I Still Love You, New York

I’m sitting on the bus, heading back from an amazing weekend in New York City. It is my first time back in about three years, and it had been a long time coming.

I love NYC, but it turned into a complicated relationship a few years ago. Back when I lived in DC the first time, I spent some time working a job in which I spent 3 days a week in Manhattan and 2 working from my home office in DC. It was a really difficult time in my life personally, and I was miserable through most of it. I was walking wounded, living in a daze in Manhattan, not happy and not wanting to be there. That was 5 years ago, and before this weekend I’d only been back to NYC one other time. And until this trip, it’s been hard to think fondly of it until now.

The Manhattan of this trip was different than the last, concentrated down to the West and East Villages, SoHo and Greenwich Village. There was no Midtown, no Upper West Side. Aside from a trip to the City Café on 18th with Jacob, a run along the Hudson River Greenway all the way up to 33rd, Friday night in Chelsea and Saturday night stops in the East Village, I never moved north of Waverly; never further south than Canal; never more than a 15 block radius of the apartment. In fact, the days seemed concentrated on four-block concentration between West Broadway and Bowery.

Weekends like this make you think; make you marvel at the way life can unfold. Drinks with friends at the Lakeside and Cherry Lounge in the Village, and raiding bodegas at 3 am can do that. I had brunch at Freeman’s with three great friends. We all used to work together in London five years ago, and now we’re all living in different places. And yet, here we were at a table catching up and laughing like old times. It was a genuinely perfect moment. And reminds me that even though school is rough right now, there is a world outside of it with people who care about me.

It’s a lesson I’ve known my whole adult life, but often forget: Time is a great healer. The pain and memories from hard times, difficulties and heartbreak get replaced with new experiences that can heal you, give you some good perspective. Sitting at that table at Freeman’s, surrounded by old friends, good food and good energy, reminded me of that.

You Have Nice Veins (Or: The Best Complement From an Anesthesiologist, Ever)

Last week during my clinical rotation, I was assigned to observe an open heart surgery (which was awesome and deserves a separate post, but HIPAA compliance prevents me) where one of the anesthesiologists came up to me and initiated the following conversation:

Anesthesiologist (pointing to my hand): "You have really nice veins."
Me: "Oh, um. Thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "Trust me. I'm someone who appreciates good veins, and you have good ones."
Me: "Ahh. Um, thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "No, seriously. I know people who work their entire lives to get veins like yours."
Me: "...Thanks."
Anesthesiologist: "I work out all the time and don't have veins like those. Do you work out? You must..."
Me: "I swim. And run."
Anesthesiologist: "Well, keep up the good work."

I'm keeping this conversation in my back pocket. You know, for those times are tough. Life may be kicking my ass on a regular basis, but you know, at least I've got good veins going for me.

Something Close to Grace (And I'm Not Even Religious)

It's pouring rain - the first time this season - and Yep, suddenly it is really, finally Fall. September 30th and for the first time this year it feels like Fall.

Students are walking through the lounge here in Leavey, shaking off the rain drops from their heads and umbrellas, dressed in jeans and windbreakers. Not a pair of flip-flops in sight.

Perhaps it is because of the weather that tonight I'm acutely aware that this experience is coming to a close. Thirteen months down an just three more to go. Holy crap. I'm giddy and relieved and scared and sad by this reality. School makes me anxious and fills me with dread and most of me wants it to be over. But on a night like this I realize that I will miss it very much when it is.

I sit in classrooms pouring over material that is more often than not difficult to grasp, yet I am surrounded by people and relationships I cherish. It can be as simple as a teacher making a joke, or a classmate rolling his eyes, or my partner in crime Lisa, reaching over to me during an ATI test, with a gentle hand on my elbow saying, "You're fine. It's going to be alright."

I called my parents tonight and had the typically short conversation with my Dad. Although brief, it seemed different. He seemed different. He asked how I was doing and I said, "You know, I'm surviving. It is tough and I'm stressed but getting by." Then he asked me if I was alright. I said, "Yeah, I'm OK."

And then he said, "You know, if there's anything you need, all you have to do is ask. You know that, right?" It was all at once so pure, loving, joyful and completely unexpected that it made me laugh. Genuinely laugh. And I thought back to that afternoon in April 2009 when I told him I got into Georgetown on a scholarship and he hid his eyes from me and started crying. I may not be the smartest kid here in my program, but who gives a fuck - there are people that love me and that I love right back. And this place, this program and me being a part of it is an amazing experience.

I've been here on campus all day - over 14 hours - and I have so much work I could easily stay another 5. But I'm looking out this dark window out at the football field, which is all lit up even now at 10 pm and I'm watching these crazy kids on it playing ultimate frisbee in the pouring rain and I think life is funny and this is a cool moment and maybe I should just enjoy it and give myself a break. The work will get done.

Open Letter to the Computer Lab Nerds

Dear Computer Lab Nerds:

If it were up to me, I would not be in here right now trying to finish up a report and print it out, but I don't have a choice. I'm here and you're here so let's get used to it.

I understand that the 5 of you are working on some kind of project together, but you're obviously not working on it that hard if you're sitting around your table talking about popcorn and candy bars.

So forgive me if I wish to spend a few minutes getting my friend Emily caught up on my activities over the last several hours, instead of typing on a computer.

But seriously. You can put a clamp on the weird, inappropriate and disapproving stares at us just because we've interrupted your Nerd-Fest. If I want to discuss with my friend the "quality" of my sex life (or lack thereof) and my explosive diarrhea, then goddammit I will. You don't see me hating on your thrilling conversations about peanut allergies and gene splicing.

PS - You guys look like the Nerd Addams Family.

Letting Go (Or: When Throwing Out a Pair of Shoes Isn't Really Only Just About Throwing Out a Pair of Shoes)

[RIP, faithful friend]

I did something Sunday morning of great significance and courage and defiance. I threw an old, yet favorite pair of shoes into the trash.

And right now you’re thinking: Old shoes in the trash? Big effing deal! So what?

Let me explain… It’s true that I tend to hold onto things for too long – feelings, thoughts, possessions, what have you. I just have a hard time letting go. I get ridiculous amounts of comfort from objects that have long since served their purpose. I own socks and pants and underwear with holes in them, but dammit they’re comfortable and make me feel happy. So sue me.

Right now, things are a little rough for me so I look for any small measure of comfort any place I can get it. Sometimes that comfort comes in the form of, say, a comfortable pair of jeans with a bunch of holes, or a pair of underwear in which the elastic has stretched out beyond purpose, or a Culture Club song from 1985 (don't judge, bitches). I don’t care – it gives me a little comfort and helps get me through the day. I’m simple like dat.

This is a problem, I know, because this clinging to the old and familiar also bleeds into every other area of my life, particularly emotions and feelings. When things are bad, I start to daydream about simpler times when things were good - it's only natural. I get sentimental over memories and spend too much time looking back when I need to be moving forward.

Anyway, six years ago I brought a pair of green low-top converse shoes (pictured above) as part of a Halloween costume. They soon became a favorite, and they’ve seen a lot of action. They’ve been a faithful companion to me for the last few years. We've had some good times together.

Last week I was wearing them at the library and I friend, sniffing something suspicious in the air, asked me “Is that smell coming from your shoes?” And the answer was: Yes, yes they are. So I put them away for a few days, knowing that a few days of airing out would freshen them up. (Because better to de-smell a pair of nasty-ass shoes then to simply replace them, right?)

Then on Saturday during my Portland visit, I was walking in the rain and realized that the holes at the bottom of the shoes were sucking up the water, drenching the bottom of my feet. When I mentioned to my friend Shauna that my feet were completely soaked because of this, she asked me a series of completely logical questions, like: “How old are those things, anyway?” and “Why do you still wear those?” and “Why don’t we just replace them with a new pair?” I tried to justify the reasons why I held on to them, but as the reasons came out of my mouth (“Because they’re comfortable.” and “They fit my feet really well.” and “Because I love them.”) I realized how ridiculous it all is. What, are these the only pair of green low-top converse available? Can I not afford the $30 it would cost to replace them?

They’re familiar. They’ve been a part of my life for the last 6 years. I don’t want to part with them because I crave the familiar. Familiar is comforting. Familiar is not scary and doesn’t make me anxious. Is that so wrong? Nevermind that familiar sometimes smells badly and makes my feet wet.

So anyway, the next morning as I was packing my back to head back to DC I put the shoes (still a little wet from the afternoon before) into my bag. Then I thought about it: It’s time to start letting go. So I took them back out of my bag and threw them into the trash and walked away. For a few moments, I thought about turning around and rescuing them back out of the garbage. But no, it is time to move on.

Things change. Life, circumstances and people do, too. They move forward, or sideways. Time marches on and if you don’t try to keep up, no matter how scary it seems, you’ll get left behind. And here I am, more often than not, clinging to the past like a lifejacket; a buoy in the sea. This is not a good place to be. I need to spend more time looking forward than hanging on to the past.

So you see on the surface the act of me throwing out a pair of old, smelly, hole-y and just plain nasty shoes is, well, nothing more than throwing out a pair of old, smelly, hole-y and just plain nasty shoes. But really, it is a symbolic act of changing my behavior. Of adjusting my attitude and outlook on life. It is an act of defiance; an act of bravery.

Goodbye shoes. You’ve lived a good life. But if I’m really going to start letting go of the past, it has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you. RIP, buddy.

Obligatory Complaint About the Weather

I know it's boring blogging about the weather, but Christ on a Bike I am so effing tired of this heat. It's the fucking end of September -- yesterday was the first day of Fall, for fucksakes -- and tomorrow is going to be almost 100 degrees? Fuck you. This was perhaps the worst summer of my life, and it won't ever end.

10 Things I Learned On My Whirlwind Visit to Portland This Weekend

[Avocado Daiquiri - How I've Missed You!]

1. When you know you’re going to Portland for exactly 39 hours to surprise a friend for her birthday it’s pretty much not worth it to tell most anyone else in town that you’re there. I mean, what’s the point? You won’t get the chance to see them anyway.
2. It’s a crime to spend only 39 hours in Portland.
3. I’m too old for the red eye.
4. Your life automatically gets better the moment you step into Powell’s Books.
5. Sarah Blasko’s cover of “Flame Trees” is perhaps the best song I’ve heard this year, and totally appropriate for this visit.
6. The boys here are prettier. True story.
7. The air in Portland at 7 am is unlike anywhere else, anywhere.
8. I forgot that an Avocado Daiquiri (pictured above) might be my favorite drink of all time. And yeah, I am aware of how ridiculous this sounds, but unless you’ve had one from Mint you just don’t get it.
9. It gets harder and harder for me to rationalize why I’m not living there anymore, each time I go to visit.
10. Team Lulu in 2011. It’s time, bitches.