On Life and Other John Mayerish things:
I was downstairs in cardiology this morning for a bit to escape the insanely low temperatures in Nuc Med and to help with a stress test. Cardiology is like a pimped out coffee shop, smells of Creme Brulee and has a straight from the screen assortment of Cardio gods. So you know where I am if you call my floor and I am not there. Just Kidding. I was distracted, wowed in fact by one of the said Cardio gods, completely impressed by the amount of information he effortlessly spewed out sounding like he was an audio text book. Yup. Everything was amazing and picture perfect until I looked down and saw red socks. Yes, a shameful sad looking pair of red socks. What kind of self respecting cardiologist wears all red sports socks with dress shoes? And they say nucs are weird.
I can't believe how long it has been since I wrote anything. So much as has happened that it would be a bit overwhelming on my part trying to correctly spell all of it. I am however doing great-4 weeks into my 7 week rotation,very tired but also inspired,going back and forth between euphoria and insanity. I have learned that all bleeding stops...one way or the other. And that I evidently will judge a doctor by his socks.
I have also learned that sometimes you will break your own heart, sunshine burns when you get too much,sometimes you will doubt the things you have known all your life. Some things suck, some doctors make crappy socks decisions.
"no it won't all go the way it should, but I know the heart of life is good"-John Mayer/heart of life/Continuum
So Be Positive, Be Amazing, Be a John Mayer Junkie!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
A Cupfull of Yesterday
On rainy Monday nights in the fall when I make a huge bowl of apple cider...and when the wind crashes angrily against my living room window, I miss you. And I realize that I have missed you all along,but attempting to cope I hurried along life's busy road, never stopping to acknowledge that I felt a void. Never letting myself cry when forgetting I reached for your hand, found none and pretended to have never reached at all. Until now when I sit in what used to be your favorite recliner,watching the candles whose flames cast dancing shadows on the wall. Fall scents embrace me, perhaps a little more than I have recently allowed anyone to hold me. But I let them in,I let myself go back to the little things that represent you, like cinnamon and caramel apple spice. Until I finally start to feel you, just enough to know how badly I need you to be here and how cold this place has become. Sometimes we convince ourselves that moving on is healthier, but it might be that moving on is easier. Easier than lingering in places that still feel like they used to be and yet no longer are, easier than sitting alone,in a semi-lit room drinking the apple cider I poured for you.
Monday, September 07, 2009
He Told Her
He told her,
that it is the slight pout she wears-unaware, the way she dances to the song in her head, her tiny feet bare, her braids everywhere.
He said it is the fluid way she switches between adult and little girl, responsibility and childlike hysteria. He told her, it is the way she never walks- always runs up the stairs, her pony tail bouncing delightfully behind her, and the way she looks up at him and for no apparent reason laughs. He said it is the pseudo bravery, trying to kill a bug while screaming at the top of her lungs. It is how she curls up in a ball on the couch, how her eyes light up at the sight of a coffee cup, how she hides in her shell when she has a long day, and later unfurls to envelope his soul with her love,open, undamaged, unbroken, unending.
She lay hidden under her ocean of teal covers,her breathing slow-she'd been sleeping for hours, and kneeling beside her bed,he finally told her.
that it is the slight pout she wears-unaware, the way she dances to the song in her head, her tiny feet bare, her braids everywhere.
He said it is the fluid way she switches between adult and little girl, responsibility and childlike hysteria. He told her, it is the way she never walks- always runs up the stairs, her pony tail bouncing delightfully behind her, and the way she looks up at him and for no apparent reason laughs. He said it is the pseudo bravery, trying to kill a bug while screaming at the top of her lungs. It is how she curls up in a ball on the couch, how her eyes light up at the sight of a coffee cup, how she hides in her shell when she has a long day, and later unfurls to envelope his soul with her love,open, undamaged, unbroken, unending.
She lay hidden under her ocean of teal covers,her breathing slow-she'd been sleeping for hours, and kneeling beside her bed,he finally told her.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Hawaii and Hammocks
Just kidding. There is no such thing as a vacation on the horizon for me; unless you count the fact that I am going to bed as soon as I am done here. Still, it doesn't hurt to wish, does it?
This was a bipolar day. Monday blues in the morning, a weird bliss in the traffic, zoned out most of the 8am class, texted Phillip the rest of the morning and then slid into a major paranoid frenzy when I realized just how grave the situation is concerning my radiopharmacy class, for which the first exam is tomorrow. (Insert horrified scream!)
I lined up in Burnett Hall for 45 minutes, then got to the window only to find that I was supposed to be in Victor Hall...so I went there and lined up for an hour, then the chica at the window said come back tomorrow. (Insert Lightning and Thunder)
On a happy note,Allie called me and made me laugh, at her and at myself and at life in general. If she were a book, she'd be my diary. It is kinda spooky how much we have in common-including this bizarre and completely old ladyish(In my world it is perfectly okay to make words up as you go) need to sit outside and just absorb, you know, life. Allie, I know you'll read this-I love that I can be 83 years around you and its all good!
I missed Zumba today because I was stupidly falling apart in the parking lot following the afternoon's insanity, but I ran all the way up stairs in the rain before I collapsed into a weirdly deep nap in which I saw my life story and all the things I achieved (and didn't achieve) and heard the mean voice telling me how much more I can do with my life if only I believed in myself more and pushed harder.
Yes, it gets a little sickening. All the things people(or voices for that matter) tell you when you are 20 something and trying to figure it out-it's like they forget how it felt not having a freaking idea what to do about most things.
And so it rained for hours in Savannah this afternoon, but it wasn't so much the rain outside as it was the storm within.
This was a bipolar day. Monday blues in the morning, a weird bliss in the traffic, zoned out most of the 8am class, texted Phillip the rest of the morning and then slid into a major paranoid frenzy when I realized just how grave the situation is concerning my radiopharmacy class, for which the first exam is tomorrow. (Insert horrified scream!)
I lined up in Burnett Hall for 45 minutes, then got to the window only to find that I was supposed to be in Victor Hall...so I went there and lined up for an hour, then the chica at the window said come back tomorrow. (Insert Lightning and Thunder)
On a happy note,Allie called me and made me laugh, at her and at myself and at life in general. If she were a book, she'd be my diary. It is kinda spooky how much we have in common-including this bizarre and completely old ladyish(In my world it is perfectly okay to make words up as you go) need to sit outside and just absorb, you know, life. Allie, I know you'll read this-I love that I can be 83 years around you and its all good!
I missed Zumba today because I was stupidly falling apart in the parking lot following the afternoon's insanity, but I ran all the way up stairs in the rain before I collapsed into a weirdly deep nap in which I saw my life story and all the things I achieved (and didn't achieve) and heard the mean voice telling me how much more I can do with my life if only I believed in myself more and pushed harder.
Yes, it gets a little sickening. All the things people(or voices for that matter) tell you when you are 20 something and trying to figure it out-it's like they forget how it felt not having a freaking idea what to do about most things.
And so it rained for hours in Savannah this afternoon, but it wasn't so much the rain outside as it was the storm within.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Help the Monster!
You know that overwhelming feeling that wraps around you when you are swamped?
This weekend mostly felt that way. I have come to the disappointing realization that I am not superman...or woman if we are going to get all analytical about everything I say( which we really shouldn't because most of it is being processed by only half a brain cell)
If you know me even slightly, you know that I am hyper-organized; but no degree of planning or organization could have prepared me for the schedule insanity I have going on. Even after I clear my schedule of all self created activities, there still is not enough time in the world to do everything.
I had no idea that it would come to picking between church and assignments, but it did. And if you care to know-one of the most annoying voices in my head is the one that tells me over and over again when I am NOT putting God first. But this is not a religious/pious rant.
This is just me beefing(sheesh..like you don't use the word!) at life in general for being as busy as it is.
I canceled Guitar class on Saturday which literally aborted my plans to join Lincoln Brewster's Band.
I also called off movie plans-and honestly this is not a big deal;I don't care that much. What really sucked, was sitting in Starbucks all weekend trying to get the 300 nuclear math problems done, so that I could write the paper due on Tuesday morning and study for the test on Thursday. It all sucked because I really was supposed to be shopping with the little sister( and Princess), playing guitar and eating Mexican with Keith! It is after all the stuff we do on the weekend that helps us get through the week.
And so my face book status on Monday read: please God, let there be Friday!
I am entirely over scheduled for the next seven weeks,and I am concerned that in the rat race to find my dreams, I am turning into a monster who doesn't go to church, eat or socialize.
This monster needs help!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Blur and Blah
I can't.
Write.
Or breathe.
of Late.
She said I am a good egg. I wonder when I will hatch.
He said I must believe in something bigger than myself. And now I wonder about that too, you see-most things are bigger than me. 18 wheelers. cows. the world. all of them.
On Repeat:Damien Rice, 9 crimes
Write.
Or breathe.
of Late.
She said I am a good egg. I wonder when I will hatch.
He said I must believe in something bigger than myself. And now I wonder about that too, you see-most things are bigger than me. 18 wheelers. cows. the world. all of them.
On Repeat:Damien Rice, 9 crimes
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
*Falling Awake
“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die”.
Thomas Campbell
This morning I found under the seat, a parking decal from what feels like a long time ago. A long time ago when I stopped at a pharmacy on a summer night, when you said you love chocolate and water (together) and I laughed at the odd food choice, inwardly loving the eccentricity of stranger passing through. Passing through town, and evidently through my world. Blind to your own journeys ahead, you hoped that you would stay around and we would play; outside in the sun, in the sand. In the morning we used to pray on the phone, you wide awake and me barely coherent. You laughed at my enunciation and repeated everything I said, and most times we both completely forgot the truth, lost in a beautiful world no one else understood. I found entirely new pieces of me while I talked for hours in a coffee shop with you; and I stop sometimes on the bridge where the car hit you. Underneath, the waves are calm and on my skin the wind is gentle.
It seems that there is a sudden silence where once music used to play; an aching quietness that engulfs both those who dare to admit it and those who remain in the fast lane, in denial, unable to acknowledge inevitable change. It might be comforting (or not, I haven’t really been able to decide) to know that this is not a sudden finale. It is more like a long jazz song slowly fading into nothingness, the sand in an hour glass gradually shifting to the bottom, while we watch helpless-unable to control destiny. So we pick up our pieces, learn our lessons, laugh at the irony, maybe cry a little, and then move on the general direction of wholeness. I can’t help but smile because I hear your laughter in my head, loud, contagious and sweet. Just like you used to be. Just like you still must be.
*Title of Gary Jules' very appropriate song.
Thomas Campbell
This morning I found under the seat, a parking decal from what feels like a long time ago. A long time ago when I stopped at a pharmacy on a summer night, when you said you love chocolate and water (together) and I laughed at the odd food choice, inwardly loving the eccentricity of stranger passing through. Passing through town, and evidently through my world. Blind to your own journeys ahead, you hoped that you would stay around and we would play; outside in the sun, in the sand. In the morning we used to pray on the phone, you wide awake and me barely coherent. You laughed at my enunciation and repeated everything I said, and most times we both completely forgot the truth, lost in a beautiful world no one else understood. I found entirely new pieces of me while I talked for hours in a coffee shop with you; and I stop sometimes on the bridge where the car hit you. Underneath, the waves are calm and on my skin the wind is gentle.
It seems that there is a sudden silence where once music used to play; an aching quietness that engulfs both those who dare to admit it and those who remain in the fast lane, in denial, unable to acknowledge inevitable change. It might be comforting (or not, I haven’t really been able to decide) to know that this is not a sudden finale. It is more like a long jazz song slowly fading into nothingness, the sand in an hour glass gradually shifting to the bottom, while we watch helpless-unable to control destiny. So we pick up our pieces, learn our lessons, laugh at the irony, maybe cry a little, and then move on the general direction of wholeness. I can’t help but smile because I hear your laughter in my head, loud, contagious and sweet. Just like you used to be. Just like you still must be.
*Title of Gary Jules' very appropriate song.
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