Some day little girls will wear little dresses with little flowers embroidered on the pockets for no other reason than to wear little embroidered flowers; not to show the world that those pockets are conveniently placed.
If evolution exists let us devolve in, if nothing else, our level of innocence.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A Completely Selfish Argument
Had I moved quickly enough, I might have, for a mystical nanosecond, been able to hold my frozen breath in my palm this morning. The stars lingered, postponing the inevitable dawn, as I stepped onto the library balcony to rest my weary mind. The glow of the monument below stirred a childish Rapunzel daydream, which I didn't know how to halt until it had already passed. It just seemed weird to daydream about Rapunzel in any circumstance, let alone during Finals Week.
The cold at first felt glorious, then humbling, and gradually sank into a shivering state of misery. My teeth chattered Morse Code messages as misting rain amplified the December air. All I wanted to do was write. Not sleep. Not finally find a bathroom in this stupid building and pee. I wanted to pull my knees to my chest, balancing my weathered spiral ledger, and write until the muscles in my fingers stopped responding. At this moment I was not thinking about how nice it would be to revive a little old lady on the Metro or save some helpless kid from leukemia. I wanted to feel that tangible beauty flow from my silent lips as I mouthed the words my hands painted onto paper.
I was almost certain that in the not so far off future I would become that mumbling bag lady that children throw rocks at if I didn't fear the fact that I have friends that would join in the throwing. My lips were already parted, forming the words my hands could not respond to. Silence turned to muttering, as if my mind felt like pushing that metaphoric envelope with or without my consent. I didn't dare take the time to write, as the past forty-eight hours had already drained the majority of my coherent thought.
"Not today", I whispered to myself, officially sealing in my "crazy doctor-to-be with imaginary friends" title. It was then that I felt a tug. A literal, absolute tug from somewhere inside my chest. "No", I sighed.
I left the wispy remains of a ghost waiting on that cold balcony. I had betrayed my writer's soul for the tedious study of Biology flash cards. It was as if I chosen sides in an unseen war, of which I had formerly been Switzerland. I just hoped I had not unknowingly sided with the enemy.
The cold at first felt glorious, then humbling, and gradually sank into a shivering state of misery. My teeth chattered Morse Code messages as misting rain amplified the December air. All I wanted to do was write. Not sleep. Not finally find a bathroom in this stupid building and pee. I wanted to pull my knees to my chest, balancing my weathered spiral ledger, and write until the muscles in my fingers stopped responding. At this moment I was not thinking about how nice it would be to revive a little old lady on the Metro or save some helpless kid from leukemia. I wanted to feel that tangible beauty flow from my silent lips as I mouthed the words my hands painted onto paper.
I was almost certain that in the not so far off future I would become that mumbling bag lady that children throw rocks at if I didn't fear the fact that I have friends that would join in the throwing. My lips were already parted, forming the words my hands could not respond to. Silence turned to muttering, as if my mind felt like pushing that metaphoric envelope with or without my consent. I didn't dare take the time to write, as the past forty-eight hours had already drained the majority of my coherent thought.
"Not today", I whispered to myself, officially sealing in my "crazy doctor-to-be with imaginary friends" title. It was then that I felt a tug. A literal, absolute tug from somewhere inside my chest. "No", I sighed.
I left the wispy remains of a ghost waiting on that cold balcony. I had betrayed my writer's soul for the tedious study of Biology flash cards. It was as if I chosen sides in an unseen war, of which I had formerly been Switzerland. I just hoped I had not unknowingly sided with the enemy.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The Little Things
It was that time of year again; the time of year when snow blanketed front lawns and soft lights twinkled against the backdrop of even softer music. It was that special time of year, when greeting card sales spiked and cliques rolled off the tongue without shame. It was the season of Final Exams.
Ah, Final Exams. The only two words in the English language that, when combined, have the power to bring entire civilizations to their knees. Well, second to Atom Bomb.
If someone had asked me to describe my first Pre-Med quarter in three words, I would have had to say: exhausting, stressful, and difficult. My adjectives should have been: empowering, stimulating, and difficult. I couldn't believe that I was already finished with an entire quarter, so much so that it made my head swell. The loom factor of these upcoming exams made the "final" aspect of them seem much too literal to stomach.
I needed to take a moment to breathe, and was planning on doing so just after I met with my professor to ask some last panicked questions about the final. It was then, while sitting in her uncomfortable folding chair, that I broke under the pressure. Babbling about long midnight shifts and an unsure admission to Medical School, I failed at mentally clawing back tears. She nonchalantly handed me a box of tissues, and patiently waited for me to finish sniffling. "Well then", she finally broke the tension of my outburst, "You better do well on the final".
It was as simple as that. I better do well on the final. "For the next week, eat, sleep, and breathe the material. Don't party. Don't work. Don't think. Just do well on the final, and for Christ's sake stop crying in my office".
Humiliated, yet oddly encouraged, I thanked her for her time and began my cold walk home. And, for the first time in my life, I dismissed everything my brilliant professor had told me. I went home, took a long nap, made gingerbread men with my girlfriends, and spent the next two days simply enjoying the company of my friends. It was the first time in a long time that my gut hurt from laughter rather than stress. I did not eat, sleep, or breathe the material. I ate, slept, and breathed.
I took time for myself and was still able to crack open the books without resorting to building a time machine in my kitchen. The breaking point was my body's way of screaming, "What the hell!?", and I was finally able to reply with a calm, "Don't you worry Body. I'm a doctor. Almost."
Sometimes pure common sense outweighs the prestige of a doctorate, and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine. Or the best way to become a medicine woman.
Ah, Final Exams. The only two words in the English language that, when combined, have the power to bring entire civilizations to their knees. Well, second to Atom Bomb.
If someone had asked me to describe my first Pre-Med quarter in three words, I would have had to say: exhausting, stressful, and difficult. My adjectives should have been: empowering, stimulating, and difficult. I couldn't believe that I was already finished with an entire quarter, so much so that it made my head swell. The loom factor of these upcoming exams made the "final" aspect of them seem much too literal to stomach.
I needed to take a moment to breathe, and was planning on doing so just after I met with my professor to ask some last panicked questions about the final. It was then, while sitting in her uncomfortable folding chair, that I broke under the pressure. Babbling about long midnight shifts and an unsure admission to Medical School, I failed at mentally clawing back tears. She nonchalantly handed me a box of tissues, and patiently waited for me to finish sniffling. "Well then", she finally broke the tension of my outburst, "You better do well on the final".
It was as simple as that. I better do well on the final. "For the next week, eat, sleep, and breathe the material. Don't party. Don't work. Don't think. Just do well on the final, and for Christ's sake stop crying in my office".
Humiliated, yet oddly encouraged, I thanked her for her time and began my cold walk home. And, for the first time in my life, I dismissed everything my brilliant professor had told me. I went home, took a long nap, made gingerbread men with my girlfriends, and spent the next two days simply enjoying the company of my friends. It was the first time in a long time that my gut hurt from laughter rather than stress. I did not eat, sleep, or breathe the material. I ate, slept, and breathed.
I took time for myself and was still able to crack open the books without resorting to building a time machine in my kitchen. The breaking point was my body's way of screaming, "What the hell!?", and I was finally able to reply with a calm, "Don't you worry Body. I'm a doctor. Almost."
Sometimes pure common sense outweighs the prestige of a doctorate, and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine. Or the best way to become a medicine woman.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The End of an Era
I knew that I should have been listening to the words coming out of his mouth, but the depth of the moment had wiped all but untimely thoughts of how incredibly cold his car had become from my mind. The dynamics of our relationship had changed so drastically, so suddenly, that I could hardly force the proper emotions. I nervously played with loose strands of hair as I avoided his overwhelming expression. His words cut, short and necessary, almost as fluid as the breath that entered and fled his lungs. He meant every word, every syllable, of our conversation and no matter how much I begged my thoughts to halt I had no control over them. My limbs shook, but somehow I knew that it was not simply the cold that moved them. I couldn't believe that this was how our relationship was going to end; in a cold car parked under a dimming streetlight. The gravity of the situation exhausted me, pulling the pounding of my head forward to meet the back of my eyes, blurring my vision. It was just as well. Looking at him would only cause the welling tears to burst from my awkwardly stoic gaze.
We were saying goodbye, because he was saying I love you. Platonic friends, we had reached a point at which platonic was not enough, but was not something that I could give. What I could not give, he could not bear to be without, so he had reached the point of ultimatum. All or nothing. All of me, or none of us. I made a choice.
Talking gave way to crying, and crying to reminiscing until it reached a point at which we both realized I would have to leave the car. The car, a place free from the weight of time, from the regulations of space, had suddenly become the last strand holding our friendship together. The moment I opened the door our ties would break, and the way we had known each other would quickly fade to futile stories told in past tense. I reached for the handle, knowing our charade could only last so long. I pushed open the door, feeling the true heaviness of the metal for the first time, and stepped onto the concrete. All too appropriately a cold, empty wind rushed to fill my place. Our tears glistened in the flicker of the streetlight for an instant, and then I turned to cross the empty street. I didn't dare look back, because I could feel him watching me as I so casually walked out of his life.
All or none had so easily become none, and the dearness of our friendship had so easily broken under the strain of one choice. I could hardly catch my breath as my sobbing turned to a disbelieving wail. I couldn't help but wonder what held two people together in the first place, and how strong loyalties truly are to be severed in a matter of agonizing seconds.
It was surgery without anesthesia. He was being cut out of my future, my memory, my life. It was left to heal on its own, no sutures or staples to aid it. An open wound, infecting my perception of all love and friendship. It left me missing a piece of myself. It was unbelievable. It was over. It was excruciating.
We were saying goodbye, because he was saying I love you. Platonic friends, we had reached a point at which platonic was not enough, but was not something that I could give. What I could not give, he could not bear to be without, so he had reached the point of ultimatum. All or nothing. All of me, or none of us. I made a choice.
Talking gave way to crying, and crying to reminiscing until it reached a point at which we both realized I would have to leave the car. The car, a place free from the weight of time, from the regulations of space, had suddenly become the last strand holding our friendship together. The moment I opened the door our ties would break, and the way we had known each other would quickly fade to futile stories told in past tense. I reached for the handle, knowing our charade could only last so long. I pushed open the door, feeling the true heaviness of the metal for the first time, and stepped onto the concrete. All too appropriately a cold, empty wind rushed to fill my place. Our tears glistened in the flicker of the streetlight for an instant, and then I turned to cross the empty street. I didn't dare look back, because I could feel him watching me as I so casually walked out of his life.
All or none had so easily become none, and the dearness of our friendship had so easily broken under the strain of one choice. I could hardly catch my breath as my sobbing turned to a disbelieving wail. I couldn't help but wonder what held two people together in the first place, and how strong loyalties truly are to be severed in a matter of agonizing seconds.
It was surgery without anesthesia. He was being cut out of my future, my memory, my life. It was left to heal on its own, no sutures or staples to aid it. An open wound, infecting my perception of all love and friendship. It left me missing a piece of myself. It was unbelievable. It was over. It was excruciating.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
I'm in Love with a Puncture Wound
"This isn't going to hurt at all", he reassured me as I heard my cartilage tear under the pressure of the needle. He lied, by the way. It hurt an awful lot. Yet, the pain subsided and an earring slid in the needle's place. "This will take six to nine months to heal", he continued, explaining that my body may react negatively to the substantial puncture wound it had just endured.
The word "wound" hung in the air as it left his lips. What had I just done!? Holy crap. I had let someone give me a "substantial puncture wound" that would heal in the time it takes to grow a human being. Then, I looked in the mirror.
A smile widened across my face as I wiped some dipping blood from my ear. I loved it. There it was; the inner ear (tragus) piercing that I had wanted for so many years. I couldn't believe I had waited so long to get it.
My list was shrinking, adventure by adventure, and I knew that without it I would have put this off for most likely ever. The cold wind hit my newly damaged tragus and almost knocked me over on the walk home, but I could have cared less. This was it! I was living my life without fear, and if living without fear came hand in hand with almost passing out on the walk home, then so be it.
*My Yoga mat came in the mail today, and I have come up with a ballpark figure for my trip to Europe. If I save back $250 a month I will be able to get on a plane August 1st and be back August 30th.
The word "wound" hung in the air as it left his lips. What had I just done!? Holy crap. I had let someone give me a "substantial puncture wound" that would heal in the time it takes to grow a human being. Then, I looked in the mirror.
A smile widened across my face as I wiped some dipping blood from my ear. I loved it. There it was; the inner ear (tragus) piercing that I had wanted for so many years. I couldn't believe I had waited so long to get it.
My list was shrinking, adventure by adventure, and I knew that without it I would have put this off for most likely ever. The cold wind hit my newly damaged tragus and almost knocked me over on the walk home, but I could have cared less. This was it! I was living my life without fear, and if living without fear came hand in hand with almost passing out on the walk home, then so be it.
*My Yoga mat came in the mail today, and I have come up with a ballpark figure for my trip to Europe. If I save back $250 a month I will be able to get on a plane August 1st and be back August 30th.
Monday, November 10, 2008
20 Steps to a More Adventurous Year
Under a new halo of pseudo-happiness, I had been applying the all too overused "fake it till I make it" mentality to my everyday life for many many days now. Yet, a forced smile rarely gave way to a genuine anything, except for the occasional jaw-ache. I was beginning to wonder if some people were simply born happy and others scowled in the shadows left by the light of their joy when it hit me. What do I do that makes me happy in the first place? How can I expect to be happy when I do nothing that sparks my "happy flame"?
I did have a group of wonderful friends, a glorious living space, yadda yadda yadda, but all I did was work at school, work at work, and work at sleeping. I was working myself to death. And I was a dull boy. All of those terrible cliches rolled into one.
And so, I made a list of things I would like to do before the school year was over, none of which that would guarantee me any academic merit, which was just fine by me.
Upon completing this list, I will now publish it here for you my friends, so that you will hold me accountable to complete it (and hopefully complete some of the better tasks with me).
This list is not in any particular order, but must be completed before the end of the school year in May.
1) Take up yoga
2) Go to sleep early (and I mean early, like 10:00 early) at least once every six days
3) Go on a road trip
4) Take the train somewhere (anywhere) which may apply to number three
5) Get a manicure/pedicure
6) Go skiing
7) Go to a concert (of a band I actually like, not just to go to one)
8) Go on a picnic (complete with basket, blanket, and sparkling grape juice)
9) See the manatees at the Zoo
10) Completely plan my backpacking trip to Europe (so help me God this is going to happen!)
11) Get my middle-ear-part-thing pierced (tragus)
12) Go to a drive-in movie
13) Buy one outlandishly nice piece of clothing (dress, jeans, whatever)
14) Go ice skating downtown (no matter how much it kills the ankles)
15) Make gingerbread men and decorate them
16) Write my grandmother a letter
17) Dedicate one afternoon to photography
18) Make one snowman
19) Read two books just for fun
20) Enter one karaoke contest
If I think of more (and I probably will) I will post them, but I think that list is enough to get started. Thanks for coming along on this little journey to my happy Mecca, and I hope that at the end of this year I will be able to look back and realize that I really did have time for life and adventure.
*Progress has been made: I have purchased a Yoga mat, DVD, and the Guide to Planning a Backpacking Trip on a Budget.
I did have a group of wonderful friends, a glorious living space, yadda yadda yadda, but all I did was work at school, work at work, and work at sleeping. I was working myself to death. And I was a dull boy. All of those terrible cliches rolled into one.
And so, I made a list of things I would like to do before the school year was over, none of which that would guarantee me any academic merit, which was just fine by me.
Upon completing this list, I will now publish it here for you my friends, so that you will hold me accountable to complete it (and hopefully complete some of the better tasks with me).
This list is not in any particular order, but must be completed before the end of the school year in May.
1) Take up yoga
2) Go to sleep early (and I mean early, like 10:00 early) at least once every six days
3) Go on a road trip
4) Take the train somewhere (anywhere) which may apply to number three
5) Get a manicure/pedicure
6) Go skiing
7) Go to a concert (of a band I actually like, not just to go to one)
8) Go on a picnic (complete with basket, blanket, and sparkling grape juice)
9) See the manatees at the Zoo
10) Completely plan my backpacking trip to Europe (so help me God this is going to happen!)
11) Get my middle-ear-part-thing pierced (tragus)
12) Go to a drive-in movie
13) Buy one outlandishly nice piece of clothing (dress, jeans, whatever)
14) Go ice skating downtown (no matter how much it kills the ankles)
15) Make gingerbread men and decorate them
16) Write my grandmother a letter
17) Dedicate one afternoon to photography
18) Make one snowman
19) Read two books just for fun
20) Enter one karaoke contest
If I think of more (and I probably will) I will post them, but I think that list is enough to get started. Thanks for coming along on this little journey to my happy Mecca, and I hope that at the end of this year I will be able to look back and realize that I really did have time for life and adventure.
*Progress has been made: I have purchased a Yoga mat, DVD, and the Guide to Planning a Backpacking Trip on a Budget.
Friday, November 7, 2008
I'm Fine, How Are You?
Here I lay, raw and gushing,
Rivers hit the busy street,
Passersby will stop to scold me,
For the mess that hits their feet,
How dare I open up here,
Showing not just skin but bone.
How dare I beg for mercy,
As my heartbeats set the tone,
Stitch me up and send me stumbling,
Lest my human tears pour out,
Let the marks scar over,
Covered in shameful, biting doubt.
Take my organs,
Shaking, gasping,
Clenched fists meet empty scream,
Pain at first but quickly over,
Leaving all but bloody stain,
Shriveled vessels,
Gaping holes,
Chasms where life had once been,
Leave the echos of the comfort,
Of a response with no meaning.
Rivers hit the busy street,
Passersby will stop to scold me,
For the mess that hits their feet,
How dare I open up here,
Showing not just skin but bone.
How dare I beg for mercy,
As my heartbeats set the tone,
Stitch me up and send me stumbling,
Lest my human tears pour out,
Let the marks scar over,
Covered in shameful, biting doubt.
Take my organs,
Shaking, gasping,
Clenched fists meet empty scream,
Pain at first but quickly over,
Leaving all but bloody stain,
Shriveled vessels,
Gaping holes,
Chasms where life had once been,
Leave the echos of the comfort,
Of a response with no meaning.
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