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.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
The Great Adventure
I realized that I miss writing. Even if it's not something I'm particularly good at, I enjoy it, and I think I'm going to try to do more of it, even if it is just journaling and blogging.
This afternoon, during free time on our retreat, we headed out to the frozen pond, where the boys had played hockey earlier in the week. We were content to slide around in our shoes, although I'm proud to say that my shoes were by far the slickest, and I did win the contest to see how far we could slide after being slingshotted (is that a word?) across the ice. I also managed to fall unintentionally far more than anyone else, though maybe that has little to do with my slippery shoes. We were joined on the ice by Petrus, a Bernese mountain dog who lives at St. Malo, wanders the grounds without a collar (though has to be locked up during Mass or I'm told he's quite disruptive), and plays a mean game of tug-o-war. After our ice time, we hiked the John Paul II Trail, so named because the late pope hiked that path during his retreat to St. Malo during his stay in Colorado for WYD 1993 (btw, we held our meetings in the room he stayed in, and it was awesome to reflect on the amazing man that he was and how much he affected our whole generation, as well as each of us individually). Petrus led the way, stopping occasionally to make sure we were following him, using the break to veer from the trail to eat fresh snow. On the way back, he bounded ahead of us like a little puppy, stick in his mouth, begging us to chase him. Of course we obliged.
There were many other great moments this weekend, laughing hysterically at meals to stories of sleep-walking and marathons ("Tell the girls downtown..."), learning about the start of Marian groups in Denver, hiding in laundry hampers and scaring the crap out of Rachelle and Laura...you know, the usual stuff.
We also had plenty of time for prayer, sharing, reflection, and learning about ourselves and each other. I don't know that I made concrete steps in any direction this weekend, at least as far as my faith goes, but I know that God just wants me to stop worrying and love Him, because in the end, that's the only thing that matters, and nothing I can do is big enough to screw up His plans if He doesn't want it to. So I rest knowing that I am surrounded by holy, loving, funny, profound women of Christ and that I am never alone in my walk with Him.
This afternoon, during free time on our retreat, we headed out to the frozen pond, where the boys had played hockey earlier in the week. We were content to slide around in our shoes, although I'm proud to say that my shoes were by far the slickest, and I did win the contest to see how far we could slide after being slingshotted (is that a word?) across the ice. I also managed to fall unintentionally far more than anyone else, though maybe that has little to do with my slippery shoes. We were joined on the ice by Petrus, a Bernese mountain dog who lives at St. Malo, wanders the grounds without a collar (though has to be locked up during Mass or I'm told he's quite disruptive), and plays a mean game of tug-o-war. After our ice time, we hiked the John Paul II Trail, so named because the late pope hiked that path during his retreat to St. Malo during his stay in Colorado for WYD 1993 (btw, we held our meetings in the room he stayed in, and it was awesome to reflect on the amazing man that he was and how much he affected our whole generation, as well as each of us individually). Petrus led the way, stopping occasionally to make sure we were following him, using the break to veer from the trail to eat fresh snow. On the way back, he bounded ahead of us like a little puppy, stick in his mouth, begging us to chase him. Of course we obliged.
There were many other great moments this weekend, laughing hysterically at meals to stories of sleep-walking and marathons ("Tell the girls downtown..."), learning about the start of Marian groups in Denver, hiding in laundry hampers and scaring the crap out of Rachelle and Laura...you know, the usual stuff.
We also had plenty of time for prayer, sharing, reflection, and learning about ourselves and each other. I don't know that I made concrete steps in any direction this weekend, at least as far as my faith goes, but I know that God just wants me to stop worrying and love Him, because in the end, that's the only thing that matters, and nothing I can do is big enough to screw up His plans if He doesn't want it to. So I rest knowing that I am surrounded by holy, loving, funny, profound women of Christ and that I am never alone in my walk with Him.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A sad commentary
I wasn't expecting great moral theology to come from today's lecture on sexual dysfunction, don't get me wrong. But I certainly was dealt a blow when our lecturer said, and I quote to the best of my memory, "The whole point of sex is to use each other for your own pleasure." What? Yup, that's what he said. Reiterated it a few times just in case we missed it, too. And here I thought the whole purpose of sex was to so give of yourself as to become one and to share in the procreative work of the Creator. I was just disgusted and saddened, especially after the Life-Giving Freedom conference last weekend. Not only was it ignoring the truth that man can only be found in a sincere gift of himself (GS), but it was the complete opposite. I don't think it's any wonder that we are coming up on 35 years of legal abortion in our country, that divorce rates are so high, that so many children grow up with single parents, and that so many people are still so unhappy. It's because our society (and apparently our doctors!) tell us that other people are there for us to use for our own pleasure. Which inevitably permits other people to use us for their purposes. Twisted. I can't imagine anyone sits around thinking, "You know, I'd rather be used as an object than loved as a subject." But that's what our world tells us to settle for. You guys, we've got a long way to go in spreading the GOOD news. I just hope we're strong enough and convincing enough to do it.
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