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Saint Dirty Face

Tag: StayDirtyStayHuman

  • Rambles of a Monday Evening Madman

    Robert

    Monday evening finally arrived.

    For some people it’s the start of the week.

    For the poor souls who clocked in on Sunday, it’s already Day Two of the grind.

    Either way…

    Monday hits like a freight train.

    It’s amazing how quiet the weekend can be.

    Almost peaceful.

    Then Monday shows up and suddenly the entire world remembers you exist.

    This broke.

    That broke.

    The car is making a weird noise.

    I need money for this.

    I need money for that.

    It’s like everyone waited until Monday morning to dump their problems on your porch.

    And the kids… oh man.

    Kids have this incredible belief that their parents are some kind of walking ATM machine.

    “Dad I need money.”

    “Dad can you buy this?”

    “Dad can we get that?”

    And when you say…

    “Not right now.”

    They look at you like you just told them the sky turned purple.

    Like…

    “Wait… what do you mean?”

    Are we poor?

    I swear sometimes I just smile and shake my head.

    Because one day…

    Those same kids are going to have kids of their own.

    And when that day comes…

    I’m going to sit back in a chair, sip a little whiskey, and laugh.

    Not because I’m cruel.

    But because the cycle will finally make sense.

    And when their kid walks up asking for money for the fourth time that day…

    They’ll hear a little voice in the back of their head saying:

    “Welcome to Monday.”

    Saint Dirty Face.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.

  • Self-Improvement: A Progress Report

    Robert

    Things I’m Working On

    I saw a meme the other day that felt a little too accurate.

    It said:

    Having more patience (Not going well)

    Not assuming everyone is an idiot (Also going badly)

    Being more approachable (Going even worse)

    Now before anyone lights a candle for my character development, relax.

    I am working on myself.

    But here’s the reality nobody likes to say out loud:

    The older you get… the less tolerance you have for nonsense.

    Not because you’re bitter.

    Because you’ve seen enough of life to recognize patterns.

    You’ve watched common sense slowly leave the building like it forgot its keys.

    You’ve seen good people struggle.

    You’ve seen fools fail upward.

    So patience?

    Yeah… still working on that.

    Approachable?

    Depends if the conversation starts with something intelligent.

    But one thing I have gotten better at over the years is this:

    Learning when to speak…

    and when to just sit on the porch, sip the whiskey, and let the circus continue without me.

    Because not every battle deserves your time.

    Some people want wisdom.

    Some people want attention.

    The trick is learning the difference.

    And I’m still working on that too.

    Saint Dirty Face™

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.

  • You Called Me a Dog

    Robert

    Some people think being called a dog is an insult.

    I used to think that too.

    But the older I get, the more I realize dogs have a few qualities most humans lost somewhere between ambition and ego.

    Dogs survive.

    Dogs take the cold nights.

    The closed doors.

    The long roads with no map and no promise of tomorrow.

    And when they get kicked out… they don’t write manifestos about injustice.

    They keep walking.

    I’ve slept on floors before.

    I’ve run with wolves in places where the polite world doesn’t like to look.

    I’ve dug for gold and come home with nothing but a handful of coal and a story no one wanted to hear.

    So when someone says:

    “You’re a dog.”

    I don’t argue anymore.

    Because a dog knows loyalty.

    A dog knows hunger.

    A dog knows how to survive a winter most people wouldn’t last a week in.

    And the strange thing is…

    Dogs still wag their tail when they see someone they love.

    Even after the door was slammed.

    Even after the stones were thrown.

    So if you call me a dog…

    Fine.

    Just remember something.

    Dogs remember who fed them.

    And they remember who kicked them too.

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    Saint Dirty Face™

    *Stay Dirty. Stay Human.*™

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  • How to Earn Your Right to Sit

    Robert

    Fifty-four years on this planet.

    A lot of miles on these boots.

    Some of them were straight roads.

    Some were bar fights, bad decisions, and 3AM promises I barely remember making.

    Back then we used to laugh and say it was all just pillow talk, baby.

    Life moved fast in those days.

    Party.

    Work.

    Party again.

    Work again.

    Then one day you look up and suddenly it’s different.

    Family.

    Responsibility.

    Bills.

    Kids growing faster than your memory can keep up.

    And somewhere along the way, you realize something.

    The road wasn’t perfect.

    Hell, it wasn’t even straight.

    But you walked it.

    You told the truth most of the time.

    Sometimes you told a white lie just to get through Tuesday.

    That’s not hypocrisy.

    That’s called being human.

    And if you stayed standing through it all—

    the work, the chaos, the love, the mistakes—

    then one day you earn something most people never think about.

    You earn your right to sit.

    Not because you’re tired.

    Because you’ve walked enough road to finally enjoy the view.

    It hasn’t always been a straight walk.

    But I walked it.

    Saint Dirty Face

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.™

  • Thirty Years in Nursing… and I Still Get the Call

    Robert

    A Saint Dirty Face Reflection

    Here’s something nobody tells you about nursing.

    One day you wake up and realize you’re no longer the new nurse, the charge nurse, or even the supervisor.

    You’re the veteran.

    The one people quietly look at when something doesn’t make sense.

    Ironically, I spent part of today rewriting my résumé and actually toning it down a little. After 30+ years in nursing, the strange reality is that experience can sometimes work against you. Hiring managers might glance at a résumé and think:

    “Hmm… This guy will run the room.”

    And the truth is… they’re not wrong.

    I’ve been on the other side of that desk. I’ve hired people. Sometimes managers choose the younger nurse they can mold instead of the veteran who might naturally carry gravity in the room.

    Now here I am.

    The veteran.

    Life has a funny way of flipping the script like that.

    But here’s the part that made me smile.

    A couple of days ago, someone close to me was getting an iron infusion at a local hospital. During the usual small talk with the nurses, my career came up. Next thing you know, they said:

    “Call him.”

    Apparently they had questions about an MD order they had just received.

    So there I was — sitting at home — suddenly doing a curbside consult through a phone.

    Thirty years in nursing and I’m still getting pulled into the conversation… even when I’m not in the building.

    And honestly?

    That moment meant more to me than any résumé line.

    Because the real badge of honor in nursing isn’t titles or awards.

    It’s when another nurse looks at a situation and says:

    “Hey… what do you think?”

    That’s trust.
    That’s experience.
    That’s the quiet reputation you build one shift at a time.

    So yeah, tonight I polished my résumé. I softened a few lines. I played the hiring game a little smarter.

    But the truth is still the truth.

    After three decades in the trenches, when something complicated pops up in a hospital somewhere, sooner or later someone will still say:

    “Let’s ask Robert.”

    And honestly…

    That’s the part of the job I’ve always loved the most.

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
    Saint Dirty Face™
    Stay Dirty. Stay Human.™

  • Superbowl Sunday

    Robert

    Who you picking?

    Drink responsibly.

    Uber home if needed.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Safe.

    Saint Dirty Face

  • 🖤 Chaos on the Carpet

    Robert

    by Saint Dirty Face

    Chaos everywhere.

    Glitter explodes on the cat—

    Some people chase meaning in the stars.

    Art? Or just Thursday?

    Some in spreadsheets.

    Some in the quiet between prayers.

    Me?

    I find it in the mess.

    In the broken lamp.

    In the spilled coffee.

    In the glitter that had no business being near a living creature.

    Because life doesn’t arrive clean.

    It kicks the door in, knocks over your plans, and leaves sparkle on things that were never meant to shine.

    And we still ask—

    Is this a masterpiece…

    or just another night trying not to fall apart?

    Here’s the truth they don’t print on throw pillows:

    You don’t need a vision board.

    You need permission to laugh when the universe trips.

    So if tonight feels loud, ridiculous, unhinged—

    good.

    It means you’re still here.

    Still standing in the debris, choosing wonder over bitterness.

    Still breathing.

    Glitter on the cat.

    Chaos on the floor.

    And you?

    Still creating—

    even when you swear you’re not.

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

    Saint Dirty Face™

    Stay Dirty, Stay Human™

    –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  • Read the blogs……

    Robert

  • Stay Ready.

    Robert

  • Stay Ready.

    Robert