ION, if you stare at the Google logo long enough, all you can see is the word "goolie"

This might be easier if I didn't spend so much time trying to ignore people staring at my crutches or the way I walk.

I'm going to risk sounding flippant, but I don't mean it that way: their staring isn't a judgement on you. People stare at anyone and anything different. All of advertising is based off of that idea. So yes, they stare at your crutches or the way that you walk. That doesn't mean they're judging you, or that you should worry about their opinions.

I think the thing that helps me is to remember that THIS IS YOUR LIFE. There's no magic door you get to walk through at some point to your Real Life, when everything will better. It NEVER HAPPENS. THIS is your life, so you've got to find some happiness in it

So very much this. Stupid nonexistant magical door.

t kicks place in Universe where magic door to Real Life should be

(I mean, I'm pretty happy, in general. But I definitely still have moments where I think about my Other Life, the one where I'm a freelance video editor cutting trailers for feature films and have a big house with a yard and enough money not to worry about whether or not paying for daycare is costing more than staying home would be.)

I've got to write a book in a year, AT LEAST. Anything else just isn't a professional pace.

That's a good goal and all, but if you can't reach it because you are working full time and therefore not writing full time it does not mean you are failing to be professional about your writing. It took Virginia Woolf seven years to write To the LIghthouse. It took Jane Austen sixteen years to write Sense and Sensibility. A book a year might be a reasonable guideline, but it's not going to keep you from getting published (or eventually making a living at writing) if you don't meet it this year.

I hate that "What do you do?" is such a prime getting-to-know-you question in our culture. The only times I've felt like I had a good answer were when I was in school.

I answer Sound Designer to that question and 95% of the time I just get a blank stare. My career does not slot into the doctor, lawyer, used car salesman categories so folks just lock up. Kinda funny to watch, then kinda annoying to always have to explain.

I hate that "What do you do?" is such a prime getting-to-know-you question in our culture.

Word.

I remember offending the hell out of Amy Parker when I innocently asked this, because of course the answer is 'stay at home mom' - and I hadn't intended any judgment or anything at all, and certainly don't think SAHM is a bad choice (and if I had kids, I'd sure as hell want to have that as an option).

ION a sparrow just flew into my window hard enough to stun itself. It was lying on it's side on my porch looking like it might not be able to right itself, so i went out and picked it up (after putting on latex gloves) and just held it for a little while until it struggled to get away. I've put it out on the grass under the tree where the sparrows tend to hang out, poor thing.

I still don't know how to explain what ND does. Most of the time I just shrug and say, "Weird noises come out of his office."

Oh, -t, I hate when that happens. I feel so sorry for the little things. The nasty window sure pulled a dirty trick on it.

My career does not slot into the doctor, lawyer, used car salesman categories so folks just lock up

And even if you do have a career about which people have a clear-cut impression, ie. being a nurse, their impression is so unbelievably misguided and wrong that to explain the mistakes would take you days. No, I don't wear a little cap. No, I don't wear a little white dress. No, I don't simper and flirt with doctors. No, I don't follow them around with a clipboard writing down their every word and gazing adoringly at their broad, manly shoulders.

Nurses run rounds; the doctors are the ones who listen as we talk. We manage your labor; the doctors ask us what's going on and what should be done, not the other way around. We call the doctors to the room when we need them, and otherwise they stay out of our way and let us do our jobs.

We have an enormous amount of scientific knowledge and technical skills. We operate really complex machinery. We put things directly into your vein that could kill you if we're not careful. Conversely, we can literally save your life or your baby's life if we have to. And yet people STILL say, "Oh, how nice! You're a nurse! Have you met any handsome doctors?" when they hear what I do.

I love what I do with a passion I could never fully describe. But holy God, it's incredibly frustrating to have these conversations over and over again and realize how much further nursing has to go before people really understand what we do.