A multi-colored October experience
All too often overlooked are the simplistic pleasures of a Saturday afternoon in autumn. While I habitually spend the rare weekend day off by running errands or studying, the weather outside irresistably enticed me with it's persuasive charm. And thus I thoroughly enjoyed a little excursion to Left Bank Books in the heart of my quaint but flagrantly liberal neighborhood. So, although it wasn't a complete surprise when Congressman Clay just happened to saunter in with his entourage of conspicuous security, it did take me slightly aback when he made mention that he had just finished the book I had in hand (The European Dream) followed by providing me with a brief synopsis. I chatted with him about the unavoidable topic of this upcoming Tuesday while I opted for a selection a bit less politically driven at the counter. Though I regretfully declined the multiple Claire McCaskill for Governor pins and stickers he very insistently offered and never made mention of my voting preferences (even though percentage-wise I definitely lean more towards the left), he took it all in stride, which I took as a sign of as gracious unpartiality. It's not often one meets a real, tried and true, red-blooded Congressman out on an everyday errand, so I didn't mind that he was campaigning, just a little. We parted ways shortly thereafter, as I was eager to delve into my recent literary guilty pleasure. Thus, the rest of the afternoon and early evening were spent very much isolated from anything resembling socio-political. But it was all the better for it.
Shadows of past
How much our own actions are dictated by self-will, and how much is clearly steered by expectations? Maybe we're all helpless marrionettes, smiles and expressions elaborately drawn, movements controlled by a series of bound string.
Last night I came daringly and disastrously close to quitting my job at the med school. It appears that there are a magnitude of unbearable situations that I will put up, as I've never actually quit a job for any reason other than having to move or leaving for school. However, even indulgences and consideration for a co-worker's laziness and irresponsibility has its limits. Covering for shifts where he doesn't come in or shows up hours late is one thing when I have time specifially allotted for the uncertainty of him actually, God forbid, being where he is supposed to be, but when it becomes and infringement on time that I have scheduled for designated tasks is another agitated creature entirely.
Being that I was already 15 minutes late to a study group meeting, and productive time was idling away with each tick of the clock, I became increasingly more confidant about my ultimate decision. With just one call, I could explain a year's worth of repressed frustrations and be free from a job that in all honesty, I never needed in the first place. But in yielding to two more minutes of hesitation, he sauntered through the door, unapologetic and carefree, not knowing his own impending fate if he had spent an extra few moments to stop and chat on the way up. So in reconsideration, I may hold out a little while longer. We'll see if this decision comes back to haunt me.
And the stoplight turns from "go" to...
As an aside from political speak and all associated jargon, I’ve always considered myself to lean a little more toward the green side; that is, the side of environmental activists and rah rah picketing against animal testing and for your own cause and all that. Ironically, this after-thought degree in Environmental Health has started to sway this opinion a bit. After becoming completely engrossed in a lecture this morning from our fifth guest speaker from Monsanto (previously thought of as representative of big scary chemical corporations out to rule the world), I slowly began to realize that there are nuances to every supposedly “black and white”, “good or bad” decision.
For example, there was a recent decision of the Canadian Environmental Protection Agency to continue using glyphosates (a selective pesticide) on specified acres of land designated for forestry. Immediately the term "pesticide" brings about the connotation of malicious intent and environmental harm. However, being that this chemical is biologically engineered to affect only an enzyme found only in plants, and not animals or humans, and million dollar multi-year studies have been done by both private industrial as well as governmental toxicological organizations to look for sub-chronic, chronic, carcinogenic, or any systemic effects, there just is not evidence there to make a case for necessitating environmental protection against it. Moreover, particularly in Nova Scotia where the forestry industry is its biggest economic contributor, they cannot feasibly or rationally eliminate the use of glyphosates merely on the basis of misconceived notions. However, after long legal disputes and several litigations mediated by eco-toxicologists as well as finance experts, the suits were overturned, much to the benefit of Nova Scotia.
So when exactly did socio-political concerns both overtake and undermine science? Let me not even delve into the topic of bio-engineered or modified foods; which we do, in fact, consume every day. But I suppose the point that I very long-windedly tried to get to is this: we must look at things in the proper perspective and objectively scrutinize the cost/benefit analysis, because more harm could ultimately be done, even with honorable intent.
Have I mentioned my affinity for all things Jack Handey? If not, I should have. :-) Dawn, if you're reading this, you know what I'm talkin' about. Sarcastic wit is so darn sexy.
Morsels of mediation
Last night was spent entangled in the throngs of a personal statement. I decided to be responsible and not procrastinate any longer, and made the necessary effort to do so by turning off my phone and isolating myself in my own personal 500 sq ft. space. Initially I had thought I would just "tweak" the existing one I had that I used two years ago to apply to schools, but that idle dream diminished quickly as I read over just what I thought I wanted not so long ago. But the problem is, I can't seem to limit myself to the narrow goals of days past. Hence, a one page summary of initiative and statement of purpose has turned into four monstrously condensed pages. But somehow the words flowed much for fluidly and freely this time around, and was much less restrictive than drafting a resume. The bias comes from the ultimate queston of: how much of who we are is truly defined by prior occupation anyway? This is definitely an idea that I've lingered upon more frequently, and have yet to truly find comfortable grounding.
An evening ode
So much for learning from childhood mistakes. That's right folks, Peeps are, and will always be, disgusting. But who can resist what is seemingly marshmellowy goodness shaped in the deceiving form of lovable avian creatures? However, they're a Halloween staple, and thus must be appreciated for their symbolic representation of little children running haphazardly around darkened streetcorners and approaching strangers solicitating candy and other means of sugar highs. As I reach beyond the bag of Halloween candy and instead for a glass of vanilla soymilk, I wonder just when it is that I became a rational, deciphering adult, and consequently, how much I enjoy this life infinitely more. There was a time not so long ago that decisions were not my own, and constructed from the rather the stern reprimands of my parents. And although knowing that an essential component of this life will still be lived in indentured servitude towards them (though not with resentment), there's an accompanying sense of freedom of choice. Aha, so has an equality thus been set? As children, we spend their existence hovering under our parents' protection. In our teen years, in various innocently destructive or by truly unalterable means, try to escape any and all traces that can be linked to our genetic forebearers. Thankfully, later into the process of maturity, I think we strike a balance, and if fortunate enough, are still able to reap the rewards of our parents' wisdom and guidance, but yet establish our own identities by self-sufficient means.
I think back to all those years lost when I truly believed saying I love you was utterly superfluous, and maybe it was because they weren't words thrown wildly about our house, and maybe it wasn't. But now, as I fastidiously end every conversation with my mother in that manner, I believe I finally see the value, and more importantly, the significance. Not only do those three simple words encompass all the sentiment in my heart, but it's also a way of saying, thank you; thank you, for a chance at life, love, and all the things that come in between.
Short but sweet
Editing my template and reconfiguring my blog is entirely too much fun. However, there's also this thing called work that sometimes needs to get done... More on trivial matters later!
Rampalian rampages
If there was one underlying concept that a rigorous, seven months shy of a Master's graduate degree in Epidemiology has shown me, is that I'm completely cynical of what popular news touts as "science". I just read an utterly ungrounded, unfounded, and absurd news article this morning about the social correlation of gender at birth and whether or not the mother lives with the father of the child. Goodness, there wasn't even statistical significance of p<.05 (49.9% to 51.1%).
Maybe through the compounded hours of poring over correlation coefficients, confidence intervals, and validity studies have made me slightly more judgmental than most. The overall point is that I think that media has a certain responsibility to report what is justified, and not just what "might be interesting" to the common Joe who spends 22 seconds scrolling through the MSN homepage. This aforementioned Joe will then spread this bit of news to his co-workers during their lunch break; one person will relay to another, and soon, this flimsy pseudo-science practically becomes gospel. Geez. I don't know how many times I've been told something that I know to be completely invalid, that even with heated discussion, the other person stands their ground on simple folklore or hearsay. Anyways, that's my rant for the day. Take it or leave it.
Red uproar
I admit, peer pressure and the power of influential media have me swept up in the Playoff season as well, at least to a certain extent. I intently watched the 3rd through 9th innings of the Cardinals vs. Astros game last night. And while the cheering, small talk in between, and essential hand-slapping congratulatory measures were going all around me, I actually thought: "wow, I really enjoy this game". There was so much comraderie and intensity coming from this group of die hard fans all huddling around the TV that it was hard not to get swept up in the excitement. I knew I had entered a sports haven so to speak, when I arrived to find a bunch of guys with not one, but two television sets on in their condo; one to the Rams' game, and the other to the Cards' game. Sadly, althoughI think it's too late for me to fully encroach on the the intricacies of football, baseball I find envigorating, when I had previously thought it a dull, slow sport. There's emotion there, as well as expression of skill and talent, and that definitely appeals to me. Although it was a heartbreaking loss last night, there's still hope just yet, for them, for us, and for all.
Color schemes
Writing will be my deterrent from bursting into a verse of My Favorite Things or any other Julie Andrews medleys, as I bathe in the comfort of warm woolen slippers and breathe in the (though mildly congested) crisp fall aroma, wafting in by blustering cool waves of wind. It concerns me a smidgeon to think that I've never truly appreciated a lot of things in life, whether it be tritely overlooking nature or other simplistic beauty, or more integrally arbitrary matters such as health, or the privilege to education. Why is it that through the extending arms of fate or random chance that I am the one sitting here in relative warmth and comfort, with the ability to express ideas in various means of communication, the capicity to perhaps further social and personal understanding and stance, while there are others out there, who by no fault of their own, are not?
I pondered this notion habitually last summer, working with people whom I at first looked at with much sympathy because of their seemingly unfortunate mental handicaps. But with extended interaction and burgeoning friendship, I discovered such vivacity for life, such a pure perspective of expectations and norms. So the question I pose is this: is it exponentially easier to be naively optimistic and happy not knowing, or to be cynically jaded either by personal or surrogate experience, but instrinsically know ones' own capabilities and prospects?
I once had to describe myself in three words, though not having to be interrelated. I used two. Cautiously optimistic were the adjectives I chose to confine myself to. And the more I think about it, it's true. There are daily misgivings that frustrate me beyond belief, and moments where I feel downtrodden. But becoming increasingly more prevalent are those tiny splices of time within an infinite revolving sphere that I look and see that this path is laden with opportunity and hope. I see it in the gentle sway of a tree in autumn, in the elderly couple that still walk hand in hand, fingers intertwined, and even sometimes, in myself. And thus, I think that the true answer to the question may lie somewhere in between black and white, somewhere in the vast spectrum of grey.
Effects of perspective
So let's run through the course of the past 36 hours or so, just for kicks. My attempt to simply change a light bulb last night, which of course, being that it's me, resulted in travesty. Just a God-given extra inch and a half in height would have prevented the subsequent fall from a chair, face forward. Apparently the blunt trauma caused a broken blood vessel in my left eye, as I happily discovered around 3:30 this morning when I finally stumbled into the bathroom en route to bed. Hmmm, not a bad start I must say. The added bonus was that I had a presentation this morning. I disguised myself in black and camouflaging makeup to lessen the noticeability factor; but in reality, I didn't care all that much. I then sat through three more hours of class, a forty-five minute break in between which I used as "cram time", a two hour exam in the afternoon, followed by another two hours of class, then it was off to the library where I undertook the feat of writing an entire ethics case-study that should have been done about a week ago. Whew! I'm tired from just the bare bones time-series description.
But all in all, I've been sort of invigorated by the hoopla and stress of this past week. The little stint at home really was a much needed refresher. At least for tonight until it all starts again before dawn tomorrow, I'll breathe in a bit of mist filled night air, and enjoy it for what it is.
Blame it on the (insert stereotype here)
Today has apparently taken a misdirected turn towards crazy and frustrating, though at present, mutually exclusive. So the multiple comments that I receive regarding encounters with unusual people are not entirely unfounded. I attribute it mostly to spending so much of my day commuting back and forth in a neighborhood where people actually walk around and interact with one another.
As usual, I was speed-walking down the street from Barnes this morning. One observation of noteworthiness is that I almost always obey pedestrian signals (yes, even the silly ones like when the hand is flashing red but the light is green). So, there I was at a four-way stop sign, starting to walk across the street with the insane notion that cars are supposed to yield to those on foot. About three feet away from the other curb, a small blur of rust and old paint came speeding towards me in anxious ferocity. It stopped about a hand's length away from my hemline, and a unfurled head of braided dreadlocks in disaray jetisoned out the driver window and shouted "b*tch!!" in my direction.
Before the passing expression of disbelief could leave my face, the driver, along with her atrocity on wheels had swerved around me and tried its very best to accelerate past 50 on cobblestone road. I should also mention that she was a meter maid. With no doubt is my faith in city employees weakened, if not completely ravaged. But, taken in stride, the entire situation if not for the potential for mortal injury, was kind of funny.
Recurring theme
Odd how a little change of scenery can change a lot more. Maybe it's the fact that I spent nine hours in a car over a fifty-hour period alone working out puzzling thoughts with no opportunity of divvying other tasks or feeling unproductive. But, here at work, I feel that something has shifted, irrevocably. Though I'm not entirely sure what this new paradigm may possibly yield, there's a new, unfounded sense of uncertainty.
Creme brulee and other just desserts
As the ending notes of a familiar Dean Martin tune quietly fade into the background hustle of a Sunday morning at home, it's suddenly hard to remember a life beyond any other that I've established a number of miles away. Having had this discussion with Brian last night, it's been difficult to shelve the thought away. There is comfort in knowing that this life is somewhat static while a whirlwind of chaos and change blow by and all around. The first thing that dad will say to me tomorrow morning and continue to repeat a zillion times over will be to "drive safely", while mom will hover in the background, making sure that I bring back a sherpa load of groceries that she has meticulously bought today. Bella will be asleep, of course, as 6AM is an unfathomable hour that does not exist in her world unless it is that she is coming home and not getting up. It's extraordinarily easy to slip into my assigned role too, which has evolved and experienced some character development since the last time I actually lived here. I become the now found, previously missing fourth member of the family, whose homecoming requires preparation and celebration. My propensity to be egocentric really indulges and wallows in this. But instead of the fancy dinners and creme brulee and such, I think that I'd be perfectly happy with a quiet evening at home. It's funny how I get to experience the "best" parts of family now, but am casually absent for "normal" every day comings and goings. Whether I'm home for short stints on weekends, or during the holidays, I feel somewhat spoiled, something that I never really felt before.
The mirror has two faces
I've always been a skeptic when it comes to the subject of cosmic forces regarding metaphysical lashes of fate (not the uniform theory of ceaseless expansion), though sometimes I come across occurrences that make me second guess myself, which admittedly, I abhor. Okay, so the run through goes something like this: I moved into my apartment building approximately a year a month and 11 days or so, give or take. In that time, I've come into contact with my (ex)-neighbor more times than I can count, and yet have spoken relatively few words to him in comparison. Generally speaking, I'm terrible with recognizing faces and great with names (I know, the exact opposite of what people normally say), so I knew what his last name was from his mailbox, being that it was right next to mine. About a month into the last school year, I realized that he was actually in one of my classes, not from recognition, mind you, but rather from a class roster. Being that this particular program only has about 35 full-time grad students, the chances of us living next to each other was already pretty miniscule.
But then, a few months down the line, I also by chance ran into him at the hospital, in that we both work in the infectious disease division, although under different research grants. Still I didn't give it that much consideration, in that I usually skip along from task to task rather immune and oblivious to a lot of things that probably should be fairly obvious. Using a metaphor for carcinogenesis (not that this is by any means a terribly debilitating disease), after initiation of underlying cause, the integral promoter was yesterday. I was out at my gym in Clayton, which I had carefully picked because of the demographics of their gym junkies, essentially because I wanted to avoid all SLU-sters and other teenyboppers. I had just finished a short but exhilerating run, when I saw him again, 15 pound dumbbells in hand, doing a set of lunges with his trainer. What I asked myself was: is there no sanction for privacy??? It's not that these run-ins are necessarily annoying, it's the fact that we're by no means on friendly terms, and the expression that I gather from him is of subtle scorn or disparagement. But then again, as is my ever-overanalyzing way, he may mirroring my thoughts on the actual probability of these chance encounters. Who knows, with the path of progression thus far, he'll probably end up being a long lost cousin or something. Funny thought indeed, because that ancestry would have had to taken quite the turn, as judging by surname, he's Greek. :-)
And in yet another unexpected circumstance, I think I'll make a note to push myself to the point of exhaustion, up the the threshold of purely crazed insanity more often. Turns out that a couple weeks back, I, in a semi-dilusional state started diagramming out cortexes of distorted penguins to explain dioxin exposure on a toxicology exam. Apparently my mind, in combination with caffeine and sleep deprivation goes to a very very strange place filled with lovable waddling creatures... And so knowing this, when I got my exam back today, the horror and dread had already set in hours prior. There was a big, fat, horribly red "101" on it. My first thought was that this must be graded on a weighted scale out of 500 points or something. Um yeah, it wasn't. I got an extra credit point. And so, I must say much thanks to my not in any way, even remotely artistic abilities, and of course, to my dear friend, the penguin.
A funny thing happened on the way to the forum
Well, almost-- I just like making references to musicals and do so at every given opportunity. But anyways, I do digress (much). I'm still somewhat at odds with an interesting occurrence yesterday. I was in what seems like my seven-hundreth elevator, when I found myself in one with an unfamiliar face. She however, apparently knew me all too well. In complete non-compliance with "elevator etiquette" that stipulates you must stare at your shoes while inconspicously scoping out everyone else's attire, or in some circumstances, try to remain composed while violently ill over someone else's pungent cologne/perfume, she stared directly at me in a scrutinizing manner. Of course I thought I must have ink smeared across my forehead or something, which isn't entirely unusual. But before I could even check she very vehemently encroached in my "personal space" and said to me, "you're that Tumble Tuesday girl, aren't you" (in a non-question voice inflection).
Let me explain before I ramble on further at length. Tumble Tuesdays is the catch-phrase for the fall study that we're doing on one particular unit of the hospital, and although silly sounding, is a reminder for the nurses to fill out assessment forms on their patients. Of course, being the militant, commandeering individual that I am, am responsible for overseeing that these get done. Yeah, not so much... My multiple strategized, unobtrusive schemes have fallen into the gutter, so now I resort to bribery, which seems to surprisingly yield high compliance. Hmmmph.
Anyways, to continue, she went on further to say, "you know, I don't hate you as much as I did two months ago." With that said, we stopped on her floor, and she got off without so much as another word or glance. Interesting how I must have missed the aroma of animosity wafting about in that tiny space we were both occupying. Optimistically speaking (and de-focusing on the as much) maybe that was something similar to an expression of acceptance. Apparently in my daily tasks, I'm reaching people I don't see, infringing on their time to better the health of patients-- is that really so much to ask? Judging by the pace of the study and data collection so far, I won't venture a guess.
Alright, so this was a much better anecdote expressed verbally. But I tried, and now my brain hurts. Until tomorrow, or whenever I get approached by someone who tries to halfheartedly disguise disdain in the form of a greeting, I'll make sure keep everyone updated. :-)
Masquerade ball
An entire day of sitting behind long tables in high-back chairs in a windowless classroom, discussing abstract concepts of moral philosophy and health ethics made my mind wander a bit. Though, speaking tangentially, it wasn't too far askew. I thought about the roles we assume in everyday life that consume and pervade our very essence, even down to the subconscious subset of intuition and reason. My role as daughter, sister, student, friend, and functioning member of society all have weighted values put upon them. Seemingly until somewhere around age 22, I didn't really have an identity that I embraced besides daughter. Until then, there were never any alternatives for complete obedience and utter compliance, even so far as to extend the fact that I was going to base my entire life’s career on the one that my mother so painfully left behind.
So was there a sharp knife of epiphany that finally burst this glistening bubble of naiveness? The answer is no. In so many ways, I still see myself making up for what I will always keep in a guilty, heavy heart the disappointment that I caused my parents. It explains a lot of my idiosyncrasies, really. I see it clearly in the drive for sudden, unprecedented independence. I also see it in the undying assertion that I can in fact achieve my own method of success, even if it comes in the form of shifting work and school into overdrive, to the point where at any given second, I feel the impending gloom of a fatal crash. Sure, I can brush aside the questions and answer that I like to “keep busy”, or that I couldn’t possibly afford to go to school without working full-time, which I know is true, but there’s something beyond that. And it is there, lurking snidely out in the shadows and will remain there until that one fateful day that I will have the courage to confront it myself, face to face.
Speaking of shoddy character development in an assigned role, apparently I’m not playing the friend one quite so well either. The other night, Chris asked me for, what I view as a somewhat large favor. While every cell of being screamed “No, no no! Run for the hills!” I understood the intention behind it, and so I asked for time to consider the options. As of yet, past deadline, I haven’t come to a decision yet, and hope this process of deliberation ends soon. I guess the key factor is my own personal feelings, and eliminating them leaves an objective standpoint, which would only view this as something beneficial for a friend. I’m suddenly reminded of a song that I used to know by heart, that became a personal mantra after awhile.
http://www.lyricsfreak.com/e/everclear/51998.html
A little politics, anyone?
So accounting for the questions that I didn't fill in because I don't feel like I have all the underlying concepts in order to make a decision on them, apparently non-partisan me has a 66% inclination towards Kerry, and only a 16% favorable opinion of Bush. In my never-ending quest to ultimately make the "right" decision come election day, even though I'm pretty sure which candidate I'll vote for, I guess it's really become crunch time to solidify my values and beliefs. My checks and balances list is growing by the day as I compile more pros and cons for each possible future President. It's sometimes fun to take a little quiz to mix it up a little though, hence the following:
http://www.presidentmatch.com/Main.jsp2?cp=main
