My Favorite Chair

Draped over my favorite arm chair in my dining room, the TV in the corner on the Disney Channel, my siblings either playing on the computer or watching Netflix in the living room, I escaped my comfortable world for a more exciting one where my dreams live. So I was reading the book my mother gifted me, about a surgeon's orthopedic residency at Mayo. So far, little has surprised me, other than the methodical way these men work through all of these stressors and don't break down. I want that challenge. Probably not in the orthopedics ward, but in a hospital nonetheless, my heart racing the first time a scalpel cuts by my hand.


But there's part of it that is hard for me to swallow. This man, so far in the book, has a wife and two children. I understand he loves them very much, but that love only makes his journey more difficult. He has barely any time to spend with them, and his daughters know his brother better than their own father. His wife gets increasingly tired, jaded by his non-presence and broken plans. And I'm left thinking, "No. Way. In. Hell." Most women will be getting married, starting families, by the time they're 26. Besides the fact that the institution of marriage confuses me, fills me with mixed feelings of several origins, and that having children quite honestly scares the crap out of me, I don't want to be in that position at 26, just starting my residency. Sleep-deprived, overworked, under-appreciated, stressed, I don't want the added guilt that comes with my own family, the feeling of failure, the knowledge that I'm choosing my career over them. That's exactly what it will be and, really, that's the way I'm wired. My purpose here is not primarily to be a wife and mother, which most people can do (though not everyone can do it well). Sure maybe those things will come along eventually, but not when I'm in the middle of my training, walking so dangerously on that rickety bridge that leads to the destination I've been dreaming of my entire life. I'll want my siblings and parents in good relations, but preferably not under the same roof as I. I'll want friends, for sure, which will hopefully be found in like-minded doctors, residents in the same situation. Maybe I'll even be able to accommodate a boyfriend or girlfriend should I be so blessed, but that will be difficult, particularly if that person is not also a medical professional. All in all, I will be a surgeon; the last thing I want is to have more complications.


As tradition holds, I fell asleep in my chair. I started dreaming immediately, an interesting, not-usually-great sign. I entered a church courtyard, where several young women were floating above tombs, wearing white, ragged dresses, with daggers above their heads. Soon enough, I found myself floating about, as if I had rocket boots or something to keep me hovering, almost flying around. Some "important" figure appeared, a judge of sorts, maybe a priest or other religious leader. Suddenly a dagger appeared next to me, and it started moving, writing letters into my arms, messages to the figure and the other girls around me. I couldn't tell if I was moving this dagger with my mind or if it was out of my control. I felt I and the other girls were being condemned for something, as if we were witches. Then the dagger turned into some sort of sooty stick, and dark lines were drawn on my hands and fingers. A man with wings entered the room preceding the courtyard, a hero of sorts, there to rescue us. If he succeeded or not was unclear, but I was then transported to a giant castle room, and the world switched around. I was no longer good, I was evil. I took a bag and floated to the top of the mantle above a ginormous fireplace and starting putting in several different ornaments and a stuffed turkey. A giant red dragon appeared in the room adjacent to me so I took the things out of the bag and replaced them, scared of being killed by the monster. To my surprise, the dragon came over, nudged me with its nose, and purred, much like a cat. The winged-man, with wings of black or blue, appeared once more, and beckoned me to a large window at the side of the room overlooking what seemed like an ocean. He said something along the lines of "Come, we have more interesting things to see." I followed him out the window and another flying man appeared. We flew behind the first man, and we flew fast with what felt like little control. The little control I had starting diminishing as I glided above the ocean and through cities of a different time period, where everything was made of stone and fire and automobiles did not exist. I started to become fatigued and I couldn't maintain my speed or altitude, and whatever wings I had turned grey and transparent. The man near me, the second one, noticed this, said something like "She wasn't ready for this," and held onto me, helping me complete the journey. We landed soon in a city of white brick walls and humble shops and homes, a canal running through the middle of it, roads built over bridges over roads. I looked at the boy who had saved me, and acknowledged his help by closing my eyes and engaging in a long, passionate kiss, better than I've ever had in my waking life. The next thing I knew I kicked my leg out in real life, knocking over a container of almonds, spilling them all over the floor. My lovely dream was over.

That was a pretty poor recall of my dream, but it was quite interesting. Sure there was more, and feelings and sights I could not convey if I tried, but those were the most notable things. I almost never dream of things of that nature. That fantastic part of my mind usually lies dormant in favor of more modern things that have very little apparent meaning, just random scraps thrown together from the corners of my psyche.

I can try to be with you,
but somehow I'll end up just losing a friend.

Let's Talk About

Medicine.
I hope that every person can live with a purpose in mind. As if we came to this Earth from another plane of alternate reality, a parallel dimension, with a goal, a quest. This quest is the whole reason for your journey. The path is dangerous, difficult, brutal, cold. But if you look past the thieves and robbers, the dark shadows, you'll see a child, a deer walking in the forest.  That child, or that deer, or maybe that lone flower poking up from the frigid soil, reminds you why you're here. You are bigger than yourself.  Maybe we are physically confined to these bodies, but spiritually, mentally, and emotionally we are capable of reaching out far beyond the contours of our skin.  So we are always aware of that thing at the top of our lists, but to get there we have to take small steps, sub-quests if you will. You will know if you're on the right track if every breath you take, every move you make, reminds you of that light at the end of the tunnel. It's your job to get there, but not without illuminating the path first.


I wait, but it's hardly that. I live. Today for tomorrow, yes, but it's still living, cultivating the person I will become, like bacteria in a petri dish. It won't be overnight, but after several weeks, a fairly impressive colony will form.


What does it mean to care? I guess it depends who you ask. Holding a door open. Smiling. Sending a friendly text. Asking, and being genuinely curious, "Are you alright?" Giving some dorky gift for some dorky holiday. Listening. Helping to plot revenge. Calling just to say hello.  Hugging. Kissing. Offering a hand. Saying those three words when your whole soul means it, withholding them when it doesn't. Thinking. Researching a cure. Writing. Dreaming. Saving a life.


Caring is all of those things and more, or less, or none. It's whatever you make it out to be. Just because two people like the same style of shirt doesn't mean they'll pick the same color. So when you see that other person, don't think "I don't like that color," say, "Hey, I like your shirt."


It doesn't matter if you have to visit 10 stores and spend the whole day searching for the right color, just make sure you wear a shirt. No one should be walking around naked.


I know what shirt I want, but right now, it's still a bit big on me. That's alright, I'll grow into it. 

The Blood in my Veins

Yesterday was a pretty satisfying day. The fact that it was Valentine's Day, a commercialized excuse for people to engage in activities for carnal purposes, had nothing to do with it.  No, actually, the only Valentine's Day presents I received were a sucker from one of my friends and some things from my mom (one of which was Hot Lights, Cold Steel, something I had wanted quite badly.) It didn't really faze me that I didn't have a date this year; my day was so much better than that. I donated blood yesterday for the first time. It felt fantastic. No, not the actual act, which included a finger prick and a huge needle stuck in my arm for about 15 minutes, for a whole process that interrupted about 3 hours of regular class time. But that one pint of blood is capable of being 3 units of blood for those who need transfusions. That means I could have saved up to three lives yesterday. For free. The very thing that runs through my heart, my heart filled with only the best intentions and desires to help others, will be the very thing saving someone's life. Part of me will become part of them.  How much closer can I get to giving my whole heart to another person? It just thrills me, to think of what it could mean. What if the blood goes to a young child or an infant? Or my future spouse? Or the future president? No matter what, that person will be someone's somebody.

Yeah you, you talk about love.

A Day Spent

A day spent,
And where were you?
I stood in the rain,
And waited.
You didn't show.
I shivered,
My nose dripped.
Where were you?
I hope your day was great.
I hope you had fun,
I hope you made some other girl's night.

I didn't have an umbrella,
Because I didn't think I'd need one.
No poncho or cover could shield
The water falling on my heart.
The storm clouds smiled
Their wicked grins,
The most candid I'd seen in a while.

So where were you?
Did you think of me
While you went on with your day?
I shouldn't have to say
That I thought of you.
Now I wish I hadn't.
A fool I was
To believe a chance
Could be found
In your presence.
My heart, it breaks,
But like any other muscle,
The tears will heal.
The pain will subdue.
And I will be whole,
Stronger than ever before.
I'll have so much
Love
Passion
Spirit
To give.
But, 
It won't be for you.
It will all be
For someone who deserves it.
For someone who is capable of giving back
At least half of what I gift.
For someone who appreciates
The entirety of what stands before them.
So yes, today I miss you,
But tomorrow you will miss me.
You'll just be another face in the crowd.
I won't stand in the rain
Anymore.

Like gears we move in this clock,
But my fit has not been found.
So I am a cog alone
Barely turning 
Without an influence
Without a part
With a purpose
Of theory.
The heart beats for the next
And only wants to forget the last.

Who am I
To look for something
That may not exist
That may be a dream
A myth
Seen in my sleep
Oh, 
The heart-wrenching
I feel when I see
What I want
Close to my heart
In front of my eyes
Forever from my reach.


Where were you?
I don't want to know.
I want to forget.
I want to never see you
Walk these halls again.
They are mine.
You're not welcome.
Leave, now, 
And let me bring
A new face inside.

Everything's going to be fine again.

A Chance

What unites us? What makes us the same? Well first of all, we're of the same species, which means we (normally) have the same number of chromosomes in each cell. We're carbon-based, and filled with nitrogen, oxygen, hydrogen, sodium, calcium, iron, and other elements that create our tissues. When someone looks at a picture of a brain, they may think the folds and lines are all random. That's actually not true; each healthy human has the same pattern of sulcuses and fissures on their grey matter, and each line has it's own purpose. Anatomically, we're all basically alike. We also have the same needs, as far as food, water, air, shelter, warmth, pressure, and love. We all need to have people we care about and that care about us; we are naturally social creatures.  Everyone can think of someone they know, perhaps themselves, that is rather quiet, doesn't always need to be the center of attention, isn't constantly chatting up everyone around them. Does that mean that person, the loner, the shy one, doesn't need or want a friend; a relationship deeper than the connection formed by being at the same place at the same time? No, of course not; everyone wants and needs that. The way relationships are valued and viewed is a bit different for each person. Some people would rather have many, shallower acquaintances; they want to be able to walk up to anyone and just start talking to them. That's fine, it's a style, a way to live. Other people, me included, desire just a few very close friends. A person or two you can share your whole life with, without fear of judgment or betrayal. Someone you can be completely deep and serious with, or silly and mischievous, depending on how you feel at the time.  I think of school, and how I portray myself there; that is just one facet of my personality, just one view.  Many people take that view and mold me around it without trying to understand or see what else is there. That's alright; that portrayal is not exactly a bad one, it's just not complete in any sense. I have the utmost respect and loyalty to those few souls that are willing to wonder, to look beyond that exterior. We're complex beings and should be treated as such.

The Calm Before the Storm

Happy Hump Day. Today was fairly calm, but my day deteriorated when I got a B on my Geography test, simply because I mixed up the definitions of megalopolis and metropolitan area. Oh well, I still have over 10 weeks to make it up and I know I will. 

Animals fascinate me. I always stare at my cats, into their eyes, and wonder what sort of treasures, ideas, dreams, desires lie behind the corneas.  What if they are just as capable of intelligent and coherent thought as we, but just lack the vocal ability to communicate their mind's activities? What if they really do have a sixth sense, maybe see death or predict an event, either catastrophic or glorious? And whenever I pet their soft fur, I think, "If I have a soul, so does this creature, perfect, pure, never intending harm upon another." I don't understand how some can say we go to heaven but animals simply lie in the ground, decaying. I don't want to hear of the theories on the "complexity" of humans compared to animals. The soul is so complex we have not identified it within ourselves, what makes us think we are so grand to dismiss one in other species?

Oh, and I'll have to keep diazoxide in mind. Apparently it has been found to stimulate the creation of oligodendrocytes. Awesome.

How the hell am I supposed to leave?

Just a Tuesday

It's just a Tuesday. A lonely Tuesday, really.  I've never liked Tuesday.  Most of the people I know hate Mondays, but Mondays are no big deal for me. They are usually calm, relaxed, easy.  I'm usually too shocked that I have to wake up at 6:30 again to really care about the misery associated with the day. No, Tuesday is the bad one, because you realize where you are: just the second day out of five. Less than half. You bump over to Wednesday and it's fine, because then it is Hump Day; you are over halfway done, and it's easy going from there. It's amazing the way time just floats by.  A week isn't that long, granted you don't keep an eagle eye on each second. If you just let life happen, intervening when possible and necessary, trying to find an ounce of happiness in whatever situation you are in, you find yourself at the end of the week quickly, at the end of the month, of the season, of the semester, of the year. Yeah, my sisters had their 100th day of school party yesterday at school, which is great, because that proves just how far we are into this thing. That's why I hate procrastinating; you put something off for a minute and then you are bombarded with it the next with a force twice as large as the original. Time management is something I'm reasonably okay at though, and I've improved over the years, learning that I can't finish every single thing to completion right away.  Priorities, right? 

Sometimes I panic about school, feeling trapped or behind if I miss a couple points here or there. What I do is remind myself of how successful I've been in the past, and then log onto the computer and take a look at my current grades, which rarely disappoint. If they do, I know where I need to work just a bit harder, and I've never had a goal I couldn't attain when it came to my report card. I guess the moral of the story is that you need to relax, because nine times out of ten, things aren't nearly as bad as you think they are. Just look at it from another perspective; imagine you are someone else looking into your own life.  You probably will find little reason to freak out or pity yourself.  


Here's to tomorrow, and being the person you are and want to be. Don't hide or change for anyone other than yourself. I don't care if you think my words are cliche or "cheesy," because words can be reused, and should be, or else no one would understand what you are trying to communicate.  


Is that you, Happiness?
Down the street I see you,
never taking station,
moving and dancing there,
won't you come here, whisper
your secrets in my ear?
But I know you will not
because the game's a chase
and I better run fast
to catch you in my arms.
I'll keep you forever,
just you watch, Happiness,
maybe you'll slip from me
for just one moment's time,
but you'll be mine again
before the sun sets here.