what you will find.

Please take the skin off my body, it doesn't need to be there. Pull and cut and burn and then, be happy for me to be raw and bleeding. Pull off each finger, short and not slim, chewed already to the cuticle, to the bone, to the marrow and then, be happy for me, I cannot call out. Pull fire to my elbows, smell the burning flesh and then, be happy for me to lose the receptors, though of course they were never created in me at all. Pull a rusty nail to my ankle and dig, scar, tear open the scars, repeat and then, be happy for me I was of course not perfect as you say. Pull a crowbar on my rib cage and open me up, let my organs flow out, bright red, grey, warm, alive and then, be happy for me, the blood in my eyes and mind keeps me warm.

I say that you can have these things because they are just things to me, everyone knows that. You know that. You will give them to you today tomorrow and yesterday. You pick up my heart, and it isn't the same as anything you've beheld before. Your smile fades and confusion sets in. You compare it with the parts of hearts you keep in your pocket. It isn't the same as those beautiful fractions you've taken from others, no. My heart is different. I am different. Compare it to your own, if you like. I know you want them to be the same, and we both know they can't be. My heart has the color of coals burning at the Pit of the deepest end, of eyes at midnight in a quiet alley. In your hands it feels icy and sharp, like a diamond of the sky. Cry out in disgust, burn me for it's obscenity, and for my part in making it that way. You've taken my skin, my fingers, my elbows and ankles, and then, the organs from my chest. But you can't take a piece of my heart. And sometimes I wish you could. Please be happy for me, though I know it will be hard. If you need to be angry, I understand that too well, better.

The Hours

Is there a distinction between living and staying alive? Maybe staying alive is the act of persisting for others. And living is only for you. But god says, Good says, to live for others. But staying alive in a breath sounds tormenting. How can you live for others when all they really want is to see you happy? Is happy breathing even so it hurts to?

And men. Is it possible that men and women aren't made of the same material? Did woman come from man? As in the bible? As in the Stories? His mind doesn't have any idea what comes into her's. Is the first man and Woman the same story? He couldn't have known even then because he doesn't now.

I think perhaps my favorite character is Sally. Because she does understand. Because she is of course a She. And only half of us can. Can it really even be an us? Different material and all?

I'm the hero of the story, don't need to be saved

I am me.. and i won't change for anyone.

Food & Beverages
The best dish? something with eggplant, asparagus, onion, spicy, and.. a filler.. rice?
Best dessert? vegan dessert section at Whole Foods!
Best Beverage? diet coke with grenadene
Best alcoholic beverage? whiskey on the rocks
Do you use butter on your bread? absolutely not.
Pick & mix candy or finished bags? pick and mix!
Best soup? homemade.. spicy being the only stipulation
Favorite ice cream? lemon sorbet

Shopping Habits
How much do you shop for each month? I'm poor. $10 average?
Do you have more shoes than clothes? I wish! In general, my lack of shoes ruin my outfit. (and not in the cute, going barefoot sense)
Favorite garment? currently, my faux fur vest.
Favorite color on clothes? based on everything I own: grey and black. in my dream world: deep red, olive, and mustard.
Favorite hairstyle? wild, curly, natural, obnoxious. current dream: long and blonde
Best pattern? lace. is that a pattern?
Best accessory? pearls (fake, of course.)
Garments you hate? "material" ripped from an innocent animal.

Work & Education
Do you work or study? most of my life is dedicated to study, but am currently a full timer at my research lab :)
What do you want to be wen you grow up? a doctor
Do you enjoy your job/education? I love love love my job. my education? sucks. most of the time. it's hard. I only wish I would be happy doing anything else. I would drop out in a heartbeat.
Is salary more important? I want to be a doctor, so it is nearly impossible to convince people otherwise, but I really don't care about salary at all. I'm a hippie-wannabe.

Random
Do you have children? I wish.
Is infidelity okay? yes. but I also don't believe in marriage.. so..
Do you love someone? my family and friends.
Does the family mean much to you? everything. family. means. everything.
Best climate? I love this question. rain and 60 degrees (Seattle)
Home party or pub? I am.. 19. so home party.. but I'm inexperienced.

uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe

I'm basically just trying my best not to panic at this point. I've uncovered a reality about life (I mean, what else is new..) That's just it! I just stunned myself after writing the words out loud! The reality I discovered is that nothing IS new! I just woke up to the tune that someone else woke up to yesterday. And I just had the same thought that someone across the world had last week. And my stomach made the same noise that my great great great aunt's made last century! Nothing is different! What's the point anyways?

I apologize. Truth: I go through an existential crisis at least once a month. Today's trigger: The X-Files, season 6, episode: Field Trip. I tried to find something to capture the magic on youtube, but of course nothing could. Or tried. Although there was a Scully/Moulder tribute to Death Cab's "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," but if you don't watch the show, you probably wouldn't understand the genius there.


Anyways.

Scully struggles a bit with existentialism when she's high on 'shrooms (context, I realize, but really.) I identified strongly with it. I mean, what am I doing here? The same thing over and over again. And when the very very very annoying girls talk in my English class about eating peanut butter with everything. And the weird combinations they've heard or tried. Honey. Mac and Cheese. Root beer floats. Who the fuck cares? I am being critical, yes. But I feel I can because I have had the conversation before. And so have they. Like a million times. And yet they have it again. So maybe it isn't peanut butter. So maybe it isn't food. It's still all the fucking same.

Is this what depression is? I find nothing interesting. Nothing is new. I feel indifferent. Towards everything. Everyone. I have no desire to speak to anyone. To do anything. To study anything. To be anywhere. Because I've done everything. I don't want to pretend to be excited about a conversation I've had a million times before. BEcause they are all the same. The only thought I believe to be truly genuine to me is the this rambling of thoughts. Because now I can't possibly imagine how to continue to live. Because my entire life (now that I've came across this realization) will be fake. It has to be. Because I know in my heart that it's happened before. But if this thought is truly genuine, then it can't be genuine because someone must have had the thought before. And the human race still exists. So someone has not only realized this, but survived this. I can survive, right? I can forget that nothing in all the world matters.

I wish I could go back to yesterday when I thought about today and tomorrow like they hadn't already happened.

It was a simple time.

I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave

Run. Sunset. Home to E. River Rd to Lake St bridge to W. River Rd to Franklin Ave bridge to home. I feel as though I've been running consistently enough to be in shape at this point.. but I still walk. I don't really mind. Yeah, I'd rather prefer that I didn't have to. And maybe I don't have to, but I do. And I probably still will for another month or so. Really like, whatever. Sorry, the point: I got to the Lake st Bridge and walked because I always do. I usually turn off my ipod while I walk, to maybe hear myself think better, but today the song "Somewhere Only We Know," came on. I always associate this song with Grey's Anatomy Season.. 2 or so when it is still a good show and the love-square between Meredith and Derek and their associated others is lovely and sad. The song is about having one last "hurrah" or something in a relationship perhaps or more likely a love, at least this is what Grey's interpretation is. My heart spoke to me about religion, about my relationship with God. And, I felt at peace. And, I felt that the peace might make me jump off the bridge. And, it didn't make me afraid. I don't know what it means. I obviously didn't take it to mean enough to jump off the bridge. I took it more to mean that I shouldn't be afraid of a deeper devotion to my faith. I do have it, though I find ways to dismiss it. Anyways, that's all =) Here's Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know": I walked across an empty land / I knew the pathway like the back of my hand / I felt the earth beneath my feet / Sat by the river and it made me complete / Oh simple thing where have you gone / I'm getting old and I need something to rely on / So tell me when you're gonna let me in / I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin ... And if you have a minute why don't we go / Talk about it somewhere only we know? / This could be the end of everything / So why don't we go / Somewhere only we know?

the pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves

Yesterday I stepped outside for my run and quickly regretted bringing along my iPod: it was going to rain. The air was thick. It smelled like wet and cold and flowers and spring and happy. I love the rain more than any weather in all my experiences. Especially cold rain. Yes, on a day-to-day I need some sun, some heat (notice I didn't say do I ever need snow. hint. hint.) But a cold rain, or better yet the point right before it is going to rain when the air is thick and it smells something like what I imagine heaven to smell like. Or better yet when it is a relentless thunderstorm... just makes me internally happy like not many things can do. It never did rain. And I figured it was my fault because I had been stressed about my ipod. My roommate tells me I have something her psychology professor describes (I forget the name.. something about complex, compulsatory, control.. something) about thinking you have control over things you don't actually have control over. Like the weather. Or A-Rod dropping dead tonight.. But I anyways feel guilty for (maybe) denying the population of Minneapolis of the beauty that is precipitation.

If you don't get in line we'll lock you away

Ten fingers counting we have each nine planets Around the sun repeat Eight ball the last if you triuphant be seven oceans - pummel The shores of the sea It's a typical situation in these typical times Too many choices, hey yeah It's a typical situation in these typical times Too many choices Everybodys happy everybodys free Keep the big door open, everyone 'll come around Why are you different, why are you that way If you don't get in line we'll lock you away -Typical Situation, Dave Matthews

it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine, it's summertime

I know I like to say I'm a runner, even though I'm probably one too many potato chips removed from that one (ask my ass..) But, I anyways signed up for the Twin Cities Marathon. First marathon. Home court advantage. 6 months to train. Pretty excited, to say the least. I think I first wanted to run a marathon when I was.. young. I was going to make up an age for emphasis, but I'm pretty sure I didn't understand the concept until about 6th grade (late bloomer, yes.) So whatever, still. It feels like forever ago. The days that I cherished my subscription to Runner's World. I woke up at the crack of dawn to get a few miles in before trotting off to my silly little high school classes. I spent nights lying awake nervous for the next day's (or next week's) race. I wandered around school's tracks with acid burning my stomach, talking and thinking for hours about nothing but those cursed two miles in which I would fight my body's limits, ruining myself mentally for eight laps. I never thought anything for the rest of my life would cause such a mental beating as I survived for those six years. (Then I came here and experienced things like Chemistry and Physics and Organic and Biology and Physiology... but that's besides the point). I sort of miss beating myself up about something else besides how average I am at school. This sounds mentally disordered (which it very well may be) but it is just my personality and I accept and culture it. I've been running pretty well lately (since it's so warm! and not dark when I get home! YAY), but inevitably I will get overwhelmed with classes and take a week hiatus. But this summer I will hopefully post about my training.. I tend to blog in my head when I run. Like, I try to philosiphy, and people watch, and.. just think-blog. So be prepared for that.. Another exciting summer development: I've been trying to get me and Peter into a mixed doubles tennis league for the summer. Ha, should be.. uhhhh interesting.

10 Ways I Break the Rules

A blog I read did this, and I thought it was cute. She says: Everywhere we look, there are rules and guidelines on how we should live our lives. Eat this, not that. Get 8 hours of sleep, never eat after 7:00 and floss daily. Some of these rules are beneficial, I'm sure, but I'm sick of being told what to do. So, here are my ten ways I break the rules, read with caution! Likely you'll think of me differently, judge me probably, but I'm willing to take the risk. 1. I stay up all night. I know, I know. Cramming = bad. But it happens every time. And you know, when I get to the point, it is just what I need to do. 2. I don't eat breakfast. Yea yea, it is the essential start to the day, most important meal of the day, blah blah blah.. sleep is my essential start to the day. 3. I listen to my iPod.. LOUD! I know, I'm going to go deaf. I know it's fucking annoying sitting on the bus next to me (believe me, I know).. I just don't care. 4. I don't wash my coffee mugs. Oh come on, bacteria is good for you.. I rinse them every now and then.... 5. I dance in front of the bathroom mirror when no one's watching. But only on days that it boosts my confidence. Because there are plenty of days that will do the opposite. Yea, I'm shallow and vain. 6. I buy coffee. Yea, it's a rip off. Yea, it probably costs them a penny to make and they charge me two dollars for it. Technically I do also make it at home, but when you have an addiction to my extent, you have to feed it. Multiple times a day. 7. I give money to the beggars. So maybe they're going to go buy alcohol. Drugs. Whatever. I mean, I can understand that. If they ask, and I'm carrying, it's theirs. No questions asked. 8. I am anti-marriage. And I don't think it's the American dream. And I don't think it ever works. And no, I don't have any experience. And yes, I probably am too young to have this opinion. But if someone asked me for advice (obviously they wouldn't) as to whether or not they should get married: I'd say no. 9. I watch Bad Girls Club. Absolutely the epitome of bad, American trash TV. 10. I don't cry. I think you're supposed to get your emotions out that way.. but it just isn't for me.

nobody said it was easy

Advice to those starting college: When you don't have a 1,000% grasp on a topic, it won't go away after the exam. It will pop up again. Like how the sarcoplasmic reticulum is the site of calcium release in muscle cells. Yea. That won't only be important in the muscular system. Because your heart is a muscle too. And it does the same fucking thing.

it's the edge of the world and all of western civilization

So we had a lab party tonight and I was affected by two very separate things: 1.) I spoke with this one lady who is a lab veteran, she had quit before I started (in other words, I really don't know her at all to make the judgements I'm going to make.. so yea, I'm already feeling guilty and I haven't even yet said what I'm going to say.....) She went back to school for clinical lab science, and got a job at the veterinary medicine labs, also at the U. She talked about her work very nonchalantly. Not real negative (yet), and not real positive. Passive. But eventually, it pretty much came out that she hates her new job, her heart aches for her old job at our lab, she is miserable, but..... she is making a lot more money. So she'll stay with it. One thing I didn't mention: she's old. I would say.. 63. She made the comment, "Well, what else am I to do? It's not like I could go to medical school at my age.." And it made me angry. Not at poor Lisa, no. At this fucking society. Because, I would like to think I could do anything I want. I could be a gardener, if that's what made me happy. I could be a scientist! Without getting roped into spending my life in a huge life-ruining corporation. Yea, there's not any money in it, but damn it! I'd be happy. But then, I want to be a doctor (and yes I acknowledge the fact that I may just never get to be a doctor, but that aside...) I won't have to worry about money. Yes, it costs a lot of money to go to med school. And yes, the health care reform will inevitably take money away from doctors (as it should!). But still, we will always need doctors, therefore, I will always have a job. But what if my dream career was to be a scientist. I would probably spend my life struggling (because damn if you ever catch me working for a big pharmaceutical company) to find work? Funding?.... food?...............shelter? Maybe I'd have a completely different outlook on the situation. Even if, say, I was my sisters and had gone to a private undergraduate education and sitting on tens of thousands of dollars in loans? Maybe I'd have a completely different outlook on the situation. And it's easy to say that I want to live a simple life: unglamorous, unextravagant. But that isn't even enough in this society! That poor lady is less than ten years from retiring and she is going to spend the last years of her working life in a job she hates, and why? So she can pay for her nursing home? Her hospital stays? The house in AZ? So her kids don't have to pay off her student loans? Life just sucks. On the other hand, my #2 for the evening was how much I adore my supervisor. She is German, loud, crazy, passionate, ridiculously smart, intolerant, assertive, strict, has wildly curly hair, drinks a lot, and.. I don't know what all. I think I like her because I don't see myself in her at all. Which is sad, I suppose. But, among those fun things, I didn't mention how much she cares about me. I think she does. I mean, I have been her student for a year and a half now, but really, we haven't been overly personal with each other, considering how long we've known each other. But I just know the way I feel about her, like I really really care about her. Like I would defend any and all of the crazy things she does. Like I would fight her fights. Like I have an ache in my heart to see her happy. Like when she talked about her nephew and the happiness didn't quite reach her eyes because (I'm sure of it) she wants children of her own. Moreover, she wants to find that person (yea, yea Rachael does have a heart! just because I don't believe in all of that doesn't mean I can't hope for it and believe in it for someone else).. Well anyways.. that's enough rambling for an evening I think..

your heart 's on the loose, and this ain't no place for the weary kind

I probably talk about my Fairview patients too much, but whatever. Usually at Fairview I feel like I am learning less about what it will be like to be a doctor, and more about what it would be like to have a hospitalized child. It hurts. Last night a two and half year old sweetheart stole my heart. As we played with her toys in her crib, she kept quiet while I chatted about queens and candy and picnics. She had lost all of her hair, and her entire body was broken out in a red, flaky rash. Her ECG leads wouldn't stick to her deteriorating skin, so the monitor constantly rang out. As nurse after nurse attempted to fix the stickers, the little angel patiently held still and kept quiet, with the same exhausted, pained look of someone who has known nothing in life but pain. She finally laid down for sleep, and I held her hand and sang her lullabies until her breathing became rhythmic. But the expression remained on her young face. So I didn't let go of her hand. When the nurse came in and saw me, and said that I could leave because the little girl was used to sleeping alone, I nearly burst into tears. I contained my emotions and politely declined.

It's moments like these, moments that mean so much to me, that make me think I should be looking into nursing.

I wish for the whole truth every time you speak, and I'm thinking about how you care half as much for me

I have this friend. In some aspects of my life, I would say I am closer to this person than anyone, but in some ways, maybe even in most ways, I hardly know them at all. Lately I sense something has changed between us, and not for the better. I'm not sure why. It could be any number of things really, so much so that it makes my stomach sick. So I try not to think of them.

I expect a letter from them soon (because it is something we do sometimes, and I have recently written). I fear it will be cordial. Do you ever just wish for horrible truth sometimes?




It was really nice to meet you, goodbye
It's high time I quit wondering why
'Cause I have lost all that I can from my side
And when you think of me again, no
I tried
Goodbye

Forgive me while I lay here
But I have nowhere else to be
I figure when I leave this time, it's for keeps
And when I say, "Good Morning" next
I'll lie
This is goodbye

I'll only delay the day I can't remember you at all
And it's not easy to say that day
Is already come and gone
And all that remains is a place
Where you no longer are

One day I won't regret this
Oh, how I want to believe that's true
Once I pick up my parts I broke on you
I'll get used to the idea
It's not you
Goodbye

a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown

Pre-med club
research proposal
research presentation
lab meeting presentation
study abroad trip
HCMC research associate
MCAT
Bio paper
bio exam
Physiology exam
literature exam
organic chemistry exam
Bio lab notebook
Fairview


Weep for yourself, my man,
You'll never be what is in your heart
Weep Little Lion Man,
You're not as brave as you were at the start
Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left
Wasted on fixing all the problems
that you made in your own head

Rachael: A to Z

One of the blogs I read featured this and I thought it was sort of cute..

Age: 19

Bed size: full

chore you hate: I hate all chores on a daily basis. I love all chores when I'm stressed out about life and I need a way to feel good about myself and be productive.

Dogs: I adore dogs, but maybe it's all animals. I have a sweet little Cocker Spaniel that lives with my mom for now, but maybe summer will be her move to the big city. Which will likely not go over well, but we'll see. Her name is Jo.

Essential start to your day: SLEEP. In a perfect world (and on rare occasions in my real world): I would actually have gotten sleep, I will wake up two hours before I have to leave, I will put on my black Nikes and run away the morning as the sun comes up, then I will come back, take a shower, and eat breakfast. In my everyday, I sleep until the very last possible second, skip everything people say is essential in the morning: breakfast, showering, ... and run out the door.

Favorite Color: yellow--not because anything in my life is that bright and happy, but because it was my favorite color as a little girl, so I stick with it

Gold or silver: gold

Height: maybe 5'5"

Instruments you play: trumpet

Job title: lab assistant, student..

Kids: Am obsessed with. But probably won't ever have my own. But I want to be a pediatrician

Live: I'm not sure what this means.. how I live? Hmm.. pretty lost. A little hippie-esk, a little OCD, a little lazily, a bit of a loner

mom's name: Mom, mommy when I'm sad or homesick

Nicknames: Rae (Jazzy), Raelo (Luke), Curly Rachael, little Rachael (work, because there's another Rachel)

overnight hospital stays:
1.) with Mom when I was born
2.) 6 years old: kidney infection
3.) 19th birthday: drunk/dehydrated

haha talk about from innocence to experience

quote from a movie: "Stop talking about love. Every asshole in the world says he loves somebody. It means nothing. It still doesn't mean anything. What you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love, that's what matters. It's the only thing that counts."--The Last Kiss

right-or left-handed: right

Siblings: Peter, Luke, Katie, Kari, Jaime.. and I love them maybe an excessive amount

Time you Wake up: 6-8:30am, later on weekends..

Underwear: not sure what's meant by this.. I almost exclusively wear thongs, but I feel like that's more information than you wanted to know, lol

Vegetables you dislike: olives and mushrooms

What makes you run late: whatever I can find on that particular day.. everything.

x-rays you've had: my teeth a few times.. ? that might be all

yummy food you make: stir fry (easy, yes, but my specialty), soup, pie

Zoo favorite animal: my favorite zoo animal would be locking zoo keepers in cages and pointing and laughing and poking and throwing things (ha, sorry that was a little hostile)

I go back to a two-toned, short bed Chevy

Well in the town where I was raised,
the clock ticks and the cattle grazed

Time passed with amazing grace,

Back where I come from

You can lie on a river bank,
paint your name on a water tank

or miscount all the beers you drank,

Back where I come from

Back where I come from

Where I'll be when its said and done

I'm proud as anyone

That's where I come from

We learned in the Sunday school,

who made the sun shine through

I know who made the moon shine toom

Back where I come from

Blue eyes on a Saturday night,

tan legs in the broad daylight

TV's they were black and white

Back where I come from

Back where I come from

Where I'll be when its said and done

I'm proud as anyone

That's where I come from

Some say it's a backward place,*

narrow minds on a narrow wage

But I make it a point to say,

that's where I come from

That's where I come from

Where I'll be when its said and done

I'm proud as anyone

That's where I come from

Back where I come from

I'm an old Osakis-ian

Well I'm proud as anyone

That's where I come from

*this is my favorite part because I'm definitely one of those people who bitches about Osakis being a backward place, full of very narrow-minded people.. but in the same breath of saying that, I proudly say: That's where I come from!

always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres

I spoke with my three-way-tie-for-first favorite sister on the phone tonight. Goll I love that girl. Haven't spoken to her since.. oh, about the beginning of January. Two months.

And we had a real heart-to-heart. About my mom and dad. About Africa. About communications. About design. About Tyra. About happiness. About contentment.

I miss her. I love her.

"No one is looking at you to do something. Don't feel pressure to do something you're supposed to do. If that's going to make you happy, then everyone will be behind you."

I watch the stars from my window sill

woke up and wished that I was dead
with an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on

everything that I said I'd do
like make the world brand new
and take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
and the world spins madly on

I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
the whole world is moving and I'm standing still

woke up and wished that I was dead
with an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
the Night is here and the Day is gone
and the world spins madly on

I thought of you and where you'd gone
and the world spins madly on.

pretends to sleep as he looks her over

So, I was upset with my friend (well, concerned I suppose is a better term) for not being comfortable with being single. It unnerved me! You have got to be okay with yourself. Independence. Making yourself happy. Being alone.

Why would anyone want to be in a "relationship" anyways? What does that create? Rules? rules are meant to be broken. Fights. Struggles. Strife. Heartache. Lies. Betrayl. Crying.

In my opinion, relationships are too extreme. When is it ever a good idea to be all or nothing? And as I say this, I can't help but wonder if this leads to safety--another concept I think people should keep away from. Am I being safe by keeping my emotions at the luke-warm level? Passion is not a bad thing, nor is hatred. I adore those extremes, so why can't I justify it from the relationship standpoint? I'm going to maintain that I don't believe in the concept of marriage and forever. But maybe the point is to go after those things anyways.

I've been very interested in psychology lately (by "interested," I mostly mean the media I'm attracted to addresses this concept, namely: abnormal psychology). People with mental disorders like OCD (ie Caty from Skins.. love. her.) grow up to realize they've been on medications for their entire lives. Another example, Garden State (maybe my favorite movie).. Andrew's revelation is that he has been numb to every experience in his life. Maybe I have a natural drug in my brain that distances myself and makes me numb to experiences too. Can I turn it off? Is it just something I have to work at a bit? Does everyone have the drug in their minds, but choose to overcome it? Why is it my natural response to encourage the drug?

Anyways.. I've probably come up with more questions than answers in my self-evaluation. Today I invited the man to my little girl's track meet. This is a big step. I didn't want him to come. Him meeting someone so important to me? Big step. That is me letting him in in a huge way. Big step. That is almost like saying we're in a relationship. Gross. But I asked anyways. Because I'm trying.

I was anyways turned down. Maybe he really was busy. But the logical-me tells me he wasn't. The logical-me tells me that he also doesn't want this to be a relationship. Which is a relief.




Right?

my blood won't stick to the confines of my veins

If the chain is on your door, I understand.

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying, no amount of whiskey, no amount of wine, no, no, no, no, no--nothing else will do, I gotta have you.

Oh, on a less pathetic note: my cousin had her baby this weekend. A little tiny girl. I love her. And when I held her, she looked like this:

..the whole time. And yet, I love her. My heart hurts I love her so much. Oh, and my friend is officially deciding she isn't pregnant. Which...ugh well, whatever. I'll be fine.

all my life I've been good, but now, I'm thinking what the hell.

I suppose I should mention, seeing as how I am obsessed with it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQmEd_UeeIk

It's Avril's new one, and I basically dance in front of my mirror to this song at least once a day, and blare it on my iPod, all the time.

I think about you maybe more than I should

Good morning dear
I hope I didn't wake you too soon
because my mind is growing tired
Too much thinking what I should do
I picture you out there
It must be beautiful this time of year
Well the weather out here is just the same
But the garden that you planted remains.

Now it's only work
Each day bleeding into the next
Barely scraping by I tire myself out just so I can rest
But rest it rarely comes
And when it does I cannot go home
Becasue it's much too quiet
Seems that I'm suited to being alone
And everyone around me has changed
But the garden that you planted remains.

I think about you
Maybe more than I should
But the smog is getting old
The drugs I'm taking aren't so good
So will you talk to me
Even though you've had a late night
Because I need a little help
Baby, tell me I'll be alright
Cause everything around me has changed
But the garden that you planted remains

and past the horizon till I can't even see you

I've, once again, updated my decision of career path. I now want to be a pediatric oncologist with an emphasis in clinical research.



I'm currently obsessed with children, babies in particular. I've spent my last two Fairview visits with one little girl with whom I am now fully invested in. I want this baby. She has a feeding tube that is obviously uncomfortable, she is always reaching for it and sneezing and coughing. She used to cry about it a lot, but I feel like she is starting to know me. When her coughing wakes her up, I sing to her and she grabs my thumb and stares at me with her huge eyes and loves me and I love her. It's just the way it is. I've come to realize that I am not the mother-type, so I am going to become a pediatrician to satisfy my yearning. I know I won't get to sit around holding babies for hours on end as a physician, but still..





As for the oncology/hematology fellowship, I adopted this plan from our most recent pre-med club meeting's physician. He was a general medicine oncologist, but his philosophy matched my own, and I can't believe I am only now realizing it. His favorite part about oncology was being able to help sick people. This sounds pretty standard for physicians, but really, it isn't. Many are involved in preventative, cosmetic, yata yata yata. Some specialties deal specifically with people in need. Another specialty that satisfies this is surgery. My issue with surgery is that surgeons don't have their "own" patients. They really see any physician's patients who needs surgery. I think that would bother me. I want a patient that I can track and care for. I want to help them and stay with them and know them. (when I speak like this, I almost think nursing is a better path for me...)



Another reason I like oncology, and the particular reason that I feel like I should have figured out a long time ago, I am, rather concerningly, interested in death. I mean, really. The music I listen to, the movies I watch, the books I read--they all revolve around dying it seems. I honestly am interested in the psychology of dying, but I really don't want to be a psychiatrist. Too much politics. Still, oncology incorporates a certain degree of social work of course, and I just think I am for some reason particularly atuned to this emotion. Like I'm extra sensitve to the concept, for whatever reason. I sat and listened to the physican speak about his work, and I just wanted to cry--but in a good way. Maybe not in a good way.. In a, "this is really sad, I really like to be sad" sort of way.







I sort of brushed off the fact that I'm not the mother-type. Truth: it terrifies me. I just could not raise a child. It was way too much responsibility. I mean, obviously I'm okay with responsibility to the effect that I want to save their lives, but the parent's raising methods has so much more of an effect psychologically. I don't feel like my parents had that much of an effect on my psychology, but that in itself is an effect, right? Another thing, I'm pretty sure I have some sanity issues.. (I'm not). So I don't want really want to pass on those genes. Which, when I say it outloud, sounds like a terrible insult to my family. But I guess that is exactly how I mean it. I kind of think we all ahve some psychological problems. People probably don't really know that about us, we all seem so normal. We so aren't normal. And I will even go so far as to say it is a bad thing. I mean, it can't be, we are all our own person, and I love all of our personalities. But I think each of us could stand to be a bit happier. And I can't help but blame genetics, because we all are a little bit, and I don't think it has to do with our childhood. Because our childhood was pretty fantastic. But we all grew up to be a little too unhappy, for no reason at all.

Just some thoughts. Well, a lot of thoughts.

Oh yea, one more: this is my current favorite song. It's what also scares me about being a parent.


Boats & Birds
by Gregory and the Hawk

If you'll be my star
I'll be your sky
You can hide underneath me and come out at night
When I turn jet black and you show off your light
I live to let you shine
I live to let you shine

And you can sky-rocket away from me
And never come back if you find another galaxy
Far from here with more room to fly
Just leave me your stardust to remember you by

it's like a sudden rush of water through your heart and bones

I wish I could be five years old. I wish



And it's funny how his voice changed into what it used to be. Wise and patient, autocratic. Like I was his five year old girl again and I was learning the facts of life. I wish it were that simple. I wish you could tell me everyone was overreacting, and we would all be okay. The bright sun comes up every morning to make the corn grow. Doctors say what they say to scare you into spending money. Don't go into the woods alone or you won't find your way back home.


I wish I could be five years old because there was no such thing as science. There was Dad and he was the absolute truth. No relativism. And kidneys failing after multiple bypass surgeries was a fairy tale physicians tell their patients. And red blood cell count doesn't start to rise when your only kidney starts to fail. And the accumulation of RBC won't block flow to your heart. And you won't have a heart attack. All that is pretend.

Some things I wish I didn't know. I wish I didn't know that life is never that simple. I wish I didn't know that sometimes the reaction is absolutely, and regrettably suitable. I wish I didn't know that not always will we all be okay. I wish I didn't know that not every morning the sun comes up. I wish I didn't understand that physicians spend half of their lives in school and sacrifice everything to be in medicine. And they are smart enough to know that if they were in it for the money, there are a hell of a lot of career paths less demanding and sacrificing. Physicians need an alterior motive: But the love I mean is the fire that burns inside us all, the inner warmth that prevents our soul from freezing in the winters of despair. It's the love of life itself. I wish I didn't know that.

I wish we all didn't have to wander the woods alone. But where is home?











Well, it's 4:30am.. I suppose, since I apparently don't know how to sleep anymore, I should get up and be productive.

not even grey, but she buries her baby

Today I waited at a stoplight to cross the street as a mother and her two young boys waited also, on the other side. The light turned green. I had that wonderful, warm feeling in my heart you get when you watch little kids playing. Being happy. Enjoying life.



Songs of Innocence.

And so, as if on cue, Experience infected the scene.

Halfway across the street, the children had passed, my mind had already moved on. The warmth in my heart lingered though. It's funny how that can happen. One child, one ridiculous laugh, one crooked grin with missing teeth. It can change your outlook. Even if you don't notice it does. It's the collection of these moments that change you. Change everyone. Change our minds, our hearts. It's love, I think.


I probably wouldn't have noticed that the mother was still in front of me. I wouldn't have noticed that I was studying her face, reading her, judging her, envying her, trusting her. But I did notice. Because you notice panic. Horror. Dread. Hysteria.

And it was electricity through my body. I think I stood still, but I can't be sure. I think my eyes were wide with horror to match the mother's. Or maybe they had snapped shut. And I think my twisted stomach doubled me over and I spilled its contents there in the street. Or maybe I stood still, I can't be sure.

Then she shrieked. And I must have turned, because I saw the blue car flatten her child. I saw his tiny body, which had just seconds ago bopped around happily, laying lifeless in the street. I saw pools of dark red grow from beneath him. I saw his mother collapse at at his side and scream to her god. For a new chance. A time reversal. Her baby back.

And tires screeched.


And my mind snapped back to life. The distorted face in front of me softened with relief. I eagerly whipped around to find the car crooked on the street. The boy unscathed.

Blissful, innocent of his near fate. That was awhile ago. A couple of days. I haven't stopped shaking.

Home is wherever I'm with you

I don't have the drugs to sort it out

I've a fantastic case of insomnia tonight. My fucking head is pounding.

My heart doesn't seem to be.

I am. I am. I am.

I am I am Iam.

running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are

I lay wide awake in bed this morning thinking. It was one of those moments where I realized I have ruined my life in a way, and there is no way to fix it. My ruined life is terminal.

They say it's a piece of you that is yours only, until you make the decision to give it away. But once it's gone, where does it go? I don't believe in it belonging to the person you gave it to. Because most often, in today's day and age, that person doesn't mean anything to anybody. They just happen to be the one person that is present at the moment you give it away. But they don't keep it, no. But who does?

My epiphany began last week with my beautifully insightful patient at Fairview. She made me realize I ruined my life. Yea, it is awful news. And it would be easier to not have known. Ignorance is bliss. But I'm thankful she showed me. Because maybe, just maybe. Now that I know that my life would be less ruined if I found it again, I can begin to look for it.

Is there no way out of the mind?

I've got to put her down. She's messing me up.. well more, that is. I'm not sure what it is either. Lately I've had my head stuck in The Bell Jar throughout my days--like even when I'm not reading it, I think about it. But not about the story, or about the characters, or anything like that. I think like Esther. (Don't worry, not in the commit suicide sense).. I think like her in the way that I itemize everything I see. I wish I was stealthy enough, or perhaps just secure enough to carry a journal around with me and write everything I see and think about. I'm fairly certain it would amount to nothing, and likely, a crazy nothing. But it would be interesting. It would be more interesting than the sleepy stuff I come up with at night.

I anyways finished The Bell Jar, and I've moved onto The Journals of Sylvia Plath. And it's already stunning. The Bell Jar ended quite beautifully--not happy, not sad, but realistic. Life. I'm not so demented that I wish for sad endings, but I tend to get agitated at too happy of endings. That isn't life, to put it bluntly. But neither is life completely hopeless. I think it's just normal. It is what it is. It usually works out, but when it doesn't, we survive. Life, is surviving.

My mom recently went into a lovely (**yawn) discourse on the negative impact of the media on kids. Her specific example was Skins (that British show that I used to be positively in love with that is now a terrible American remake). She thinks the partying and drugs and sex and whatnot is bad for kids to see because they will take it to heart and believe it to be an accurate representation of their peers. Since I didn't have the heart to tell her it was 1,000% true, I took another approach: I scolded her for her complete disregard of other forms of media that are potentially corrupting children. I'm positive no television show shook me to my core, all the way to my own hidden crazy, the way Miss Plath has done these past few days. Is a visual really needed to understand just how insane she was? If the answer is yes (I think no, but to entertain the opinion..), then what about art?

This is one of my favorite by Jack Kevorkian. I feel as though I don't really have to say much about it.

So, of course, we aren't going to take away literature and art from growing minds, so how could we possibly take away (or restrict) television or movies? It's the same, or probably, a little tamer.

I'll exit with a bit of Sylvia:

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone, it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second, you have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand...hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die.

The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence.

Sylvia Plath might be turning me into a glass-half-empty sort of girl.




I felt like a race horse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like a date on a tombstone.

And maybe giving me insomnia.

something from a world we aren't meant to see

I might have been a body buried in a brick wall, eavesdropping on the simple business of the living. It came to me that death itself could be a more distant form of participation in the continuing history of the world. Death could be like this, a simultaneous presence and absence while your friends continued to chat among the lamps and furniture about someone who was no longer you.

-Bobby, A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham



This book is dragging a little now towards the end, but I'll suddenly come across passages such as this one and be a little stunned at this guy's grace with words. He can be very insightful. Next in my plans is another of his, The Hours, which is actually his more popular novel, so I'm excited. I'm not sure why I've taken such a craving for reading lately. Perhaps, I guess, I am driving myself crazy with all the reading I have to do for my classes this semester. It is getting a little unrealisitc. Literally, I have 100 pages a week at the very least. The worst somehow are my two favorite classes--biology and physiology. The information is interesting, but definitely not possible for me to remember without taking notes as I read. Meaning it takes about 4x as long as it reasonably should. At least for my British Literature class I can read the passages one or two times and I am prepared for lecture.

So I like to take breaks from reading and note-taking, with reading novels.



Back to my original analysis now.. Each of the characters have some emotional problems--mostly centering around existentialism (yay!). Bobby's brother (and best friend) died in front of him when he was young, and now as a grown man, he has a sense that he is living for his brother in a way, which is making it hard for him to understand himself completely. I like this. I don't think I understand myself completely most of the time.

Jonathan is gay and had a bit of a strange relationship with his mother growing up, or maybe she was just a little strange. But now he is a little lost as far as love and relationships go. He has always wanted to fall in love, but is losing faith in his idealistic view of it.

Love had seemed so final and so dull--love was what ruined our parents. Love had delivered them to a life of mortgage payments and household repairs; to unglamorous jobs and the fluorescent aisles of a supermarket at two in the afternoon. We'd hoped for love of a different kind, love that knew and forgave our human frailty but did not miniaturize our grander idea of ourselves.
-Jonathan, A Home at the End of the World by Michael Cunningham


I identify most with Jonathan.



Claire is the other main character, but I really dislike her. I'm not sure if the author wants us to not like her, or if it is one of those weird Rachael-is-crazy sort of things. It's not blatant that we shouldn't like her, so I'm thinking is the later. Ah well.

black skin is peeling off and leaving me grey

.. and it itches.

Golden Globes

These aren't in any particular order, I just went through everybody and picked out the ones I have something to say about. There are a lot. Deep breath, and here we go:

Sofia Vergara. I don't actually know who this is, but on the Red Carpet show yesterday, she was like all over. And today she made a bunch of best dressed lists. Anyways, I found her rather annoying, and I also don't like her dress.

Robert Downey Jr. sigh. He looks perfect. I adore his red tie. The female next to him is his wife. I envy her ridiculous amounts.

Olivia Wilde. She made the tops of many best dressed lists, and I have to agree. I mostly adore her shoes, but especially paired with the dress. Perfect.

Nicole Kidman. I think my opinions may be skewed based on my love for the wearer. Nobody was thrilled with this look, some even had her on worst dressed lists. I adore it, especially with Keith on her side. Just adorable.

Natalie Portman. This could be another biased case: I love love love her, plus I love love love the bump. I wish I had one. Anyways, I love her, but not many of the fashion police did. Anywhere But Here is currently on--the part where she is auditioning for an acting job. Ugh. Just so lovely.

Michelle Williams. I hate hate hate the dress. But, I recently saw Michelle Williams in a movie. A fantastic movie: Imaginary Heroes. And she was great, even though she had a small part, but it was fantastic.

Leighton Meester. Maybe another bias (because I adore Blair Waldorf of Gossip Girl), but I love this dress. Fashion police said a "trashy Laura Ingles Wilder." Fuck em.

Jayma Mays. Who? No idea. But my goodness she is lovely here. I love her red lipstick with that gorgeous gown.

Jane Krakowski. Who? I don't care--I love the bump!

Hailee Steinfeld. I just love this girl from True Grit (movie was disappointing for a Cohen brothers, but she was fantastic in it.. so was Jeff Bridges). Her dress is.. sweet. I mean she's 14. So sweet is perfect.

Eva Longoria. I just love love this, minus the goofty broach. I reminds me of Claire's (that jewelry store we went to when we were little kittens.)

Emma Stone. This was another one on Worst Dressed, which is of course wrong. It's beautiful.

Elisabeth Moss. This is cute, and I love that color of green.

Dianna Agron. This is my Best Dressed top pick. I don't know who this girl, and I don't even think she is that pretty. But the dress is positively my favorite, I love it.

Catherine Zeta-Jones. Her dress is gorgeous, but my favorite is her accessory: Michael Douglas. He is adorable.

Carrie Underwood. Her dress is ugly, she is ugly, her clutch is ugly. She has a BumpIt in her ugly hair. That's all I have to say.

Anne Hathaway. Of course, this is gorgeous.

Angelina Jolie. I love this. I love the sleeves, and the cinched waist. It is gorgeous.