suicide.

I might have something psycholoically wrong with me.

When I'm driving on the freeway, or anywhere really--just as long as I'm going pretty fast, sometimes I get really nervous. My hands get clammy and my heart speeds up and I start to sweat and get the chills. Why? I'm scared.

I feel like I'm afraid of what I might do. Like I think, "If I just turn the wheel really sharply, I would die almost for sure. I could just turn the wheel really fast." And then I get scared, like I have no control over myself turning that wheel.

I don't feel suicidal, even though I am certainly making myself sound like I am. The thing is, I don't want to do it. But, my panic is a feeling of helplessness. Like there is no way I could stop it. Like the person who would do it wouldn't be me. And I am always keenly aware of these morbid thoughts--which of course makes me even more scared, like do I have some problem in my head? I mean, I don't want to be scared. I don't want to die.

I had a similar experience a few weeks ago. I was walking home and it was dark out. Probably about 11pm or so. I got to the foot bridge near Dinkytown and there were no people around. I stopped in the middle of the bridge. I looked over the edge and wondered if it was possible to survive jumping off. Enter, panic attack. "Oh no, what if I jump? Imagine, it would be students who would find me tomorrow morning.." Why would I jump? I don't want to jump! What is wrong with me??

Also, when I'm on the bus and just people-watching out the window, if I see people walking on bridges I get nervous and think, "Please don't jump off." It's like for some reason my mind is so entirely fucked up that I can't convince myself that normal people don't want to jump off bridges.

I've been carrying this mental disorder with me for quite some time, but I think I may be released.. or whatever.

My roommate and I randomly decided to have a bonding night (at like 3am..) by walking a pretty little 3 mile loop by the river. Pretty fun time (I love that girl =)).. but anyways, atop the Hennepin Ave bridge we came across flowers, a cross, some posters--a memorial for a woman who had died. She had died the day before. By jumping off that bridge we stood on.

Yesterday, long-run Sunday, brought me to the Ford Parkway bridge. At the center, I stopped and looked around. Breathtaking. Tears came to my eyes, but not for fear. I had never felt safer.

artists and lions

So I'm in this art class.

Why? Not sure. I am in a phase now where I like to pretend I'm an artist. It really is starting to wear on my time and my budget however. Even though I did recently con my mother into buying me a shiny new 100-pack of colored pencils.. seriously it was like Christmas in March.. for a few days.. now I really want water colors. I am refraining myself though. But I am seeing Momma again next week....

Anyways, this class meets just once a week, but for 3.5 hours.. it is exhausting. It isn't the work that's tiring, I mean, I haven't been overly pleased with any one of my pieces, but hey, I'm just a pretend artist anyways. My classmates are exhausting. Most are art-majors, which, yes if you were wondering it is Very intimidating. They are all so incredibly conceited! It is like they are all always adorably a mess--very stylish and unique, but their personalities are all exactly the same! I've sort of caught on to a few of their "rules":

1.) If their artwork is actually really good, they will say how bad it is. They will point out the flaws, say they want to throw it away, say "ugh, I can't even look at it." I know this doesn't sound like conceitedness, but think about the context: These people know art. They know when it is good. They point out the flaws only to make it sound like this perfection is not even perfect enough for their capable hands.

2.) If their work is bad, they will talk about it like it is really good. They will fight tooth and nail with any objectors until they make you think they made it bad on purpose. But they didn't. Your critisism is just and they know it. Everyone knows it. But, in their minds, they think their words sway you otherwise. And you smile. Because it is a rule. We all follow the rules.

3.) If another artist's work is really good, they will find fault in it. And voice it. And the artist will stand up for themselves even though they "can't even look at it" because it is so "bad".

4.) If another artist's work is really bad, there are two possible options,

a.) if the artist is a pretend artist, like myself, they will be very nice and encouraging. Like you are a child. They say all nice things. Or better yet, they will find some small detail and turn it into some complicated symbolism that is very profound but very obviously did not come from the artist, so they end up looking, again, like a genius.

b.) if the artist is one of these people I am describing now, the others will tear them apart. Kick them while they're down. Pour salt on the wound. Take candy from the baby. Advantage must be taken of this point of vulnerability. Obviously. If you are a lion.

Those are my observations after.. 8ish weeks. They drive me crazy a little bit. I stick with this shy little Chinese girl named Tse Na. She doesn't speak english very well and I don't speak Chinese well.. at all. But I believe we share this bond as bunnies against the lions. I do enjoy the class for the same reason I enjoy annoying drama-queen shows like Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill.. the clothes! and hair and accessories and just style in general.. really.. If I wanted to boost the lions' egos even more (which I don't think would be safe outside the jungle) I would definitely take their photos and start a fashion blog. Beware Sartorialist.. I've got options.

a taste of culture.

Very fun night.

Last night I gathered with my coworkers for a party. To set up the ambiance, I will try to describe the members:

Jane and Fumi--couple who heads the lab and the hosts of the party. Fumi is Japanese and Jane is American. Fumi, I have trouble making out every word he says, but he has a beautiful smile. Jane is hilarious; I can't even describe it...like mad scientist hilarious.

Yayoi and Kenichi--couple; post-doctoral scientists; both Japanese. Yayoi is adorable and I want to go shopping with her because.. she's adorable. Ken is also hilarious. We had this one creepy guy who no one seemed to know hanging around the lab for some reason and Ken approached him and apparently got scared or something and ended the conversation with "I call police." So now when he gets into some type of bind, we all say, well just go call the police Ken!

Suma and (her husband I don't remember his name..)--Suma is a post-doc at our lab also and last night I finally met her husband. They are both Indian (like from India..not Native American). I think I made a special bond with Suma last night because we were the only two vegetarians plus we both had not ever had sushi. Suma is about 4'10"...just in case that helps you picture her better.

Le and Linda--couple, but not married; both are Vietnamese. Le is a junior scientist at our lab, and Linda used to be an undergrad worker like me. I don't have much to say about them except that Linda is not the typical "scientist" girl because she wears dresses and skirts and has her hair perfectly curled and has layers of make-up on. So I guess she adds a very different character to our party, but nonetheless I personally really like her, she is such a sweetie.

Yuloo--he is very new member; Chinese; very young post-doc; closest in age to me--22!

William--also a new member; post-doc; British; hilarious. This last part I am just finding out. He is quite soft spoken, but he does add little comments that are priceless. And I love his accent.

Gerit--German; Post-doc; this is the girl I work under--she is the best. She has short, uncontrollably curly hair (not unlike my own) and she is in love with me for some reason and so I love her also. Oh and she laughs at Everything and extremely loudly and it makes me love her all the more.

Charlie--never really found out who this guy is..why he was there..he must have worked there before me or something.. but anyways..he's a cutie.. very old.. American.

Thomas--American; attractive; a junior scientist [that makes him just 25 or so...not too far off ;)].

So here we all are.. eating handmade sushi by actual Japanese people... and I had seriously the best time. Maybe it's because they are all nerdy scientist people and I am heading in that general direction, but really.. the best time. Our conversations ranged from why Gerit's experiment resulted in the exact opposite (and upside down) of what she expected to why Jane's first grade teacher thought she was retarded because she "couldn't" read (even though she could read and just did not like this particular teacher).. and so on and so on.. The sushi was.. bearable.. though I don't think I'm a huge fan. One discovery--Wasabi! I thought I knew spicy.. but no. And to my surprise, I did not like it. This is coming from a girl who dumps a pot of Tabasco and eats that with Tabasco. This spicy makes your eyes and ears water, but only for a second, then nothing.. it was.. disturbing to me for some reason.

So anyways.. I love them all and I feel like in a small way I get to know the world a little better by hanging out with them.

epiphany

I had.. an emotional night I suppose you might say. I apologize if this is a boring post, however, because it really might just mean something to only me.

Tonight I had an AED meeting (pre-med club), and our speaker was a dermatologist and owner of his own practice. Dermatology is not even in the realm of what I'm interested in about medicine. I mean, I find it interesting, but owning my own practice, being extremely successful, having lots of money, working in a very calm environment, lotion.. it just isn't my ideal. The evening was salvaged though because this particular dermatologist had some insight. It seemed like he had insight right into my soul.

He began to talk about his "calling." He wanted to be a doctor since he was a little tike because that is what his dad was and he wanted to be exactly like his dad. ( I mean, at this point I am thinking, wow. I have nothing in common with this guy.. like what the fuck is a calling??)

Then he goes to his undergrad and medical school and has a hard time as he is a very bad student. He referred to himself as "lacking the God-given gift of brains." (yay! like me!) He says he makes it work though because of his "calling." (hmmm.. you lost me again)

He tries to get into residency with.. internal medicine I think he said? And didn't get in. He tried places until he did get in somewhere because it was his "calling." (maybe.. I'm starting to understand.. )

Anyways, so when he was done with a short biography, he went on a whole 45-min spiel about how going into medicine means it has to be your calling. There has to be no way that anyone could talk you out of this career choice. Because people will try to..all the time.. for the rest of your life. To be a doctor you sacrifice everything..all of everything.. for the rest of your life.

I think I understand what Dr. Carney meant by his "calling." Maybe I didn't know I was going to be a doctor when I was little, but I do know now.

So, to my epiphany. I really am going to be a doctor someday! I am not smart. I'm not going to have perfect grades. But I have to be a doctor.. it is the only thing I want to do. If I don't get in to any medical school, I will spend the rest of my life trying to. Another physician I have recently heard from spoke about how she was never very smart and she skipped class all the time in medical school. When she got to her residency, she just worked so hard, so she was promoted.. and promoted.. and is now like the Head of Pediatrics at Fairview.

This reminded me so much of me! So I have this job in a plant research lab and let me tell you, I. am. Awful. A major part of my job (at least my superior would like it to be a major part of my job..) is genotyping. For some reason, I always find a way to screw it up! Basically you have to make a mixture of solutions using a pipette (device used to measure very small amounts).. and I think my trouble is in getting the right concentrations without denaturing one of the solutions or something, but I never seem to get it right! Needless to say, Gerit (the post-doc. I work under) can't really trust me with important genotyping when my accuracy is currently at about 5%!! What's my point?

chill.. I'm getting there...

So anyways, Gerit is completely in love with me..she recently nominated me to win some kind of undergraduate award for being a great worker. She says I am the best undergrad worker she has seen in like five years. Is she kidding? I suck! So I think she just sees that I am trying really hard and I will do anything she says.

At first, I am thinking, isn't that a given? I have just grown up with people who work hard 100% of the time. I have always thought it has been a bit of a detriment to my psyche--always feeling like everything is a competition against people who are willing to give it their all--but I am beginning to change my mind. Osakis-grown people are not everywhere.. we are a rare breed. I don't want to judge people..honestly it's not what I'm about, but after living in the city for a number of months now, I see that I grew up in a different world than the people around me. People who live here are a little more self-involved... That's all I'm going to say.

I think it was earlier this year that my dad says to me, "You know what's going to set you apart on your medical school application? You have milked a cow." Huh? Yes, I'm positive that skill will come in handy when I am elbow deep in someones open chest..sure Dad. Tonight I finally make sense of Dad's crazy. I am from a small town, a no-place, a farm. I am different than people applying to medical school. My father and brother and aunt and cousin and grandfather weren't doctors. I will do anything you tell me to do. I don't care about myself. I care about you.

I have been blind to any mentality besides this for my whole life. I didn't think I was special because all my friends were like this. My family is like this. I am like this.

This is all very boring I'm sensing.. but it really means something to me. For a little more excitement: I started to cry a little on my walk home. I happened upon this song I have always really liked.. Your Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.. through it I have always tried to think about a boy I have a crush on at the time (or something because it's fun..) but I could only think about being a doctor. The song has a Completely new meaning to me now! Here's part of the lyrics:

When I see your smile

Tears roll down my face I can't replace

And now that I'm strong I have figured out

How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul

And I know I'll find deep inside me I can be the one

I will never let you fall

I'll stand up with you forever

I'll be there for you through it all

Even if saving you sends me to heaven

boys and men.

What is it about older men that attracts us young ladies so?

Aaand.. story time! I have a number of stories that exhibit this trend..

Very nearly Halloween of last year, I found myself staring into the eyes of a dream. Choose to believe these words or not: this man was Jude Law (minus the stubble, which was definitely a downgrade from the real Jude Law, but still..).

Let it be known that Jude Law is my favorite actor--this having nothing to do with his acting abilities, but really just based on two facts: he is the most attractive man alive and he has a heart-melting English accent.

My dream turns out to be 27 years old. Oh, and I find out later he has a 3-year-old son. Talk about complicated. Here is the question: was this guy really that much more attractive than any 18-year-old I have seen? Or was it his age that left me breathless? Or even more pathetic yet, was it the messiness? I don't want to be attracted to complicated, but it seems inevitable. My relief is that I am not alone in this struggle--I know this for sure.

So, I follow this one girl's blog--The Vegan Anti-Hero (love her!) And this girl constantly is with men twice her age (..making them fifty, which does creep me out a little, but who am I to judge? Where will I be in ten years?)

Another example: I have a close friend who is actually in a relationship with a 28-year old.. and she is 19! This situation brings on new questions in itself: like what is he doing with her? I don't mean this as a disrespect to my girlfriend because she is the best and Any guy would be lucky to have her. But this is no guy, he is a Man.

I do have a theory. Guys are immature. Again, no disrespect--it is a quality I love about guys because I am immature myself. Males, at any age, are generally less mature than females of the same age. So they end up searching younger. My friend is uncomplicated, fun, loose and perfect for this man approaching his thirties. I'm making it sound like they can't have a deep and meaningful relationship, but that's not what I mean. Even their conversations can not be so complicated and difficult. Girls my age are easy (and I don't mean that sexually..necessarily.)

Yes, I realize there is a level of "cougar-y" present out there, but it definitely is less prevalent.

Another theory I have is that female students tend to be attracted to teachers, professors, and T.A.s because they like the idea of their mate being able to protect them and teach them. They like being inferior and getting taken care of (yikes.. also very sad). But I hope this is what can be my excuse for having a slight crush on my Ultra-nerdy Physics TA.. =)

My conclusions...

Boys--Don't worry about being immature.. it is just what the world needs.

Girls--Don't worry about checking out older guys. It's okay. She's doing it too.

Bruegger's

Went into Bruegger's today for my usual, and it was the same girl working that I always have! Maybe I notice this because I am paranoid that I am spending money and buying bad-for-me food and so I think everyone around me is judging me, but goll. Loosen the belt a bit, Bruegger's. Hire some more people.

Really it isn't my fault at all. So as a vegan, it is basically a diamond in the rough to find a treat at a coffee shoppe. I love coffee. I love non-chain establishments (i.e. The Purple Onion, Cafe Royale, etc.). But.

When this girl drinks coffee without a chaser, she goes a little crazy.

I feel like my head is spinning, that I could get a mountain of homework done. This is fantastic for late night crams, but when you have to sit through a lecture or take an exam, it is near impossible. Concentrating is near impossible.

So back to the point, Bruegger's, though their dark roast is piss,

(funny story: I was sitting in Bruegger's with my usual, and a crazy walked in and ordered two coffees to go. He got them, sampled one, and started bellering about how awful it tasted. After demanding a refund (to which he was rejected), he resorted to auctioning it off to the crowd. I was amused and nearly joined his mutiny when he was ushered out of the building.)

...they do have wonderful whole wheat bagels with crunchy peanut butter. Ah, bliss. So my usual is created: one tall dark roast and a whole wheat bagel, toasted, with peanut butter.

And I swear the girl knows my order before I say it, but she says nothing, not even a smile. Yet I think she is judging me. Maybe I'm a crazy?

love.

Today, on my run, I was welcomed with a beautiful surprise.

Maybe it's not readable here, it says, "Marry Me Marnie."

Wow. These days I don't tend to stop on my runs, but I may have spent two minutes just staring at this message with a huge smile on my face (then I snuck back here today to take some photos). Why I am so in love with love is really a mystery. I spent the remainder of my run thinking about how ridiculous my personality is. I love engagment stories more than anything, and I love looking at bridal magazines. I have been known to tear up at the sight of an elderly couple holding hands, walking down the street. I am so obsessed with babies that I want to be a pediatrician! But. I don't think love is for me.

I do understand that I am just 18, and I haven't lived enough to make this drastic assumption. But I don't even feel open to love. Romantic situations, while I love hearing about them, are disaster in the face of this girl. First of all, I have never met anyone who I would kind of want to spend my life with. Second, I know that I have never gotten to know anyone well enough because I will not open up to people, so how can I expect a person to open up to me. I sound like I'm whining, and I don't mean to be. I like being by myself, honestly. I think there are some people who just don't have a match.

I read this really great book last semester, The Blood of Strangers by Frank Huyler. One character in the book, Rosa, is seriously who I see myself as in 20 years. She is this great surgeon famous in the hospital for her wit. She is described as a runner, coffee-stained teeth, with a "quick and dark" intelligence. She would yell at the drunks in the trauma room to "just shut the fuck up." Ah yes, she was amazing. One comment she makes is, "It really makes me wonder why I'm doing this. I thought I'd be married with kids by now like my sister." The narrator answers with, "Oh, come on Rosa. You love this stuff and you know it. You thrive on it." Then he says (as the narrator, so in his own head) that it was the answer she expected, needed. Rosa is like me, but she figured it out a little later in her life. I already know.

This is a pretty heavy topic, sorry. But, as much as I don't want to get married, or have children, I find myself looking to the after part. The elderly couple holding hands. I fear lonliness at that age. Maybe I'll get married when I'm 70.

starting to drown

I really am in love with lyrics. One of my favorite pastimes is making useless PowerPoints of photos I find on the internet (or take myself) and adding a short clip of a lyric to it. The little phrase under my blog's title ("It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown") is a lyrics from Tegan and Sara's My Number. I love the thought of using art as a socially evocative media (think, Daniel Martinez). So anyways, I just discovered my new favorite song for the time being:

Cookie Jar

>>Jack Johnson

I would turn on the TV but it's so embarrassing

to see all the other people I don't know what they mean
and it was magic at first when they spoke without sound

But now this world is gonna hurt you better turn that thing down

Turn it around

"It wasn't me", says the boy with the gun

"Sure I pulled the trigger but it needed to be done

Cause life's been killing me ever since it begun

you can't blame me cause I'm too young"

"You can't blame me sure the killer was my son
But I didn't teach him to pull the trigger of the gun

It's the killing on this TV screen

you can't blame me it's those images he seen"

Well "You can't blame me", says the media man
well "I wasn't the one who came up with the plan

I just point my camera at what the people want to see

Man it's a two way mirror and you can't blame me"

"You can't blame me", says the singer of the song
or the maker of the movie which he based his life on

"It's only entertainment and as anyone can see

the smoke machines and makeup and you can't fool me"

It was you it was me it was every man

we've all got the blood on our hands

we only receive what we demand

and if we want hell then hells what we'll have

And I would turn on the TV

but it's so embarrassing

to see all the other people

I don't even know what they mean

and it was magic at first

but let everyone down

and now this world is gonna hurt

you better turn it around

turn it around

ice

Today I tried to decide whether to love or hate ice. I mean, who loves ice though? It is a predator. Ice causes car accidents. Ice makes you later than you already are when you are forced to scrape it off your windshield all the while freezing your bum off. Ice is the adjective I use to descibe my poor self after spending three point five minutes in the showers in my dorm (apparently plumbing is not a strong point for the fellows here).

But, I am different. I guess that is a rather general statement, but it is pretty fitting for my personality. So I am on my run this morning. Yes, snow is melting all around today (finally!), but being morning, the temperature was hovering right around 30 degrees. Needless to say, my sidewalks were treacherous. I'm not so much annoyed as many serious runners tend to be. I am not taking my splits, so its not like I am failing by not staying on pace. To the contrary, I enjoy the extra challenge. So I am running even slower than usual, big deal. Today I found a beautiful little bridge crossing the big Mississippi that I hadn't explored yet. I rounded the corner and full out slipped onto my bum. I popped up, brushed off my scaped leg, and went on my way. This slip and run tactic is important because it is necessary to leave the scene of the accident as quickly as possible as to not attrack bystanders. A little ways down the trail I stop to lick my wounds. My leg was a mess. This little 5'5" chick looked tough. A warrior. I mean to be honest, there was maybe a few scratches and a lot of mud, but the feeling was real. I made it through battle, wounded, and kept going. I decided to not clean it off. I left it and kept running with my head held high.

Towards the end of my run, I have to spend a small amount of time in the company of walkers and traffic and just other people in general. I choose this moment to wipe out for a second time. I mean, who falls twice? Certainly not warriors. What was I thinking? Warriors don't even fall one time. Clumsy people fall down. Deranged, imbalanced people, like myself, fall down twice in the span of 60 minutes.

So ice made me a warrior, more than human. Then it took that away and left me less than human. A stupid human. Maybe I decide to not love ice. Or maybe this is telling me something about my own life. There isn't time to relish in your victories of winning the battle, when just around the corner you are bound to fall down again. The war is never over.