Shaken Not Stirred

Monday, July 19, 2004

Table for Eight

I've gotta stop doing this, letting time lapse between my writing. It must be annoying for anyone trying to follow my blog to not see entries on a day to day basis.
Anyway, I've recently realized that my friday night dinner companions might be moving into more than just one night a week. We jokingly said we all needed more social interaction than just once a week. Everyone either works or is studying or both (I study and Shelly does both).
These outings are fun, a way to blow off a friday night--without being destructive like drinking. Well most of us tend to stay sober. One of us, who shall remain nameless just does some shots and insists somebody get up on the table and dance for her. But all in all it's a pretty good time.
I was talking with one of the Friday night dinner people and realize the reason it might be so fun is because we try to make out lives look less despearate and lonely by talking about other people, especially those who don't make it that night. I mean let's face it, we are all over 30, all pretty much single and all pretty much stuck in a rut. We'll I wouldn't say rut, but idling along. So it's fun to talk about how other people might be stuck in a rut, so that our ruts don't feel so sticky.
The place of venue changes from time to time, but the population of our table really doesn't. We've added a few new people. The more the better. Hopefully we'll have a whole restaurant going. That would be the best.  And then we could have new people to talk about in their absence.

Tuesday, July 13, 2004

I'm Back Not Back

I know that it's been awhile since I've written. I'm usually pretty good at writing and talking--it's an endless ride with me. I usually talk way too much, not shutting up and just letting go. However lately all I can think about is my upcoming USMLE exam. And it's driving me crazy. I can usually sleep anywhere at anytime (not like some sort of sleezebag, I mean truly sleep, with REM waves and Delta waves and all). Now, I lie awake staring at the ceiling wondering how many questions I will get in epidemilogy (something I barely know) or even medical ethics (which can be tricky--it's a whole different world in the hospital). And this is all I can think about.
It's like that song by Matchbox 20 "Unwell". I want to explain to people that right now is just not a good time. I know that when I'm stopped on the street by some friends and I talk to them, I must sound like an idiot. I've caught myself speaking quickly, almost like someone is hurrying me to keep going. And I know that I even might sound panic. When the person walks away, I know they are thinking "what the hell has he been smoking". The only understanding eyes I get are from people who are in the medical field or those who are also preparing for the exam. Then they just shrug off my actions as pre-exam jitters. But still, I do want to explain to people that right now really isn't a good time. But if they hang around long enough, they will see that I will normalize.
"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell, I know right now you can't tell... but stay with me awhile and baby then you'll see a different side of me..." It goes something like that right?

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

If You Hate People, You Hate God

One of my cousins was in town visiting. She and I can get a little weird when we are together. I remember in college, whenever I would gossip--which was a lot--she would always remind me, "If you hate people, you hate God!". Soon, whenever I would start to criticize or to make remarks about a friend, a passerby, or even a classmate, she would say, "What is our motto?". And I would have to repeat to her, "If you hate people, you hate God". It didn't matter where we were. She would make me say it. I sometimes would say it non-chalantly or under my breath depending on who surrounded us or what situation we were in. Many times we were in the Mountainlair, surrounded by all of our friends.

I think that this motto actually has heart to it. After all, as a strict Catholic, I have learned that God dwells in all of us. So to criticize someone, is to criticize God--and His creations. Carmela definitely had a point. To this day, whenever I start to gossip, she says, "What is our motto". And depending on where I am I either say the motto or whisper it under my breath.

I haven't stopped gossiping though. It's fun. My friend Saritha and I do it all the time. However we aren't vindictive. I mean we don't talk badly about anyone. We just tell each other our opionions of the other. And I don't think our conversations are harmful. Anyone listening to them would just think it's two people going in circles or just babbling on and on about everything, but mainly nothing in general. But they are the best conversations in the world! Better than chocolate or Funyuns with cheese dip.

Until another thought pops in my head... (did I just write about a thought or a melting of one?).

Monday, July 05, 2004

Defining Myself

I was watching "Six Feet Under" yesterday. It was the one with Nate's wife's funeral. In it, her nephews sang, "Teach Your Children" by Crosby, Stills and Nash. They said it was her favorite song. The family also had an argument about how she wanted to be buried.

Anyway, for some reason this made me think about how much people really know about me. I mean I don't have a favorite song persay--what would they sing at my funeral--would they sing and would anyone show up? I don't even know how I want to be buried--I do know that I have agreed to donate any usable organs, signed a card and everything. The least I can do for someone who needs parts. I don't know how good these parts will be, since I did smoke for sometime, although I've been nicotine free for a little over a year. However, while studying for the USMLE I found out it takes 15 years of abstinance before it is no longer considered a health risk factor. Woah, my lungs have a lot more time of recovery I guess. Anyway, they are up for grabs if something happens to me. But I still don't know if I want to be buried in a nice lovely field or burned to a crisp and shoved into a metal urn to be placed in a wall. I don't believe in taking up space, so maybe burning to ashes might be an option. Does it really matter? I mean I'll be dead. At that point I'll be worried about being pointed toward the upgoing escalator, the down-going one (please no!) or just wandering around (not good either).

Anyway, before I deviated, I was wondering how people fill out those profile things on places like or Friendster. Your favorite food, your favorite color, movie, song etc. I mean to pick just one thing. I don't think I can do it. I have an array of favorite movies and they range from "When Harry Met Salley" to "Hoosiers". Music? Don't get me started. I think I'm the only person I know that has Madonna's Immaculate Collection and Tim McGraw's Greatest Hits in my iPod. Two different spectrums of the rainbow. Do you think my all encompassing vast array in tastes has something to do with the fact that I'm a Gemini (the bi-polar sign)? Maybe! But I don't really believe in that, at least I don't want to. I would like to think that my tastes were governed by my exposure to things and my acceptance of different values, points of views and opinions.

Until another thought pops in my head...

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Panic City

So my exam is coming up this month. I've already done the panic thing. I've called everyone I know and complained, whined, extracted assurance and even words of comfort. I mean I don't mean to be dramatic (yes I do, I live for drama), but what else can I do to keep myself sane?

I've tried jumping the treadmill. It only works to get the energy out when CMT is playing something great! Something like Alan Jackson or Tim McGraw can make me run faster--great music to run to. Suprisingly Justin Timberlakes "Justified" is also great running music. Was completely suprised, but it keeps the energy flowing. But there is nothing like country music to keep a pace going.

I've noticed a lot more gray in my hair. Maybe it is true, stress can cause grey. My father, who remains relaxed at all times, has managed to keep from going grey. I've never seen the man yell, I've never seen him panic and I've really never seen him worry. And he has no grey hair. If you were to take photographs of the tops of our heads, you would guess his head of hair was mine and vice-versa. I mean there is a lot of grey there. I am thinking of splurging on some Clairol 209 (natural dark brown to black). I just don't like that smell. Plus I heard it makes your head itch. So not only will I have a fake dressing, but an itchy head.

I met some people taking the same exam at the bookstore today. Well not some people, one girl--who met other people there. It was relaxing to talk to someone going thru the same thing. It always relaxes me to talk to someone in the process of taking the exam.

Anyway, until another thought pops into my head...