who's gonna love you buried underground?

It's that time of the year. For most, school is out and time is being spent lazing around in the summer heat. For me, I'm taking review classes and studying harder than ever for my first round of medical school board exams. Plus, I'm getting ready to move. Goodbye Ken-tuck-eee, hello Miss-ee-sip-ee --- oh, how I have missed you; the deep south is something you just can't get out of your system. Two of my best friends are moving during the summer as well. Lots of change. The start of new beginnings. Preparing for another step in life. We will all be in new places and doing new things once this summer draws to an end.

I have spent too much time this evening staring blankly around my bare living room and quietly daydreaming about where I will put all of my things in my new house. With all of my art and mirrors and shelves removed from hanging on the walls and now propped up against the walls on the floor, it almost looks like I am attempting a new style of decoration. I really want/need to downsize. I have recently discovered a few blogs based on decorating small spaces, and the creativity is outstanding. It makes me want to throw all of my things out of a window and start fresh with less. Alas, I have not reached a point in my life to have the monetary ability to be so spontaneous.

Le sigh. I hate to talk about money, but let me get this off my chest - I am very poor at the moment. To be pursuing such a prestigious, well-paying, socially-highly-ranked career, it sure takes a long and miserable amount of time of being poor to get there. Our school does not allow us to have part-time jobs; they say being a student is our job and we are expected to spend every second of our free time learning something. It makes sense - you want your doctor to know as much as possible, right? I just miss being as carefree and spontaneous as I was in college. Granted, I was never wealthy, but having a job, making my own money, paying my own bills from my own hard work.... that felt a lot better than living off of loans. I just have to get through these next two years... and I hate rushing my life like that. I want to enjoy every single day, but that is hard to do when school completely runs your life and bogs you down.

Alas, these next two years have a lot in store:

-One of my best friends is getting married this winter, and I have the honor of being a bridesmaid.
-This is my wedding planning year; one year from now I will be married to the love of my life. I have purchased my wedding dress, but for the life of me I cannot decide on bridesmaids dresses. Good thing I have plenty of time...
-Said love of my life has an interview for an amazing job opportunity coming up soon. I can't wait to see where this takes us.
-If I can make it through this summer, I will officially be DONE with taking classes as a student, and the rest of my education will be hands-on, in the hospital - I am extremely excited about this.
-I don't know where I will be living once married next year, where I will be spending my 4th year of school, or where I will be once I graduate. That is scary and exhilarating at the same time.

My life at the moment is crazy, weird, complicated, unfair, difficult, depressing, exciting, uncomfortable, exhausting, and completely wonderful all at the same time.



I stumbled across some old college pics. For some reason, I am completely obsessed with this one. I miss those days.

{insert random song lyric here}

I'm not a very good "blogger".

In high school, it did not take long for me to abandon Diaryland.

In college, I mostly used MySpace to stalk my future husband (love you honey).

I once started a blog intending to keep a record of my process of applying, interviewing, and trying to get accepted to medical school. I complained about things that were hard, gave advice to anyone willing to take it, and tried my best to give a detailed account of exactly what has to be done if you want to be a physician (because a lot of it is very complicated). I had some followers, but eventually I got lazy with it, I forgot my password, and I have now even forgotten what website I used for it.

Now that I am in medical school, I am too busy. The world does not need to know what I do every single day, how I feel about everything in existence, or have a thorough description of my likes and dislikes and musical taste and political opinions. But... sometimes I want to write things, whether everyone or no one reads them.

I am jealous.

I am jealous of people who write so well, who describe the most boring hours of the day with so much emotion, who spill their feelings effortlessly into words somehow, who paint pictures of their lives with sentences.

I was once better at using words, putting the right ones together to get the right effect. I have never been artistic or talented by any means in writing, but it used to be something I secretly enjoyed and was relatively good at. I always wanted to be better. Writing is just one thing I want to improve. I have a list of things I want to do, to accomplish, to learn, to see, to experience. But instead... I pursued my "lifelong dream of becoming a physician". God help me.

Medical school has been the most dream-crushing, soul-killing, reality-hitting-you-like-a-brick-in-the-face-every-day, stressful, and brain-numbing experience of my life.

I can just see my 8-year-old self reading about the brain and the heart in my mom's collection of encyclopedias, dreaming about knowing everything there is to know about the human body, imagining what it would be like to do surgery, to see real organs, to make dying people live again. I imagined patients being grateful for my help, I envisioned a team of other physicians and nurses working by my side to conquer a complicated medical problem, and I had no concept of money at all.

Sixteen years later, I am in my second year of medical school, and it has not exactly been a dream come true. More patients today sue their physicians for the silliest, tiniest reasons than ever before. No one trusts their doctor. People do everything they can (some even die) before they will go see their doctor. Physicians aren't allowed to touch patients at all without explicit permission. Physicians have to follow strict rules set by insurance companies, and they have a minimum number of patients they are required to see each day. If they don't meet their minimum, they don't get paid by the insurance companies. Patients do not know this. Patients whine and complain and make a scene if they are not seen the minute the clock strikes their appointment time. It is not the physician's fault if they have a patient or two that has a problem serious enough to take up a couple of extra minutes of their time. They have to take care of them, even if it means the next person in line has to wait a little longer. I admit, it is annoying, and even I don't enjoy having to sit in a waiting room for two hours. But a physician cannot just kick out a sick patient once their 15-minute-visit-time-limit is up. They need help, and physicians are there to help them. Everyone needs to stop being so selfish and impatient. Nurses... I have the utmost respect for them. However, if you want to be a physician, go to medical school. If you want to be a nurse, go to nursing school. Trying to wiggle somewhere in between is not fair to patients and not fair to physicians. I am happy that nurses have the opportunity to continue their education and obtain doctoral degrees in their field, but it is extremely confusing to patients to have a nurse that introduces themselves as "doctor..." and it is frustrating to all physicians that nurses are trying to make new educational programs that will allow them to do things that formerly only properly-trained physicians were allowed to do. I will get off my soapbox on that note. Now for my rant on other physicians. Medical school students are naturally competitive. We have had to work harder than our peers for most of our lives to make good grades, be recognized in our communities, and work our way up the ladder of educational accomplishments to work towards our career goal. However, once we are all out in the real world working in hospitals and clinics, we need to work together. I mean, we all have a common goal - make people better. If one physician is not sure, they should be able to consult with others. Competition between physicians should not affect a patient's well being. Either this is getting worse in the field of the medicine, or it is just starting to come to my attention. Either way, it needs to stop. Everyone needs to work together, as the cohesive team that I envisioned as a child. Ok, money. I think I was in 7th grade when it dawned on me that physicians made pretty good money. I grew up imagining being rich one day if my dreams came true and I was able to be a doctor. This, too, has been crushed. Physician salaries have leveled off. They are not going up, but the cost of living and the cost of working as a physician (insurance, equipment, staff, etc) are going up. Also, insurance companies are not reimbursing as much. And to top it all off, medical school tuition is also going up. If I start my job as a physician at age 30, I will not have my loans paid off and start making the "good money" until I am probably 50. How disappointing is that? All of these years of hard work and good intentions, and still I must wait for my reward.


I am sorry for the negativity. Stress and the disappointments of life in general have just been weighing on me pretty hard lately. I will graduate at age 26 and complete by residency by age 29 (if all goes well). I have not yet taken a break from school, as I have transitioned immediately from high school to college to medical school. I have completely dedicated this decade of my life - my twenties, my young adulthood, the prime of my life, the time when I should be making my biggest life mistakes and learning from them - to school. I have not had the life of a typical twenty-something. I study on Friday nights instead of going out and my idea of a vacation is using any spare time I have to visit my parents.



I just hope this turns out to be a good investment.


Maybe one day I will be able to go home and actually relax, and maybe I will have time to have a hobby. Maybe I will start to write.

let's cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene

The past 48 hours have been the most surreal of my life. Three months of separation - I forgot what it was like to be kissed, to be held, to be looked at that way. Bad dreams and nerves and anxiety made it hard to sleep and harder to eat. Getting there wasn’t as bad as coming back. 5 hour drive to get on a plane, two hour flight, one hour layover, one hour flight, one hour drive to the hotel. I was excited, couldn’t wait to get there, happy the whole way… so excited that I couldn’t fall asleep once I made it to the hotel. i dozed off around 3 am, beginning a cycle of sleeping and waking throughout the night.

He was still himself, not going to be any different besides the haircut and clothes… right? I guess I had that fear in the back of my mind that he HAD changed, that he would think differently, have new opinions, maybe not be as impressed with me as he once had been. Paranoid, but the thoughts were there.

I didn’t eat breakfast, barely sipped coffee… I was ready to go. The morning went by fast and the ceremony was short and sweet. I almost fell over the balcony trying to watch him walk across the stage. I was so proud of him. More than I’ve been proud of anyone for anything. It’s a little hard to believe that less than a year ago I was threatening to leave him if he signed up for this. But my love for him was greater than my fears, and I eventually had to let him do what he thought was best – and now, I couldn’t be happier for him. I am still scared to death of where this is going to take him and if it will take him away from me and for how long… I’m terrified of having to spend a year or more apart while he serves in another country. I try not to think about it, but how can you ignore something that is a very real possibility?

After the ceremony, I literally had to push my way through the crowd to get down the stairs and find him. I was shaking and really didn’t know what to expect. I was excited. I was nervous. I was happy. I was scared. But then… there he was. Every negative thought vanished the moment I laid eyes on him. Running towards him I felt like I was dreaming… someone stepped in my way and I pushed them aside without even thinking about it… no time for interruptions – I had to get my hands on him. I don’t even remember the second I got to him. I just remember being in his arms again and not being able to see or hear anything else going on around us.

In the four years we have been together, I have become an expert at reading him. I know how he’s feeling or what he’s thinking by the look on his face and the tone in his voice… but that day I had no idea what was going through his mind. Maybe he was tired, maybe he was just tougher. It worried me though. I tried to hold his hand and he flinched…. it pulled at my heart a little and I got scared, but he made up for it by putting his arm across my shoulder and kissing my forehead, and he told me we had to get out of there first. Apparently one is not allowed to show any form of public display of affection while in uniform. I wasn’t even supposed to hug him the way I did earlier. =) oh well.

Back in the car I felt safer and happier and closer to him. I could hold his hand and lay my head on his shoulder. You don’t realize how amazing those small things are until you are deprived of them for three months. I would hate to have to go a day longer than that. Just being close to him and being able to touch him and look at him in real life instead of a picture made me ecstatic. He was too handsome for words in his uniform, and I hated to see him take it off, but back at the hotel he was ready to wear jeans and a tshirt for a change. I don’t blame him. I took pictures of him dressed up and let him get comfortable so we could go out to eat. He still looked amazing to me…. And he did look different. He’s always been a jeans & tshirt guy, but this was not the same. What had changed? Muscles. Oh yes. He has them. I’ve never, ever, in four years seen him fill out a tshirt the way he did that day. Got my heart pumping a little bit faster and I couldn’t keep my hands off of him the rest of the day. I was constantly holding his arm or his hand or had my arm around his waist. I have to wait another two months to be with him again, so I wasn’t going to waste a single second being more than two inches away from him. One thing I did more than touch him was stare at him. I hadn’t seen his face in so long, and I was making sure I had it rememorized before he had to leave again. He still had the same amazing eyes and perfect teeth and charming smile, but one thing I had to grow accustomed to was his hair. His long dark hair has always been one of my favorite physical things about him, and now it was gone. The last time I saw him, it was about 4 inches long and I could run my fingers through it… this time, it was no more than a millimeter. It revealed a scar I had never discovered before, and that made me think of how much I still have yet to learn about him. It’s amazing that people can be together for years and still discover new things about one another.

Before we left the hotel room for lunch, he stopped me and put his hands on my neck and looked at me with so much love in his eyes I almost started crying. He told me I was beautiful, he pulled me closer to him, and he kissed me. Our first kiss in three months. It was so perfect, exhilarating, surreal; it didn’t last long enough for me to realize it was actually happening. That alone made the time and money invested into my trip worth it. Worth every penny. Worth every mile. Worth every minute. We finally headed out and spent some time in the real world. I could barely eat but watching him enjoy his food and talk to his family and play on the internet on his new phone made me happy. He was in a good mood and enjoying the moment. I couldn’t stop thinking about all he had been through the past 9 weeks… constantly being pushed to the limit physically and mentally and emotionally, being yelled at and talked down to, shooting guns and throwing grenades, barely sleeping and always being rushed… I was happy that he was finished and that he made it through safely. In the hour it took to enjoy our lunch, I probably thanked God ten billion times for keeping him safe. I never thought I could be as happy as I was sitting there with him. Again, it didn’t seem real. It was too good to be true. Too perfect to be real. But it was.

Coming back from lunch, he seemed a little more relaxed and my nerves were calming down a bit. We were heading back to the hotel room, alone now. But, although I came in the building calm, I started to get nervous again as we stepped onto the elevator. Neither of us said too much…but he stared me down with a look that made my heart almost stop. He wanted me and I wanted him, and that look said it all. Leaving the elevator and walking to the room seemed to take forever. He was kissing me and flirting with me and I thought the butterflies in my stomach were going to fly me away. Back in the room, it got quiet. It had been too long since the last time we were alone together. We took off our coats and our shoes and sat on the bed staring into one another’s eyes for a while, and then wrapped our arms around each other and didn’t let go. We didn’t need anything else at that point. I wanted to stay there in his arms with my head on his chest forever.

We spent the afternoon hugging, kissing, laughing, talking, watching tv, and even taking a nap. I could have done without the last two, but he had not seen a television since August and was exhausted. I watched his face as he watched tv, and I laid by his side and held him close as he slept. I was overwhelmed with the fact that he was mine and I was his, and that I was actually with him. I cried a lot too. I cried from happiness when we talked about how much we loved each other and missed each other and our plans for the future. I cried from sadness when we talked about how tough it was going to be when he had to leave again and how we had to wait until Christmas to be in the same place again. I talked a lot more than he did, but he was tired and I was just full of questions. We ignored our phone calls and text messages all day. No one else was important while we were together. Our time was too limited to spend on anyone else.

7 pm came too soon. He had to be back on base by 8, and we still had not had supper. He quickly got all of his things together as I sat on the bed and cried some more, and he sat there with me for a while attempting to calm me down. I couldn’t stand the thought of having to drop him off. He eventually dried my tears and we had to go. We stopped by Subway to get some food, and I couldn’t eat mine. Just the smell made me nauseous. I felt sick from being so upset. He made me get my food to go so I would have something for later. He was still in his jeans and tshirt, but had to be in uniform when he was dropped off at base, so he climbed in the backseat and changed clothes. He said it was too uncomfortable to wear for very long, so he was waiting until the last possible second.

It was hard to breathe as I drove him back. I tried to just focus on the road. Looking at him made me tear up, thinking of leaving him made me feel sick, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing either. I found a parking spot near his dropping off point, and we still had 15 minutes before he absolutely had to get out of the car and walk away. He hugged me and kissed me and I cried and cried and cried. I was an absolute wreck at this point. When we had 5 minutes left, we got out of the car and hugged and kissed and cried some more. I finally had to let him walk away, but he didn’t get very far because I chased after him and had to have one more hug and one more kiss. But that time, that was it. Our day was over. Our two month wait had to begin.

I couldn’t breathe and couldn’t think and couldn’t do anything but stand there and cry as he walked up the sidewalk and into the building. I’m not sure how I walked back to the car and drove back to the hotel. My stomach was in knots and my head was throbbing and my eyes were puffy. I couldn’t sleep. When I tried to get on my computer, it died. When I tried to use my phone to text him one more time, it died. When I tried to use the hotel room phone to attempt calling him to hear his voice one more time, it would not connect. I broke down for half an hour before I could pull myself together enough to make a trip to walmart for a cell phone charger. I was so mad at myself for forgetting to pack my chargers. When I finally got my phone working again, I was able to text him for a little while before he had to go to bed. At that point I was at the absolute bottom of the emotional rollercoaster I’d been riding all day.

I cried myself to sleep just to wake up in four hours – at 2:30 a.m. – to leave the hotel and head back to the airport. It took an hour to get there, I had to fill up the rental with gas and then turn it back in, and then get through security before my 6 a.m. flight. The airport was already full of guys from his platoon that were catching flights earlier than his. Some of them actually recognized me from the pictures he had in his locker, and they were excited to meet me after hearing him talk about me for 9 weeks. =) that made me happy, knowing how much he talked about me and missed me. I congratulated and thanked them all, and moved on to my gate. Several guys begin filling up the seats in nearby gates and a few were even sitting in my area. When I finally boarded the plane and found my seat, I just happened to be sitting right next to one of his buddies that I had just met. He told me he was sorry he couldn’t trade flights with him so he could have spent more time with me. I was happy to be sitting with someone that actually knew him instead of a total stranger that wouldn’t understand why tears kept rolling down my cheeks. We talked for a few minutes before I decided to catch a quick nap. The rest of my day involved another layover, another flight, and a 5 hour drive back home. I cried almost the entire time. I would cry until my eyes couldn’t cry anymore, and I would feel numb for a while before some thought went through my mind or some lyrics on the radio triggered the tears again.

I was able to talk to him a little bit more via text messaging at random times throughout the day, so that helped me get home a little easier. I couldn’t stop thinking about how fast everything went by and how it all felt like a bittersweet dream. I wanted to go back to being in the hotel in his arms and never ever leave. But I had to move on, I had to get back to school and focus 110% of my attention on studying, and then Christmas would be here in no time. And when we’re home for Christmas, I’ll have more than a few hours to spend with him. I’ll have a few days, and that is what I am looking forward to the most right now.

I finally made it back to my apartment. I was literally numb and exhausted from driving and being upset. I spent the rest of my day on the couch trying to focus on just the happy moments we had together in the last day and trying to block out how sad I was about leaving him. It is so tough, and actually physically painful, to be away from him. Call it ridiculous, call it obsession, call it love… but it really hurts. I watched a movie, watched tv, wasted time on the internet, texted him a lot to check on his progress getting to his next post, and before I finally went to sleep for the night he called me. =)

I survived three months without him, and this time it’s only two. It’s not going to be any easier, but I know I can handle it and I know this Christmas will be the most amazing one ever.

perfection that others would kill for

she walks by quietly... all alone and obviously absorbed in her own thoughts. she wakes up each morning wondering why she has to wake up... she remembers why. she wants to learn, she wants to do well, she wants to achieve her dreams. she dreads the day... familiar faces along the routine path do not turn her way... so she watches the squirrels and she breathes in the air and she pauses to feel the heat of the sun pressing gently on her cheeks. there are no enthusiastic greetings to be enjoyed... yet the rare instances in which someone smiles at her are relished and desired... she longs to be acknowledged... to be heard... to be seen... she wants a friend here. someone who will run up to her with such excitement that it takes her breath away... but for the moment she is satisfied as the breeze lifts her hair from her shoulders. she is happy to be alone in this moment... she is entirely content as she keeps a steady pace walking along the sidewalk... she observes those around her... the couples holding hands and laughing at every word spoken... the guys with their tucked-in polos and sunglasses... the girls with the over-sized purses and glittering cell phones that seem constantly glued to the sides of their beautiful faces... beautiful... what is beauty? she has been termed "beautiful" more than once before... yet still she stares in the mirror each day in a desperate attempt to find what is beautiful. she is nothing like the girls she sees on the sidewalk... they do not accept her for who she is... they look down on her, but she pays them no attention... murmurs of conversation surround her, and she finds herself wishing to be a part of one... but... she loves to think... she loves to analyze... the silence of being alone lets her do this. she reaches the end of the walk... she reluctantly brushes away her thoughts and snaps back to reality... people rushing in every direction... late for class... but she is happy.

all of the parts are the same on every face

...pulling her thin jacket tightly over her chest and letting her sleeves cover all but her cold fingertips. she would rather freeze in the wind beneath the shade tree than move to the sunny spot three feet to her right.... the warmth would only remind her of him and of the days they spent laughing in the sunshine while he pushed her gently on the swingsets at the lake... she is not in the mood to think of such things.

where are the people today? it is early... it is quiet... a voice is heard in the distance, and she looks up slowly with a gleam of hope in her eyes... the voices fades and blends with the sounds of leaves rustling and birds chirping... the sun hides behind a cloud and she misses its presence.

she needs something new to keep her occupied. her mind is bored with her surroundings. same faces. same stereotypes. so she enters the building... tiny dim hallways lined on either side with alternating doors and posters... she sits down and smiles. she loves being alone as much as she hates it... she reaches for her pen and paper, and she wants to scream... but she forces another smile and thinks of daisies growing wild in a field by the highway...

passing through unconscious states

she sits and she listens. looking through her camera she sees the most beautiful potential photographs yet captures none. watching the half-dressed girls throw themselves at half-drunk guys. it's fascinating the way their brains work. no one will ever know why. they push her around in the crowded hallway but they don't know she's there. she's just watching and waiting. observing and laughing. the smell of alcohol and smoke hang heavy in the air and she almost can't breath. she wonders why she came... she wonders how she'll leave. "so you're not drinking? why did you come?" they notice her. they glare at her. their questions beat her into the wall. she longs to be ignored again. she just wants to blend in. she doesn't want to be noticed. innocent excuses pour from her lips. they smile and turn away. she feels no temptation to act as they do... she just needs her fix of claustrophobia and then she's ready to leave. a silent sigh of relief escapes her mouth when her feet reach the door. the cold air slices through her entire body when she steps outside. it feels so clean. it feels so pure and untouched. she soaks it up and hopes it washes away the feelings she has felt. her ears and fingers hurt from the cold... and she savors every moment. the walk back is long... enjoyable...needed. the darkness and the silence and the winter wind is all she needed to begin with. so why waste time? she can't answer that. but for now... she doesnt care.

you are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me

she saw him there... her heart skipped a beat. it was expected and it shocked her anyway. he smiled at her... she wanted to run away as much as she wanted to run into his arms. if only she could go back in time, one month.. maybe two. then she could throw herself into his warm embrace without a second thought. today was different. oh well. ignoring him hurt... she hugged the girls and laughed with the ladies... trying to look as put-together and calm as possible. her heart beat faster as he came closer. she felt his presence near her, and something pulled her gaze towards his. staring and smiling, she felt happy for a moment. he looked untouched by the situation. exchanges of "hey" and "how are you" passed quickly. time had slowed down... she almost wanted it to stop altogether. they sat down and she regained her composure. sitting together was awkward for her... it just felt... different. well they talked, they smiled, they were just happy for the time being. afterwards, they stood together in the warm sunshine and finally let their feelings out... but now they are happy. everything will be ok... even if her heart never mends. she will always be happy knowing that the piece of her heart that is missing will forever be in his possession.