Keep your chin up,
No one expected you to save the world,
Otherwise, you would have been born wearing a cape and tights.
Just do the best you can.
Sometimes when I’m alone, I Google myself.
This week, I sat up fully erect in my chair, surprised to find a Yahoo Shine blog with my name and Gravatar. Harder to swallow is that the bogus JParadisi RN blog is a sex advice blog.
It’s not my blog. I don’t think I have a Yahoo account. A JParadisi RN imposter created one, and I do not have password access.
I felt ashamed. Searching Yahoo for a way to report the hijack left me spent. I wanted that stain of a blog wiped from the web.
Pondering this cyber ménage à trio between Yahoo, a hacker, and myself, I reconsidered. I asked myself, “How many opportunities does a nurse blogger get to write sex posts, which are not clinically motivated?”
In an orgasm of insight, I heard the voice of Kenny Bania, that annoying, fictional comic friend of Jerry Seinfeld’s, telling me, “That’s gold, Jerry, gold!”
So I went back to the fake JParadisi RN sex advice blog, and started reading. The posts are mostly submissive, with jparadisirn by lines, and titles such as:
- 20 Lovemaking Secrets That Are Guaranteed To Spice Up Your Love Life
- 13 Sex Secrets Men Don’t Know About Women
- 10 Things Women Shouldn’t Worry About In Bed
- 5 Moves That Make You Look Bad In Bed (apparently there are at least 5 things you should worry about in bed)
Afterwards, I was left unfulfilled. I think the fake blog makes me sound frumpy. For example, in
20 Lovemaking Secrets That Are Guaranteed To Spice Up Your Love Life,
bogus JParadisi RN offers this gobbet of advice:
You do not have to get dressed up as a nurse or anything. Just act out a fantasy where you pretend to be someone else.
Sexy nurse reference aside (Readers, I hear your collective groan), if I were the author of this post, I would tell you ladies to save your money. Men already want to have sex with you, they really do. Role playing, sexy lingerie, candles, whatever, serve one purpose for men. They are visual cues telling him YOU want sex, and he doesn’t have to do anything except show up. That’s why you get such an excited response from him: ALL HE HAS TO DO IS SHOW UP, because you want him, and that’s a turn on. Test it. Sit down on the sofa next to him and put your foot on his knee, wiggle it, and giggle. See what happens. It’s that simple. Besides, really nice sexy lingerie is expensive. If you’re doing it right, 15 minutes after you put it on it will lay shredded on the floor. Save your money.
How to Know If Your Husband is Cheating Again
This post is clearly not written by moi. Fake JParadisi RN replies with information about spy software a wife (or girlfriend) can install that lets her track her husband’s cell phone calls and Internet activity. Me, the REAL JParadisi RN, finds this pathetic. First of all, the title: How to Know If Your Husband is Cheating Again. Again? What do you mean, AGAIN? Okay, I know there are all types of relationships out there, and monogamy is not on everyone’s priority list, but if it’s on yours, then there is NO AGAIN. If you catch him cheating, change the locks and move his sh*#t into the driveway. Pin a flame retardant note to the smoldering pile that reads, “Hope you can find something with the Occupy Movement, cuz you don’t live HERE no more!” Again, save your money, and your dignity.
Speaking of dignity: I don’t have immediate plans to defend mine from the hacker blogger. My relationship with my family, friends, and employer, and their intelligence is such that no one I care about will believe the fake JParadisi RN sex advice blog is mine. That someone would do such a thing says far worse about that person than it will ever say about me. Beyond hacking my blog handle, the posts are stolen from other bloggers and websites. Somewhere a blogger(s) goes unrecognized for his or her work. Blogging is hard, and often uncompensated work.The pirating of these posts is appalling.
Someone has said, “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” Maybe so, but it is surely travelled by the feet of those with bad intentions.
*Note: I am not a qualified counselor. The information in this post is not advice, merely my personal opinion.
My readers may want to know that January has been a busy month for JParadisi RN. The American Journal of Nursing blog, Off The Charts published two original posts written by me.
As an artist, writer, and registered nurse, I am constantly checking myself on the material I write, paint, or photograph. While I’m not afraid of a little controversy, I respect my patients and coworkers. First, do no harm. Also, I’m not making enough money writing and painting to afford losing my nursing gig, so it’s all cool. I explore my thoughts on this subject in yesterday’s post, Nurses, Hospitals, and Social Media: It Depends What Business You’re In.
If you don’t regularly read Off The Charts, I encourage you to start. It provides an intelligent, conversational way to keep abreast of the issues facing nurses and health care.
And if you want to read my other January post, follow this link: The Puzzle of Snowflakes (January 4, 2011).
Special thanks to Off The Charts editor, Jacob Molyneux.
The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away when they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put stories in each other’s memory. This is how people care for themselves.
I clicked publish on the dashboard and became the narrator of my life.
As all such stories begin, it was innocent at first. I’d heard it was dangerous, but I thought I could handle myself. I had no understanding of what I had done. So began JParadisi RN’s Blog.
My naiveté was the result of experiences with other social media platforms. I actually closed my Facebook account once, and Twitter is no more to me than an electronic business card. I use each to announce art shows or accomplishments, and keep up with the same information from my friends. But, blogging, oh blogging, forgive my human foible I am hooked.
Like most initiates, in the beginning I checked stats obsessively throughout the day, lit by each new hit. Soon, hits weren’t doing it for me anymore. I craved comments and links. I needed to know someone was reading my posts. Like a neighborhood dealer, the Internet is happy to oblige. It makes me wait in anticipation, driving me to write more, write better, whatever it takes to get another link or comment. Ideas for new posts wake me up in the middle of the night. At work, I look for occurrences to divert into insightful posts. Often I see the ideas as images, so I started a second blog, Die Krankenschwester to handle the overflow.
Of course, I exaggerate to some extent. Occasionally I am able to shut down my computer for up to 24 hours at a time. Blogging isn’t an addiction. It is a medium of self-expression just like painting. Blogging is equivalent to exhibiting my paintings: a public voice. In one way, it’s superior to a traditional art show, because I don’t have to ask permission to publish my thoughts on a blog. In the art world, hanging paintings in a gallery requires the permission of the gallerist. As a writer, I ask permission from editors to publish my stories. In many areas of our society, the public expression of individual opinions requires someone’s permission. Not inherently bad, gallerists and editors are gatekeepers, deciding who gets in (I am joyful when they pick me). Blogging bypasses the gatekeepers, allowing anyone to express him or herself freely, as long as they are willing to take on possible consequences.
It’s no wonder that people homebound with chronic or life-threatening diseases use social media to find support. It’s not surprising so many nurses blog, often anonymously, telling the stories their friends and families often don’t have the stomach to listen to or the background to understand. I remind myself at social gatherings to say only I am a nurse, when asked what I do for a living. No one wants to hear about critically ill children or oncology at a cocktail party.
We are social creatures and our need to tell stories is strong. I cherish the quiet solitude necessary for my creative process, but if meditation was all it’s cracked up to be, solitary confinement wouldn’t be a punishment.