Wu-Wei

Last night I went to yet another fabulous Fulbright party hosted by the incredible Dr. H (just being in the same room as her is inspiring). I am a lucky kid to be a part of such an invigorating group of intellectuals. The evening's host was Jose Cabrera and his lovely wife, and fellow aspiring Fulbright like myself, Naomi. Over a communal dinner of falafels and hummus, he shared his story via slide show of his year long art therapy based initiative in a small town in Mexico called Queretaro.

As the evening progressed we began sharing our own personal experience of the application process with the interested few. My life's taken so many wonderful and expected turns since then, but I wanted to take a moment to remember that adventure. I have been fortunate enough to have several moments in my life where I felt anything was possible and the Fulbright process was one of the best ones.

...

Being the spirited little go-getter that I was three years ago (and still am now) I marched right into my university's Fulbright counselor's office and planted myself on her couch. "Hi, My name is L---- and I want to do a Fulbright!"

I had next to no idea what I was doing or what a Fulbright meant or where to even start. I don't even think I had a project idea yet, but I just knew I had to have one! Three countries and many more ideas worth of research later I had finally found my destination: Mongolia. After having enthusiastically completed my studies in photography, art of Zen, and Buddhism I constructed my proposal (see next entry). Then an extraordinary thing happened...

After an exhaustive 11 months I had come up with a project summary, personal statement, several institute affiliations, a language requisition, 2 peace corps and 1 Fulbright contact in Mongolia. Communicating with people who have intermittent internet access and a limited knowledge of English on the other side of the planet was an accomplishment in and of itself. But as that finish line approached, and even though I received such positive and encouraging feedback from my letter writers and Dr. H, something had changed. I had changed. I realized something invaluable, something profound and world changing.

I realized I was going to be a doctor.

It was through that long, arduous, and completely self motivated process that I found my path to the most splendid future I could dream for myself.

With much deliberation and meditation I finally met with Dr H to confess my discovery. To my surprise she was the farthest thing from upset or frustrated, despite having put in such effort and time on my behalf. When I told her I had decided not to submit my application but to instead enroll in two years of post-bac classes so I may apply to medical school, she gave me a hug and cheered and was more excited than even I was at the time.

Fast forward three years, here I am sitting by the phone waiting to hear back from a perfect fit medical school after having completely rocked the socks off my interview. I can't wait for whatever adventures are coming next. Having gone through the Fulbright, having completed my solo shows, having not only finished but excelled in my post-bac curriculum, having earned a medical school interview.... not only do I believe I can do anything, I have the empirical evidence to prove it! :) So to that guy in the science building hallway three years ago when I was signing up for classes who told me that I must be dumb as rocks because I chose to get my bachelors in art.... BITE ME.

:)

ahHA

You're right, I'm right. And we're both wrong.

That was the discussion of a TED talk by Derek Sivers about opposites which I watched with a selfish, baggage-laden manipulator who thinks I'm a self-righteous deceptive egomaniac. He's right. I'm right. And we've both got each other horrible wrong.

But I find that refreshing. To know that out there somewhere is someone who thinks in polarity with me. I guess it's a manifestation of the balance in nature I so firmly believe in.

Today marks the end of the most philosophically intriguing relationship I've ever been in. I'm grateful to that person for that experience. And that it is finally over.

Amen.

This is Water

Snagged this from a brilliant friend's blog (thanks, B) and found it exceptional and worth noting here as well.

While you poke around aimlessly on the internet today, take a moment to ponder this*

Here the late David Foster Wallace captures what I have too discovered to be capital-T True in my own experience and hope this helps you find similar peace in yours.


* in case the link breaks at some point in the future: it's a column adapted from the commencement speech the author gave to a graduating class at Kenyon College, Ohio

If Anything

Recently I realized something unsettling about myself. The pleasure I get from watching things fall apart is unequivocal.

Perhaps pleasure is too morose a connotation than I am aiming for, perhaps it is merely a perverse fascination, or, perhaps, I have a small excitable engineer for a heart.

Watching breathtaking Buddhist sand paintings that take days to create get swept up immediately afterwards is an upsetting and profound reminder that it is just that, a pile of sand. But for that brief moment you forget its parts and imagine its whole to be extraordinary.

The opposite occurs when I watch building demolition videos. I imagine them like an opera set to Tchaikovsky. I forget that someone designed it, that someone's marriage inevitably suffered from long nights at the office there, someone there realized this was the wrong career for them, someone kept secrets there. All those stories tumble to the earth with the steel and concrete, but in the moment I only ever see rubble and dust, with Tchaikovsky undertones.

Watching the brain splicing of a frozen UCSD donor specimen researchers were making slides out of was an interesting one. You have this transition happening before your eyes where you're physically destroying one thing to turn it into something completely different while still, somewhat, maintaining its original identity.

Short stories function similarly. You take this one brief moment, this one thread of time, and immortalize it, give it retrospective significance that may not be entirely honest with the actual past event, if non-fiction. And in fiction, you wrap yourself in fantasy, you believe the imagined, invest in the figurative, and project a personal meaning onto another's words.

It's an interesting dissection of time and place, of illusion and reality. Makes me wonder what is "true."

If anything.

Sam I Am

Why is it that whenever I try to explain myself my explanation though true in the moment is immediately void of relevance and accuracy the second the words leave my breath?

They seem all at once honest and a lie.

I mean what I say when I say it, then, in retrospect it always feels -- not quite right.

Curious.

Nemesis

My book laid out some ground rules for prepping for med school. Oh yeah, I've gone ahead and canceled my MCAT and put all my eggs in the Creighton basket, realizing if I were waitlist-ed (worst case) I definitely wont have the motivation to pull myself through yet another gauntlet of test prep. Hells to the no. Let's be real.

So it says I should get in the best shape possible... translation, get my ass out of bed by 6 so I can at least attempt some weights-abs-cardio something. First goal, get out of bed. Second, find a routine.

Ahh routine... my nemesis. It's not that I don't envy those with routines, I do, but it's more like a character repulsion. It just doesn't fit with my person. I've tried to maintain them and I generally last on average a day and a half.

But, alas, I must try once again, for the sake of med school survival.

Routine!
6am - up, awake, ready to be productive
6-7 exercise/hang laundry that I forgot in the washer
7-7:30 get ready for work(class)
8-5 work (class)
5-6p unwind, go for a walk, tea, read the paper... something.
7-10 errands (study) etc.
10-10:30 get ready for bed
11p sleep time.

ok i'm realizing i need more time than that for studying BUT from what I gather class is only 8-12ish... so I could potentially do study time 2-8ish and unwind time after?

work in progress... let's just try getting out of bed first.

GOALS:
1) Exercise regimen
2) Taxes/Fafsa
3) Scholarship search + app
4) Clean room FOR REAL
5) Sit down and plan school budget, figure out loan options
6) Make time for spanish tapes... maybe during exercise time?
7) Get 2nd job (?) hmmm!!
8) figure out Cow Town's winter break 4 trip planning with fam

3.5

3.5 weeks to go until I hear from cow town.

Brushing up on Med School Confidential to get my mind off things.

Power of positive thinking!