Of spoils and fodder
To those of you who have voiced concern over my blogging hiatus, thanks for the acknowledgement of my existence here in cyberspace; it is duly noted (and appreciated). It's nice to know that while my sudden demise and subsequent feast prepared for my neighbor's cat might not be immediately noticed, eventually someone might come looking.
Everyday is now a struggle with the decision (2 and 1/2 months before graduation) to just simply... quit. That proverbial light at the end of the tunnel flickers with indecisiveness of my own account, and it's hard to differentiate between what is real and therefore important and what is imaginary. I have a case of what some might call senioritis, and it's baaad (enough to justify using excessive "a's") Other than that, life continues to revolve around the two-dimensional hemisphere of work and school. In a little over a month or so, I'll be attending the Society for Healthcare Epidemiology of America (SHEA) conference in LA to present a couple of abstracts and forthcoming studies, so it's been a little bit busier than normal here on the grindstone. And, as something else to look forward to, my fate as a grad. student will be determined April 5th, as the date is set for my oral comprehensive exams (minor panic attacks have already set in). Without want of further ranting or "updating", I'm left to a simple sayounara with hope of a quick return.
In light of all the overwhelming news I received over the weekend that can only be aptly described as "not so great", I had meant to write about something more uplifting. This year's Valentine's day was wonderful. Aaron had perfectly planned out an evening of jazz at Bistro, a casually upscale restaurant and bar. The smooth crooning melodies, the harmonic bass lines, the atmosphere, all made for a magical experience. Highly recommended for either a humdrum Tuesday evening or a night on the town. :) Picture of us
Just more proof that any friend with a camera and Photoshop is a
deadly (though hilarious) combination.
Random Girl Whom I don't Know (scroll down through site)
The healing power of love
Occasionally there are events or situations capable of pulling me back into the other realm of thought and existence, the world that doesn't rotate about an axis of preparation and meaningless citation. This parallel universe is, in direct opposition, brimming with substance and real significance. Although I've always thought society "accepts" and even goes so far as "molds" us into these self-consumed creatures all through our adolescent and probably into early adulthood years, and I admit, it's all to easy to succumb to indulgent behavior, that's not a valid enough reason to overlook things that we would otherwise care for if we didn't put ourselves first and foremost.
While this monotonous/all too dramatic spiel could continue much longer in the detached third person tone, I contemplated these ideas to exhaustion after hearing from my mom that my dad had been admitted to the hospital Thursday night. Bypassing the clinical procedure explanation (which would lead me back into that "tone" I'm so fond of writing in), his condition isn't serious or life-threatening, just uncomfortable and painful enough to require a four night hospital stay. I couldn't help but remember the year I was 11 and something similar happened to him. It was heart-wrenching to see him so vulnerable, so unlike the pillar of strength and stoicism that I had been accustomed to. I've seen him cry all of once in my lifetime, and of course never at cause for himself. This is man, through whom all hardships of life--of war, loss, little family, cultural barriers, downright bad luck and misfortune, has somehow pulled himself up by his shard-thin bootstraps and made a life for himself and for his family. I can only aspire to ever be so courageous; and must be entirely indebted to him for probably never having to face such opposition, much less overcome it. And so the thought that he was there in the hospital experiencing so much physical pain of which he himself could not bear nor alleviate truly caused me anguish over the fact that any sympathy pains could never compare to anything he was undergoing. I was talked out of driving home that night for compensation that I would be updated with all the ongoings. And as I talked to him yesterday in his groggy state, he not only did not mention anything about himself, but rather, inquired about my health and expressed worry that I was taking on too much. That was humbling, though not surprising. Though he is a man of few words, those words that are spoken are for everyone else's benefit before his own. For this and for everything else about him, I love and admire.
Our office likes parties. We really really like parties. We're just about on par with two already this year, and one next week. Proof that we enjoy ourselves thoroughly----> Office party pics. We had a send off party for Eric today, as his band is headlining a concert in LA this weekend (Team Tomato Website ) and he's going to be famous! :)
There's definitely part elation part dread as another Monday ensues; the fact that an agonizingly long week has passed is a blessing, but knowing that another one is ahead is discouraging. Though, I think I've definitely satiated the urge to "party", as it was the weekend before the beginning of Lent, aka Mard Gras, aka an excuse to run wildly and drunkenly rampant through the streets of Soulard. Pictures!
Aiding and abetting
Amidst the slurry of late night studying and early morning work, it's sometimes with much astonishment how the hours become days and then days into weeks that pass with little fanfare or acknowledgement for the things that are of consequence. With much heed for one of my many neuroses; in particular the one regarding time-management, I scheduled in a few blank lines in my Monday evening dayplanner for family. I've been yearning more and more for some form of "escape" from the monotony that is slowly settling in with the ebbs and flows of another semester. Whenever I get to feeling this way, my remedy is normally a trip; to physically remove myself from everything for a few days. Usually I go to San Francisco to visit the droves of family members I have out there who have grown accustomed to cascading fogs and temperate weather. This motivation to spend some time on the West coast was only spurred further by a call to my grandmother. Even though it induced much needed humility on my part as I fumbled on common Vietnamese phrases and found myself not being able to functionally use the hand gestures that normally aid in communication, the message that came across the trans-many-states line was crystal clear.
In our very customary way of greeting, grandma went over the long list of medications that she was on, giving me adequate time in between to explain to her how and why they would be used. Then came the recounting of how individual family members were getting along, and discussion of the weather. Our habitual relationship is just that; habitual. But even moreso, it's comforting, where once it was anguished and angry. Time often softens people, and has done a great deal to strenthen our connection. And for this, I am infinitely glad to have not only a physical shelter of solace, but an emotional and spiritual one as well.
