Sometimes you feel like a nut...
Ah, leave it to the wise, old catch phrase of an Almond Joy commercial to represent the words of this introspective stream of consciouness.

I'm 21 now. There. I said it. I feel like such an "oldie," and I can't stop asking myself, "shouldn't I be smarter by now?" I always thought med school would turn me into a genius. Just like that. What I've found is quite the opposite. It seems the more you learn, the dumber you feel. I know I've learned a lot these college years...but still. Every now and then I'll laughingly look back on an old English paper from high school and ask myself, "What were you thinking!?" What will I say of myself four more years from now?

You know, I often "kid" with myself and others that I'm an oldie now...(ha! Oh, come on, that was a good pun...)..but I oddly enough find myself behaving more like a child at times. This evening would be a good case in point.

As I walked out of church tonight I couldn't help but notice the great change two hours had made in the weather. A cool, gentle breeze and a beautifully lit sky presented themselves to me. I had become so enthralled by the multicolored sky that as soon as I arrived at my car and slid into the driver's seat, my chin made rough contact with the top of the car door. "Owwww! That's gonna leave a mark!" I quickly turned around to see if a guy on a cell phone had witnessed the "incident," (as it shall henceforth be referred)and noticed a cautious half-smile on his face.

Awkward "incidents" like these have become a constant theme in my life. I become so absorbed in the world around me that I often forget there's something right in front of me. It has all become increasingly less and less amusing. Another example to prove my case? Very well, your honor.

I took a trip out to Oak Park mall this Saturday to spend some birthday cash that was burning a hole in my pocket (no more cliche's I promise!) I walked around that place so much my feet began to ache. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm extremely picky. If I don't find what I exactly want at a reasonable price, I'll refuse to buy. I'll walk and search as far as I have to. Into my third hour of shopping with only one purchase under my belt, I began to feel a bit antsy. I forced myself to walk faster (which with all those people was no easy feat!) and began to dodge around the "mom and kids," the bored dad, and the ubiquitous teeny boppers. As I "stepped up" (pun!) my brisk pace to "power walk" I began to glance around my surroundings (my first mistake). One quick glance at the mall's carousel and I almost ran smack into someone. We appeared to perform some type of mirrored dance in which she and I made squirrel-like movements in the same directions. Faking left, failing at this move and then going right hoping she would continue to walk in the opposite direction. Why is my head always somewhere else?

I was reminiscing of my childhood days during my birthday this past Thursday...As a child I had always wished for...of all things...a better head of hair. Anything would be better than the wavy, frizzy, tangled mess that continued to present itself to me in the mirror. At times my mom would cut it short, and I'd often find myself mistaken for a little boy. I was given a boy's prize in my happy meals...or the random father in the park would note, "No son, that little boy is using the swing right now." It's no wonder I became such a tomboy as a young kid. After "incidents" like these, I refused to have my hair cut short anymore and instead suffered the extreme torture of having the tangled mess combed each morning by my mom. "Mom! Pleeeeeeease stop! You make Stalin look like a saint!" As my mom would often point out, "Then let me cut it! Your hair is so wild!" I always thought I was too. Underneath the shy exterior I always believed there existed a girl waiting for just the right moment to rebel. For the time being, my hair did all the "rebelling" for me.

21 feels so old to me...but I know I'm still such a child in so many ways.

My tender chin and I drove home from church this evening with the windows down, and the speakers blaring Rachmoninoff. Not a care in the world, simply relaxing in the cool summer's evening Sunday had given me. I spotted lightening further down the road and began to realize why the weather had felt so cool. As the rain sprinkled down I refused to roll up the windows. Upon arriving home several minutes later, I took a quick glance in the bathroom mirror. A curious girl with damp, frizzy, tangled, disheveled hair stared back at me. I simply laughed and walked out of the room.

I don't wanna grow up...

Funny quote du jour:
"It's psychosomatic. You need a lobotomy. I'll get a saw." Calvin and Hobbes

Peace out~

Color Me Impressed
I realize that my last entry, as necessary as I deemed it, was a tad bit somber in tone. I plan to switch gears this time and talk about a wonderful thing called History. (Reader scoffs: “Boring!”) Wait! Please don’t leave yet! I know it sounds uninteresting, but give me a chance! (At least my high school History teacher would be proud...)

Anywho, allow me to continue tonight’s story. The last week and a half of May was my vacation, a respite as it were, away from the toils and stresses of medical school. After finals I arrived home late Thursday night only to wake up early a day later in order to drive all the way out to the East coast.

Roadtrip!

Not quite. You see, I was with my family...Packed in a van...for 15+ hours there and back...(it gets worse, brace yourself) forced to listen to country tunes...and my father’s continual berating of whoever was driving. “Turn right here! No, no, not there! And watch out for those cars!” Me: “What are you talking about! You just made us miss our exit! I was doing fine!” It’s a miracle we never crashed.

After a few days spent in Pittsburgh, we pressed on toward Washington, DC. El Capital! Casablanca! One of the places I’ve always wished to visit, but had not yet experienced. Two weeks in advance I contacted Sen. Bond's office to request some tix to sit in the gallery and see the Congress in action. Needless to say I was thrilled! I had been following politics since high school and now I had finally made it the site where all the action is! It was all very exciting and so very interesting, but not without its...er...moments.

We arrived safely in DC in the evening so we decided to get some grub and go to sleep early in order to catch the sights early the next morning. And we did. We left the hotel around 9AM sharp (hey, that’s early enough for me!) the next day. Our itinerary was full and I established early on that my dad was in one of his “moods.” “Come on, we need to get going!” Walking around in circles, clearly working and re-working the plans of the day over and over in his mind. He had been to DC like five times before, but he seemed more excited than even me! Our plan was to dash over to the nearest subway station and take the rail all the way downtown. Parking is a hassle in DC to say the least, so taking the subway was a favorable option. I actually happen to love the subway. I took it during my trip to NYC last year and really enjoyed it. Walking all over Manhattan looking for the next station to take me from the staten island ferry to "the Met," to Times Square allowed me to see so much more of Manhattan. (Plus, parking the car everywhere or hailing a cab would have dealt a real blow to my wallet) The subway rocks! But I digress.

As we reached the Silver Springs station on that weekday morning we couldn’t help but notice the “parking full” sign clearly displayed near the garage. “What if someone just left though?” So we went on in. Row after row was completely full as promised. “Oh well, we’ll just try and park at the next station down the line.” But life is never that simple. As we drove near the exit, we were forced to come to a stop behind a Nissan with California plates. The lady had her windows down and was taking her pretty little time talking to the parking lady at the exit. I could tell that my dad was already a little roused up so the potential that lay ahead unnerved me. He then angrily muttered,”Look, lady, it’s the same situation for all of us,” (two other cars had already pulled up behind us in the time it took for this California girl to step on it) “None of us can find parking so just let us GO!” Five seconds later the parking operations woman raised the bar for the woman to pass through. Much to my surprise (my heart skipped a beat), my dad in his rage furiously tries to speed on past parking operations along with the Cali driver only to come to a screeching halt as he realizes he can’t beat the closing bar as I scream “stooooooppppppp!” My dad then backs up to give the parking lady a piece of his mind. “Look! It’s the same for all of us! We can’t find parking! Just let me pass!” In foreign accent, “Sir! What are you doing! Everyone must stop! You must sign this paper before I can allow you to exit! You can’t just drive off like that!” Cut to me with my face in my hands, part embarrassed, part amused that he’s actually that ticked, and part relieved to still be alive. “I don’t want to sign your stupid paper! This is ridiculous! I’m not signing my name to a paper saying I was unable to find parking!” “I’m sorry sir, but this is my job. I can’t let you pass.” And on and on until he finally relents so we can leave. Two blocks and a headache later we eventually find parking somewhere else and take the subway on downtown.

(Does yoga meditation exercise) Ok, I’m better now. So the first thing you see when you get off at Union station isn’t only the historic buildings and the swarm of people, but two policemen, huge automatics cocked, ready at a moment’s notice. We walk further down the street only to find more of the same. “Scary,” I thought. “I feel like I’m in some Latin American country! Is this really what we’ve become?” My dad also remarked on the eeriness of it all. “It’s changed a lot since I was here last,” he added. But I guess a part of me expected it...near the White House...the Capitol...Just not right as I got off at Union Station. Perhaps someone important was just arriving by train?

We walked down a few blocks and finally arrived at the Capitol. And what a sight for sore eyes it was...to finally be there. To stand where so many have stood before. Yeah, I got real patriotic all of a sudden. Everything I had learned about American history way back in high school just suddenly meant so much more to me. To recognize and feel the great potential this country has to offer...to stand amazed and dumbfounded by how much this country has survived in spite of seemingly insurmountable obstacles...was such a privilege. It became one of the few moments I’ve really felt proud to be an American in the last few years. I just wanted to point at the place and be like, “See that! See it! That’s my country! And that over there! The Supreme Court building! That too! That is what we are about! Democracy!” Even if Bush is in office...he wasn’t going to spoil that moment for me. No way. I think all of us disillusioned liberals need to allow ourselves to experience something like this from time to time...it will undoubtedly strengthen your faith in America. Just read the documents at the National Archives...gaze at the Lincoln memorial in all its glory and read those last words, "And that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." It's all so inspiring. It's a great reminder that no matter how horrible things become, we will always have the power within us to change. Don't ever let someone tell you differently.

Anywho, so we entered the Capitol. Think airport security times two...but at least they didn’t make me take off my shoes. We stand in line for about twenty minutes waiting to get in the gallery and see the senators. People are excitedly chattering in line...”Hey, that guy that just exited said they’re debating about John Bolton right now!” And the children...oh the children. Is there a single place in DC where there aren’t twenty-five school groups? As we continue to wait our turn I begin to feel nauseous as I read the shirt of the girl in front of me. “I think, therefore I’m...Republican!” Wow...I bet you’re going to enjoy this debate on John Bolton. Hahaha...Then, out of nowhere, Sen. Lieberman comes walking past all of us. He could have taken the special senator’s exit, but I suppose he thought he’d give us common folk a thrill by walking past all of us to use the visitors' exit. Looking back on that I find it more than a little amusing that no one even yelled his name or asked to shake his hand. Actually that’s kinda sad...He’s alright, minus the whole Pro-Iraq war stance.

When we finally get in I’m hooked. It’s just like C-Span only ten times more exhilarating. (Yeah, I know, anything’s more exhilarating than C-span...hardy har har...) Barak Obama is there...so is Sen. Dodd along with Sen. Reid and Sen. Kennedy (shudders). I’m sorry, but even democrats don’t like that guy. Anywho, the cowardly Republican senators were apparently absent leaving only the Dems behind to plead their case against Bolton. It was so fun. If only I had been allowed to clap. Thought about making a scene. Could’ve landed myself on TV! I, of course, have far too much respect for the place to have done that...but it still would have been fun.

We went on to the White House (Abbas was there that day and we saw all the news people setting up their cameras on the front lawn), Vietnam memorial (for my mom), Lincoln memorial (gorgeous at night!) Washington Memorial, and the National Archives! Ended up having a blast, and was even asked directions while I was about to cross the street. (I love being mistaken for a local!) This happened in NYC as well, and I gave great directions, only this time...er...I made a tiny mistake. I sure hope those two ladies eventually found the White House!

So I had a great time...but I had yet to do one last thing. Get a souvenir! It’s a tradition I’ve started. Everywhere I go, I buy a t-shirt, so I run over to this guy’s t-shirt stand and begin to delve through the mounds of t-shirts...”Air force One” nah...”FBI” what, are you kidding me? I already look incompetent enough...Ah, this one looks good. Simply stated, “Washington DC.” As I go to ask the guy the price for one (apparently the deal is 5 shirts for 10$, but there’s never an even split for one) I see that he’s trying to help an Asian couple. It was so funny. Picture a stubborn, angry Chinese couple talking loudly with this rude Middle Eastern vendor. The Asian woman was a little plump and after consulting with her husband over quality she places a Medium size up against her to check the width and then hands it to the vendor to pay for it. The vendor then comments, "A Medium? Are you kidding me? Is it for a kid or what?" Ohhh...Burrrnnn! I had to turn around and cover my face to hide my laughter. Does this guy want to make any money at all? I mean, he's already getting killed by the vendor next to him who's selling 5 shirts for $9.99! I wait for a reaction. The Asian woman seems unperturbed however, and picks up another size. Finally, I go up and ask, “How much for this?” hoping he won't comment on my size selection. “Ah yes, this one is $5” So I pay the guy and set out toward the subway fully content with my trip to Washington.

You were beautiful DC! I’ll be back soon!

Next month, I’ll figure out which coast is better...San Diego here I come!

Peace out~

Funny quote du Jour:

"I imagine if you could understand Morse Code, a tap dancer would drive you crazy!" ~Mitch Hedberg

Extra! Extra!
"We have plenty of Confidence in this country, but we are a little short of good men to place our Confidence in." ~Will Rogers

The Face of War


This is what war looks like.

Not patriotic fervor. Not fanfare.

The face of war is this little girl holding onto her mother's hand for comfort. War is about this little girl and the countless others just like her who've been forced into the ugliness and cruelty that is war.

Childhood lost. Forced to mature beyond their years.

Upon looking at this little girl I begin to wonder. I ask myself what those beautiful brown eyes have seen. What has this innocent girl been through? What is her story? How many more are there like her?

When was the last time she smiled?

We have undoubtedly failed this child. We promised her our help. Instead, we gave the suffering lip service while secretly forming an alliance with the government of Sudan for our own interests. We labeled the whole thing genocide only to shy away from the word months later.

Earlier this month, Congress stripped The Darfur Accountability Act provisions from the war-time supplemental bill. All of this slipped under the radar two weeks ago in Washington. Where is the outrage? Where is the moral outcry? We have become silent. We stand aloof in the face of inhumanity.

When one thinks of genocide the words "never again" often surface in their minds, but in the case of Darfur "never again" has become "once again."

It angers me each time I read about these children. Whether it be the Sudan, Iraq, Afghanistan, Gaza, or Israel...They all deserve the right to life. Take action. Please. Write your legislators.

You may find a sample letter at the following website:
http://www.genocideinterventionfund.org/action/legislation.php


When asked how to change U.S. policy toward the genocide in Rwanda, U.S. National Security Advisor Anthony Lake said: “If you want to make this move, you will have to change public opinion. You must make more noise.”

Say a prayer for peace for all of the suffering children of this world. Then...act on it.

peace~

Quotes du jour:

The Second Coming -- W. B. Yeats

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

THE HAND THAT SIGNED THE PAPER FELLED A CITY

by Dylan Thomas

The hand that signed the paper felled a city;
Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath,
Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country;
These five kings did a king to death.

The mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder,
The finger joints are cramped with chalk;
A goose's quill has put an end to murder
That put an end to talk.

The hand that signed the treaty bred a fever,
And famine grew, and locusts came;
Great is the hand that holds dominion over
Man by a scribbled name.

The five kings count the dead but do not soften
The crusted wound nor stroke the brow;
A hand rules pity as a hand rules heaven;
Hands have no tears to flow.


Photo credit: Marcus Bleasdale
Read the story behind the photo at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/4517289.stm

Looking Up
In pursuit of privacy. What a naive idea it was. It was another incredibly beautiful day today so I decided to go relax in one of the parks on the plaza in order to gain some inspiration for a journal entry. It was the perfect environment, and I began to hurriedly scribble down my thoughts the instant I sat down. It was relaxing until thirty minutes later when company arrived.

"May I sit here?" "Yeah, I guess," was my response. You see, I was sitting on a rather large bench and was so involved in my writing that I neglected to realize that this could become a potential problem. (I really try to keep an open mind about people, but I really now believe that only crazy people come up and talk to me.) Only five seconds later dull conversation ensued. "Look at those protestors," he began in an accent I instantly perceived to be Middle Eastern. "What they are doing is stupid. The war on terrorism will never end." I stupidly engaged the conversation stating that they were protesting war in Iraq, not an end to terrorism. "I think what Bush did was right. I'm Iranian and..." blah blah blah But I was actually happy there for a minute when I discovered I was right about the accent...Iranian, you say? Yes! Of course the smile was short-lived. I made some reference to the Shah of Iran only to realize what a huge mistake that was. "Oh no, the Shah was a good guy. I liked the Shah," was his reply. Wow. People like you serve only one purpose: to prove to me that stupid people will always continue to exist. To make what seemed to be an incredibly long story short, let me just say this: after ignoring the guy for some five minutes he finally gave up and left. But only after a guy with a camera walked up to the bench and asked if I was all right. lol. According to him I looked uncomfortable. Sure I was, but not uncomfortable as in threatened...just another odd experience to add to my already extensive list of experiences...The following is the journal entry I had originally planned...

Ok, so this is probably a stupid question, but remember all those crazy spammed messages you used to receive way back when? You know, all those stupid emails filled with mindless non sequitur which promise a desired end result. i.e. "Pick a number between one and ten...this is the number of people you must forward this message to or your wish won't come true." Yeah, ok. OR my personal favorite, "Your crush will call you in the next thirty minutes if you forward this on." Uh huh. Trust me. If I need help with wishes coming true I'll go call Ms. Cleo instead of wasting my time with the "magic of email." I mean, at least Ms. Cleo puts on a hilarious pretense. She tries to make people feel as though she's clairvoyant with all her background incense(I swear she is high) and constant mystical forewarnings. But once again I digress...

The whole reason I bring up these asinine emails is that recently I had the pleasure of coming across one of these old, dreadful forwards in my old Yahoo account. It was a questionnaire from my cousin. You were to answer twenty questions (go figure) both inane and delving into the personal. I laughed at the responses I had written down back then (I was 14). Interposed between "Boxer or Briefs" and "Favorite color" was an actual thought provoking question.

"Who would you consider to be your role model/hero?" My cousin had put Janis Joplin. "Hmm...what did I put?" I thought. I scrolled back up to my response: "I'm not really sure. Perhaps just someone who follows their dreams." Hmm...Really Andrea? Really? No one out of so many came to mind? You couldn't have just put Gandhi or something? But that's when I realized that's really all heroes and role models are or ought to be. We don't need to put all these individuals up on a pedestal. We should simply admire their success and seek for it in our own lives. After all, these role models and heroes mostly started out like the rest of us didn't they? It is their motivation and passion which separates them from the rest of us. Modest upbringings. Grand ideas. They worked hard. They fought hard. With the help of many good people they achieved the impossible.

They never lost sight of their goals. And that's the real struggle, is it not? Indifference is rampant. Apathy overtakes the best of us. After witnessing so much evilness, after confronting countless obstacles, keeping our motivation and spirit alive is half the battle. So who are my heroes and role models six years on?

I could recite all the familiar favorites: Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela. Any of those three would undoubtedly accomplish the question. But after six years I truly do not think that my answer has much changed. I see Gandhi and others as courageous, great leaders of their time, but I still believe a role model can be anyone who fights for and accomplishes their goals (regardless of their press time or mention in the history books). They are otherwise regular people presented with insurmountable tragedy which their conscience simply cannot ignore. So they meet the challenge head on. And while they may not always live to see the fruits of their labor, they know in their hearts that in the end their cause will eventually succeed. In the transcending words of Gandhi, "There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall - think of it, always."

I think of Meena of Afghanistan. The founder of RAWA. She lost everything. Her family. Her husband. Her right to see her children grow up. Her life. Today her cause is still strong and alive. Most people may not recognize her name, but Meena is my hero. Meena is my role model.

My thoughts then turn to a young Pakistani by the name of Mukhtar Mai. Hers is a story all too common for women in her society. The story is horrible, appalling, lamentable, disgusting, and despicable in every way. She was sentenced by tribal council to be gang raped because of the alleged crimes of her younger brother. She had done no wrong, and most likely her brother had not as well, and yet the heinous act was carried out. But the horror does not end there. The perpetrators were sentenced to jail by an Islamic court, but their sentences were withdrawn shortly thereafter. According to the BBC, her assaulters were re-arrested just last week with the help of Musharraf.

Mukhtar could have easily given up on life. Many have understandably taken that route after such misfortune, but Mukhtar did not. She took the compensation money allotted to her by the courts and used it to build girls' schools in and around her village. Her life had been nearly destroyed, but these girls would be given a chance at a better life. How inspiring. Mukhtar had discovered something others had not. Through her example, Pakistan could embark upon change. No matter how horrible the world may be at times, life always goes on.

Words really cannot express the unbelievable tenacity of these two women. Their words and acts transcend the test of time and grant new hope to generations bombarded by almost constant adversity. May we not ignore their acts. May we be inspired to pursue our own endeavors toward reform. May we continue their example.

Change will happen. But only if we, too, embrace it. One person acting alone can't change the world...together we can.

"If you want change, fight for justice."



Funny quote du jour:
(In commemoration of April Fool's Day 2 days ago...)

George W. Bush: There's an old saying in Tennessee. I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee, that says: Fool me once...[pause]...shame on...[pause]
Shame on you...[pause] If fooled, you can't get fooled again."

~Peace Out~

Stop and smell the roses
?When was the last time you observed the departing sunset? When did you last make a conscious effort to recognize the abundant beauty that surrounds you?? I was indirectly asked this question this morning while at church. Now I don?t proclaim to be some learned, old sage, but occasionally I stumble across an enlightened thought. And because I happen to possess a fleeting memory I make it a point to hurriedly scribble down these revived or newfound understandings so that I may reflect upon them someday.

As I drove home from church, I took a moment to notice the world around me. I was astonished by all the buildings and scenery I had ignored on all my previous trips down this road. I had probably traveled that same route over a hundred times, but this time there was an unspeakable and indisputable beauty in everything my eyes had the pleasure of gazing upon. Without even realizing it, a smile had formed itself upon my face. For what may have seemed to be most peculiar to others, I was beaming. Have you ever done that before? Suddenly noticed that you were smiling without even realizing it? It has become a recurring occurrence in my life as of recently. It?s so easy to become depressed in the tedious lives so many of us lead. Discovering a smile on my face has become a pleasant surprise.

It?s almost startling how much beauty there is in everything we see. When I was younger, I used to believe that beauty only existed in a Monet, the Taj Mahal, or an intricate Tchaikovsky concerto. I could not have been more mistaken. Take a look around you sometime. The bright green landscape, the rustic countryside, a freshly cut flower, the most basic melody, a child?s smile?.all of these contain such unmistakable beauty. It's everywhere. One may even find beauty in chaos.

These understandings have revived themselves in my mind today. I have come to the realization that while I may not always find the happiness I desire in my life, I can at least be content in the knowledge that I am surrounded by beauty.

Right now I?m listening to ?Meditation? by Massenet. The violin?s vibrato is exquisite and is a fitting end to these ponderings of mine. My window is open. The blinds have been drawn up. From where I?m sitting I can see the brilliant, azure sky perfectly. In this minuscule apartment I have found the most serene ambiance.

I?m smiling again.




Take some time out for introspection.

Funny quote du jour
From Hitchcock?s "Rear Window"
Nurse:"Oh, dear. We've become a race of peeping Toms. What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change. Yes, sir. How's that for a bit of homespun philosophy?"
Jeffries: "Reader's Digest, April 1939"
Nurse: "Well, I only quote from the best."



Where do you find beauty?