Options are good, they scratch and smooth my ego until I'm purring like a contented kitten knowing that I'm loved at more than one school. I walked into this season of interviewing pretty sure I'd be a lucky girl to even get one school.
Now I have two excellent options, RVU in CO and VCOM in SC and I am wait listed everywhere else I've interviewed. That means it's a good possibility they will become options later. (not sure yet at UNC) To not be turned down anywhere is a shock, I am humbled that they all see something in me they like enough to keep me around. Everyone said it would turn out this way and I always hoped everyone was right and worked my rear off like I didn't have a chance in hades. Statistically I didn't.
I still have prospects of two more interviews, Ft Lauderdale, FL, and Vallejo, CA, so it is far, far from over, just in a little lull. Even then it won't be really over until May. It's a long time to sit in limbo. Limbo is a difficult place for me, since I like to wrestle life to the ground and then reduce it to a list of steps to success. But it is in limbo I learn the most about myself and my great lack of balance. It brings out the weaknesses of my character and parades them around like lumberjacks in a ballroom. Can't miss them! :)
The odds were wretched. My statistical chance at RVU was 4.8% around the same with VCOM. I knew this before I started working toward becoming a Dr and purposefully never thought about it again. Yet odds like that are inspiring. They force me to live on the sharp edge, to drag out every reserve in my soul to do battle. While I bet my whole future, I didn't gamble that much. I know that focusing on one day at a time more can be achieved by any of us then we ever imagined we could.
It wasn't me. I learned this graphically by watching a good friend work hard for a goal they deserved. A goal they likely would have achieved but were blocked in the final stages by someone who had the power to do so, it broke my heart. I still hate it when life is unfair.
It reminded me how blessed/fortunate I've been. There were many times I was blocked from going toward my goal by circumstances. Perhaps some of you remember I lost funding after my first year back at school and it was an influential Chemistry professor that believed in my potential, my dream, who got me into a program and back on track. I can think of many other amazing people (Bobbie, Shellie, etc etc) who saw some little spark of potential in my overly excited brain and either made my path easier or passed that enthusiasm on to someone else who had never met me and in that way, made it so I could move forward.
Thus I suppose this should end as a tribute to those who helped me, the hero's of my life. They include not just the people who have straightened my difficult trail with their influence but everyone who cheers with me and groans at my super nerdy posts, Charles, family (adopted family) and (amazing) friends. It is via each of you that I get the reserve of optimism that keeps me noticing the smallest wonders, a budding tree, an odd patient, a silly caterpillar with sinusoidal legs. These things and each of you, keep me smiling and give me strength try again tomorrow.
There is some saying about it taking a village to raise a child. It is my experience that it takes one crazy village to make a doctor!
Thank you! If I had a glass of wine/sparkling peach juice (whatever your taste might be) I'd propose a toast and dedicate each success to you!
Might as well enjoy it, it's all about to get that much harder... and I can't wait...
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Standing in Danny's Garage - A Brief Character Sketch
I stand in Danny's Garage, it's owned by this fellow with a red tinged quarter inch beard. The thumb of his weighty, cracked hand is confidently hooked into his already strained jeans. His flaccid belly is stretched taut with a woodland camo shirt and is indented where his right thumb fits in. Beer he bought cheaper than "that bottled water" is in the left hand, crusty and torn jeans sag at the crotch pulling the eye down to scuffed steal toed boots that used to be dark shiny brown and are matte tan now. He stands hips jutted forward, hair in slick dark blond clumps strings out from under a day-glow orange hat, gathering into a mullet that looks like it was shot and applied to to back of his head in the 80's and has been decaying ever since. His shoulders are collapsed forward because he's relaxed, in his domain. He's the king of chaos and stuck to 2"x4" studs he has a harem of naked women torn from tawdry magazines, all inflamed for his desire. (Don't judge, greasy guys need love at their command too.)
He's standing in his garage where he does dubious shade tree mechanicing. He loves Fords cause his daddy loved them and they ain't no foreign junk and that's all he needs to know, ever, period, don't bring it up again. Snap-On sockets, the only thing of quality to be seen, are hanging out of the open drawers of his red, 5'4" tool box (I know because I stand by it). Black, limp rags hang from the corner and are piled all over a darkly stained cool gray floors, scattered with clay cat litter that scuffs when I move. Old cylinders of various welding gases stand in a corner, not sure what color they started life as but the scratches showing different layers of paint and ending in rust. Cars are in various stages of being repaired or torn apart. Parts from all the cars mingle like it's a cocktail party and they're hell bent on going home with a different car then they came with.
I've stood here before, not at these exact coordinates, but I've been here assessing the general view of the area. I've stood here doing the complex math required to extrapolate what it means about the people who own and work in the place and what it's going to cost me to leave with a car that runs and drives.
- This is simply a character sketch I want to save for a future story, our cars are fine. My mechanic is far classier and better looking than the quality one described. :) My thanks goes to S for the business name.
He's standing in his garage where he does dubious shade tree mechanicing. He loves Fords cause his daddy loved them and they ain't no foreign junk and that's all he needs to know, ever, period, don't bring it up again. Snap-On sockets, the only thing of quality to be seen, are hanging out of the open drawers of his red, 5'4" tool box (I know because I stand by it). Black, limp rags hang from the corner and are piled all over a darkly stained cool gray floors, scattered with clay cat litter that scuffs when I move. Old cylinders of various welding gases stand in a corner, not sure what color they started life as but the scratches showing different layers of paint and ending in rust. Cars are in various stages of being repaired or torn apart. Parts from all the cars mingle like it's a cocktail party and they're hell bent on going home with a different car then they came with.
I've stood here before, not at these exact coordinates, but I've been here assessing the general view of the area. I've stood here doing the complex math required to extrapolate what it means about the people who own and work in the place and what it's going to cost me to leave with a car that runs and drives.
- This is simply a character sketch I want to save for a future story, our cars are fine. My mechanic is far classier and better looking than the quality one described. :) My thanks goes to S for the business name.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Greatest Summer
Remember all the things I was going to do this summer? It was a short list but had two things in it I'd never done and wanted to do, try to do photography professionally and publish one short story. Perhaps you'd like to know how it's gone? I was so gung ho and shared it with you guys to hold me to it.
I didn't. I didn't even start down that road. Instead I have two jobs, one redoing a website for the NCSU Biology department and another playing super girl who can do everything and replace anyone in the front office of a Dermatologist's office. Far cry from what I wanted isn't it? Life happened as it often happens to us, fast. What I needed to do for the summer changed three weeks into it based on decisions that I did not control. It's a long story...
I have a friend, he likes to say that planning is like peeing into the ocean. He's right. Life is less about always achieving my goals and more about making them and then practicing holding them lightly, not grasping them so tightly that I go down with them when they're lost at sea. And as I watched those plans be swept away this summer I eventually smiled as they disappeared because there is always tomorrow. Tomorrow will be full of new plans, new goals and new challenges. The sea that I am continually challenging will flow around me and through me making me the a woman of greater insight, compassion and perspective.
Truthfully, I love the Biology job. My boss is a brilliant woman, a neuroscientist, and I enjoy chatting with her talking about big plans for the department and for the website. I'm directing the automation of the site to keep it's updating painless and later I will tweak its layout and give the pages better focus. It's something I'm very good at and it's nice to be the expert sometimes.
The dermatologist job is teaching me how a Dr's office is run. The daily grind of keeping one alive and well. This is an amazing opportunity if I should ever decide to run my own someday.
The dermatologist job is teaching me how a Dr's office is run. The daily grind of keeping one alive and well. This is an amazing opportunity if I should ever decide to run my own someday.
Currently...
...I'm trying to write secondaries. Secondaries are the second application that all medical schools require you to fill out. Most have 3-5 essays they want you two write, no two the same. I have come down with a viral case of writer's block and each paragraph is a physical fight. I fish words from my brain like I fish broken bits of eggshells from my eggs in the morning. It each word is an elusive hunt often not meshing with the one before. It will get done... once I'm done writing this.
...I'm trying to write secondaries. Secondaries are the second application that all medical schools require you to fill out. Most have 3-5 essays they want you two write, no two the same. I have come down with a viral case of writer's block and each paragraph is a physical fight. I fish words from my brain like I fish broken bits of eggshells from my eggs in the morning. It each word is an elusive hunt often not meshing with the one before. It will get done... once I'm done writing this.
...my father-in-law lays dying, his tubes disconnected, life flowing from his body. Life is short and it's not worth getting too spun up about.
After running around Lake Lynn this morning I stopped by the grocery store and heard this song. It reminded me of my plans this summer of all the plans I've made over the years and failed at completing, plans that I may never get to complete... It's all about perspective...
The Greatest
by Kenny Rogers
...He makes no excuses, He shows no fears
He just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers
He just closes his eyes and listens to the cheers
Little boy, he adjusts his hat
Picks up his ball, stares at his bat
Says I am the greatest the game is on the line
And he gives his all one last time
Picks up his ball, stares at his bat
Says I am the greatest the game is on the line
And he gives his all one last time
And the ball goes up like the moon so bright
Swings his bat with all his might
And the world's so still as still can be
And the baseball falls, and that's strike three
Swings his bat with all his might
And the world's so still as still can be
And the baseball falls, and that's strike three
Now it's supper time and his mama calls
Little boy starts home with his bat and ball
Says I am the greatest that is a fact
But even I didn't know I could pitch like that.
Little boy starts home with his bat and ball
Says I am the greatest that is a fact
But even I didn't know I could pitch like that.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
To the Unknown
Tested this morning and I am now a certified General Class HAM. YEOW!!! YIPPEEE! *JUMPING* One goal for the summer down and a couple more to go and those may not get accomplished. But more on that later.
Just as important, I finished the dreaded personal statement last night and I can now apply to medical school. Once I push that button the future is shot into the unknown and it's out of my hands. I don't particularly like that part of it. I'm more comfortable when there's something left for me to do, to control and to perfect. It's good for me, pushes me to be still and exercises my character. Jumping into activity isn't scary for me, jumping into stillness, into waiting, terrifies me.
So I'm looking over the edge and about to let go... wish me luck.
Just as important, I finished the dreaded personal statement last night and I can now apply to medical school. Once I push that button the future is shot into the unknown and it's out of my hands. I don't particularly like that part of it. I'm more comfortable when there's something left for me to do, to control and to perfect. It's good for me, pushes me to be still and exercises my character. Jumping into activity isn't scary for me, jumping into stillness, into waiting, terrifies me.
So I'm looking over the edge and about to let go... wish me luck.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Business of Being Alive
My expectations are fairly low regarding the mountains of the east and Smokey Mountain National Park did little to raise them. It's still early in the high country, not many leaves or flowers and the pinnacle of a few thousand feet the views were brown. Not horrible, it's hard to imagine being out in the woods and it being horrible ever. Every place, like nearly every human, has something to appreciate. Something wise to bestow on the person who sits for a short minute of contemplation at its heart.
On down to Transylvania County. That's the place to go. Waterfalls that sent sound waves to beat your backbone, roar down gaps in sheer mossy cliffs. Forests that pulled in the mist like a breathy hint of lace and little towns with sweaty, bearded men driving trucks piled with rakes and shoves as well as alabaster skinned men in button down shirts, Italian leather and cars. I saw few women.
Little restaurants could be found, covered in ivy, surrounded by green ponds, lit by candle and owned by people who came looking to run away from the life they had built for themselves and never went back. Gregarious entrepreneurs with more life experience than most have in 100 years and a penchant for kissing the women that visit their place.
Antique shops with brand new merchandise shyly beckon from nearly every stomach lurching corner. I started to count and then gave up wondering how many people it took to keep these havens of commerce thriving in a place that looks like you leave on vacation and come back to find your shop entombed with vines, centipedes and trees.
Unlike the arid peaks of the west the rain forest of the east crawls and hums with six, eight or hundred legged life all going somewhere and eating something. On the way back from a warm shower with a tiny button in the wall that you pumped ferociously to get 3 minutes of pressure, I found a centipede with a fringe of tiny yellow legs. These legs moved in a sinusoidal pattern from back to front. All the legs bunched together in one spot as it tickled along the ground and this bunched up spot flowed up its body in a perfect sin wave pattern. Beautiful in a squirmy sort of way.
I found direction there. Purpose for the summer anyway. Another summer of no money. A summer of rice, beans, Ramen Noodles and dreams. But dreams to chase that I'll never get to chase for years if I don't do it now. Someday I need to get a real job. Something that will take my soul from 9-5 and give me a decent living in return, but it appears that won't be this summer. I have settled on trying to sell at least three of my stories and perhaps write more to send out.
Lower priority but still a priority is to put my name out to do portrait photography and see what comes to me. Why not? Like the Italian in the little ivy covered restaurant pointed out. You try and if you fail you get down, do two push ups and move on. I like that. It's true. I have to try. I may fail but I'll never know if I don't hurtle myself down mountainside taking the challenges as they came. I prefer landscape/nature photography but why not try, I have the skill and a good camera and I can always stop when I tire of it.
At the top of a mountain one can prepare, mitigate risk, visualize success and enjoy the view but life isn't lived at the top. It's lived either climbing up or hurtling down. If I try to stay at the top it loses it's ecstasy. The view is made sweeter by the sweat, the agony and the sensuous experience of being physically and mentally engaged in the business of being alive.
- To Shel...
 |
| Dry Falls |
On down to Transylvania County. That's the place to go. Waterfalls that sent sound waves to beat your backbone, roar down gaps in sheer mossy cliffs. Forests that pulled in the mist like a breathy hint of lace and little towns with sweaty, bearded men driving trucks piled with rakes and shoves as well as alabaster skinned men in button down shirts, Italian leather and cars. I saw few women.
 |
| Out the Window |
Little restaurants could be found, covered in ivy, surrounded by green ponds, lit by candle and owned by people who came looking to run away from the life they had built for themselves and never went back. Gregarious entrepreneurs with more life experience than most have in 100 years and a penchant for kissing the women that visit their place.
 | |
| Horacio's |
Antique shops with brand new merchandise shyly beckon from nearly every stomach lurching corner. I started to count and then gave up wondering how many people it took to keep these havens of commerce thriving in a place that looks like you leave on vacation and come back to find your shop entombed with vines, centipedes and trees.
Unlike the arid peaks of the west the rain forest of the east crawls and hums with six, eight or hundred legged life all going somewhere and eating something. On the way back from a warm shower with a tiny button in the wall that you pumped ferociously to get 3 minutes of pressure, I found a centipede with a fringe of tiny yellow legs. These legs moved in a sinusoidal pattern from back to front. All the legs bunched together in one spot as it tickled along the ground and this bunched up spot flowed up its body in a perfect sin wave pattern. Beautiful in a squirmy sort of way.
I found direction there. Purpose for the summer anyway. Another summer of no money. A summer of rice, beans, Ramen Noodles and dreams. But dreams to chase that I'll never get to chase for years if I don't do it now. Someday I need to get a real job. Something that will take my soul from 9-5 and give me a decent living in return, but it appears that won't be this summer. I have settled on trying to sell at least three of my stories and perhaps write more to send out.
Lower priority but still a priority is to put my name out to do portrait photography and see what comes to me. Why not? Like the Italian in the little ivy covered restaurant pointed out. You try and if you fail you get down, do two push ups and move on. I like that. It's true. I have to try. I may fail but I'll never know if I don't hurtle myself down mountainside taking the challenges as they came. I prefer landscape/nature photography but why not try, I have the skill and a good camera and I can always stop when I tire of it.
At the top of a mountain one can prepare, mitigate risk, visualize success and enjoy the view but life isn't lived at the top. It's lived either climbing up or hurtling down. If I try to stay at the top it loses it's ecstasy. The view is made sweeter by the sweat, the agony and the sensuous experience of being physically and mentally engaged in the business of being alive.
- To Shel...
Sunday, April 4, 2010
My Meditation
Running, meditation.
The focus narrows,
The sensation of effort,
Sweat tickling down skin,
Music overwhelms thoughts
And each breath a prayer moving with the rhythm of being alive.
The focus narrows,
The sensation of effort,
Sweat tickling down skin,
Music overwhelms thoughts
And each breath a prayer moving with the rhythm of being alive.
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