot to foot]
Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that crown thing... So any way, can I just say, formerly, that I could only imagine this moment?

JESUS:
[smacks forehead with stigmated palm of hand]
Oh yeah! Now I remember! You're that Michael W. Smith, the Christian music singer guy! Wow! Cool! Say, you know that song, when you asked if you could dance for me, cause I was thinking, I'd really like to see you tapdance. I could use some entertainment. Sitting at My Father's right hand for all eternity can get awfully boring. Not to mention ass-numbing at times. Maybe we can form a congo line with some other of the dearly departed, whaddya say?

MICHAEL W. SMITH:
[struck mute in apparent disbelief]

JESUS:
[clearly disappointed and sulky]
Oh well alright, fine. Just sit there in dumbstruck awe. Move along to heaven then. You know, The Grateful Dead looked the exact same way when I asked them to play at my birthday party (I'm a July baby, by the way; my stupid press corps back on Earth got it all wrong. I ought to fire them. Must make a memo...) Grateful dead my ass.

I'm definetely going to hell, aren't I?