Toothbrush in mouth...
The heavens declare the glory of God, so says the Psalmist. Ah, if only he had a microscope and a Board Review Series for physiology! In my opinion: The glomerulus declares the glory of God, its portal circulation system proclaims the work of His hands!
One of my favorite prayers is to thank God for the opportunity I've been given to learn the things I do. Medical students make up an incredibly small fraction of the population, and I must say we are a fortunate few. Sometimes I get such a kick out of the stuff we learn. As an undergraduate, I learned about ion channels which let charged particles flow in and out of cell membranes. As a medical student I learned the mechanics of those ion channels. It turns out that the channels are operated by tiny magnetic gates, in the presence of an electrical charge, the magnet is attracted to it's opposite charge and it opens the membrane. As the charge accumulates on the opposite side, the magnet slides in the opposite direction and closes it. Fascinating! The more I learn about biology, the more I learn how simply mechanical everything is. Don't get me started on the molecular machinery of proteins...
The study of science is unique in that every other field of study looks in to man-made things. Economics, business, language, history, art, etc are all man-made things. Science is essentially the indirect study of God.
Another unique aspect of medical school is human dissection. We are literally taking a look at every single part of the human body. The volume of information is both daunting and exciting. Have you any idea how many blood vessels are in the abdomen? Not to mention the nerves, and don't forgot what spinal cord segments they originate from!
There are really only 2 kinds of people that get to pick apart the human body like we do: medical students and serial killers. Kind of a trip.
I am finding it hard to reconcile the idea that the body is beautiful and a work of art, while at the same time hacking away at a cadaver. I am also struggling to appreciate the body as this vastly intricate structure while maintaining the notion that it is simply a vehicle. God sure put a lot of work into something that is essentially disposable. I am becoming one with the human body. Nothing disgusts me, nothing embarrasses me. Every part of the body is both sacred and mundane. Where in this world/body view can I find room to simply be attracted to the female form?
Gross anatomy is altogether fascinating, disenchanting, illuminating, thrilling, brutal, and so very frank.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
We are the lions in this kingdom
I am unaware of the mechanism, but have recently come to (re)appreciate the ability of music to alter one's mood. Recently, I had been challenged in a new way emotionally. I didn't like it. Swallowing my pride took care of most of the pain, but to take the rest of the edge off, music really helped. It is absolutely remarkable how even an upbeat tune can have such a profound effect on mood. I believe it may have something to do with a feedback loop, but that's a horse of a different color...
Here's to learning experiences!
Beauty: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I4wPXaoFlM
Fun: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00qDprHBuxc
Call to Prayer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhsTeO1zdd8
No Compromise!: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRvJQf2Yrug
Here's to learning experiences!
Beauty: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I4wPXaoFlM
Fun: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00qDprHBuxc
Call to Prayer:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhsTeO1zdd8
No Compromise!: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRvJQf2Yrug
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
One Woman For Me
I feel like writing. Maybe I just feel like thinking.
For some reason, this 311 song came on Pandora, and it brought back this memory when I was in French Polynesia. I was laying on my bed in this hotel in Moorea, and I was thinking about all the beds I've slept in. I thought to myself "I must have slept in more beds than anyone". As the fan kept spinning, an no doubt my iPod slowly massaged my reticular activating system into sleep, I reflected on how plastic my life had been in the past 2 years. I think it was as I was brushing my teeth and I looked into the mirror I took a moment to register how familiar this bathroom has become to me. Although it was unfamiliar to me just a few months ago, now this is home.
Whenever I stick a toothbrush in my mouth it makes me want to do everything but brush my teeth. IE. I sit here typing while the brush just sits in my mouth. I always get such great ideas while brushing my teeth, for instance, a tribute to beds.
October 2007:
Top bunk of a bunk bed in a homestay in Phnom Penh.
Single hotel bed in Siem Reap
Novemeber 2007:
Shared a hotel double bed in Bangkok with my Dad.
Shady hotel bed in Surat Thani.
Sleeper bed in a train from Surat Thani back to Bangkok.
Single bed in a Chiang Mai homestay where a katoey recently killed a foreigner.
My tiny apartment bed in Hangdong, Chiang Mai with 101 dalmations blanket
Single bed next to Paula in Vientiane, Laos - 2nd worst illness of all time
Temple floor in Laos
Single bed in a room with a rat staring at me in Udon Thani
Guesthouse in Chiang Mai
December 2007:
Flat wooden board in Bhagola, India
Guesthouse in Chiang Mai
February 2008:
Bamboo floor of a hilltribe house
Shared double bed with Chaney and Paula in a hut on a lake at the top of a mountain, somewhere outside of Chiang Mai
April 2008:
Tiny little bed in Tacloban, Philippines
Hotel bed in the mountains of Chiang Rai
June 2008:
Single bed next to Paula on Koh Tao
Shared bed on the beach of Koh Phangan with Paula
Single bed in a different guesthouse in Koh Tao
July 2008:
Tiny little bed next to Chaney on Khao San Road, Bangkok
Even tinnier bed with mosquito net in Kosgoda, Sri Lanka
August 2008:
Suan Bua hotel double bed!
September 2008:
Parents' giant bed in Redondo Beach, CA
Jenny Andreason's awesome couch in Washington DC
2nd cousin's giant bed in his family's house in Cleveland, OH
Tori's couch Columbus, OH!
Jules' couch Cincinnati, OH!
Sheevaun's folding bed Winston-Salem, NC
Anh's couch with delicious food in New Orleans, LA
October 2008:
Brother's couch in Manhattan, NY
Alaina's awesome blow up mattress Boston, MA
Plush hotel bed in San Antonio, TX
November 2008:
David's spare bed in Omaha, NE
January 2009:
Single bed next to my Dad on Rangiroa, French Polynesia
Single bed across from my Dad on Moorea, French Polynesia
February 2009:
Tiny bed with the huge valley in it in my host family's house in Cusco, Peru
March 2009:
My old Suan Bua room in Hangdong, Chiang Mai!
April 2009:
Maekok River Valley Resort in Chiang Rai, Thailand
June 2009:
Overpriced little bed in an ultra hot hotel room in Casablanca, Morocco
Dusty floor of our 3rd story loft in Rissani, Morocco
Floor of a tent in the Sahara, Morocco
Hotel in the rocky wasteland mountains of Rissani, Morocco
Beautiful hotel bed next to Christina in Madrid, Spain
August 2009:
Futon in Newport Beach
Sprinkle in a about 10 different full nights on the floors and chairs of various airports (atleast 3 in Suvarnabhumi - so cold in there)
Nothing like a good mental exercise. So completes my ode to the bed.
For some reason, this 311 song came on Pandora, and it brought back this memory when I was in French Polynesia. I was laying on my bed in this hotel in Moorea, and I was thinking about all the beds I've slept in. I thought to myself "I must have slept in more beds than anyone". As the fan kept spinning, an no doubt my iPod slowly massaged my reticular activating system into sleep, I reflected on how plastic my life had been in the past 2 years. I think it was as I was brushing my teeth and I looked into the mirror I took a moment to register how familiar this bathroom has become to me. Although it was unfamiliar to me just a few months ago, now this is home.
Whenever I stick a toothbrush in my mouth it makes me want to do everything but brush my teeth. IE. I sit here typing while the brush just sits in my mouth. I always get such great ideas while brushing my teeth, for instance, a tribute to beds.
October 2007:
Top bunk of a bunk bed in a homestay in Phnom Penh.
Single hotel bed in Siem Reap
Novemeber 2007:
Shared a hotel double bed in Bangkok with my Dad.
Shady hotel bed in Surat Thani.
Sleeper bed in a train from Surat Thani back to Bangkok.
Single bed in a Chiang Mai homestay where a katoey recently killed a foreigner.
My tiny apartment bed in Hangdong, Chiang Mai with 101 dalmations blanket
Single bed next to Paula in Vientiane, Laos - 2nd worst illness of all time
Temple floor in Laos
Single bed in a room with a rat staring at me in Udon Thani
Guesthouse in Chiang Mai
December 2007:
Flat wooden board in Bhagola, India
Guesthouse in Chiang Mai
February 2008:
Bamboo floor of a hilltribe house
Shared double bed with Chaney and Paula in a hut on a lake at the top of a mountain, somewhere outside of Chiang Mai
April 2008:
Tiny little bed in Tacloban, Philippines
Hotel bed in the mountains of Chiang Rai
June 2008:
Single bed next to Paula on Koh Tao
Shared bed on the beach of Koh Phangan with Paula
Single bed in a different guesthouse in Koh Tao
July 2008:
Tiny little bed next to Chaney on Khao San Road, Bangkok
Even tinnier bed with mosquito net in Kosgoda, Sri Lanka
August 2008:
Suan Bua hotel double bed!
September 2008:
Parents' giant bed in Redondo Beach, CA
Jenny Andreason's awesome couch in Washington DC
2nd cousin's giant bed in his family's house in Cleveland, OH
Tori's couch Columbus, OH!
Jules' couch Cincinnati, OH!
Sheevaun's folding bed Winston-Salem, NC
Anh's couch with delicious food in New Orleans, LA
October 2008:
Brother's couch in Manhattan, NY
Alaina's awesome blow up mattress Boston, MA
Plush hotel bed in San Antonio, TX
November 2008:
David's spare bed in Omaha, NE
January 2009:
Single bed next to my Dad on Rangiroa, French Polynesia
Single bed across from my Dad on Moorea, French Polynesia
February 2009:
Tiny bed with the huge valley in it in my host family's house in Cusco, Peru
March 2009:
My old Suan Bua room in Hangdong, Chiang Mai!
April 2009:
Maekok River Valley Resort in Chiang Rai, Thailand
June 2009:
Overpriced little bed in an ultra hot hotel room in Casablanca, Morocco
Dusty floor of our 3rd story loft in Rissani, Morocco
Floor of a tent in the Sahara, Morocco
Hotel in the rocky wasteland mountains of Rissani, Morocco
Beautiful hotel bed next to Christina in Madrid, Spain
August 2009:
Futon in Newport Beach
Sprinkle in a about 10 different full nights on the floors and chairs of various airports (atleast 3 in Suvarnabhumi - so cold in there)
Nothing like a good mental exercise. So completes my ode to the bed.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The etymology of etymology
I really like this song they sing at Rockharbor with the refrain:
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
Everything I am for your kingdom's cause
As I go from nothing to
Eternity
----------------------------------
That fourth line is so powerful. I recognize it from a book I read called "The Hole In Our Gospel" by the president of World Vision, an incredibly inspiring book. In the book, a story is told of the former president of WV who initially started his ministry with the prayer: Lord break my heart from what breaks Yours. After reading that testimony in the oppressive heat of my dusty upstairs loft in Morocco, I prayed that same prayer that night. It's a dangerous, dangerous prayer. Even though I consider myself a strictly logical person, I do recognize that the only things we act on are the things we feel something about. There is no strict process of logic that tells me to help the man lying in the street, unless I feel something - compassion, pity - I won't do anything. When God gives you that heart, it comes with responsibility for action.
Luke records Jesus cruising into the temple one time, and He gets handed some scroll to read in front of everyone. Jesus scrolls (literally) to Isaiah and reads this:
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord."
As He goes to sit down, Luke says everyone was looking at Him. Then Jesus says:
"Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing."
When I first read that passage in Luke I looked up and said "oh snap!". If anyone ever thinks Jesus never claimed to be the messiah, have a look there. What I really take from this passage though is that Jesus basically just defined his mission statement. Why is He on Earth? To help the poor, captives, blind, and oppressed. Jesus was a man of action and nothing less. May I be as well.
Heal my heart and make it clean
Open up my eyes to the things unseen
Show me how to love like you have loved me
Break my heart for what breaks Yours
Everything I am for your kingdom's cause
As I go from nothing to
Eternity
----------------------------------
That fourth line is so powerful. I recognize it from a book I read called "The Hole In Our Gospel" by the president of World Vision, an incredibly inspiring book. In the book, a story is told of the former president of WV who initially started his ministry with the prayer: Lord break my heart from what breaks Yours. After reading that testimony in the oppressive heat of my dusty upstairs loft in Morocco, I prayed that same prayer that night. It's a dangerous, dangerous prayer. Even though I consider myself a strictly logical person, I do recognize that the only things we act on are the things we feel something about. There is no strict process of logic that tells me to help the man lying in the street, unless I feel something - compassion, pity - I won't do anything. When God gives you that heart, it comes with responsibility for action.
Luke records Jesus cruising into the temple one time, and He gets handed some scroll to read in front of everyone. Jesus scrolls (literally) to Isaiah and reads this:
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord."
As He goes to sit down, Luke says everyone was looking at Him. Then Jesus says:
"Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing."
When I first read that passage in Luke I looked up and said "oh snap!". If anyone ever thinks Jesus never claimed to be the messiah, have a look there. What I really take from this passage though is that Jesus basically just defined his mission statement. Why is He on Earth? To help the poor, captives, blind, and oppressed. Jesus was a man of action and nothing less. May I be as well.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Greatest Metaphor I've Heard All Week
Haven't written in a dang good while.
Today I begin my collection of Sahid stories. About 3 weeks ago, I cruised down to the BBQ to cook up a bunch of food. Now because there are only 2 BBQ's in the complex, they are often occupied, and people aren't always willing to offer up a little open space on the grill. So I walk up to this old looking Arabic looking guy and ask if he has any spare room on the grill for me. The man turns around with a big sweeping gesture and says "my friend, everything I have is yours!". I knew I was in for a good experience.
He introduced himself as Professor Sahid, and is an Egyptian man somewhere in his 60's I'd venture to guess. Professor Sahid is a professor of IT, takes great pride in his work, is full of wild stories, and serves up abundant advice and wisdom along with well cooked chicken in a most delicious marinade. Previously, I have received advice on how to select a good wingman while in times of war, how to be a successful physician (read books - point well taken), how to balance my life and studies, and why not to convert to Islam to marry a Muslim woman.
This evening I met Sahid again down at the BBQ. Like clockwork, he moved his food over, offered me the leftovers of his marinade for my steaks, and took charge over them on the grill. The most memorable story of tonight was the time when, in the Egyptian Army, a man approached him about a shark problem that was interfering with his fishing. Without thinking twice, Sahid stuck a bomb inside a fish, put the fish on a hook, and threw that fish into the water on a line. When the shark grabbed it, he hit the detonator, and poof, no more shark!
As much as I may suspect Sahid's stories are slightly embellished or that his advice is self indulgent, I have great respect for all elders, and understand that wisdom comes from experience. I also understand and respect Arabic hospitality, and know that when he says he has a place for me in Egypt any time I want, I know he means it and I hope to one day take him up on the offer.
Cheers to you, Sahid.
PS. Today marks me being back from Thailand for one year now. I was going to say back in the US, but I've only spent 3 full months in the country this year. How blessed I am.
Today I begin my collection of Sahid stories. About 3 weeks ago, I cruised down to the BBQ to cook up a bunch of food. Now because there are only 2 BBQ's in the complex, they are often occupied, and people aren't always willing to offer up a little open space on the grill. So I walk up to this old looking Arabic looking guy and ask if he has any spare room on the grill for me. The man turns around with a big sweeping gesture and says "my friend, everything I have is yours!". I knew I was in for a good experience.
He introduced himself as Professor Sahid, and is an Egyptian man somewhere in his 60's I'd venture to guess. Professor Sahid is a professor of IT, takes great pride in his work, is full of wild stories, and serves up abundant advice and wisdom along with well cooked chicken in a most delicious marinade. Previously, I have received advice on how to select a good wingman while in times of war, how to be a successful physician (read books - point well taken), how to balance my life and studies, and why not to convert to Islam to marry a Muslim woman.
This evening I met Sahid again down at the BBQ. Like clockwork, he moved his food over, offered me the leftovers of his marinade for my steaks, and took charge over them on the grill. The most memorable story of tonight was the time when, in the Egyptian Army, a man approached him about a shark problem that was interfering with his fishing. Without thinking twice, Sahid stuck a bomb inside a fish, put the fish on a hook, and threw that fish into the water on a line. When the shark grabbed it, he hit the detonator, and poof, no more shark!
As much as I may suspect Sahid's stories are slightly embellished or that his advice is self indulgent, I have great respect for all elders, and understand that wisdom comes from experience. I also understand and respect Arabic hospitality, and know that when he says he has a place for me in Egypt any time I want, I know he means it and I hope to one day take him up on the offer.
Cheers to you, Sahid.
PS. Today marks me being back from Thailand for one year now. I was going to say back in the US, but I've only spent 3 full months in the country this year. How blessed I am.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Return
I thought I might like to write a little bit since I haven't in awhile.
About 19 months ago I moved to Thailand, a decision that absolutely changed my life...overwhelmingly for the better.
I have grown a lot in the past two years. In the first few weeks of Cambodia and the early days of Thailand, God led me back to Himself, and to me, this has been the most profound shift in my life.
A series of strictly logical problems with theology and Christianity had grown from doubts in to roadblocks as my years progressed at LMU, ultimately leading me to something between a philosophical roadblock and some sort of pragmatic stalemate. To be clear, issues of Justice (capital letters here), Love, and Divine Sovereignty weighed too heavily on my mind to accept God as God. I took God out of the equation, and tried to work things out by myself. In hindsight, this was the wrong approach. Thankfully, a strong upbringing kept me from making drastic changes to my lifestyle, and thankfully again, my stubbornness to change my way of life in light of changes in my worldview exposed a very serious flaw in my own logic.
Thank God for the conscience.
I know the difference between right and wrong, and as much as I wanted to dismiss God because I didn't approve of his creation, I was convicted of my own sin. I know I do wrong no matter how hard I try to do right. I know that wrongs must be punished and therefore I deserve punishment. If you smash my window, I can well enough decide not to make you pay for it (mercy) and I can even forgive you (grace), but the window is still broken. Granting mercy and grace, the only just solution at this point is for me to pay for the window myself. You're already off the hook, and I can't just make someone else pay.
I've known this analogy for years and it's always rang true. I don't follow Jesus because I like "Christianity" the religion, because I like to sing songs and go to church. I follow Jesus because He was actually here, spoke truth, showed Himself as God and offered a solution to the problem of sin.
What an enormous gift, and with it, I feel so driven. I've spent a good portion of the last 2 years of my life hunting down opportunities to serve God. Next week I'll be leaving on my 9th international volunteer project.
In August I will begin my training to do real work, and I've never felt so motivated.
James 1:27
Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.
That deserves meditating on.
About 19 months ago I moved to Thailand, a decision that absolutely changed my life...overwhelmingly for the better.
I have grown a lot in the past two years. In the first few weeks of Cambodia and the early days of Thailand, God led me back to Himself, and to me, this has been the most profound shift in my life.
A series of strictly logical problems with theology and Christianity had grown from doubts in to roadblocks as my years progressed at LMU, ultimately leading me to something between a philosophical roadblock and some sort of pragmatic stalemate. To be clear, issues of Justice (capital letters here), Love, and Divine Sovereignty weighed too heavily on my mind to accept God as God. I took God out of the equation, and tried to work things out by myself. In hindsight, this was the wrong approach. Thankfully, a strong upbringing kept me from making drastic changes to my lifestyle, and thankfully again, my stubbornness to change my way of life in light of changes in my worldview exposed a very serious flaw in my own logic.
Thank God for the conscience.
I know the difference between right and wrong, and as much as I wanted to dismiss God because I didn't approve of his creation, I was convicted of my own sin. I know I do wrong no matter how hard I try to do right. I know that wrongs must be punished and therefore I deserve punishment. If you smash my window, I can well enough decide not to make you pay for it (mercy) and I can even forgive you (grace), but the window is still broken. Granting mercy and grace, the only just solution at this point is for me to pay for the window myself. You're already off the hook, and I can't just make someone else pay.
I've known this analogy for years and it's always rang true. I don't follow Jesus because I like "Christianity" the religion, because I like to sing songs and go to church. I follow Jesus because He was actually here, spoke truth, showed Himself as God and offered a solution to the problem of sin.
What an enormous gift, and with it, I feel so driven. I've spent a good portion of the last 2 years of my life hunting down opportunities to serve God. Next week I'll be leaving on my 9th international volunteer project.
In August I will begin my training to do real work, and I've never felt so motivated.
James 1:27
Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.
That deserves meditating on.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Faces
Tim Dar Gretchen Jen Soban Alila Peter Somjit Bee Nee Jib Om Nui1 Nui2 Mae Gett Luknam Nine Boss N'John Tunk More Moss Eve Noll Deepu Babaji Mamaji Deepesh Hareesh Abdul Rohit Radha Sacha Jay May Lorena Richard Elin Brendan Karina Laurence Tori Nee Maey Susy Magda Philippe Leena Stee Patrick Lizita Chaska Klidy
Loneliness is the price I pay for my impermanence.
Loneliness is the price I pay for my impermanence.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
T is for period
I've been back in America for nearly 2 months now, and unfortunately the previous year of my life has already faded into a dream. I try to close my eyes and walk myself through a day in Chiang Mai, but it still feels so disconnected. Grading papers, preparing lesson plans, teaching classes. Was that me?
I don't really think of it that often, but for some reason every time I'm in church I am overcome with the desire to steal away in the night; pack my bags for Pakistan and never come back. I don't know why I feel that, but it sure is real.
In all honesty, I really enjoy being back home. Not so much being home (this isn't my home). Not so much being with my family (a grown man is evolutionarily designed not to live with his parents). Really it's just about control.
The pastor at my Dad's church gave a very insightful sermon on Sunday. He mentioned self-control as one of the attributes of being a leader and I really began to realize how important and how powerful self-discipline is.
I am a logical person, and rigorously so. Logic is about control, about making wise decisions despite confounding factors. Do you control what you eat and drink or do your wants? your hormones? commercials? fancy boxes? fructose and sucrose? I know I control what I eat. We are no longer animals that need to be driven by obsolete chemical processes.
Do you control what you wear or do the people around you make those decisions? the TV? magazines?
Do you control what you say or do you let your limbic system take over?
There's a part of an O.A.R. song I like that says "when no substance can control you, you done conquered that fool". I don't want to be controlled by anything.
Yams!
Which brings me to what I enjoy about being back here. I enjoy strengthening my body with exercise and proper nutrition, and that is finally back in my hands again. It's fun, it's challenging, it celebrates the tremendous gift that my healthy body is. True I'm bored most of the time. True I feel useless without a job. I'll take care of that soon enough.
Plus, there's this:
I don't really think of it that often, but for some reason every time I'm in church I am overcome with the desire to steal away in the night; pack my bags for Pakistan and never come back. I don't know why I feel that, but it sure is real.
In all honesty, I really enjoy being back home. Not so much being home (this isn't my home). Not so much being with my family (a grown man is evolutionarily designed not to live with his parents). Really it's just about control.
The pastor at my Dad's church gave a very insightful sermon on Sunday. He mentioned self-control as one of the attributes of being a leader and I really began to realize how important and how powerful self-discipline is.
I am a logical person, and rigorously so. Logic is about control, about making wise decisions despite confounding factors. Do you control what you eat and drink or do your wants? your hormones? commercials? fancy boxes? fructose and sucrose? I know I control what I eat. We are no longer animals that need to be driven by obsolete chemical processes.
Do you control what you wear or do the people around you make those decisions? the TV? magazines?
Do you control what you say or do you let your limbic system take over?
There's a part of an O.A.R. song I like that says "when no substance can control you, you done conquered that fool". I don't want to be controlled by anything.
Yams!
Which brings me to what I enjoy about being back here. I enjoy strengthening my body with exercise and proper nutrition, and that is finally back in my hands again. It's fun, it's challenging, it celebrates the tremendous gift that my healthy body is. True I'm bored most of the time. True I feel useless without a job. I'll take care of that soon enough.
Plus, there's this:
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Borrowed Time
They don't know what love is
That's why when they stumble they fall
They don't know what love is
Hatred has conquered them all
Can't praise God with your carnal mind
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Let's Review
September 2008:
17th Arrive in DC
18th Interview at Georgetown
19th Hang out with Gretchen. Fly out to Cleveland - awesome day
20th Play golf with Case Western's dean of student life
21st Go to Indians game with Bob
22nd Interview at Case Western. Hitch a ride down to Columbus with fellow interviewee. Eat the biggest burger of all time with Tori and her sister.
23rd Hang out at Ohio State University and get free stuff. Bus to Cincinnati and have Thai food with Jules.
24th Get free food at Xavier. Meet up with old lab colleague. Hang out with Jules and housemates.
25th Begin Greyhound bus ride at 6:15am
26th Arrive in Winston-Salem, North Carolina at 3:30am (nothing like a 21 hour bus ride with 2 breakdowns!) Interview at Wake Forest at 10am.
27th Take it easy in Sheevaun's friend's apartment
28th Miss flight to New Orleans this morning.
Who knows what's next?
17th Arrive in DC
18th Interview at Georgetown
19th Hang out with Gretchen. Fly out to Cleveland - awesome day
20th Play golf with Case Western's dean of student life
21st Go to Indians game with Bob
22nd Interview at Case Western. Hitch a ride down to Columbus with fellow interviewee. Eat the biggest burger of all time with Tori and her sister.
23rd Hang out at Ohio State University and get free stuff. Bus to Cincinnati and have Thai food with Jules.
24th Get free food at Xavier. Meet up with old lab colleague. Hang out with Jules and housemates.
25th Begin Greyhound bus ride at 6:15am
26th Arrive in Winston-Salem, North Carolina at 3:30am (nothing like a 21 hour bus ride with 2 breakdowns!) Interview at Wake Forest at 10am.
27th Take it easy in Sheevaun's friend's apartment
28th Miss flight to New Orleans this morning.
Who knows what's next?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Righteous!
Your Current Demographics Information:
Date of Birth: 06/21/1984
Gender: Male
Work Environment: Academia & Education
Discipline: Physical & Earth Sciences
Field of Work or Study (Primary): PHYS - 619 Analytical Chemistry
Country of Citizenship: United States
Country of Residence: United States
Sigma Xi like what!
Date of Birth: 06/21/1984
Gender: Male
Work Environment: Academia & Education
Discipline: Physical & Earth Sciences
Field of Work or Study (Primary): PHYS - 619 Analytical Chemistry
Country of Citizenship: United States
Country of Residence: United States
Sigma Xi like what!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Lacrymosa
In my teenage and adult life I have cried a total of 3 times, and I think I am approaching my 4th.
Pain has never been a stimulus for crying, at least not since I was a child. Rolled ankles, broken fingers and toes, a broken wrist, and even a ruptured urethra didn't produce a single tear. In May 2006 I left my home and family for the first time when I went to Cincinnati to start what would become my senior research project. I was one of the first students to arrive at Xavier University, and there was hardly around. That night, I felt so alone I shed a few tears. Ironically, 3 months later, thanks to the connections I had made in Cincinnati, I would fight back tears leaving the same place that had originally induced my first feelings of loneliness.
Why do we cry? Crying is a complicated process involving both the limbic and thalamic areas of the brain, as far as I know. Emotions stimulate the production of hormones which act on cranial nerves which cause the lacrimal gland to flood the eyes with tears which expel the very hormones that set the whole process in motion. What a funny thing.
October 2007: I was just finishing up my last email to Liz and double checking my list to make sure I had packed everything I would need for the next year in Asia, when I felt the terrible choking sensation that precedes a very cathartic cry. Trevor came over minutes later to drop off some t-shirts he had got me from ET before I left. I could hardly look him in the eye, and spent less than a minute saying goodbye to him because I knew I would start crying. I had no idea I would feel that way.
In all likelihood I am set to cry for the 4th time in my adult life very soon. What a strange thing to look forward to.
Pain has never been a stimulus for crying, at least not since I was a child. Rolled ankles, broken fingers and toes, a broken wrist, and even a ruptured urethra didn't produce a single tear. In May 2006 I left my home and family for the first time when I went to Cincinnati to start what would become my senior research project. I was one of the first students to arrive at Xavier University, and there was hardly around. That night, I felt so alone I shed a few tears. Ironically, 3 months later, thanks to the connections I had made in Cincinnati, I would fight back tears leaving the same place that had originally induced my first feelings of loneliness.
Why do we cry? Crying is a complicated process involving both the limbic and thalamic areas of the brain, as far as I know. Emotions stimulate the production of hormones which act on cranial nerves which cause the lacrimal gland to flood the eyes with tears which expel the very hormones that set the whole process in motion. What a funny thing.
October 2007: I was just finishing up my last email to Liz and double checking my list to make sure I had packed everything I would need for the next year in Asia, when I felt the terrible choking sensation that precedes a very cathartic cry. Trevor came over minutes later to drop off some t-shirts he had got me from ET before I left. I could hardly look him in the eye, and spent less than a minute saying goodbye to him because I knew I would start crying. I had no idea I would feel that way.
In all likelihood I am set to cry for the 4th time in my adult life very soon. What a strange thing to look forward to.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Medical Medical
On Saturday I jumped as high as I could off a 165 foot tower, plummeting down towards a small murky pond in the middle of the jungle and lived to tell the tale. Bungee jumping: check.
Moments later, I stubbed my toe dang hard and was in pain for the rest of the day. I still manage to make a one hour hike a leap off a 20 foot waterfall into a pool of water, hike back, and play tennis with bearable pain. The next morning I woke up to a terribly swollen sesamoid surrounded by a worrysome ring of black and blue veins. It was so gnarly I was almost sure it was broken, or perhaps some broken phalanges. I took a trip to the Chiang Mai Ram hospital and got hooked up with an X-ray and a doctor visit which revealed only a soft tissue injury (whew). What's so cool about this is that it was totally covered by my Thai health insurance, and then this morning one of the nurses called from the hospital to check up on me! How cool!
Today my foot feels a lot better.
Yesterday I also got an email from Trevor that he had posted some of our skate stuff on YouTube. For those of ya'll that don't know, skateboarding was just about all I did from middle school through high school. Enjoy!
Weird Intro: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypVxwLEs-dM
Dave's Vid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sq2gOtTFIHw
Skate parks: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAKTLmjxRLg
Moments later, I stubbed my toe dang hard and was in pain for the rest of the day. I still manage to make a one hour hike a leap off a 20 foot waterfall into a pool of water, hike back, and play tennis with bearable pain. The next morning I woke up to a terribly swollen sesamoid surrounded by a worrysome ring of black and blue veins. It was so gnarly I was almost sure it was broken, or perhaps some broken phalanges. I took a trip to the Chiang Mai Ram hospital and got hooked up with an X-ray and a doctor visit which revealed only a soft tissue injury (whew). What's so cool about this is that it was totally covered by my Thai health insurance, and then this morning one of the nurses called from the hospital to check up on me! How cool!
Today my foot feels a lot better.
Yesterday I also got an email from Trevor that he had posted some of our skate stuff on YouTube. For those of ya'll that don't know, skateboarding was just about all I did from middle school through high school. Enjoy!
Weird Intro: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Dave's Vid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Skate parks: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Thoughts and Poetry on Scraps of Paper
While volunteering in Sri Lanka, the first two days left me a lot of time on my own with nothing to do, so I began to write on scraps of paper I found in my backpack and on the street. Eventually I'd like to scan and post them up on here but the writing is so small it would be illegible, so this is for my own records...
7/21 Day 1:
Plans fell through to take me into town so I spent a good 2-3 hours reading my Marquez book. Sitting outside drinking tea with my mom wrapping wood and her brother chopping it, I had already obtained the kind of "real" cultural experience I was looking for. Hot sleep fell upon me like a heavy blanket that night.
7/22 Day 2:
Herot is a wiry construction worker up the road with the best English in town an my new best friend. I see him 4 times per day as I walk to the hospital purged from the excitement of the new and embraced by the reality of the mundane.
-He talks to me about herbal medicine over coconut water.
-He takes me to his house. 50% of me thrilled, 50% of me ready to fend of a 50% chance of being mugged.
Later that night I ride on the back of a motorcycle down 1 foot wide paths in the monsoon downpour.
7/23 Day 3:
By the way things are run here, I have come to understand that most of the time here I must spend in waste- staring off into the distance of a very proximal wall or watching the doctor digitally examine lymph nodes, listen to breathing, and scribble prescriptions (all this if I am lucky!). I did, however, observe the doctor anesthetize a woman's toe before tearing off the nail and excise some tissue hindering proper nail growth.
7/23 Side entry:
There is no touch so pleasing as the familiar
No sound so sweet as the expected
I lay in my Singhalese bed calling Thailand my home...
7/23 Side entry:
I (needlessly?) fear the resentment of my presence from my 5'7'' 250+ lb host, Maey.
7/31 Add on:
Turns out it is nothing short of language barrier frustration and jealousy for my time.
7/24 Day 4:
Sticky nights, spicy dal with rice powder, hopeless thoughts of evading Herot, solitude in the evening. Doctor seems indifferent (dare I say aggravated?) by a young child's pain. I observe the largest Buddha in South Asia. My 2 companions purchase 2 snacks each and give both to me. I possess a Sri Lankan SIM card. 500 rupees to the ageless monk watching cricket in the temple. Itch and sting of countless mosquito bites. Exploring new writing! My first thoughts of real failure entertained, boiled and simmered, accepted?
7/25 Day 5:
4 cups of tea and 3.5 rotis all before lunch. Lots of learning and explanations before 11, then one hour with shirtless doctors smoking cigarettes, drinking tea, and reviewing records. Return home at 4 to find myself trapped by drunken Singhalese soldiers. Songs, dancing, vegetables, cigarettes, whiskey, whiskey, ballroom dancing with interlaced fingers with Maey. My own music brings on longing for a God-fearing woman for my own?
7/26 Day 6:
Realities of free medicine in a rural area. Scabies, epilepsy, the terrifying cervix! My first attempt to cannulate a vein. I fail but so does the doctor. Maey takes pains to show me a fish in the garden pot. Did he buy it? Herot gives me a monstrous green papaya. Circus dog!
7/31 Add on:
Turns out the fish are giant catfish in there!
7/27 Day 7:
Analogies of being milked or preyed upon by parasites faded much faster than they had manifested. Two requests to use the internet took me to a Dutch fort in Galle and a large statue of Buddha in Kosgoda. Talk of starting my own volunteer organization took shape for the first time. World's most annoying chicken this morning! I look forward to morning "rounds" quite surprisingly. How masked in uncertainty my future seems to be! An unfrequented box is your fate, dear note!!
7/28 Day 8:
More blood than I've ever seen and more exposure to others in pain. Why do I want to be a doctor? Why does it matter? A woman breathes her last breaths as the doctor struggles and fails to start an IV. No matter. A baby is born. I jump in a random car that takes me to the hospital. Counting pills. Singhalese words dance on the tip of my tongue and flee whether or not I pursue. A letter reveals some of my bitter thoughts. The idea of love. Memories fly by, nostalgia flows from where they pierce.
7/29 Day 9:
Chip! Chip! Get that cat out of here. Another papaya from Herot, far from ripe. 100 Rp for cigarettes or drugs, I don't care. A very satisfying "good job today" after taking blood pressures of all the women at the prenatal clinic. "It is better to die after eating" as they say here. The perplexing yet truly simple decision to take a 2 day journey for 26k Rp alone or just remain here doing my thing at the hospital. Boredom vs. danger vs. adventure vs. spending! Hopes of attempting another cannulation weigh heavily...
7/30 Day 10:
After breakfast I was already satisfied with my decision to stay. An average morning then tea with the minister of health. Drinking a king coconut with Herot. Later, joking about climbing a 15 meter palm tree, a boy scales it dropping down a plethora of the golden fruit. I drink and consume the tropical treat amidst the herbal garden. Beli fruit smoothie for 7:00pm snack. After 2 weeks I'm just starting to feel comfortable here. Why so anxious for solitude? So desperate to be "away"? In my own defense I am not needed nor do I need anyone Perhaps I'm drawn to the dramatics of it? I feel no guilt. What can possibly come from all these unique experiences? Who can understand how alone it makes me?
7/30 My first poem entitled: Worth a Shot-
Eyes wide open to an impenetrable darkness evokes the seduction of simplicity
Texture smoth, sound a clear ringing, unmistakable the sickly-sweet scent of nostalgia
A voice beckons, without reason, startlingly unprovoked, languageless
Novelty and profanity seem equitable opponents
Yet curiosity remains a clay jar riddled with the cruelest cracks
7/31 Day 11:
Once again the blood pressures of the entire maternity ward are my responsibility. Instruments: 1 stethoscope, 1 mercuric sphygmomanometer. A trip to the rocky beach to Maey's brother's donated house. More food than is comfortable to eat. Delicious. Handfuls of sugar in everything puts Thailand to shame. Explains Susy's diabetes. Herot's darkside revealed in a tense residential encounter. A dangerous man to the naive, a possible splinter to the experienced traveler. Playing with children never fails to make me happy. Another cup of buffalo curd?
7/21 Day 1:
Plans fell through to take me into town so I spent a good 2-3 hours reading my Marquez book. Sitting outside drinking tea with my mom wrapping wood and her brother chopping it, I had already obtained the kind of "real" cultural experience I was looking for. Hot sleep fell upon me like a heavy blanket that night.
7/22 Day 2:
Herot is a wiry construction worker up the road with the best English in town an my new best friend. I see him 4 times per day as I walk to the hospital purged from the excitement of the new and embraced by the reality of the mundane.
-He talks to me about herbal medicine over coconut water.
-He takes me to his house. 50% of me thrilled, 50% of me ready to fend of a 50% chance of being mugged.
Later that night I ride on the back of a motorcycle down 1 foot wide paths in the monsoon downpour.
7/23 Day 3:
By the way things are run here, I have come to understand that most of the time here I must spend in waste- staring off into the distance of a very proximal wall or watching the doctor digitally examine lymph nodes, listen to breathing, and scribble prescriptions (all this if I am lucky!). I did, however, observe the doctor anesthetize a woman's toe before tearing off the nail and excise some tissue hindering proper nail growth.
7/23 Side entry:
There is no touch so pleasing as the familiar
No sound so sweet as the expected
I lay in my Singhalese bed calling Thailand my home...
7/23 Side entry:
I (needlessly?) fear the resentment of my presence from my 5'7'' 250+ lb host, Maey.
7/31 Add on:
Turns out it is nothing short of language barrier frustration and jealousy for my time.
7/24 Day 4:
Sticky nights, spicy dal with rice powder, hopeless thoughts of evading Herot, solitude in the evening. Doctor seems indifferent (dare I say aggravated?) by a young child's pain. I observe the largest Buddha in South Asia. My 2 companions purchase 2 snacks each and give both to me. I possess a Sri Lankan SIM card. 500 rupees to the ageless monk watching cricket in the temple. Itch and sting of countless mosquito bites. Exploring new writing! My first thoughts of real failure entertained, boiled and simmered, accepted?
7/25 Day 5:
4 cups of tea and 3.5 rotis all before lunch. Lots of learning and explanations before 11, then one hour with shirtless doctors smoking cigarettes, drinking tea, and reviewing records. Return home at 4 to find myself trapped by drunken Singhalese soldiers. Songs, dancing, vegetables, cigarettes, whiskey, whiskey, ballroom dancing with interlaced fingers with Maey. My own music brings on longing for a God-fearing woman for my own?
7/26 Day 6:
Realities of free medicine in a rural area. Scabies, epilepsy, the terrifying cervix! My first attempt to cannulate a vein. I fail but so does the doctor. Maey takes pains to show me a fish in the garden pot. Did he buy it? Herot gives me a monstrous green papaya. Circus dog!
7/31 Add on:
Turns out the fish are giant catfish in there!
7/27 Day 7:
Analogies of being milked or preyed upon by parasites faded much faster than they had manifested. Two requests to use the internet took me to a Dutch fort in Galle and a large statue of Buddha in Kosgoda. Talk of starting my own volunteer organization took shape for the first time. World's most annoying chicken this morning! I look forward to morning "rounds" quite surprisingly. How masked in uncertainty my future seems to be! An unfrequented box is your fate, dear note!!
7/28 Day 8:
More blood than I've ever seen and more exposure to others in pain. Why do I want to be a doctor? Why does it matter? A woman breathes her last breaths as the doctor struggles and fails to start an IV. No matter. A baby is born. I jump in a random car that takes me to the hospital. Counting pills. Singhalese words dance on the tip of my tongue and flee whether or not I pursue. A letter reveals some of my bitter thoughts. The idea of love. Memories fly by, nostalgia flows from where they pierce.
7/29 Day 9:
Chip! Chip! Get that cat out of here. Another papaya from Herot, far from ripe. 100 Rp for cigarettes or drugs, I don't care. A very satisfying "good job today" after taking blood pressures of all the women at the prenatal clinic. "It is better to die after eating" as they say here. The perplexing yet truly simple decision to take a 2 day journey for 26k Rp alone or just remain here doing my thing at the hospital. Boredom vs. danger vs. adventure vs. spending! Hopes of attempting another cannulation weigh heavily...
7/30 Day 10:
After breakfast I was already satisfied with my decision to stay. An average morning then tea with the minister of health. Drinking a king coconut with Herot. Later, joking about climbing a 15 meter palm tree, a boy scales it dropping down a plethora of the golden fruit. I drink and consume the tropical treat amidst the herbal garden. Beli fruit smoothie for 7:00pm snack. After 2 weeks I'm just starting to feel comfortable here. Why so anxious for solitude? So desperate to be "away"? In my own defense I am not needed nor do I need anyone Perhaps I'm drawn to the dramatics of it? I feel no guilt. What can possibly come from all these unique experiences? Who can understand how alone it makes me?
7/30 My first poem entitled: Worth a Shot-
Eyes wide open to an impenetrable darkness evokes the seduction of simplicity
Texture smoth, sound a clear ringing, unmistakable the sickly-sweet scent of nostalgia
A voice beckons, without reason, startlingly unprovoked, languageless
Novelty and profanity seem equitable opponents
Yet curiosity remains a clay jar riddled with the cruelest cracks
7/31 Day 11:
Once again the blood pressures of the entire maternity ward are my responsibility. Instruments: 1 stethoscope, 1 mercuric sphygmomanometer. A trip to the rocky beach to Maey's brother's donated house. More food than is comfortable to eat. Delicious. Handfuls of sugar in everything puts Thailand to shame. Explains Susy's diabetes. Herot's darkside revealed in a tense residential encounter. A dangerous man to the naive, a possible splinter to the experienced traveler. Playing with children never fails to make me happy. Another cup of buffalo curd?
Monday, July 7, 2008
On a roll
"...I never stopped dawdling like an eight-year-old on a spring morning on his way to school. Anything can make me stop and look and wonder, and sometimes learn. I am a very happy man..."
There's a life-goal
There's a life-goal
Sunday, July 6, 2008
False Dichotomy
Which is the better advice?
Say unto others as you would have said unto you.
If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
I'll continue to hold my tongue... and alcohol in contempt while I'm at it.
Say unto others as you would have said unto you.
If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
I'll continue to hold my tongue... and alcohol in contempt while I'm at it.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Thoughts and Photos
I've been looking through old pictures and having a great time, listening to the new music Liz sent me from the other side of the planet.
I gotta grow my hair back, man.
You better believe I rocked that mullet for over a week at school, hehe.
Camp is hecka fun. My two favorite kids are Gun and Beam. I'm not sure what grade they're in, maybe 3rd or 4th? 2nd? I really don't know, they're hilarious though. They both have energy forever and like to sing to themselves and run around. Great kids.
I got skrillz.
My best friend, miss that guy.
Snapped and developed by yours truly.
I was in the one on the left, and I've got the surgical scar on my shoulder prove it.
In my sleep.
Youngest, oldest, middle.
Zoolander.
Peace.
I gotta grow my hair back, man.
You better believe I rocked that mullet for over a week at school, hehe.
Camp is hecka fun. My two favorite kids are Gun and Beam. I'm not sure what grade they're in, maybe 3rd or 4th? 2nd? I really don't know, they're hilarious though. They both have energy forever and like to sing to themselves and run around. Great kids.
I got skrillz.
My best friend, miss that guy.
Snapped and developed by yours truly.
I was in the one on the left, and I've got the surgical scar on my shoulder prove it.
In my sleep.
Youngest, oldest, middle.
Zoolander.
Peace.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Whetstones and nerve conduction
I was just reading my old journals due to boredom and discovered I'm something of a witty little fellow, eh?
Hehe, I was reading about how my mind tends to wander in such funny ways. Holding someone's hand and starting to think about nerve conduction and electron manipulation, then forgetting I was holding someone's hand and moving my fingers around. Hehe.
I was beginning to wonder if I'd lost that silly sense of random scientific curiosity when I remembered I read about how the degree of amylopectin branching determines the "stickiness" of short grain rices just hours ago.
I also stumbled upon something I had been meaning to write but never got around to it. I've always been fascinated with our ability to talk to ourself in our heads. That is the most incredible thing. Firstly, language is symbolism. To paraphrase someone smarter than me, we use sounds to represent objects and actions and link them together with more symbols. Tiger is just some sound to represent that large striped thing that you need to run away from. So the fascination begins when we create language symbols for things that don't even exist concretely: love, justice... Now that's bizarre...
But then we can actually create words in our head. While brushing my teeth I considered that creating words in our head is the same as creating an image in our head or performing simple arithmetic. Or is it? Research actually shows that the same nerves fire when we see an object and imagine an object. So it's not the same. Broca's or Wernicke's area must fire when we put words together, opposed to the occipital lobe going to town while picturing an object. I wonder what happens when you perform mental arithmetic. 5 + 2 is most likely a recovery of memory from the hippocampus, but what about 27824/12?
What is so interesting to me about talking in your head is the ability for thoughts to flow so fluidly and orderly, opposed to the concentration and deliberation it takes to crunch numbers or attempt to continually construct mental images. I can talk all day long without pause in my head.
So what happens? When I think the word puppy I open and close some sodium membranes in some nerves in the language center of my brain. Some action potentials fire, but where do the efferent nerves terminate? Where does that potential get carried to? If I move my arm I'm sending an impulse to the arm, ya know, it terminates in a muscle that twitches my arm. If I speak puppy well then the end of the line is a collaboration between my vocal cords, mouth, tongue, lips, etc... but what about when you think something? Where does it go?
That oughtta keep me busy for awhile.
Hehe, I was reading about how my mind tends to wander in such funny ways. Holding someone's hand and starting to think about nerve conduction and electron manipulation, then forgetting I was holding someone's hand and moving my fingers around. Hehe.
I was beginning to wonder if I'd lost that silly sense of random scientific curiosity when I remembered I read about how the degree of amylopectin branching determines the "stickiness" of short grain rices just hours ago.
I also stumbled upon something I had been meaning to write but never got around to it. I've always been fascinated with our ability to talk to ourself in our heads. That is the most incredible thing. Firstly, language is symbolism. To paraphrase someone smarter than me, we use sounds to represent objects and actions and link them together with more symbols. Tiger is just some sound to represent that large striped thing that you need to run away from. So the fascination begins when we create language symbols for things that don't even exist concretely: love, justice... Now that's bizarre...
But then we can actually create words in our head. While brushing my teeth I considered that creating words in our head is the same as creating an image in our head or performing simple arithmetic. Or is it? Research actually shows that the same nerves fire when we see an object and imagine an object. So it's not the same. Broca's or Wernicke's area must fire when we put words together, opposed to the occipital lobe going to town while picturing an object. I wonder what happens when you perform mental arithmetic. 5 + 2 is most likely a recovery of memory from the hippocampus, but what about 27824/12?
What is so interesting to me about talking in your head is the ability for thoughts to flow so fluidly and orderly, opposed to the concentration and deliberation it takes to crunch numbers or attempt to continually construct mental images. I can talk all day long without pause in my head.
So what happens? When I think the word puppy I open and close some sodium membranes in some nerves in the language center of my brain. Some action potentials fire, but where do the efferent nerves terminate? Where does that potential get carried to? If I move my arm I'm sending an impulse to the arm, ya know, it terminates in a muscle that twitches my arm. If I speak puppy well then the end of the line is a collaboration between my vocal cords, mouth, tongue, lips, etc... but what about when you think something? Where does it go?
That oughtta keep me busy for awhile.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Reflection Eternal
It's rather surreal, or just plain hard to believe that I am about to give a speech at a high school graduation as a teacher. I only graduated from high school 5 years ago and now I am the teacher at the podium presenting awards to the graduating class. How strange. Tomorrow is graduation.
I remember being in high school with dreams of becoming a teacher. I think every student at one time or another wants to be a teacher, to make up for their own teachers' shortcomings or to be like that one great teacher they had. I remember watching one of my teachers one day in high school and thinking "I don't want to do that". Now here I am as a high school teacher, graduating my first class. Who would have thunk?
------------------------------------
I submitted my primary medical school application and now I'm waiting for my transcripts to be verified. Once everything is ready to go, secondaries will start to come, first from the schools that send them to everyone and then hopefully some after I've been screened first.
I don't like when people ask me what school I want to go to. I really don't care. Not because I'm a poor applicant or that I'm apathetic, it's just that I want to go to school. I don't care where because I'll be just as happy at an unranked school than at a top ten school in California. I just want to learn. Honestly.
Unfortunately there is a whole year before I can actually do that, but one step at a time. Complete all my grades by next week, go SCUBA diving on Koh Tao, work summer camp, go volunteer in Sri Lanka (maybe?), complete the first quarter, move back to the United States, then a whole flurry of things to do once I'm back there. Not like it's a chore what I'm doing here, I love it, in fact it's the returning to the US thing I'm not thrilled about.
I remember being in high school with dreams of becoming a teacher. I think every student at one time or another wants to be a teacher, to make up for their own teachers' shortcomings or to be like that one great teacher they had. I remember watching one of my teachers one day in high school and thinking "I don't want to do that". Now here I am as a high school teacher, graduating my first class. Who would have thunk?
------------------------------------
I submitted my primary medical school application and now I'm waiting for my transcripts to be verified. Once everything is ready to go, secondaries will start to come, first from the schools that send them to everyone and then hopefully some after I've been screened first.
I don't like when people ask me what school I want to go to. I really don't care. Not because I'm a poor applicant or that I'm apathetic, it's just that I want to go to school. I don't care where because I'll be just as happy at an unranked school than at a top ten school in California. I just want to learn. Honestly.
Unfortunately there is a whole year before I can actually do that, but one step at a time. Complete all my grades by next week, go SCUBA diving on Koh Tao, work summer camp, go volunteer in Sri Lanka (maybe?), complete the first quarter, move back to the United States, then a whole flurry of things to do once I'm back there. Not like it's a chore what I'm doing here, I love it, in fact it's the returning to the US thing I'm not thrilled about.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Ow kanuun mai?
Well I've gathered more phrases which I quite like, and I've also embraced new fruit experiences.
So over the weekend I went with Paula up the road to try our hands at purchasing a giant jackfruit (kanuun). We bought a jackfruit which weighed about 10 kg, and I hung on to it like a baby on the back of the motorbike on the way back. We weren't too sure how to cut it and had absolutely not idea what would be inside. We chopped it down the middle and went to work digging through the vines and pulling out little jackfruits which look like yellow parachutes and have a slight rubbery consistency. The fruit wasn't perfectly ripe, but it was tons of fun going for it. Later that night I started talking to the Thai staff about jackfruit and learned that there is a ghost that lives in the jackfruit trees, much like the ghost that lives in the banana tree which brings us to our first phrase.
Ong ja ton klooey rue? Which means: "did you come from the banana tree"? It's a phrase used when people are either wearing green or are in traditional Thai dress. The ghost that lives in the banana tree is green and so if you're wearing the color, you might be the ghost.
Phrase number two: bai lai quia rue? Which translates: "are you chasing a buffalo"? This is a phrase used when people are walking too fast, which are usually farang.
The weather up here is fantastic as the rainy season approaches and last night we had the most spectacular lightning show. The only downside is that any time a storm blows in the power goes with it, and since my building is on a hill, the water pump shuts down meaning no power or water. Sleeping in the heat and then waking up to no shower is not fun, but hey, I can't complain.
Enjoy some pictures:
So over the weekend I went with Paula up the road to try our hands at purchasing a giant jackfruit (kanuun). We bought a jackfruit which weighed about 10 kg, and I hung on to it like a baby on the back of the motorbike on the way back. We weren't too sure how to cut it and had absolutely not idea what would be inside. We chopped it down the middle and went to work digging through the vines and pulling out little jackfruits which look like yellow parachutes and have a slight rubbery consistency. The fruit wasn't perfectly ripe, but it was tons of fun going for it. Later that night I started talking to the Thai staff about jackfruit and learned that there is a ghost that lives in the jackfruit trees, much like the ghost that lives in the banana tree which brings us to our first phrase.
Ong ja ton klooey rue? Which means: "did you come from the banana tree"? It's a phrase used when people are either wearing green or are in traditional Thai dress. The ghost that lives in the banana tree is green and so if you're wearing the color, you might be the ghost.
Phrase number two: bai lai quia rue? Which translates: "are you chasing a buffalo"? This is a phrase used when people are walking too fast, which are usually farang.
The weather up here is fantastic as the rainy season approaches and last night we had the most spectacular lightning show. The only downside is that any time a storm blows in the power goes with it, and since my building is on a hill, the water pump shuts down meaning no power or water. Sleeping in the heat and then waking up to no shower is not fun, but hey, I can't complain.
Enjoy some pictures:
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