I'm going to limit myself to 15 minutes on the subject.
http://www.nber.org/papers/w15090.pdf?new_window=1
Two days ago I was watching Redes and they mentioned social intuition, heightism, and the workplace.
http://economics.sas.upenn.edu/~apostlew/paper/pdf/short.pdf
http://edition.cnn.com/2007/US/Careers/02/02/cb.tall.people/index.html
http://ftp.iza.org/dp2394.pdf
They discussed a positive correlation between height and salary as well as sexual partners, social status, and perceived. Research from the past 5 years between these three articles has the value at about $850-1100 per inch in height. Redes said something similar. The opinion offered on the show was that self-perception heavily influences how a person presents themself
The fact that height and attractiveness is positively correlated in men and has relatively negatively correlated with female attractiveness (only if they are taller than their partner) is well supported.
The relationship is frequently drawn between humans and other primates:
http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s12110-012-9130-3
http://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-319-01979-6_7
http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s12110-006-1003-1#page-1
From a scientific opinion: I agree. It makes sense that selection for leadership and the value attributed to a member of a group of individuals should correlate with their genetic fitness. In the same light, it would follow that group members who can accomplish a task essential for the survival of a pack should be well compensated with access to food and the sexual selection from the females in the group.
It also makes sense, from a perspective of utilitarian evolutionary psychology, that they should exclude individuals who appear different from a group (stranger danger). It would also make sense that female individuals should have roles in the group (child rearing). These behavriors are well demonstrated in primate behavior.
The previous two paragraphs should not apply to human behavior and even a simple-minded individual to realize that our rational capacity should allow us to integrate all different customs, cultures, and appearances in a society which grants equal opportunity for women and no discrimination based on factors which, although important in our evolution, hold no bearing on contemporary life.
There are no well-known groups for the elimination of height descrimination in the workplace. The practice of bullying and ridiculing people based on smaller stature is not seen as ignorant or blatantly offensive as racism or sexism.
From personal experience... when I was working in a space heater factory for 3 months I had a boxing-line job which paid $8.50/hr. The boss hired in someone named Chris, who was a 6 foot 3 inch linebacker from Virginia. He was a good guy, but I was working there for 3 months by the time he got there. Within a month he was hired in and on the tow-motor floor (which paid $12/hr). When I asked the boss: "Why did you give Chris that position instead of training me? Have I done something wrong?" She replied curtly "Chris is tall. You have to be tall to reach the palates."
Two weeks later I saw Chris on smoke break. Catching up, I mentioned in passing... "man, you're lucky you're tall because you can reach the palates off the top shelves." He laughed. "I never have to reach up, we always use the jacks for that."
In plenty of other situations my bosses in these blue-collar jobs undervalued my capacity to perform a task which required intelligence and technical skill instead of height.
In love it is the roughest. You take yourself and put it out there. Someone judges whether or not you are worth being around and falling in love with.
"I'm sorry, I don't like short guys" I was told by a fan at one of my shows when I invited her to an afterparty.
"I thought you were taller" someone mentioned, disappointed, when I show up for blind date.
"I would date you, but you're not at least 6 ft." a girl I took to the homecoming dance told me.
"You're funny, smart, and a good guy...but I'm not attracted to you. I like tall guys" a girl told me after asking me to come to a wedding as her date.
"I think masculine women prefer you because your wit is attractive but your stature is non-threatening" a lover once told me.
"That's good it doesn't bother you" someone said when they saw me and my girlfriend junior year, who was a full head taller than me.
Let's reverse the situation...
Imagine someone connects with a girl and says "You're a great girl, but you're just unattractive."
I can't imagine that...I'm sure it's happened.
Concerning relationships, I am most happy and most comfortable around someone who acknowledges that these differences between genders and desire exist...but knows why they prefer to ignore them. I have been in several great, meaningful relationships with awesome sex (for both of us) and they come when you're willing to address the situation and how you feel about it.
Something like this: I understand that you will be more physically attracted to someone who is taller than me... but what's more important is our connection. We get each other and help each other come into the moment. Likewise, you have attributes which might be offputting...but it's ok. We know they're there. As long as we have fun with each other, the sex is good for both of us, and we don't start manipulating or getting jealous of one another we should keep doing this.
The absurdity of reality is different, though. People don't see and acknowledge that there is a natural irrational tendency toward tall men (just as there is a tendency toward blondes, which as been demonstrated to be associated with youthfulness http://www.theguardian.com/science/2010/jun/04/men-blonde-women-attractive). Instead, mentioning the fact that a person is below average height elicits the response: "well..he's not that short." Imagine someone saying "well...you're not that black/asian/mexican." The tone implies that, if you were, it would be a bad thing.
I can say that I'm not insecure, which would imply that the problem is mine. The problem is with the confused primates who I deal with on the day-to-day. I don't respect people who can't figure themselves out. You know them. People who repeatedly end up in bad relationships because they have a list and can't figure out that their judgement of a person's actions are heavily influenced by their sexual attractiveness.
It's frustrating (and...completely obvious) when I see someone respond differently to another individual suggesting an opinion which I have just given...because they appear taller than I do. The frustration stems from the fact that they don't see that their actions are offensive.
On a side note, I think that the appraisal of the genetic appeal of a member of the opposite sex (although "natural") in a vocal way can be offensive. The same way "man she has some nice tits" is scathing to hear in certain situations, "he's really tall" is something which shorter guys don't want to hear.
In conclusion, personally I stay away from people who are very blatantly heightist. They generally are bad conversationalists and are incapable of forming the type of connection, friendship or otherwise, which I prefer to have in my life. They are swept by marketing and don't know what they want.
That ended up taking longer than it should :-)
Monday, December 2, 2013
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Thank you.
Nonfiction. This is my life.
This morning I woke up at 5:28 in the morning...a little later than normal for a day of learning. My body wakes up full of energy and my mind has to catch up. I stumbled to the bathroom and threw in my contacts. The past few weeks have been tough. My eyes haven't put up with contacts since I got an infection last week. A few hundred dollars went missing. My computer crashed. I had to talk to my landlady about a maid coming in my house without permission. I was working through heavy material coming in and trying to process it all.
Now it's Thanksgiving day. My dad sent a few pictures of the snow-capped farm. I called Janee and got a choppy 1 minute phone call. Right now I'm listening to the Mountain Goats and doing what I do best: reflecting and trying to contextualize my experience.
I had a beautiful partly cloudy sunrise run on the beach. Ate a ripe banana, drank a huge glass of water, and put the coffee on. The sweetspot on the shower was easy to find today. Just warm enough. Every breath is a gift and I was present through all of them this morning. Feeling the water cascade down my head and tired legs I washed off the sweat and sand. I swept the portion of Grand Anse off the floor and tied up the shopping bag, put it by the door so I wouldn't forget to throw it in the barrel as I would march for the bus.
The coffee was hot and strong. Combining it with a muffin from the local Grenadian bakery made a perfect, stable climb in my blood sugar. Morning running is good for waking my mind up, some autophagy of defective organelles in my cells, and hopefully to burn whatever extra weight I have.
My goal was 40 head questions and 55 pelvis/leg questions. I got the head questions done from Lippincott's anatomy and then delved into 50 questions about the pelvis, leg, and perineum...solid. I missed about 9 or 10 and reviewed why. They were easy questions and I learned my mistakes. There is always room for improvement.
After the questions I turned on Redes to practice my Spanish while I cooked. The program I chose was about natural selection, group selection, and languages. I understood 100% of the interview and enjoyed it while I fried up some curry chicken and yardlong beans. Breakfast at the same time was fried splitpeas with leftover Spanish rice.
I ate as I did 100 Blue Histology questions. I only scored 70% above chance...which is OK. There is still time.
To break it up I went to the ATM to take out half the rent. Then I sat for a biochem quiz. Most of the questions I knew...but not all of them. There's still work to be done. Breathing and enjoying the fact that I am growing helps me sit for this and feel confident that I can do this.
After the biochem I had 15 minutes to relax myself. Then I hit the drugs/diseases part of review. 50 of them once through...I don't know them yet.
Fried up 2 chicken sandwiches and packed for the day.
I took out my contacts because they started burning. At 11:40 I took the bus to campus. A friendly hello to the bus driver and I sat, trying to assimilate some purine synthesis before I got to campus. Then...straight to the gym. I did 5 wide arm pullups and hit lat pulldowns, then triceps with the 70lb weight behind my head. Then the straight bar on the bench with 10's on each side for supine triceps. Then I alternated between the straddle-rowing weight and ab kicks. After that: tricep pulldowns, one arm rows, overhead pulls, small angle pulldowns, seated rows, oblique twists, and oblique bends with the 70lb weight. I got out in under an hour.
Curry chicken and beans after the workout was great. A cat chased and murdered a lizard in front of the library. It reminded me of undergraduate and gardening for my professor who loved her cats.
Dr. Burns was lecturing but I wanted to get a jump on histology, so I hit up the 2nd floor of Founder's Library. I slowed down but got to labelling a few slides and hit some flash cards about anatomy (embryology of the head).
In lecture I sat next to Tempest for Dr. Loukas's closing remarks lecture. He joked and said some things which really hit home...be positive, live in a rumor-free bubble, project professionalism on social media, display positive body language, help your colleagues, attend medical conferences, work hard, don't take breaks, and train your mind.
SGU is surprisingly hardcore. I am nearing the end of my first term and know an astounding amount compared to when I came here. My self-doubt and idealism erodes as I become the machine I knew I would be 4 months ago when I was travelling the Balkan peninsula with Joao. I knew it before then...this is constitutive. Work becomes me and idleness and celebration are not my element.
Ultrasound, physical examination, radiographic imaging, facilitated article discussion, and case reports are all second nature...they are all things I knew nothing about before I was here. Now I can do all of them to a limited extent...I know I will have these all mastered soon and will be using them to change lives.
Sometimes it goes too fast to breathe. Sometimes I don't think about the journey and just walk it.Other times I get consumed with the goal and the moment escapes me as I fight tomorrows battles today. This always defeats me and pushes me out of my head and back into the moment.
Memories sustain me but despair can kill your ambition if you linger on the past.
So on it went. Biochemistry...I missed two or three diseases in the discussion even with Kevin and Tempest talked a few of them out. I wanted to get them on my own but listened intently as the answers were discussed. Lecture let out 10 til 4. Outside the temperature was a perfect 80 degrees. Hot coffee from New York's finest bagels and I hit the 2nd floor of the library again. Studying was slower...I labelled slides one at a time from lectures and checked facebook every 20 minutes and the news. Not too proud of the work I got done from 4-7, but I ate some chicken sandwiches and reviewed drugs a bit as well. Facebook is going off tomorrow until finals are finished. Only after 9 p.m. and before 6:30 I will have it on.
At 7 I met up with William and Chris. Bill is a good guy. Quirky and funny, from Philly. He has a giant beard, is short statured, and tells horrible puns. He's assertive and compassionate...a good, reliable friend who helps out when he can. I don't see him as much as some of my other friends but when we do see each other we get a fair amount of stuff done. It's easy to get sidetracked with him.
There are a lot of personalities here which I love and some which I viciously and quickly distance myself. Luckily, I have a core group of 5 or so people who I can count on to study with. They don't complain and we pull each other up. Admittedly, I am not so quick on some things as I should be. It's part of the drawbacks of being away from science for so long...I can engage a 6 year old child in an English reading lesson, command a class of Spanish teenagers to work through the conditionals, or sharpen a Mexican technician's presentation for a conference on earthquake damage in southern Spain ... but these are not skills which apply in the context of medical school (although in life the ability to relate with and involve people is indispensible). That being said, I know what I am and exactly when I slip from my solid mental frame.
Chris brings out the worst in me. Sometimes I slip out of my frame into wanting to impress her. I know I do it too but can't stop myself from adding in something about my experience, life, or perspective which isn't necessary. Even though I know I don't have to prove anything, I feel myself pulled to be different and it feels needy.
She's a vibrant, short, farm girl from Wisconsin with pale eyes and perpetually dilated pupils...which is what makes her engaging. She always looks interested., Her combination of organization and laid-back demeanor is the opposite of my aggressive, rigid, hectic mind. Admittedly, she is a bit quicker than I am at assimilating material.
My blood sugar was dropping. I got tired as we swapped stories about Thanksgiving. Again, I told her some stuff about home, which is a subject I usually keep deep under wraps (as many do and many people should). It's interesting that I hear a lot of crisis talk around medical school but feel separate from it because I have been through so much. The upside of hardship is a thick skin and solid work ethic.
After 40 minutes of work on 25 slides we started chatting. I walked to the bus stop. The ride home was uneventful. Beautiful winding hills and a chorus of insects and night creatures as we zoomed up and down huge hills back to my home just outside Mount Toute.
Chezaz was outside smoking and I joined him. I spoke a few sentences in French and he responded...I got most of it. The 5 minute morning podcasts are good enough for that. His infant son got sick but is now better. Their eletric bill is more than 6x mine because they use AC constantly.
Back to the chair, the desk, and my mind is winding down. Looking at pictures of home and thinking about the future.
I need to tell myself and convince myself that I'm OK with being alone. A relationship would fit perfectly with my lifestyle, could help me learn medicine better, and would make me immensely happy ... but it is a distraction. Moreover, if I cross a line with someone into the realm of romantic relationships I will have to deal with everyone at the university because things travel. You don't just date someone...but you take on their friends and your friends because everyone has advice about things they know little to nothing about.
Like I said...memories sustain me. Although I would love a pleasant distraction such as more time with the Nigerian woman who rides my bus, to grab dinner with the woman I greet during the jog in the mornings, or maybe a few drinks with a cute vet student I met...I have to contextualize those feelings in a way that they aren't distracting. This blog is cathartic and well worth the hour I spent writing it.
I just started to feel this way when Elvira and I stopped speaking. She starts work soon and it's obvious that we're going to permanently move in opposite directions.
Instead of dwelling, though, I'm going to wash the dishes and plan my morning. I will run through some cadaveric images, prepare breakfast and listen to Redes, take the mock practical, annihilate some biochemistry, and then . . .
Home will be great. Jiu-jitsu, salsa, and catching up with friends are in the plans. As well as getting ready to take on next term like a champion. I really don't want to put the books down. The recharge will be great though.
Admittedly, I am ragged right now. My clothes, shoes, laptop, bookbag, bank account, and notes are all in disarray. One thing leads to another and this term has had its fair share of hurdles. Next term I'm going to hit my favorite subjects like a ton of bricks and probably lead some review sessions as well as help out in the community. I have the template and know how to work the island now.
This term I told myself "survive" and next term I know I will thrive. Then, we'll see.
This morning I woke up at 5:28 in the morning...a little later than normal for a day of learning. My body wakes up full of energy and my mind has to catch up. I stumbled to the bathroom and threw in my contacts. The past few weeks have been tough. My eyes haven't put up with contacts since I got an infection last week. A few hundred dollars went missing. My computer crashed. I had to talk to my landlady about a maid coming in my house without permission. I was working through heavy material coming in and trying to process it all.
Now it's Thanksgiving day. My dad sent a few pictures of the snow-capped farm. I called Janee and got a choppy 1 minute phone call. Right now I'm listening to the Mountain Goats and doing what I do best: reflecting and trying to contextualize my experience.
I had a beautiful partly cloudy sunrise run on the beach. Ate a ripe banana, drank a huge glass of water, and put the coffee on. The sweetspot on the shower was easy to find today. Just warm enough. Every breath is a gift and I was present through all of them this morning. Feeling the water cascade down my head and tired legs I washed off the sweat and sand. I swept the portion of Grand Anse off the floor and tied up the shopping bag, put it by the door so I wouldn't forget to throw it in the barrel as I would march for the bus.
The coffee was hot and strong. Combining it with a muffin from the local Grenadian bakery made a perfect, stable climb in my blood sugar. Morning running is good for waking my mind up, some autophagy of defective organelles in my cells, and hopefully to burn whatever extra weight I have.
My goal was 40 head questions and 55 pelvis/leg questions. I got the head questions done from Lippincott's anatomy and then delved into 50 questions about the pelvis, leg, and perineum...solid. I missed about 9 or 10 and reviewed why. They were easy questions and I learned my mistakes. There is always room for improvement.
After the questions I turned on Redes to practice my Spanish while I cooked. The program I chose was about natural selection, group selection, and languages. I understood 100% of the interview and enjoyed it while I fried up some curry chicken and yardlong beans. Breakfast at the same time was fried splitpeas with leftover Spanish rice.
I ate as I did 100 Blue Histology questions. I only scored 70% above chance...which is OK. There is still time.
To break it up I went to the ATM to take out half the rent. Then I sat for a biochem quiz. Most of the questions I knew...but not all of them. There's still work to be done. Breathing and enjoying the fact that I am growing helps me sit for this and feel confident that I can do this.
After the biochem I had 15 minutes to relax myself. Then I hit the drugs/diseases part of review. 50 of them once through...I don't know them yet.
Fried up 2 chicken sandwiches and packed for the day.
I took out my contacts because they started burning. At 11:40 I took the bus to campus. A friendly hello to the bus driver and I sat, trying to assimilate some purine synthesis before I got to campus. Then...straight to the gym. I did 5 wide arm pullups and hit lat pulldowns, then triceps with the 70lb weight behind my head. Then the straight bar on the bench with 10's on each side for supine triceps. Then I alternated between the straddle-rowing weight and ab kicks. After that: tricep pulldowns, one arm rows, overhead pulls, small angle pulldowns, seated rows, oblique twists, and oblique bends with the 70lb weight. I got out in under an hour.
Curry chicken and beans after the workout was great. A cat chased and murdered a lizard in front of the library. It reminded me of undergraduate and gardening for my professor who loved her cats.
Dr. Burns was lecturing but I wanted to get a jump on histology, so I hit up the 2nd floor of Founder's Library. I slowed down but got to labelling a few slides and hit some flash cards about anatomy (embryology of the head).
In lecture I sat next to Tempest for Dr. Loukas's closing remarks lecture. He joked and said some things which really hit home...be positive, live in a rumor-free bubble, project professionalism on social media, display positive body language, help your colleagues, attend medical conferences, work hard, don't take breaks, and train your mind.
SGU is surprisingly hardcore. I am nearing the end of my first term and know an astounding amount compared to when I came here. My self-doubt and idealism erodes as I become the machine I knew I would be 4 months ago when I was travelling the Balkan peninsula with Joao. I knew it before then...this is constitutive. Work becomes me and idleness and celebration are not my element.
Ultrasound, physical examination, radiographic imaging, facilitated article discussion, and case reports are all second nature...they are all things I knew nothing about before I was here. Now I can do all of them to a limited extent...I know I will have these all mastered soon and will be using them to change lives.
Sometimes it goes too fast to breathe. Sometimes I don't think about the journey and just walk it.Other times I get consumed with the goal and the moment escapes me as I fight tomorrows battles today. This always defeats me and pushes me out of my head and back into the moment.
Memories sustain me but despair can kill your ambition if you linger on the past.
So on it went. Biochemistry...I missed two or three diseases in the discussion even with Kevin and Tempest talked a few of them out. I wanted to get them on my own but listened intently as the answers were discussed. Lecture let out 10 til 4. Outside the temperature was a perfect 80 degrees. Hot coffee from New York's finest bagels and I hit the 2nd floor of the library again. Studying was slower...I labelled slides one at a time from lectures and checked facebook every 20 minutes and the news. Not too proud of the work I got done from 4-7, but I ate some chicken sandwiches and reviewed drugs a bit as well. Facebook is going off tomorrow until finals are finished. Only after 9 p.m. and before 6:30 I will have it on.
At 7 I met up with William and Chris. Bill is a good guy. Quirky and funny, from Philly. He has a giant beard, is short statured, and tells horrible puns. He's assertive and compassionate...a good, reliable friend who helps out when he can. I don't see him as much as some of my other friends but when we do see each other we get a fair amount of stuff done. It's easy to get sidetracked with him.
There are a lot of personalities here which I love and some which I viciously and quickly distance myself. Luckily, I have a core group of 5 or so people who I can count on to study with. They don't complain and we pull each other up. Admittedly, I am not so quick on some things as I should be. It's part of the drawbacks of being away from science for so long...I can engage a 6 year old child in an English reading lesson, command a class of Spanish teenagers to work through the conditionals, or sharpen a Mexican technician's presentation for a conference on earthquake damage in southern Spain ... but these are not skills which apply in the context of medical school (although in life the ability to relate with and involve people is indispensible). That being said, I know what I am and exactly when I slip from my solid mental frame.
Chris brings out the worst in me. Sometimes I slip out of my frame into wanting to impress her. I know I do it too but can't stop myself from adding in something about my experience, life, or perspective which isn't necessary. Even though I know I don't have to prove anything, I feel myself pulled to be different and it feels needy.
She's a vibrant, short, farm girl from Wisconsin with pale eyes and perpetually dilated pupils...which is what makes her engaging. She always looks interested., Her combination of organization and laid-back demeanor is the opposite of my aggressive, rigid, hectic mind. Admittedly, she is a bit quicker than I am at assimilating material.
My blood sugar was dropping. I got tired as we swapped stories about Thanksgiving. Again, I told her some stuff about home, which is a subject I usually keep deep under wraps (as many do and many people should). It's interesting that I hear a lot of crisis talk around medical school but feel separate from it because I have been through so much. The upside of hardship is a thick skin and solid work ethic.
After 40 minutes of work on 25 slides we started chatting. I walked to the bus stop. The ride home was uneventful. Beautiful winding hills and a chorus of insects and night creatures as we zoomed up and down huge hills back to my home just outside Mount Toute.
Chezaz was outside smoking and I joined him. I spoke a few sentences in French and he responded...I got most of it. The 5 minute morning podcasts are good enough for that. His infant son got sick but is now better. Their eletric bill is more than 6x mine because they use AC constantly.
Back to the chair, the desk, and my mind is winding down. Looking at pictures of home and thinking about the future.
I need to tell myself and convince myself that I'm OK with being alone. A relationship would fit perfectly with my lifestyle, could help me learn medicine better, and would make me immensely happy ... but it is a distraction. Moreover, if I cross a line with someone into the realm of romantic relationships I will have to deal with everyone at the university because things travel. You don't just date someone...but you take on their friends and your friends because everyone has advice about things they know little to nothing about.
Like I said...memories sustain me. Although I would love a pleasant distraction such as more time with the Nigerian woman who rides my bus, to grab dinner with the woman I greet during the jog in the mornings, or maybe a few drinks with a cute vet student I met...I have to contextualize those feelings in a way that they aren't distracting. This blog is cathartic and well worth the hour I spent writing it.
I just started to feel this way when Elvira and I stopped speaking. She starts work soon and it's obvious that we're going to permanently move in opposite directions.
Instead of dwelling, though, I'm going to wash the dishes and plan my morning. I will run through some cadaveric images, prepare breakfast and listen to Redes, take the mock practical, annihilate some biochemistry, and then . . .
Home will be great. Jiu-jitsu, salsa, and catching up with friends are in the plans. As well as getting ready to take on next term like a champion. I really don't want to put the books down. The recharge will be great though.
Admittedly, I am ragged right now. My clothes, shoes, laptop, bookbag, bank account, and notes are all in disarray. One thing leads to another and this term has had its fair share of hurdles. Next term I'm going to hit my favorite subjects like a ton of bricks and probably lead some review sessions as well as help out in the community. I have the template and know how to work the island now.
This term I told myself "survive" and next term I know I will thrive. Then, we'll see.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Inebriation and Detoxification
There is an explosive cocktail of impulsive personality, latent insecurity, and trauma in some people...which can precipitate in foolish action and extreme behavior when combined with alcohol.
Last night was an exciting conclusion ot a unique chapter in medical school: midterms.
It also marked an important change in my lifestyle: distaste for inebriation.
The enchanting and contained nights by the fire with my friends were always exciting. We had parties in the barn with strangers and friends. They would bring random items which we would smash and pull apart to decorate some sculptures or shoot with a bow and arrow. We had a punching bag which people would improvise capoiera or medeaval martial arts on. It would be normal to kick back a whole 6 pack for each one of us and go for a swim. The lightning bugs, tree frogs, and goats reminded us that the planet is a beautiful place.
The rip and rumble of Madrid was a great place to jostle about with friends or lovers. It was normal to drink a cervecita after a day with students. I would have a bottle of Polish wodka, some port wine, Spanish wine, Mahou, or Jack Daniels waiting for me at the end of the day. My roommates and I would chat or I would go out to speak with strangers after a light buzz.
On the road we would move from acquaintances to best friends over a pint of the beer of ... whatever country we were in. I had two drinks while talking about Bulgarian politics and immigration with some political scientists I met at the local restaurant by the Black Sea. Drinks were 2 leva (about 1 euro or 1.33 USD).
J'ouvert marked something different. After forming a small group of close friends I decided to hit some of the morning party. The appeal of drinking in this setting has disappeared. Vibrant, exciting, cordial, and dangerous the people here can seem. After that day of greeting the morning with rum punches and guinness I hit a wall. Deep depression followed the day after...and I knew that I preferred a mixture of activity and friendship that didn't require any alcohol...
So my life changed. I had one drink after unified exams and one drink at a restaurant before the school year began.
My impulse has been self-improvement ever since. I greet the sunrise on the beach at 5 in the morning with a run. Then I eat an apple and grind up some coffee or drink some instant iced coffee. Then, I sit down at my window overlooking St. Georges and the yachts of the beach and do 10-25 anatomy questions, a histology quiz, and biochemistry questions. I fry up some bacon, look at my schedule and catch a bus to campus at 7:15 on Tuesdays and around 9 every other day. On Saturdays and, less frequently, weekdays I chat with friends in Spain via skype to stay fresh with my abilities.
I attend every lecture, for about 4 hours a day. During the breaks I go outside to overlook the water and eat some sandwiches or an apple. Between lab, my morning review, and lecture I go to the gym and work either biceps/chest, triceps/back, legs/abs, or shoulders/abs and have cardio for at least a half hour on the elliptical. I review the lectures after working out and eating dinner. I catch the evening bus and cook either a vat of Spanish/Cuban rice or a good cut of meat (local usually...but I've been buying more US pork chops lately) with vegetables. As I cook, I listen to podcasts about science in Spanish and do 5 minutes of French listening exercises. Then, I eat and review labs.
After a particularly tough day, I workout twice. Before bed, I do deep breathing and listen to Sean Beeson's piano music while I clean the apartment. I sleep around 10:30 p.m.
The last thing I do while I wait to surrender to sleep...is think back over my accomplishments and how full and beautiful my life is becoming.
There is no place for alcohol, senseless entertainment, or chasing girls. There are a lot of beautiful people...but the distraction would disrupt this functional life I have.
Last night was a little exception. A 6 pack of Mackeson and a half bottle of rum were consumed. Then, at a bar with friends, I got another beer and a pack of cigarettes. After dinner, I confessed some things about the past week with a friend...something which I had to tell someone in person. He was good to listen...although I hate to rely on someone...it's nice to have a friend I'm confident will listen to me.
After coming home I wanted to "tear it up" (to me that means go out and talk with strangers and learn something new about the world)...so I took the last beer and headed for the beach. On the way, an English woman stopped me and said "you can't go runnin about like that unless you're lookin for trouble! You look like a man who can handle yourself in a fight but you don't wanna come up against a gang of people waitin' for white guys. They'll rob you blind or worse." I replied "but I don't have anything." She said "you're asking for it...that's all I'm saying." After thinking about it...I replied "fine. I will go home then."
She walked with me for a little ways and then the bus security guard jumped out of the bus. "What did I tell you! You can't go out at night! It's NOT safe!"
That night in Prague was not safe. Going out in New Orleans after dark with a man I didn't know to a place I'd never been...was not safe. Hitchiking in Bulgaria to the woods with those strangers to a corner of the black sea was not safe. Running around with the Gypsy in Porto asking for directions was not safe. Whisky and fire in a barn is not safe. Swimming out to the far rocks off the coast of Barcelona was not safe. Confronting a group of rude immigrants in Paris who were smoking marijuana at midnight was not safe. Spending the night at a birthday party with a crazy Palestinian woman who lied saying I was her cousin to go to one of the fanciest parties in Rome was not safe. Talking to strangers with my terrible French in Casablanca at midnight was not safe. Going to Istanbul and seeing the protests and getting trapped in an alley with an Iraqi as they pointed tear gas guns at us and drove tanks down the streets was not safe. Coming back to America with $4000 in my savings from teaching stuffed in my shoes was not safe. Going to Spain with less than $200 and no set place to stay was not safe. J'ouvert morning by myself was not safe.
There are many more places I've been and situations I've faced which were terribly unsafe. At this point in my life...my desire for risks has changed incredibly. I still want those adventures in my spirit. There is still a drive to drink in the fullness of life from a perspective I had never seen.
Alcohol doesn't have to be a part of it. In fact, things are better if you can remember them fully. From today onward...I won't drink in excess. This morning I woke up at 8. I missed my run. I felt miserable. The apartment was messy. There were now cigarettes and alcohol in my house...something that I didn't have or want for 2 months.
That first drink was so bitter yesterday. Cloyce died. When I heard about it I cried...not for myself but for my mother. She's been through so much pain in her life and can't contextualize it because she is inside of it. The confusion of a baptist upbringing with emotional abuse and the threat of eternal suffering is so hard to break. It's something that everyone who is raised in that denomination must endure or escape.
A lot of the running around has been away from the secrets and mistrust generated by events with my family. The events that he perpetrated. My brother has also been a source of huge conflict...but his autism helps us understand the limited culpability which he has.
I can say that I got out of it...got over it by myself. There have been incredibly helpful people and stagnant and useless intitutions which ave both tried to guide me. In the end, I have had to stand on my own two feet. That schedule with rigorous discipline is what gets me through. I have thrived here because I knew what I had to do.
My friend once told me that I dwell on things. This is true. This is something I'm trying to strike a balance with. It was hard to have my grandfather die the week of midterms. I kept kicking up memories of the house where he lived, the strange secrets my family tiptoed around, and the potent confrontations we had. These things have given me the strength, experience, and empathy to relate with almost any situation.
I will not dwell on this anymore. Today I will go into St. George's to have a little adventure, go to the market, see the fort, and probably spend the day with nice people. Tonight I will hang out with a group of positive people, have a nice dinner, and enjoy the time off studying. Cloyce is in his box now and forever; I will never visualize him in heaven because it is a childish conundrum in an irresolvable debate.
The rum in the freezer will stay behind the frozen fruit I use to make my mornin smoothies. I don't see breaking it out anytime soon.
Last night was an exciting conclusion ot a unique chapter in medical school: midterms.
It also marked an important change in my lifestyle: distaste for inebriation.
The enchanting and contained nights by the fire with my friends were always exciting. We had parties in the barn with strangers and friends. They would bring random items which we would smash and pull apart to decorate some sculptures or shoot with a bow and arrow. We had a punching bag which people would improvise capoiera or medeaval martial arts on. It would be normal to kick back a whole 6 pack for each one of us and go for a swim. The lightning bugs, tree frogs, and goats reminded us that the planet is a beautiful place.
The rip and rumble of Madrid was a great place to jostle about with friends or lovers. It was normal to drink a cervecita after a day with students. I would have a bottle of Polish wodka, some port wine, Spanish wine, Mahou, or Jack Daniels waiting for me at the end of the day. My roommates and I would chat or I would go out to speak with strangers after a light buzz.
On the road we would move from acquaintances to best friends over a pint of the beer of ... whatever country we were in. I had two drinks while talking about Bulgarian politics and immigration with some political scientists I met at the local restaurant by the Black Sea. Drinks were 2 leva (about 1 euro or 1.33 USD).
J'ouvert marked something different. After forming a small group of close friends I decided to hit some of the morning party. The appeal of drinking in this setting has disappeared. Vibrant, exciting, cordial, and dangerous the people here can seem. After that day of greeting the morning with rum punches and guinness I hit a wall. Deep depression followed the day after...and I knew that I preferred a mixture of activity and friendship that didn't require any alcohol...
So my life changed. I had one drink after unified exams and one drink at a restaurant before the school year began.
My impulse has been self-improvement ever since. I greet the sunrise on the beach at 5 in the morning with a run. Then I eat an apple and grind up some coffee or drink some instant iced coffee. Then, I sit down at my window overlooking St. Georges and the yachts of the beach and do 10-25 anatomy questions, a histology quiz, and biochemistry questions. I fry up some bacon, look at my schedule and catch a bus to campus at 7:15 on Tuesdays and around 9 every other day. On Saturdays and, less frequently, weekdays I chat with friends in Spain via skype to stay fresh with my abilities.
I attend every lecture, for about 4 hours a day. During the breaks I go outside to overlook the water and eat some sandwiches or an apple. Between lab, my morning review, and lecture I go to the gym and work either biceps/chest, triceps/back, legs/abs, or shoulders/abs and have cardio for at least a half hour on the elliptical. I review the lectures after working out and eating dinner. I catch the evening bus and cook either a vat of Spanish/Cuban rice or a good cut of meat (local usually...but I've been buying more US pork chops lately) with vegetables. As I cook, I listen to podcasts about science in Spanish and do 5 minutes of French listening exercises. Then, I eat and review labs.
After a particularly tough day, I workout twice. Before bed, I do deep breathing and listen to Sean Beeson's piano music while I clean the apartment. I sleep around 10:30 p.m.
The last thing I do while I wait to surrender to sleep...is think back over my accomplishments and how full and beautiful my life is becoming.
There is no place for alcohol, senseless entertainment, or chasing girls. There are a lot of beautiful people...but the distraction would disrupt this functional life I have.
Last night was a little exception. A 6 pack of Mackeson and a half bottle of rum were consumed. Then, at a bar with friends, I got another beer and a pack of cigarettes. After dinner, I confessed some things about the past week with a friend...something which I had to tell someone in person. He was good to listen...although I hate to rely on someone...it's nice to have a friend I'm confident will listen to me.
After coming home I wanted to "tear it up" (to me that means go out and talk with strangers and learn something new about the world)...so I took the last beer and headed for the beach. On the way, an English woman stopped me and said "you can't go runnin about like that unless you're lookin for trouble! You look like a man who can handle yourself in a fight but you don't wanna come up against a gang of people waitin' for white guys. They'll rob you blind or worse." I replied "but I don't have anything." She said "you're asking for it...that's all I'm saying." After thinking about it...I replied "fine. I will go home then."
She walked with me for a little ways and then the bus security guard jumped out of the bus. "What did I tell you! You can't go out at night! It's NOT safe!"
That night in Prague was not safe. Going out in New Orleans after dark with a man I didn't know to a place I'd never been...was not safe. Hitchiking in Bulgaria to the woods with those strangers to a corner of the black sea was not safe. Running around with the Gypsy in Porto asking for directions was not safe. Whisky and fire in a barn is not safe. Swimming out to the far rocks off the coast of Barcelona was not safe. Confronting a group of rude immigrants in Paris who were smoking marijuana at midnight was not safe. Spending the night at a birthday party with a crazy Palestinian woman who lied saying I was her cousin to go to one of the fanciest parties in Rome was not safe. Talking to strangers with my terrible French in Casablanca at midnight was not safe. Going to Istanbul and seeing the protests and getting trapped in an alley with an Iraqi as they pointed tear gas guns at us and drove tanks down the streets was not safe. Coming back to America with $4000 in my savings from teaching stuffed in my shoes was not safe. Going to Spain with less than $200 and no set place to stay was not safe. J'ouvert morning by myself was not safe.
There are many more places I've been and situations I've faced which were terribly unsafe. At this point in my life...my desire for risks has changed incredibly. I still want those adventures in my spirit. There is still a drive to drink in the fullness of life from a perspective I had never seen.
Alcohol doesn't have to be a part of it. In fact, things are better if you can remember them fully. From today onward...I won't drink in excess. This morning I woke up at 8. I missed my run. I felt miserable. The apartment was messy. There were now cigarettes and alcohol in my house...something that I didn't have or want for 2 months.
That first drink was so bitter yesterday. Cloyce died. When I heard about it I cried...not for myself but for my mother. She's been through so much pain in her life and can't contextualize it because she is inside of it. The confusion of a baptist upbringing with emotional abuse and the threat of eternal suffering is so hard to break. It's something that everyone who is raised in that denomination must endure or escape.
A lot of the running around has been away from the secrets and mistrust generated by events with my family. The events that he perpetrated. My brother has also been a source of huge conflict...but his autism helps us understand the limited culpability which he has.
I can say that I got out of it...got over it by myself. There have been incredibly helpful people and stagnant and useless intitutions which ave both tried to guide me. In the end, I have had to stand on my own two feet. That schedule with rigorous discipline is what gets me through. I have thrived here because I knew what I had to do.
My friend once told me that I dwell on things. This is true. This is something I'm trying to strike a balance with. It was hard to have my grandfather die the week of midterms. I kept kicking up memories of the house where he lived, the strange secrets my family tiptoed around, and the potent confrontations we had. These things have given me the strength, experience, and empathy to relate with almost any situation.
I will not dwell on this anymore. Today I will go into St. George's to have a little adventure, go to the market, see the fort, and probably spend the day with nice people. Tonight I will hang out with a group of positive people, have a nice dinner, and enjoy the time off studying. Cloyce is in his box now and forever; I will never visualize him in heaven because it is a childish conundrum in an irresolvable debate.
The rum in the freezer will stay behind the frozen fruit I use to make my mornin smoothies. I don't see breaking it out anytime soon.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Drift
It's early July. I woke up disoriented and dysfunctional in a strage place. Screaming seagulls were outside at all hours of the evening and didn't sleep in that morning.
Where was I? The Balkans I'm sure. Bulgaria, perhaps? Burgas...I'm certain now. I staggered out of bed and propped myself up on my hand. My mouth is dry. I can tell that I disturbed some of the 7 other people sleeping at the time. I had to go, though.
Sifting through my suitcase I found my contacts. I put them in. Left. Then right. As always. I put my pants on with my left leg first, as always. Then I did some things I had never done.
I was locked in the hostel. The hippie with the nose right was nowhere to be seen. Slews of Bulgarian men were snoring loudly as I stumbled into the hallway. Returning for a shirt I fumbled for my cigarettes, one left. The cigarette was seized and I headed for the only exit I knew of: the roof. I lit the cigarette with the lighter my Spanish woman bought in La Coruna. Then I set to reminiscing.
Rembembering the last time I saw seagulls...it was in that town with her on the Atlantic Ocean. We had just eaten a lot of delicious seafood with Galician white wine. The sand was cool that May morning and we capitalized on the opportunity that there were no tourists on that northern shore. Walking around listlessly, we finally found the path to a secluded beach.
I was still hungry so I went back to a burger shack. For 3 euros I got a great burger and a tall Estrella Galicia. Walking back, I saw her. She had a towel clumsily draped on her face and her perky figure
In those moments I felt like I had everything: woman, good job, adventure, a challenging yet rewarding lifestyle, activity, and good friends. With the rise and fall of the waves I felt that there were going to be many moments like this. Then I was looking out on a different sea...
Then I finished my cigarette. The headbuzz intensified as I went down the stairs. Defecating was the next priority. Having no toilet paper was a setback. I frantically looked for someone to help and there was an Englishman on his smartphone complaining about the hostel. We chatted as I crumpled up a piece of paper...
Eventually the large bearded man came down and we asked him. I couldn't wait any longer. "I'm going to use this piece of paper and if that doesn't work...I have Levas. . .
They gave it to me just in time.
Tattooed and a mouth-breather, the manager came out after my debacle. Of course the sink didn't work in the dingy bathroom. The sliding door had no lock and I was feeling out of sorts and no better off than before. Against my habits, I drank some water from the tap.
She told me the adress the Bulgarian man gave her to send me that day. It was in Bulgarian and I knew none of it. "It's very easy," she sneered "there's no reason to write it down."
I grabbed my novel and a pen from the couch next to us. She sat on the sofa next to a snoring man and in front of a mound of trash and empty cans on the table. "Here is the address" she mumbled with her thick accent.
Moments later I was in a cab speeding across the city. I saw my friends from the night before and we went to a store. Starving, I bought some Bulgarian yogurt and a candy bar. There wasn't much time and I never exchanged any of my money. I had the equivalent of $4000 in my shoes but could only use $3 becuase it was in Euros and not Leva.
We got off the bus at a stop in the middle of nowhere.
Citgo turned to me and said "now we hitch. Stick out your thumb!" He laughed and ran in front with one of the girls. The other two stayed with me. We waited an hour by the highway with our thumbs out. One woman had a broken arm but still held out the cast, thumb out. The heavyset one sat down on the bus bench first. Then I switched out.
As soon as I sat down someone came and grabbed us. I said nothing and the girls flirted with the driver.
We reached a destination farther south from the town. I finished my yogurt and was looking for more food. Citgo and the other woman were waiting for us to arrive. He smiled "welcome to the real Bulgaria! It is much better than sunny beach." He smiled grandly and patted me on the back.
The girls took their tops off and reposed in the shade of a small umbrella. Citgo and I chatted over the little moments and connected. He explained a gargantuan soviet-style hotel in the background. Then they talked about bird migration patterns in Bulgarian.
I ate some seasoned sausages at a nearby cabana and set down my things. Then, I marched into the Black Sea and drifted for hours. My mind went further into contemplation about what Citgo was saying.
"Hold on with both hands open" said the female pastor in Athens, just 5 years ago. I was crying and chainsmoking Marlbolo cigarettes. My life had just crashed. Mom was diagnosed with a debilitating and permanent disease. Unfortunately, I never dealt with my emotions well and made some mistakes that cost me friends and time in the university...as well as the opportunity at some American medical schools...no one was hurt but me.
I didn't feel hurt though. The sun shone brightly over the black sea and started to burn my skin...I kept out there. Diving under and over the waves and flinging off seaweed as I floated, feeling free. I was holding on with both hands open. Good things came and left. I didn't clasp at the friends I made or women who got close with me. Out of mistakes come lessons. The greater the embarassment, the greater the memory. The stronger the memory, the more permanent the lesson. In my lifetime, I have had many permanent lessons.
While I was in the water I remembered drifting into the Spaniards life. The joy and frustration of a relationship.
The professor told me that I, at the moment, am not able to fall in with a partner. He said "it's not that you can't...but you haven't let yourself have the ability to have someone significant in your life."
My relationship started with a 33 year old student...the age where people know what they have and roughly what they want. It's ripeness: full fertility furnished with a past and present but above all, a future.
For me, the youth has not ever been as appealing. I take "you're so young" not as a compliment or as containing any factual value. For them, youth is a wonderful gift of exuberant energy and riotous living...not a process of growth and experience which culminates in a well-rounded personality.
Some people swim and some just drift.
Where was I? The Balkans I'm sure. Bulgaria, perhaps? Burgas...I'm certain now. I staggered out of bed and propped myself up on my hand. My mouth is dry. I can tell that I disturbed some of the 7 other people sleeping at the time. I had to go, though.
Sifting through my suitcase I found my contacts. I put them in. Left. Then right. As always. I put my pants on with my left leg first, as always. Then I did some things I had never done.
I was locked in the hostel. The hippie with the nose right was nowhere to be seen. Slews of Bulgarian men were snoring loudly as I stumbled into the hallway. Returning for a shirt I fumbled for my cigarettes, one left. The cigarette was seized and I headed for the only exit I knew of: the roof. I lit the cigarette with the lighter my Spanish woman bought in La Coruna. Then I set to reminiscing.
Rembembering the last time I saw seagulls...it was in that town with her on the Atlantic Ocean. We had just eaten a lot of delicious seafood with Galician white wine. The sand was cool that May morning and we capitalized on the opportunity that there were no tourists on that northern shore. Walking around listlessly, we finally found the path to a secluded beach.
I was still hungry so I went back to a burger shack. For 3 euros I got a great burger and a tall Estrella Galicia. Walking back, I saw her. She had a towel clumsily draped on her face and her perky figure
In those moments I felt like I had everything: woman, good job, adventure, a challenging yet rewarding lifestyle, activity, and good friends. With the rise and fall of the waves I felt that there were going to be many moments like this. Then I was looking out on a different sea...
Then I finished my cigarette. The headbuzz intensified as I went down the stairs. Defecating was the next priority. Having no toilet paper was a setback. I frantically looked for someone to help and there was an Englishman on his smartphone complaining about the hostel. We chatted as I crumpled up a piece of paper...
Eventually the large bearded man came down and we asked him. I couldn't wait any longer. "I'm going to use this piece of paper and if that doesn't work...I have Levas. . .
They gave it to me just in time.
Tattooed and a mouth-breather, the manager came out after my debacle. Of course the sink didn't work in the dingy bathroom. The sliding door had no lock and I was feeling out of sorts and no better off than before. Against my habits, I drank some water from the tap.
She told me the adress the Bulgarian man gave her to send me that day. It was in Bulgarian and I knew none of it. "It's very easy," she sneered "there's no reason to write it down."
I grabbed my novel and a pen from the couch next to us. She sat on the sofa next to a snoring man and in front of a mound of trash and empty cans on the table. "Here is the address" she mumbled with her thick accent.
Moments later I was in a cab speeding across the city. I saw my friends from the night before and we went to a store. Starving, I bought some Bulgarian yogurt and a candy bar. There wasn't much time and I never exchanged any of my money. I had the equivalent of $4000 in my shoes but could only use $3 becuase it was in Euros and not Leva.
We got off the bus at a stop in the middle of nowhere.
Citgo turned to me and said "now we hitch. Stick out your thumb!" He laughed and ran in front with one of the girls. The other two stayed with me. We waited an hour by the highway with our thumbs out. One woman had a broken arm but still held out the cast, thumb out. The heavyset one sat down on the bus bench first. Then I switched out.
As soon as I sat down someone came and grabbed us. I said nothing and the girls flirted with the driver.
We reached a destination farther south from the town. I finished my yogurt and was looking for more food. Citgo and the other woman were waiting for us to arrive. He smiled "welcome to the real Bulgaria! It is much better than sunny beach." He smiled grandly and patted me on the back.
The girls took their tops off and reposed in the shade of a small umbrella. Citgo and I chatted over the little moments and connected. He explained a gargantuan soviet-style hotel in the background. Then they talked about bird migration patterns in Bulgarian.
I ate some seasoned sausages at a nearby cabana and set down my things. Then, I marched into the Black Sea and drifted for hours. My mind went further into contemplation about what Citgo was saying.
"Hold on with both hands open" said the female pastor in Athens, just 5 years ago. I was crying and chainsmoking Marlbolo cigarettes. My life had just crashed. Mom was diagnosed with a debilitating and permanent disease. Unfortunately, I never dealt with my emotions well and made some mistakes that cost me friends and time in the university...as well as the opportunity at some American medical schools...no one was hurt but me.
I didn't feel hurt though. The sun shone brightly over the black sea and started to burn my skin...I kept out there. Diving under and over the waves and flinging off seaweed as I floated, feeling free. I was holding on with both hands open. Good things came and left. I didn't clasp at the friends I made or women who got close with me. Out of mistakes come lessons. The greater the embarassment, the greater the memory. The stronger the memory, the more permanent the lesson. In my lifetime, I have had many permanent lessons.
While I was in the water I remembered drifting into the Spaniards life. The joy and frustration of a relationship.
The professor told me that I, at the moment, am not able to fall in with a partner. He said "it's not that you can't...but you haven't let yourself have the ability to have someone significant in your life."
My relationship started with a 33 year old student...the age where people know what they have and roughly what they want. It's ripeness: full fertility furnished with a past and present but above all, a future.
For me, the youth has not ever been as appealing. I take "you're so young" not as a compliment or as containing any factual value. For them, youth is a wonderful gift of exuberant energy and riotous living...not a process of growth and experience which culminates in a well-rounded personality.
Some people swim and some just drift.
Monday, July 29, 2013
Meteorite 1
Do asteroids hear ticking clocks after they crash and cooled off? After a python digests an immense large-bodied mammal...does it concern itself about staining the carpet? Where, why, and how do athletes live after their big break?
After crashing into the United States, hot...fast...from another place... I hear the tick tick tick of a cheap plastic clock behind my head. It always reminded me that I only have so many seconds before this gets harder, impossible, or has completely ended. As I have just digested the biggest part of my experience in life thus far, I am suddenly focused on keeping the carpet in my parent's house free of disasterous coffee stains. I know exactly where I will go, exactly why I will go there, and how I will live after this big roll.
Ok. So this is a shift in perspective. I'm sure people are going to drawl and clammer and ask the obligatory "where did you go, how long, what were you doing?" and the incredibly mundane and oh-so-common "was it profitable?"
I'll get those questions out of the way:
I was in Spain for the majority of 8 months. In addition to that beautiful country, I was also in Italy, southern France, Poland, England, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Morocco, and the fantastic soverign nation of the Vatican City. If you haven't seen me in two years... I was in Spain for 6 months the year before and travelled to Belgium, France, Portugal, and stayed in Spain more than not.
This took the better part of 2012 and thus far 2013.
I was teaching English to some of the most talented and...least talented people on the planet: Spanish teenagers. They were lovely, horrifying, hard-working, and lazy. They were boisterous and some were shy. Distinctly, unmistakeably, Spanish. I'll get into the industrial culture differences at another time.
And to the status! Disclaimer! Americans love our status... the one major thing which I noticed mattered to NO ONE but Americans was the number amount attatched to their jobs. In Macedonia, the magician I had drinks with never asked the South African sailor if it's lucrative to journey to India. In Plovdiv, the Pakistani telemarketer never talked about the perks of travelling with his successful company. The Swedish skydiving instructor I met in Lisbon never asked the Brazilian programmer about his advancement prospects nor vice versa. If someone talked about money as a measure of status...or posessions as a gauge of affluence...they were and are ignored. What matters is satisfaction, experience, and time to enjoy what you want to do. It's refreshing to escape to this reality.
So I will tell you that I enjoyed my time. I was satisfied by my experience. I had plenty of time to do whatever I pleased. There were beaches, relaxing strolls through peacock laced royal Spanish parks, and relaxing days spent in great company.
Down to the wretched bones of numbers: I paid student loans every month I was there. I left with nothing and relied on the good faith of my relationships and social skills to make ends meet before my first Auxiliares paycheck. Then, through private classes and service exchanges, I was able to afford my lifestyle unassisted. Not only this, but as a comet I travelled with $4000 stuffed in my reebok shoes as I backpacked across the Balkans and then flew home...all of which I earned through my own dedication to work and focus.
Now...to feeling. A summary:
When I came back from Spain in 2012 I was energized. After Paris and Brussels were so refreshing and invigorating, I wanted to keep rolling into new experiences and new lifestyles. Although I wanted to see my family and badly wanted to catch up with good friends...my primary objective was to get into an American medical school. I threw money at the process...it took it.
Then I threw more. As Ohio does, the area presented me with no opportunities as a Spanish speaker or as a biologist. Consequently, I started working in something closer to my field: animal healthcare products. Every day I labored to pay for more applications. On some weekends I was elated to see old friends and good people. On others...I kept the company of Genny. As the letters went out my heart started to sink. The numbers were crushing and I saw no positive results.
I enlisted the help of several doctors, volunteered at a few places, and pulled my family to get me a recommendation for medical school. Hindsight is 20/20. I could have gone to Ibiza, relaxed in the sun, kept my cash, and made a ton more new friends...if I hadn't run on the idiotic notion that American medical schools can overlook an unimportant action 5 years past.
Onto the goodness of my trip. Just like the first time I JUMPED. With 200 euros in my Spanish account (way below what you need for an apt in Madrid) I got on the flight to Spain.
(My family was angry that someone crashed into their car while I was driving and...unbeknownst to me and my father...it was uninsured. Their car, a new one, was also uninsured. State Farm either makes a lot of "mistakes" or insurance is a weasel industry which should be eliminated by the free market but they've wormed their way into our legislation)
Loli was so gracious to take me in.
Soon...I will write more about this strange and beautiful journey but for now I must go to bed.
After crashing into the United States, hot...fast...from another place... I hear the tick tick tick of a cheap plastic clock behind my head. It always reminded me that I only have so many seconds before this gets harder, impossible, or has completely ended. As I have just digested the biggest part of my experience in life thus far, I am suddenly focused on keeping the carpet in my parent's house free of disasterous coffee stains. I know exactly where I will go, exactly why I will go there, and how I will live after this big roll.
Ok. So this is a shift in perspective. I'm sure people are going to drawl and clammer and ask the obligatory "where did you go, how long, what were you doing?" and the incredibly mundane and oh-so-common "was it profitable?"
I'll get those questions out of the way:
I was in Spain for the majority of 8 months. In addition to that beautiful country, I was also in Italy, southern France, Poland, England, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Morocco, and the fantastic soverign nation of the Vatican City. If you haven't seen me in two years... I was in Spain for 6 months the year before and travelled to Belgium, France, Portugal, and stayed in Spain more than not.
This took the better part of 2012 and thus far 2013.
I was teaching English to some of the most talented and...least talented people on the planet: Spanish teenagers. They were lovely, horrifying, hard-working, and lazy. They were boisterous and some were shy. Distinctly, unmistakeably, Spanish. I'll get into the industrial culture differences at another time.
And to the status! Disclaimer! Americans love our status... the one major thing which I noticed mattered to NO ONE but Americans was the number amount attatched to their jobs. In Macedonia, the magician I had drinks with never asked the South African sailor if it's lucrative to journey to India. In Plovdiv, the Pakistani telemarketer never talked about the perks of travelling with his successful company. The Swedish skydiving instructor I met in Lisbon never asked the Brazilian programmer about his advancement prospects nor vice versa. If someone talked about money as a measure of status...or posessions as a gauge of affluence...they were and are ignored. What matters is satisfaction, experience, and time to enjoy what you want to do. It's refreshing to escape to this reality.
So I will tell you that I enjoyed my time. I was satisfied by my experience. I had plenty of time to do whatever I pleased. There were beaches, relaxing strolls through peacock laced royal Spanish parks, and relaxing days spent in great company.
Down to the wretched bones of numbers: I paid student loans every month I was there. I left with nothing and relied on the good faith of my relationships and social skills to make ends meet before my first Auxiliares paycheck. Then, through private classes and service exchanges, I was able to afford my lifestyle unassisted. Not only this, but as a comet I travelled with $4000 stuffed in my reebok shoes as I backpacked across the Balkans and then flew home...all of which I earned through my own dedication to work and focus.
Now...to feeling. A summary:
When I came back from Spain in 2012 I was energized. After Paris and Brussels were so refreshing and invigorating, I wanted to keep rolling into new experiences and new lifestyles. Although I wanted to see my family and badly wanted to catch up with good friends...my primary objective was to get into an American medical school. I threw money at the process...it took it.
Then I threw more. As Ohio does, the area presented me with no opportunities as a Spanish speaker or as a biologist. Consequently, I started working in something closer to my field: animal healthcare products. Every day I labored to pay for more applications. On some weekends I was elated to see old friends and good people. On others...I kept the company of Genny. As the letters went out my heart started to sink. The numbers were crushing and I saw no positive results.
I enlisted the help of several doctors, volunteered at a few places, and pulled my family to get me a recommendation for medical school. Hindsight is 20/20. I could have gone to Ibiza, relaxed in the sun, kept my cash, and made a ton more new friends...if I hadn't run on the idiotic notion that American medical schools can overlook an unimportant action 5 years past.
Onto the goodness of my trip. Just like the first time I JUMPED. With 200 euros in my Spanish account (way below what you need for an apt in Madrid) I got on the flight to Spain.
(My family was angry that someone crashed into their car while I was driving and...unbeknownst to me and my father...it was uninsured. Their car, a new one, was also uninsured. State Farm either makes a lot of "mistakes" or insurance is a weasel industry which should be eliminated by the free market but they've wormed their way into our legislation)
Loli was so gracious to take me in.
Soon...I will write more about this strange and beautiful journey but for now I must go to bed.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Snapshot of Scattered Thoughts
As the future comes along I anticipate it with the utmost excitement. Everything that I've been through leads to even more beautiful moments. Something broke in my head when I was young. It's like I developed too early and had both wisdom and youth at the same time to play with.
The result is that I will work like a dog. There's a steak in front of me and I'm viciously running toward it. Nothing stops me from my short term goals and nothing will prevent me from my ultimate goal of being a physician, travelling the world, affecting public health policy for the better, researching clinically RSD, and teaching medicine.
In the meantime here is where my life is:
The last few days I've been skittering around Madrid like a madman but...I'm on top of things. I know the flea markets and tapas haunts. Mostly, I keep to myself because I prefer my thoughts to a lot of thoughtless people...
My work gives me a lot of facetime with people and allows me to get that connection that everyone desparately needs. It also lets me practice whatever educational psychology I'm learning at the time. For instance, I'm learning the process of accessing learning on the subconscious level. Mostly I try to associate an expression, movement, or tone with a particular phrase or construction.
I spend a lot of time working out, making good food (I've been on a Mediterranean salad kick lately), and looking at schools.
The ice is breaking when it comes to my schools...I have waited and tried so hard to get into whatever school was worth biting. I feel like my mind is itching to learn something challenging and new. Although I challenge myself by learning a bit of Kaplan USMLE practice exercises...I am yearning to be back in that community.
At the same time I have challenged myself to wear ticking clocks.
I have worn a watch since Alison gave me one my junior year of high school. It's on my left wrist. It covers an ink mark that reminds me that I am going to die at some point and that every moment should be cherished.
That tick. tick. tick. reminds me that I need to be effective and moving...or moving toward enjoying life. If I am not it's as though the motivational speaker from Dexter season 5 is speaking to me:
"That's the sound of your life running out..."
Every second is accompanied by the realization that my consciousness in this world is finite and enabled only by the neurons and carbon atoms in this particular configuration. My experience in chemistry shows me that entropy is going to win... in the meantime I'm rooting for the underdog...my reality.
Back to Madrid: I will never forget teaching at Ramon y Cajal. The stress of that situation and ongoing pressure of having a job that requires me to be continuously sharp and maintaining a face of composed interest has made me a better person.
There are the adventures too. I am running myself ragged with these trips. In the next few months they are going to be bigger and more involved than in the past.
For this week, however, I am saving up for a camera. I think that it's finally time to relate my experience to other people. I have seen sights that many people will never see. The emotions are mixed. Some of them elicit a gasp and a smile...others draw out a sustained smile. Some sights get nothing. I nod. That's it.
All this time has made me realize that it's really the people that mean anything to anyone. I knew it when I had this decision in the first place. There was a pleasant year before me in Athens, Ohio with a good girl and a stable income. Instead I chose to trek over here and do things I never dreamed of. The outcome is, as most things that I look at, exactly what I expected.
The unexpected part of this adventure is this: I never thought that the depth of my analysis and thought has come to the conclusion that it, in and of itself, is a hinderance. The life without questions is death in disguise...but analysis is paralysis. You can think or move. My game is now to internallize and make a reactive rather than responsive state in which I am myself purely in a moment.
I'm listning to 69 love songs about to go to the gym. A bit scrambled, but this is a snapshot of what I'm thinking at the moment. I anticipate attending SGU in the summer.
Thawing
The last few days I've been feeling my power as a person more. Going to the gym, keeping my house clean, and making a lot of money doing something that satisfies me. The sickness of the unknown is passing. Tonight I will call Ohio University to get a handle on what I need to do in case I can actually go there this fall.
It would be a dream come true to boomerang back to my home state and practice there. However, the MD/MPH track I've been accepted into at SGU is also a phenomenal opportunity. Regardless...these next few months are the last of my "freedom" so I'm keen on enjoying them until the last second. That includes a trip to Germany, Morrocco, and my Scandanavian stint in March.
Denmark, Helsinki, Turku, and Stockholm are all on the agenda. They are the most expensive but I have a lineup of friends to stay with the entire time. We will see.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
More Truth Amidst the Rain Part 1
My consciousness has deepened and broadened more than I ever thought possible. Language is such a beautiful thing and so important to polish if you want to be understood by the people around you. Effective communication allows us to have more meaningful lives.
I'm working on describing things in a way that I can put myself in a certain mental state. Doing this centers me and keeps me focused. This little mantra will be tried out tonight before I go out tonight:
Picture yourself in Lisbon with the sticky humid air and the springtime sun is beginning to fall in the sky. As you imagine this you can hear the sounds of Portuguese being spoken all around you. A slight breeze wafts the clouds and runs through your long curly hair. While you remember what it was like to feel the wind you can also remember the way that your shoes felt on your feet, the leather bracelet on your arm, the pulse of your heart as you climb the many hills.
Although the air is crisp you still feel the heat of your body rising from your chest to your head. You realize that sense of urgency and passion was a driving sense of movement. As you remember the physical feelings of movement you can also remember the feelings of invincibility, excitement, and confidence. Because you can remember these things, you can feel them again. While realizing this, you can understand that these feelings are what give you your true power and efficacy. When you put those shoes on that day, as you have done today and will do tomorrow, that feeling of mental clarity and fullness took over.
Now that I understand this effective fluid method of speech patterns...I can use them to help my students. For example, the art class of 30 13 year old students wouldn't settle down for anything. After the teacher yelled at them and expressed disappointment in Spanish I asked her "Puedo probar algo? Quiero hablar con ellos en una manera diferente para descubrir si pueden prestar atencion." She agreed and then I told them something along these lines:
You are all in class to learn art and English. (they nodded...some shrugged and squirmed. One in the back glanced up from his assignment. All eyes were finally fixed on me.) I understand that it can be challenging and exciting at the same time. As you sit there I want you to remember your Christmas. What was it like? How did you feel? Because you can speak English, we can communicate and have fun.
A girl in the front raised her hand "With my family!"
Yes! You were with your family! How was it?
"I got a lot of presents. I liked it a lot. I felt happy and not lonely"
Eventually I walked through an entire lesson in 10 minutes with their full attention. We covered vocabulary, the assignment, and Since coming to Madrid one year ago...I have expanded my horizons, polished my professionalism, and studied a lot of psychological processes along with their associated effects. Having a legion of eager private students helps me use my newfound skills to help people even more efficiently.
The clouds finally broke amidst the falling rain. It seems ironic that in this dry city that this change should come at the sunniest time in the last year. In my life I have had a lot of drives, thoughts, tangents, interests, and goals. The final and most important of them is to practice medicine.
I broke the law once in 2008 and didn't balance my studies, volunteer activities, and in 2009-2010 studies (I took on too many responsibilities...did them well...but didn't do them as well as I would have liked). These have been setbacks to my long-term goal of working to help people.
However, I didn't let the quarter-long suspension stop me. It deepened my intensity and showed me what would happen if I fell. Indeed there had been a lot of setbacks when I sent out my applications.
First there was the money problem. After school I thought that applications and my transition into professional life would be easy. At my graduation party I thought I had life by the tail. My MCAT score was sufficient relative to what I wanted... and I had a pipe-dream of going to Spain to perfect my Spanish for the OPI. However...more setbacks were on the horizon.
I will continue this in part 2
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