I'm gonna go ahead and say that this was a pathetic Oscar year, and I'm going to base that very sophisticated and I'm sure valued decision on the fact that I have seen none of the winning films (save The Bourne Ultimatum which won for sound and editing). It's not that mere fact that I didn't see any of the films, but more the fact that I had virtually no desire to (besides Juno and perhaps Michael Clayton) and the movies that won were even decried by the Vatican as showing America as a "hopeless" society. What happened to truly good movies? We can be artistic and talented and moving without being morbid and shocking and rated R. At least I think we can. I'll take a line from Bob Halligan at this point and say I'll stick with my own.
Side note--gorgeous day out. Got to walk around at Wash Park, which, let's be honest, makes any day better. A piece of mine was selected for publication in our school's literary journal, which I think I've already shared with most people who would care, but the reason I'm proud is not so much that I was selected, but that I had the guts to submit in the first place, because I've always wanted to do that kind of thing and never felt I had anything good enough to show. And I have the most wonderful friends in the whole world. Friends that make me smile, let me cry, share a meal, or a walk, or a phone call, or even a memory. Friends that can turn a day around just because. Friends that make life worthwhile. So thanks to all of you, because if you're wondering if it applies to you, it probably does. You rock.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Child in Me
So I've been looking forward all spring to our "Pediatrics" curriculum. I should put the "curriculum" in quotes because I hardly think that 5 1/2 hours plus one physical exam session should count as a curriculum. I mean, we have spent almost as much time talking about hand-washing and proper precautions to take against infection in the hospital (not including sterile OR technique). Not joking. However, that minor disappointment aside, I will say that the hours we have had have been great. Though many of my classmates thought our two hours on theroies of development were a waste of time, I was engrossed and entertained. Kids are so cute! You know, like when they're learning object permanence and will play peek-a-boo for hours because they are so entertained that you disappear and then reappear over and over and over.
We got to have several kids come in for physical exams (a toned-down version of what I do at preceptor every week) and I got to see an 8 1/2 year old boy who was an Irish step dancer, figure skater, piano and snare drum player, and in the choir. I felt so untalented. His younger brother had us building bridges with ear speculums and tongue depressors and all-together wrapped around his finger. So cute. I can't wait to see kids everyday (I mean as patients, not just like on the street). Just wanted to share my excitement, though nothing I write could probably adequately express my feelings. YAY! That's as hard as I'm going to try.
We got to have several kids come in for physical exams (a toned-down version of what I do at preceptor every week) and I got to see an 8 1/2 year old boy who was an Irish step dancer, figure skater, piano and snare drum player, and in the choir. I felt so untalented. His younger brother had us building bridges with ear speculums and tongue depressors and all-together wrapped around his finger. So cute. I can't wait to see kids everyday (I mean as patients, not just like on the street). Just wanted to share my excitement, though nothing I write could probably adequately express my feelings. YAY! That's as hard as I'm going to try.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Just Mustard
I walked by the hot dog stand outside the VA today and wondered to myself what the vendor's reaction would be if I ordered "the usual." I laughed to myself. But then I was sad because if I had to order, I'd have to say, "Mustard. Coke." and I don't like mustard. So there goes that idea.
Monday, February 4, 2008
New life
I got to help welcome a new member into Christ's family yesterday. One of the most beautiful baptisms I've ever witnessed, because it truly was a celebration of new life. A soul was claimed for the Kingdom, and there was truly much rejoicing (yay). Children of all ages gathered 'round the font as Fr. Pat plunged the tiny baby into the water in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The choir burst into a chorus of Alleluias as he held her up for all of us to see. And then the community stood and welcomed our newest member. I only cringed because I knew that all those hands touching her face as she toured the sanctuary were riddled with germs that she didn't have immunity to yet. But it was only a passing thought. Mostly I was filled with tears of joy (which thankfully kept their place). I love experiences that make me so grateful to be Catholic, to be able to experience the fullness of truth, the beauty of the sacraments, and the union of the Church. I'm hoping, too, that as we start Lent, and I renew my consecration, my heart may be gently led towards conversion and held firmly in peace (since I know that the rest of my world will be crazy). May you find those same blessings this season.
Living and learning
Aw, Susan totally went and showed me up by posting twice in the last few days, so I'm not feeling quite as creative and witty as I sometimes do. But neither am I tired, so I'll tell you a few things about my trip to California anyways.
I cannot describe how much I love little shops and brick streets and pastries in the window and Italian restaurants whose names and menus are actually in Italian, nor can I articulate what it is about all of it that I love. I think it speaks of a simpler time, when attention was paid to the details, to sitting down and really sharing a meal, instead of just eating; when passers-by knew each other by name; when we weren't constantly running from one thing to the next and had time to swing in for a cup of coffee or a glance around the art gallery. Not that my life has ever been like that, but I have this distant dream that it might be someday, and I often spend my mental wanderings living such a life. But I'm starting to realize that I'll never actually live on a vineyard in Tuscany, and if I did, I'd have to worry about the huge insects and not knowing Italian and being far away from family and sinks that drip constantly. But I can take those moments in every day that remind me to slow down and appreciate life, to savor each breath, and to not let people look down on me for my somewhat disproportionate excitement at seeing cannoli and autographed pictures of Mia Hamm, dog bowls on each doorstep and the mesmerizing waves crashing against the beach, seals playing on the docks and vintage American memorabilia.
I also have un-ruled-out academic medicine from my career path. There's a lot to be learned from current research and those who are passionate about it. Like nanotechnology with the capability of delivering cancer drugs with an exponentially increased efficiency. Or something as simple as the rising incidence of sports injuries or accidental deaths from the "choking game." I learned that I really do know a lot about autism, but only because as a whole, there's still a lot we don't know. And I learned that there's always more to learn. There's a reason I didn't balk at 7+ years of medical education: I like learning. All of you out there who think research needs to be done at a bench with a microscope should take heart. I did. There might be academic medicine in my future yet.
I cannot describe how much I love little shops and brick streets and pastries in the window and Italian restaurants whose names and menus are actually in Italian, nor can I articulate what it is about all of it that I love. I think it speaks of a simpler time, when attention was paid to the details, to sitting down and really sharing a meal, instead of just eating; when passers-by knew each other by name; when we weren't constantly running from one thing to the next and had time to swing in for a cup of coffee or a glance around the art gallery. Not that my life has ever been like that, but I have this distant dream that it might be someday, and I often spend my mental wanderings living such a life. But I'm starting to realize that I'll never actually live on a vineyard in Tuscany, and if I did, I'd have to worry about the huge insects and not knowing Italian and being far away from family and sinks that drip constantly. But I can take those moments in every day that remind me to slow down and appreciate life, to savor each breath, and to not let people look down on me for my somewhat disproportionate excitement at seeing cannoli and autographed pictures of Mia Hamm, dog bowls on each doorstep and the mesmerizing waves crashing against the beach, seals playing on the docks and vintage American memorabilia.
I also have un-ruled-out academic medicine from my career path. There's a lot to be learned from current research and those who are passionate about it. Like nanotechnology with the capability of delivering cancer drugs with an exponentially increased efficiency. Or something as simple as the rising incidence of sports injuries or accidental deaths from the "choking game." I learned that I really do know a lot about autism, but only because as a whole, there's still a lot we don't know. And I learned that there's always more to learn. There's a reason I didn't balk at 7+ years of medical education: I like learning. All of you out there who think research needs to be done at a bench with a microscope should take heart. I did. There might be academic medicine in my future yet.
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