That’s a question I’ve been asked and given a lot of thought over the years. 🤔 And honestly, I’ve never been sure how to answer it. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Don’t get me wrong. I definitely want to be a nurse and I’ve known that for quite some time. 👩🏻‍⚕️ I mean, I’m certainly not working full time, managing a household {with a lot of help from a super understanding husband ☺️}, going to school, and spending my spare time studying, while punishing my artistic, creative {and noticeably resistant 🙄} brain with math classes because it’s a fun hobby. 😒

I genuinely enjoy serving others and offering support, education, and compassion. And get ready to roll your eyes, guffaw, shake your head, or however else you might need to prepare yourself for a cliche… Ready? 🤓 I want to make the world a better place. There. I said it. 😊 I want to make a positive impact on as many people as possible in a way that only I can. 💞 No matter how you feel about religion, spirituality, karma, the universe, the butterfly effect, or whatever else you might believe is responsible for how, when, or why things transpire, I really feel that nursing is my calling. So, I’m putting everything I’ve got into making it a reality, because I truly could not see myself in a profession outside of healthcare. 😍

Having said all that, I loathe 🤢 the question, “What do you want to to be when you grow up?” I think we should stop saying it to kids {and people, in general😒}. Why? Because I don’t think it’s as simple as choosing or a specific vocation. There is and will always be an abundance of incredibly intelligent, skilled, talented, driven, ambitious, would-be successful people in all regions of this world. But not everyone is afforded the same opportunities or resources. 😕

No matter what you’ve heard about ‘pulling yourself up by your bootstraps’ or making your own way, it’s not always so easy. It’s true that some people defy the odds and find a way to achieve their dreams and reach their full potential. ☝🏻 We’ve all been moved by the chronicles of someone who survived an impoverished childhood of abuse and neglect, before overcoming his/her beginnings to become a famous philanthropist and tech mogul, investment guru, world renowned scientist, or some other equally impressive phenom.

Still, these results are the exception, not the rule. And while someone might recount these types of experiences to offer powerful inspiration and even comfort to someone who feels trapped by their circumstances, they can also create immense pressure, stress, and self doubt in your mind when you can’t seem to replicate those results for yourself. 😤

As a society, we need to stop basing our convictions for the majority on the extraordinary outcomes of a slim minority. We need to be more open minded and accept that “Homeless to Harvard” is not the reality for everyone, or even a significant portion of people who face adversity. 😔

We also need to work on our view of success and contentment, recognizing that these things mean different things to different people.

I was recently on Warrior Forum, one of my favorite forums for entrepreneurs, creatives, and side hustlers. I was searching for tips and marketing help to attract more clients for my writing and art services. While there, I came across the post of someone from Liberia who was also searching for help marketing his writing and perfecting his pitches. He was very excited that he had finally started receiving positive feedback from an editor who had offered to pay him $20 per 1,000 word article and he just wanted 2-3 more consistent clients who would pay around the same amount each month. 🤨

I want to pause here, for a moment. Now, I have no idea how much you guys know about the writing industry, so let me give you a little insight. 😉 On the LOW end of the pay scale, writers should expect to earn no less than $50-100 per 500 word article from reputable individuals or companies. $20 for 1,000 words is an insult to hardworking writer everywhere and frankly a ripoff. 😡 In fact, a lot those hardworking writers don’t mind telling you how they feel about those sorts of prices. Many will even tell you that they place as much blame for the devaluation of their work on writers willing to accept such offers as they do on the predatory clients who propose them and I have to admit, they’re pretty justified. 🤐

Since confrontation is right up there with a crowded nude beach on my list of uncomfortable situations, I often silently read, observe, and judge triggering or controversial forum posts and social media posts without actually engaging. 😬 So I forfeited my original reason for visiting the forum to read the seemingly endless vicious attacks and venom being spewed at this poor guy, who had unknowingly ignited the wrath of the internet. I was ravenously reading each response and feverishly clicking page after page in anticipation of his defense for his business model. Was he lacking confidence, unsure of appropriate pricing, singlehandedly trying to undermine the entire writing industry? What exactly was his deal? 🤔 “Explain yourself, good sir!” 🧐

I finally found an answer on the 5th page and I immediately felt ashamed for being so judgmental and intolerant of a complete stranger. 😣 He explained that in his country, things are very difficult. Many children don’t get to attend school beyond elementary or middle school. 😳 Many families are very poor, surviving on less than $60/ month. He apologized for upsetting so many people. He said he admired people from the UK, US, and wealthier nations, but knew he could never have the things we do. He said he knew it was ambitious and didn’t actually expect to achieve it, but his goal was to earn around $250/month to help his family have a better life. 😭

Can you imagine having such limited resources at your disposal that $250/month seems out of the realm of possibility? 😧

Many of us become so fixated on what success looks like for someone else that we probably haven’t given much thought to what it looks like to ourselves and that’s really unfortunate. ☹️ I wonder how many people would consider a different path in their lives if they took some time to reflect and paint their own picture of success. 🤔

Now, back to that original question, “What do I want to be when I grow up?” I want to be happy, helpful, kind, loving, empathetic, creative, charitable, and considerate, but above all else, I want to be grateful. Because without those things, the rest doesn’t mean much. 💖

If I haven’t mentioned it, I’m taking Developmental Math this summer. Because I decided the regular torture of my most hated subject would not be sufficient. 😒No, I needed an accelerated version that would cram an already condensed 4 month review of ALL the math an average person should have learned by adulthood into just 6 super short weeks. 🤪

Finding the most challenging and traumatic path for myself is one of my special talents. As Puck said in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’ 🤦🏻‍♀️

I’m happy to report that it hasn’t been all bad. I have an excellent teacher, who has been able to help me immensely, which is the only fathomable explanation for my current 92 average. And since he ONLY teaches during the summer session, I’m actually really glad I opted to brave the summer session. 😊

Still, the class has raised some suspicions in my mind that I would like to discuss. 🤔According to the description, this course was “designed for students who need to strengthen their mathematical background and will review topics covered by previous math classes, such as pre-algebra and algebra.” So, if I’m understanding this correctly, the things taught here would have been addressed by high school math teachers.

Well, since precious little of this information is the slightest bit familiar to me, I’ve arrived at three possible conclusions. Feel free to suggest your own, as well. 😁

1.) At some point following high school, I sustained a rather severe head injury that rendered virtually all of my math related memories inaccessible and no one has had the heart to tell me about the injury or investigate its effects on the lobe of my brain that controls my math comprehension; 2.) Unbeknownst to me, I was in a high school math class for differently abled students with special needs and people have been and continue to lie to me to protect my fragile ego; 3.) My high school math teacher was corrupt and accepted bribes in exchange for her agreement to teach lower level concepts, instead of the curriculum taught to students in other classes, in which case there are countless others out there who also haven’t the foggiest idea how to solve problems like this:

N= {-5, -4, 0, 6, 8}  O= {-4, 0, 8, 9} N  ∩O=

So, which one do you think it is? I’m also open to other theories. And, if you have similar theories about your own math deficiencies, message me. Thanks to my amazing teacher, I’ve recently learned how to solve the above equation. 😃

On my way to class this morning, I ran into an old friend. We worked together when I was a CNA around 15 years or so ago. I know exactly what you’re gonna say, “Kimmi, you couldn’t possibly be old enough to have been a CNA 15 years ago. When did elementary school kids become eligible for CNA school and certification?” 😮 I know, it’s hard to believe I’m that old, what with looking so youthful and all, but it’s true. 😏

Anyhoo, back to my friendly encounter. I asked how she was doing and what she had been up to all these years. She said she was still at the same facility and explained that she was accompanying a patient to an appointment at the hospital.

We took a minute to catch up, but I had to cut our reunion short so I wouldn’t be late for class. As we parted ways, she became unexpectedly salty, making the snarky comment that it must be nice to have a job that just lets you come and go as you please. 😳

I was so offended by that statement and I felt so attacked. 😡 I angrily walked away with millions of defensive thoughts running through my mind, followed by millions of guilty feelings. 😰

Then, I stopped myself. ✋🏻 I decided to focus less on the implications of her statement and more on her words and suddenly I didn’t feel upset anymore. 🤔Because you know what? It IS NICE to work somewhere that allows me the flexibility to go to school. It IS NICE to be part of a team that appreciates everything I do, believes in me (sometimes more than I believe in myself 🤗), shares in the joy of my accomplishments, advises me about my challenges, and handles things while I’m away. It IS NICE to work for a company that is willing to invest in their employees and offer them the opportunity to better themselves. 💗

She was so right. It IS NICE. I’m so thankful for that salty, backhanded compliment. I can always use a reminder to be grateful. 😎

Mother’s Day has always been a little difficult for me. I am one of many women who struggle with infertility.

When you begin fertility treatments, everyone tries to be encouraging. You hear countless success stories. You’ll hear stories in which women, sometimes even your own friends or family members, tried for 5, 10, 15 years or more and suffered through unfortunate miscarriages and false positives, before finally becoming pregnant and being able to carry a baby to term. You’ll hear about women who were in some stage of the wonderful, phenomenal, albeit expensive, process of adopting a beautiful child when they learned they had finally been able to conceive and could not have felt more blessed to have 2 (or more) amazing children to love. You’ll hear all sorts of interesting, useful, and downright crazy theories, ideas, and tips to help you achieve your dreams of motherhood.

But in spite of all the inspirational and positive tales, the uncomfortable truth no one really talks about is that not everyone’s journey with infertility has a happy ending, at least not one that ends with them having a child or children to call their own.

Many of the untold stories of infertility end in destroyed relationships, with couples parting ways because one or both blame themselves or each other. Over time, people just shut each other out, no longer communicating openly or effectively, because their painful struggle with infertility creates intense emotional wounds and unrelenting feelings of resentment, anger, and heartbreak.

There are other cases in which couples, who are able, liquidate all their assets and exhaust all their financial resources, before they ever realize their dreams of parenthood. Or those who make the hard choice NOT to sacrifice their savings and/or retirement for an uncertain future that can offer no guarantee of success. Still others make peace with the fact that they will never be parents, because they simply cannot afford prohibitively expensive treatments or adoption.

For some of us, our female identities are so profoundly tied to becoming mothers that no other goal or achievement means anything. We simply cannot escape feelings of inadequacy, no matter how hard we try or how hard our partners, friends, or families work to reassure us.

Infertility is a thief; a thief of joy, a thief of time, a thief of confidence, a thief of self worth, a thief of energy, a thief of hope, a thief of faith, and even a thief of financial security. It can easily destroy you and everything you love. It can harden your heart and make you cold, bitter, and unfeeling. It can make you envious of people who, in your mind, don’t seem to deserve the awesome gift they’ve been given or understand how lucky they are to have children. It can make you dread and avoid social media, because, while you’re genuinely happy for a friend or loved one who is sharing her pregnancy announcement, you’re also devastated that you will never have that moment of joy for yourself.

But it’s important to remember that infertility does not define a person or a couple. For all the things infertility robs from you and the grief and despair it instills, it can also be a powerful tool. It can help you understand that you are so much more than your ability to reproduce. It can help you develop patience, strength, empathy, compassion, and forgiveness. It can teach you to be kind to yourself and others and appreciate small moments of joy. It can lead you to the endless satisfaction and delight of being someone else’s village. Because your inability to experience motherhood doesn’t mean you can’t support, help, and love someone else’s children, as if they were your own.

So Happy Mother’s Day to ALL the different types of moms out there! Whether your children have 2 legs or 4; live here or in heaven; are adopted, biological, or a friend or relative’s children; if you adore them, spend time with them, do things for them, and do your best to help raise them to be good humans, I see you and I think you’re amazing!

Just now, while carrying groceries from the truck, one of my least favorite chores 😒… I was tripped up by a DEEEEP tire tread at the edge of my front yard. 😱 

I’d like to thank my extra thoughtful neighbors for being the kind of considerate, caring individuals who park their oversized tractor-tire, monster truck reject in someone else’s grass, leaving Grand Canyon-esque divots for us unsuspecting clumsy people. 👍🏻 

Anyhoo, as I plummeted, what seemed like 10 stories, to the ground, I tried to make my peace with the fact that this was how it would end for me. I honestly wasn’t really even that surprised. I always knew I’d be taken out by a fall; I just assumed it would be because I tripped over one of the cats. 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

In my uniquely dramatic fashion, I remained perfectly still, eyes closed, praying for forgiveness (and swift vengeance 😈), on my little plot of grass. Charles ran over to inspect me, as if I was a baby bird who had fallen out of the nest; assured me that I had, in fact, survived; and asked if I was going to get up or if he should bring me drinks, snacks, and an extension cord for my phone charger to my new bed. 😏 

The thought of peacefully enjoying the fresh air was briefly appealing, but once I remembered this is May in Florida, I decided to opt for air conditioning. 😎 So, I dusted myself off, looked around for witnesses to my embarrassment 😬, and went inside. 

Don’t feel sorry for me. I promise I’m fine. 😁 My left knee and ego are a little sore, but thanks to my refusal to wear real pants, there’s barely any evidence of my fall. 🙌🏻 😃 So, don’t you dare try to tell me leggings aren’t pants! 😂 

#LeggingsFTW #RealPantsSuck #DownWithJeans #FallRisk #DangerToMyself #ClumsyPeopleUnite #BeCarefulOutThere #ChoresAreDangerous

*Developmental Math*
Day 1: This is so simple. I just needed a little review to boost my confidence and get back into the swing of things.🤓 I can totally do this. I’m so gonna ace this class. 😎 Maybe I’ll share my genius by tutoring the other students. It would be selfish not to. 💅🏻 I might even minor in mathematics. 👩🏻‍🎓 This is a piece of cake. I’m gonna have the easiest semester ever. Why in the world have I always hated math?🤷🏻‍♀️

Day 2: *Reintroduction to fractions* Ohhhh, RIGHT… 🤦🏻‍♀️ 😭 😤

For our final art assignment, excluding the final exam, Mandy asked us to create a public art proposal and sketch a rough draft of the artwork we proposed. It could be any type of artwork, based on any subject matter, with no limitations of funding, time, or labor.

I took my time and gave it a lot of careful consideration, but inevitably, the only public art display I could imagine was a Hurricane Michael memorial.

I realize it’s been over 6 months and a lot of people may have grown weary from hearing us Panhandle residents mention the hurricane and how it has affected our families, homes, businesses, schools, jobs, and daily lives, but please understand that we aren’t seeking pity or discounting other terrible things that others have experienced or are currently experiencing. We’re just doing our best to heal, rebuild, and regain some semblance of normalcy. Sometimes we just need to vent, complain, cry, curse, please be patient, we’re happy to return the favor. 😘

So, without further ado, here is my proposal and rough sketch.

 

Public Art Proposal

Spring 2019

I would like to propose a hurricane Michael memorial, called “Sphere of Devastation.” The memorial would be a 10 foot spherical structure composed of a variety of hurricane debris, such as tree limbs, shingles, window frames, bent iron, destroyed cables, and other items salvage from the disaster. This would be a kinetic sculpture and would rotate on an iron axis, at varying intensity, in response to the wind. Ideally, the sculpture would be located at Tyndall Air Force Base, as it was the heart of much of the destruction.

This project is very personal to me. My family and I were significantly impacted by the hurricane. We chose not to evacuate, since initial estimates were for a category 3 hurricane and much of the concern from meteorologists and emergency preparedness officials focused on the threat of flooding and storm surge. As residents of Callaway, we decided we were inland enough to not be terribly concerned. We would simply ensure we had bottled water, batteries, flashlights, and nonperishable food and prepare to be without electricity and running water for up to two weeks, as we had in the past. This decision proved to be a near fatal error that I deeply regretted, as my husband and I sat in our Jeep and watched everything we owned be obliterated before our eyes. It is incredibly heartbreaking to me that so many people have such limited understanding of the magnitude of the storm. I believe my piece could offer new perspective and allow people to interact with a compilation of genuine debris in ways much different than photographs or paintings allow. As our community continues to heal and rebuild, such works are essential to moving forward, without forgetting how far we have all come.

Visual Arts project #2 is now complete. 🙌🏻 To recap… This assignment was to choose an artist whom we had discussed in class and make one of his/her works my own. 🤨 This has been particularly challenging for me. 😩 I don’t care what anyone says about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, copying another artist’s work undermines what I love about artistic expression. 👩🏻‍🎨 Still, failing an art class was another thing that never made it on my bucket list. 😬 So, I decided maybe this was not the time to stage a personal protest. 🙇🏻‍♀️

For my inspiration, I chose “Landscape” by John Frederick Kensett. I can’t decide if it’s an unhealthy obsession or just part of a normal healing process, but even 6 months later, I continue to be preoccupied with Hurricane Michael. 🌀 And from the moment I saw this painting, all I could think about was how much it reminded me of the piles of hurricane debris that have become such a fixture of our landscape here in the Florida panhandle. So, I decided to create a piece MINIMALLY inspired by this work. Honestly, the only portion of mine that resembles his is the eerie yellow and orange sunset. 🌅 In place of his mountains, I’ve incorporated our bent and broken trees, as well as a few damaged homes that are secondary to the massive mound of debris in the foreground. I chose to forego a lake or pond, instead including one of our slightly obstructed roadways. 

I’m calling my piece “Outside The Evacuation Zone”, as a poignant reminder that many of the most devastated areas were not in an evacuation zone. 

My media is a mixture of oil pastel and watercolor over a charcoal sketch on poster board.

 

“Outside The Evacuation Zone” by: Kimberly Liichow

“Landscape” by: John Frederick Kensett

Once again, I’ve been reminded that I’m no spring chicken. 😩 Actually, the use of the term “spring chicken” may be enough to illustrate that point, but that’s a discussion for another time. 😉 In Visual Arts today, we delved into the world of photography, which was when I discovered further evidence of the ever present generation gap between me and my ‘peers’. 🙃 Our instructor has us call her “Mandy”. (apparently Art teachers don’t like conformity or proper names… or maybe she’s like me and doesn’t need anymore reminders that a lot of her students see people over the ripe old age of 35 as decrepit, geriatrics. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Anyway, during the photography discussion, Mandy asked if anyone had any experience with antique cameras. 📷I hope all of my fellow old people are sitting down for this response. 🙄 Without missing a beat, a guy in the front row, raises his spray-tanned hand 🤚🏻 and says, “My mom has a 35 mm camera in the attic.” 😳 

Woah there Chippy! Back the truck up. When did 35 mm cameras become antique? I had one when I was a teenager and I was not adequately prepped for the things I used in my adolescence to be referred to as antiques. 🤨 

I’m going to start a petition for admissions to add a special supply list for older students that includes wine, chocolate, and sedatives. Things are really getting out of hand. 😒

Hey there! Remember me? 🙋🏻‍♀️ I know I’ve been AWOL for a bit and I apologize. I’m confident that any adult student will agree with me when I say juggling school, a full time job, family, volunteer activities, and just life, in general, requires a certain level of time and energy. 😴 Most days, it’s all I can do to show up to everything on time wearing 2 matching shoes. 😏  

Here’s what I’ve been up to lately. Yesterday I made an 82 on my 3rd Microbiology Lecture exam. Not the perfection for which I strive, but since I mostly feel lost, overwhelmed and sometimes even terrified by the epidemics 😱 and antibiotic resistance 😳 we regularly discuss, I’ll take it. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’ve also taken Microbiology Lab Exams 1 & 2 and scored an 89 and 87, respectively. 😌 Hands on learning definitely comes easier for me, so the differences in my grades come as no surprise. 😉 

In other news, spring break is next week! 😃 Am I going to Cancun, Jamaica, or Daytona? Lololol! 😂 No, I’m going to work, like normal people. 😏 I’m still excited. 💃🏻 It gives me a short reprieve from the exams that seem to be scheduled almost every week. 🤪 Plus I’m going to use this opportunity to focus on my 2nd Visual Arts project. 👩🏻‍🎨 

I turned in project 1 a couple weeks ago. How did I do? That’s a very good question that I don’t have an answer to. I’m sure she’ll get around to grading it…eventually. 🤨 No worries. I mean, it’s not like I made an extremely personal work that I poured my heart and soul into and my fragile ego is hanging by a thread, waiting for feedback or anything. 😬 It’s totally fine. 🙃

Anyhoo, for project 2 I’m supposed to choose a famous work that inspires me and make my own version of it. 😮 Is it me and my already heightened anxiety or does that description bring to mind terms like plagiarism, copyright infringement, and theft of intellectual property? 🤔 I’ll post an update soon, hopefully from outside prison walls. 😬 Incidentally, does anyone know a pro bono copyright attorney? #AskingForAFriend