I Wanna Go To College For The Rest Of My Life, Sip Banker's Club And Drink Miller Lite

Today marks a day in the history of my career in the medical field. I got my first chemical burn. On my index finger of my right hand. At first, I didn't realize I had hurt myself. It burned a little but I wrote it off like it was nothing. Needless to say, it's taking me a little while to type now. I didn't think it was a big deal though. It comes with the work, right? Nah... probably not.

I can't say I've always wanted to be a doctor. I actually wanted to be a lawyer until I was 10. Then, a year long period where I wanted to be a writer. Another year after where I wanted to be a housewife. Two more years of not giving a damn. Then, around 14 years old I decided I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to save lives. And, that's what I'm in the process of doing. Trying gain all the knowledge and the skill to keep people living. But, to be honest with you, it might kill me in the process.

I enjoy science and math. I love that no matter how many ways you do the problem, 2+2 will always equal 4. That even though it goes against basic logic, when an agent is reduced, it gains electrons. You're either right or you're wrong. Sometimes I wish the world could be that black and white. But that's just the control freak in me.

The only thing that gets me about this profession is the stress. I hardly have my feet in the water and the tide is already close to pulling me under. You have to submerge yourself in it. There has to be a dedication there. And, I have already seen myself devote more time to learning. It's gotten to the point where effort is necessary. I have always been one of the smartest people around. It's obvious. I excell and this shit comes easily to me. Not anymore though. I have actually had to try and I realize it will only get more difficult. Boy, is that hard for me to wrap my head around. Maybe this summer will prepare me for it all. I'm taking an EMT/Paramedic course back at home so I can work in the city next year and next summer as an EMT. Actually dealing with real people. Putting those Bio and Anatomy chapters to actual use. What a frightening, but great feeling. And if I get migraines or my hair becomes even more thin than it has already this year due to the stress, I have to remind myself that it will all be worth it in the end.

You know, I would have been a great lawyer. I'm stubborn most of the time. And, even if I don't say it, I have a comment for everything that someone else says. I'm good at fighting. I'm good with conflict. I just have a little self control.

I could have been a good writer too. This may not reflect it, but I think it's something I can do naturally. I was published when I was younger in an Anthology of Poetry. I hope to be published again someday... even if it's a thesis on the cure to Cancer. That wouldn't be bad, right?

As a housewife, I would have been better after practice. I can't really cook, but I can clean, kids love me, I can take care of people well, and I've got an ass that won't quit.

And not giving a damn? God, I wish that could be a job.

But instead, I picked medicine. And, with that, I included a picture from finals week. Glass windows are great from long chemistry problems.

We Didn't Start The Fire

There was a huge fire today over at the Fens. Big deal. It's 0.25 miles away and the sirens sounded like they were in the hallway. Flames reached up to about 50 ft. I was stuck doing my term paper. Glad I have great friends with great cameras and skill to document it all for me. Photo credit goes to one of my favorite people in the world.

This Is Our Decision To Live Fast And Die Young. We've Got The Vision, Now Let's Have Some Fun...

So this morning I was thinking about what I could write about today. As I tuned out my professor, my mind wandered. Though I should have been focused on muscle contraction and neurotransmitters, I focused on another entirely different chemical process. Love. But, I have used that word too much and it hasn't even been a week yet. It's time for a new topic. So, I've decided to go for the complete opposite. Hatred.

It's easy to use the word "hate" when you don't really mean it. I hate traffic. I hate waking up in the morning. I hate forgetting to brush my teeth. But, in reality, traffic allows more time for thought and music. Waking up allows for the beginning of the new day. Maybe if I forget to brush my teeth enough, they'll rot out of my head and I'll fit right in on "the other side of the tracks" back home.

I have always tried to be positive. So much so that I actually won the "Most Positive Attitude" superlative. Lots of people would have never guessed that about me. I'm not necessarily negative, but I'm realistic. And I'm brutally honest. If I don't like something, I'm going to be the first to tell you. Which brings me to hatred.

I don't think such a thing actually exists in this world. I think ignorance exists. I think there's prejudice around every corner and some people can be unnecessarily rude, but I honestly don't believe in hatred. There are certainly people I can't stand to be around, sometimes even think about. But, it's not very useful to hate them. What good are you doing yourself? At least when you try to tolerate someone, you're bettering yourself in the process. Making yourself more patient, more kind. But what good are you doing if you're wasting time finding reasons not to like someone? If that person really means so little to you that you claim you hate them, then why in the world are you wasting time and energy and emotion on this individual? On these grounds alone, I think it's impossible for such an idea to exist. Call me crazy.

I can't say I'm innocent because, as I mentioned before, we've all tossed the word around. Anyone who says they have not done this is lying. I can promise you that. But, it's time for people to realize that absolutely no good can come from this so-called "hatred". I don't care how you argue it. I simply do not believe it is worth the smallest second of time. Hatred leads to problems, which leads to more hatred. The vicious cycle will continue. What's the use? Aren't we put on this earth to better ourselves and others? Do something with your time. Don't waste it trying to ruin other people. And, if you don't take my advice, you're selfish and an asshole. And I'm sorry about that.

As for the picture: A Love/"Hate" relationship I'm fond of. Interesting. And of course, the ridiculousness of my hair comes in handy for the whole anonymous bit. xo

Boston, You Are The Only, Only, Only

Happy Opening Day! Of course, this takes precedence over Easter because I'm in Boston. And it's the Sox and Yankees. Neil Diamond even came out for the occasion - something that has yet to occur at a Sox game. The Red Sox have been one of my true loves throughout my entire life. Sure, they've let me down a season or two, but every year, they're back. It's the stability I like.

Talking with a few close friends tonight, we brought up past Sox memories. Pedro being taped to the dugout post a few years back, the All Star ceremonies in '99, spring training trips, the time I literally ran into Mike Timlin, the streakers, hearing Dirty Water after a win. All that good stuff. And of course, with all these Sox memories, came the 2004 World Series.

I was younger when they won, but I was also in my "Sox Prime". My dad is an insane baseball fan, and this addiction was clearly passed along to my brother and I. It's probably safe to say I have a Fenway Park shaped gene on a chromosome or two. In addition to this, he had hit his midlife crisis early and spent a lot of time hanging out on the couch with a steak and a glass of vodka. Also note that my mom had filed for divorce not too soon before this timeframe. The Red Sox became something he could count on to fill the void of his family when we were across town with our mom on those hot, almost suffocating summer nights. Point is, I fell in love with the game at an early age.

On the night the Sox won the World Series, I was laying in bed with my tv on. I had watched the game from start to finish...like most games. As the final out was made, chills literally went up and down my spine. I'm not even exaggerating. To this day, when I see a replay of the last out, I can't help but get this overwhelming sense of... completion, I guess. I called my dad immediately, but got no answer. I couldn't sleep without hearing his reaction. After about five minutes, I picked up the phone and tried again. Answer. He had called my grandfather before. Who had called my great-grandfather. If Ry hadn't been sleeping, I'm sure he would have picked up the other phone in the house so he could talk to dad too. I will never forget his voice. He was in total shock. He later admitted to me that in the final moments of the game, he began to cry. There was something so big in that moment. And it was clear to Sox fans around the nation. It wasn't just a win. It wasn't just another ring. It was monumental. And that energy can still be found on Yawkey Way or Lansdowne Street today.

With that being said, we won tonight. I broke out my "Lustin' for Dustin" shirt. Hell, Steven Tyler even made his way to the city without hurting himself to sing "God Bless America". Pedro came back to throw out the first pitch. Oh, it's been a good day. And we have plenty of games ahead of us. How 9 bodies on a diamond-shaped field can be so important to someone is beyond me... but I do know that seeing this, especially in person, is one of the craziest natural highs. Love, like I said before.

For now, here's a snapshot from down at Fenway. Not the stereotypical Green Monsta picture, but captures the primary essence of the area, and arguably, the city in general. At least from April to November.

Nothing Lasts Forever, Babe

I'm writing from bed today. On the most gorgeous day so far this year. Twisted Tea. Never a-fucking-gain. But, above, I did leave you with a little gem from last night. Sums it all up.

Last night was necessary. I completely separated myself from reality and just had fun with my friends. A little too much fun, maybe. Which was made clear when I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine and had to trek across another campus in sweatpants and a cashmere sweater. Classy, right?

Before we went out last night, one of my roommates and I went to another friends house to hang out. And, as we all sat around her table, a usual topic of conversation came up. Men. Boys. Guys. We all took our turns venting. Describing the relationships we're working towards getting over, the relationships we're working towards building up. Now, I'm no Carrie Bradshaw, but I'd like to think that I have dated a wide enough range of guys that I can offer a little bit of my "wisdom". Then, the million dollar question -"Well, what's your type?"

How do you define that? How do you categorize all these different people you have been with? Make this "type" that you go after? I don't believe it. Maybe it's because I've dated guys from one extreme to the next. A pastor's son. A genius. A hell raiser. A funny one. Awkward, smooth, short, tall, dressed down, dressed up. Seen it all. Going after the same type of person time after time would get boring, don't you think? Always going for the tall, dark, and handsome one. Always finding a guy that meets certain standards. I think the fun is in the uniqueness. All the fun is in getting to know that person. Finding out that they may be 5'7", goofy as all can be, and make funny faces in bed, but they have the best personality you have ever come across. They're addictive. But I'm not going to sit here and say that I go out looking for these short dorks, you know?

So, with that, I proposed an idea to the girls. Don't go out looking for someone that meets this image you have strategically put together in your mind. Find someone that goes against the grain and have fun with it. Know that you can't change people, no matter how hard you try, but you can learn to love and accept things that you normally wouldn't give a passing glance to. It makes life so much more exciting. And dating a lot less exhausting.

Time to wash these sweatpants and return them to their owner. Time for something new.

Sunshine, Sunshine, Feel It On My Skin, Warmin' Up My Mind...

I can't even begin to express how gorgeous it is outside today. It's the first time I have actually been able to wear a sundress. It's great. Although, the legs are looking a little pale and out of shape, summer is right around the corner and I have so much to look forward to. Kayaking on the lake, hiking, driving with the windows down, seeing old friends, watching the sun set on the water.

Oddly enough, the one thing I'm looking forward to the most is actually spending time with my parents. My two favorite people in the entire world. I don't know if I can truthfully say that I've always looked up to my parents, but I can tell you that I have never loved two people more than I have loved them. As I have grown up, this point has become more clear to me. And, they have become closer to me.

As a parent, you try to protect your children from things that will harm them - violence on tv, the creepy older man down the street, bullies. But, as those children grow up, it's inevitable that they will be exposed to all these things, sometimes without mom or dad to run behind when the going gets tough. Because mom and dad will always be strong, mom and dad will always know what to do, mom and dad don't get hurt. Or do they?

Recently, I have seen both of my parents fall. And it has been the hardest thing I have had to do in a long time. Especially being a state away from them. My mom called me two nights ago to see how I was. I talked about myself for a minute or two, complaining about lack of sleep and a paper I had to write. Then, the question back, "what's new, ma?"

Her voice cracked and my mind completely left my body. With a sick dad and brother, crying is never good. It was her friend. Has been suicidal for years... Missing. My mom has always tried her best to be there for others, and I can't help but think that I try to mimic that. She hardly ever breaks down. Strength is contagious. I held it together long enough to point out the positive possibilities. When the conversation ended, I broke down. Finally seeing the person you have built up in your head throughout your entire life fall and break down... well, it's upsetting. This woman is actually human? She actually breaks down? She doesn't have it together all the time?

And my dad. The man who has provided for me my entire life. And now he has to be taken care of. The pills, the hospital trips, making sure he's eating right. It's on me now. In two weeks, his fate will be determined. Transplant? Or suffer? Either way, the road in front of him is bumpy. I tear up writing this. I have come to terms with the fact that unless he gets this transplant, he won't be here in 5 years. He won't see me fall in love, walk me down the isle, meet his grandkids. I'm not being pessimistic. I'm being realistic.

So, here I am. Years later. With two very real people as parents. Mortal. Fragile. But absolutely irreplaceable.

The City Looks So Nice From Here...

I was on my way to work today, just like everything other Thursday afternoon, with my headphones in, again, just like every other time I walk to work. Usually, the weather determines the playlist. On rainy days, I gravitate towards Mat Kearney. Other days, I usually go for Jay Z or Kanye... you know, to stick to the "street life of Boston" feel that the streets of Mission Hill bombard you with. So, as I was turning onto the side street today that I know way too well, I did something that I have never done before... I scrolled down to my country playlist and started for Tremont.

This place has become so familiar to me over the past few months. I walk the same route four times a week. And everything has a place. The paper on the stoop at 27 Worthington. I swear the people that live there only come out at night. The sidewalk that ruined the toes of my boots. The Irish flag hanging outside of the clearly Japanese-owned nail salon on the corner of Tremont. The most beautiful church I have ever laid eyes on. The occasional black jacketed "street worker" with stack of orange tickets and a trail of pissed off drivers. The same crossing guard at the St. Alphonsus intersection. A familiar face, but no name. The trash blown against the fence lining the public library. The Mission Hill mural on the corner of Parker Hill. That god damn door outside of work that often decides it doesn't want to open, despite the fact that it's buzzed you in four times.

My 0.97 mile walk has proved to be a mini vacation for me, day after day. It's where I clear my mind. It's that little window of alone time that I need to keep me sane. The noise drowns out my thoughts...and it's amazing how helpful that can be.

I'll always be the naive country girl that trusts too easily, doesn't look both ways before crossing the street, and forgets about sales tax...but I can't help but see that I'm converting. This place has a hold on me. It might be because it's a perfect spring day. It may be because the sky is blue for the first time in days. It might be because I got offered an incredible job this morning. And accepted. It may even because tomorrow is Friday. But today has been a good day.

I love this city.