Oh Hey There II

I just realized that my last post was on Valentine's Day, which was just over two months ago. How crazy is that? I know that it's been a long time, and I haven't posted because I've been extremely busy and I frankly just haven't been too desperate for an emotional outlet like this. I also can't remember what it was that made me write so much on Valentine's Day - not that I disagree with any of it, but apparently I was in a really great mood that day. Or it was Valentine's Day and I was pondering what it is in life that matters to me. That's probably more like it.

And here I still have little new to report - it matters to me and probably not much to anyone else. I worry that I've lost the habit of making friends, which is a pretty important one, because I work so much. Then again, I just care too much about the education to stop doing it. Take physics, for example - I used to be unenthused about it, but I couldn't write enough good things on the course eval form tonight after a really good semester of learning from someone who actually enjoys his job. It's also secretly one thing that really bothers me about the neurosci department - all the profs and students seem to have this crazy ego problem that seriously needs to be shot down to spare us all the drama. Looks like Z and I are two of the very few normal ones (and if you thought I was an egomaniac, that tells you something). It might just become my personal goal in the next two years to get at lease ONE of them to lighten up.

Also on the brain - how do people live like my roommate? She doesn't have any friends at school, after three years of being here. I think that would make me kind of depressed. That's not to say that I have a ton of friends, but I have someone to commiserate with over homework during the week and over a beer on the weekend. And if I find myself walking home from class at night, wishing I could share NYC with someone I loved, how must she feel every day?

I'm thinking of starting a new blog for my European adventures. Not that I don't love you, dear Iris, but you're one for the serious side of things and I don't need all this baggage broadcasted to my family when they ask what I've been doing in Italy and I tell them to check out the blog. I have four months to think of a catchy, meaningful title... If I were going to Spain it'd definitely be called "The Brain in Spain"... hm... "Little Me in Italy"? "Across the Pond with Gelato and a MacBook." lame. "Dense in Florence" may be more accurate. Must work on that. Also must figure out a better way to express an ongoing thought than with constant ellipses, since my life is an ongoing thought...

In the meantime, there is work to be done...

Different

One way that I have always defined myself is by being different. By thinking differently, feeling differently, and living differently, I've been able to separate myself from a lot of things that I don't agree with and don't want to be. It also helped me to succeed - despite my almost reflexive dislike for homogeneity, my ability to think differently allowed me to get ahead of people who were otherwise just like me in terms of social background, beliefs and customs.

Yet here I find myself without that shelf to rise above - there is no blatant common ground against the people who are now my peers. I love it so much more than wondering what else life has to offer, as I spent most of last year doing. But here it's harder to set myself apart. When there is such a wide range of thought patterns and backgrounds, my advantage of "thinking differently" has faded. It's a good thing, really, and I don't mean that I'm any more disadvantaged than I used to be. Here, though, I find people who can compete with me better than a lot of people in my past could - not just academically, but creatively too. For once in my life, I really feel that it's an even playing field, and I'm finally OK with being just like everyone else because it means that I don't have to be any one thing in particular.

Let me just say, before I go on, that I'm not trying to brag. I'm not trying to put myself on a pedestal, to flaunt the fact that I'm good at what a most people consider to be painful and a means to an end. This is just how my life has been, all facts presented.

This change in my advantages warrants a change in my outlook on life. I never had to fight that hard against competition because usually there wasn't much - I still loathe the idea of life being a rat race with only a few winners. But now I'm motivated to take myself where I want to be, and I realize that I will have to work harder on it from now on. Maybe it's different for us, the people who are sure they're going to medical school, because in a way this is just high school all over again - only instead of impressing colleges, we're living to impress med schools. My point, though, is that things are different. I could afford to be lazy before, because literally, as long as I read the book and/or went to class, I'd do better than 80% of the rest of the class. But finally it's not that easy anymore. Finally it IS a competition, finally I have to apply myself to rise to my capabilities. It's for me now - my success won't give me bragging rights, but it will matter only to my life in the long run. It's refreshing to know that this is all for me. If I want to do better than the rest, it's because I know that I can, and selling myself short will get me nowhere fast.

I've been bored for so much of my life. Suddenly, I now feel practically incompetent - the challenges presented are things that I've never seen before. No one is here to walk me through it, or to watch me plow through it when they expected me to crawl. I have to do it for myself, and as hard as it is, it's such a good feeling. If I can give myself the chance to to my best, I can feel truly achieved to be just as good as the people who are now trying to wear me down.

Maybe this doesn't make sense to anyone outside my head, anyone who thinks that I shelter myself by caring so much about education. It probably just seems that I have a craving to be the best, but what I'm trying to say is that it's not a simple competitive drive. This matters to me. Something finally matters enough again, to make me want to change myself to be better. Sure, there are so many things I still have to long for, but finally, I care.

Another Life

Third Eye Blind

People’s eyes say I’m no damn good
Shook down and left lonely
Only with the maybe we could
I stay inside cause I’m misunderstood
I can’t get no release

I’m shell shocked from some heavy blows
A stranger to the people I know
Who used to say “he never had a down day”
Now I’m holding on to can’t let go's
And silence brings no peace

Because another life
Went through my window pane
And I don’t know why
I’ve got a will to burn

In attic rooms I just shut my door
For seven weeks or maybe seven more
It’s like I face a seven headed whore
The fight’s knocked out of me

No measure for grief and I can’t find it with the sound
Break down, to the great god of the hand me down
Holding the past around, wound up at the lost and found
Where the colors all run to grey

I’m coming out of a down day
Colorized, the city’s plays a double feature today
Life is long and something is wrong
But I want to know what’s going on

In another life
Cause it’s good again
And it will never die
I’ve got a will to burn
To see you again
It’s like another life
It’s like I’ll not get better
Will to burn

Time goes by and I realize, that I’m alright
You thought nothing would be the same
But life comes round again
Quick wits and all curious
All caught up in what you say
And makes me grab the time
Before it slips away

I can’t stay and I cannot wait
And I’m grateful to whistle past a grave yard gate
The flicker fade is getting stronger
When the days start getting longer
I got the rhythm down now in the places we warred
The Golden Gate is like my diving board
And life is pointless
But what's so wrong with that?

Cause there's another life
And it's sweeter pain
And we will never die
We got will to burn

To see you again
Is like another life
I feel the whole thing happen
Will to burn

To see you again
Is like another life
I got another life
I got another life

The Puppy Song

Harry Nilsson

Dreams are nothing more than wishes
And a wish is just a dream you wish to come true

If only I could have a puppy
I'd call myself so very lucky
Just to have some company
To share a cup of tea with me
I'd take my puppy everywhere
La la la la I wouldn't care
Then we'll stay away from crowds
With signs that say no dogs allowed
Oh we... I know he'd never bite me
We... I know he'd never bite me

If only I could have a friend
Who sticks with me until the end
And walk along beside the sea
To share a bit of moon with me
I'd take my friend most everywhere
La la la la I wouldn't care
And we'll stay away from crowds
With signs that say no friends allowed
Oh we...we'd be so happy to be...
We...we'd be so happy to be together

But dreams are nothing more than wishes
And a wish's just a dream you wish to come true
Dreams are nothing more than wishes
(Your wish will come true)
And a wish's just a dream (Your wish will come true)
You wish to come true (Your wish will come true)

State Of Mind

Yesterday I walked through much of Manhattan, some parts that were new to me and some that were very familiar. It's quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do, just setting off in no particular hurry with just a few landmarks and plenty of time for wandering. I started in Chelsea (which, I decided, is mostly designated for the angst ridden aspiring twenty-something artists) and meandered through what I suppose was Hell's Kitchen to reach what might be called the Theatre District, which is basically due west of Times Square.

Then I turned right and went East until, after a quick stop at Chipotle, I wandered through the tourist traps and was pleased to see that they were all as satisfying as ever. I picked up the 6 somewhere in the 50's, and though I spilled some of my Starbucks on an innocent metro-rider (sorry to whoever to you are, but that subway was PACKED), I made it safely to 86th Street. I think that despite all the snob that the Upper East Side is guilty of, it's still one of the most beautiful places in this city (which is certainly saying something). Noticing that the temperature was dropping astonishingly fast, it was a relief to get safely inside my final destination: the Met Museum. Even there, it was fantastic just to wander. I was drawn like a magnet to the 18th/19th century European Art (I swear I didn't even look at the map, I just wound up there), and even discovered a lesser-known Monet that may just be one of my favorites (check out Ice Floes, but I'm sure it's nowhere near as impressive online as it is in person).

But I tore myself away from the paintings because I had really wanted to go back to the Egyptian exhibits - the last time I was there was seven years ago. I had to wander through Ancient Mid-Eastern art to get there, and was sidetracked by the cunieform and chimeras and hammered gold. Then there were gigantic Buddha statues (Chinese Art) and old pots and pans until I took a back staircase down into Egypt.

Most times, when I go to a museum, I try to avoid looking at all the little blurbs on the wall about the paintings because I was told once that doing so can change what you see, and that the artist would have never intended for that to happen. But in an exhibit about ancient culture, I can't help but read all the labels to find out about all the symbolism of their objects, how they were used and where they were found. It's just room after room of all the little tidbits that have been dug out of the dirt somewhere along the Nile, polished and arranged so that it's almost astonishing. My favorite room was one devoted to the objects found in the tomb of a king's three wives - their jewelry was better than a lot of what Tiffany's has today. And then of course is the famous Temple of Dendur, found in a room whose size is almost as amazing as the ruins it holds.

I regretted having to leave, in fact, because I had just come across American art and never made it to the Costumes exhibit downstairs. But of course I had made a promise to a friend to be home by a certain time, and at least walking across East 80th Street on a Saturday evening was certainly more than bearable, if not breathtaking...

Backwards

I'm worried. It's not because of me, or because of how the world looks, or how I see myself fitting into the world as it looks. Whatever, I'll deal with that. I'm worried because of how I feel - I'm starting to get annoyed at my mom for being sick. I hate admitting to this, because it makes me seem like one of those selfish 10-year-olds who can't handle when their parents don't pay attention to them because of more important things. I really hope I'm not like those kids, but maybe I am and have to own up to it.

It's not the cancer, but maybe that started all of it. Maybe I've gotten used to her never being quite right in her health, as she hasn't been for the past two years, but I think it's more recent because she's gotten a bad infection and now has a bruise in an inconvenient place because of a fall. Of course none of it is her fault, but she's starting to seem less and less motivated to ignore it and keep going with daily life. I think I'm just used to who she was for 16 years, the woman who never got sick and never had time to slow down for anything. And true, I cherish the fact that I know her as a person more than ever and she is just as great as ever in that sense, but there's still this new lingering sense of frustration.

Maybe it's just because I've spent too much time around my parents recently and they're getting under my skin the way they always eventually do, only this time I feel guilty getting annoyed at them because my mom is sick and can't help it. I don't know. Maybe I'm mad at whoever keeps on cursing her with all of these health problems, because she is the last person I know who deserves them. I do know, however, that part of what makes me mad is that she has no choice but to pay attention to these health issues, even though she used to be the type of person that would pop a few advil and move on.

Anyway, maybe it's just my moment to feel like a selfish child. I'm trying my best to ignore it, because I don't know what good can come of this.

On to better subjects - New Year's Resolutions. I rarely make them, just because I'm realistic about how unlikely it is that I'm going to follow through on some promise I make to myself just for the sake of doing so. But this time I am going to try to follow through, and not because it's something like, "go to the gym more often." In fact, that probably would be my resolution, if not for the fact that at school I go to the gym 5 or 6 times a week and therefore would have little room for improvement before veering off into the territory of obsession. No, my resolution this year is to daydream more. I realized that daydreaming used to be a big part of who I was, when I was younger - it was partly because I read so much and had so much imagining to do that I couldn't help but to take time out of reality to be somewhere else. It's really a good use of my time, because it's hard for me to break out of the habit of taking myself seriously, so I need to get back into this daydreaming thing. It also can kind of be a motivator: giving yourself the chance to imagine your world makes you want to see it in reality.

I'm also going to try to read Jane Austen's novels. Allow me to be frank, though, and say that my reason for doing this is mostly spurned from my newfound love of Pride & Prejudice. Likewise, in all fairness, what I really loved about the movie was the dialogue, so well written with fantastic vocabulary, timing and wit. Sounds like my kind of a conversation.

Perhaps this all points me into a trend of being more childish. OK, sounds good. I promise I'll be home in time for dinner.