Texas Is Crazy (In A Bad Way)

Adjusting back to American life has been wondrous and sad all at once. I love the convenience. When I want wine and popcorn for a movie, I can go out and buy it in the space of mere minutes. Rooms are air conditioned and mattresses are padded. My broken iPhone was fixed while I filled out the form for it to be fixed. It's crazy.

But at the same time, politics create a deep divide. My beliefs, which have been shaped by years of travel and education, contrast sharply with the beliefs of those around me. Things that were common sense in my mind and in that of my medical school peers are seen as naive, and my criticisms of Republican paranoia are dismissed with this in mind. Sense is forced into bafflement by a barrage of half-formed ideas and strong emotions. In the midst of this, I have no choice but to stop speaking. Because it is like arguing with a Facebook post.

It is most easily recognizable when my mom recounts something she read on Facebook about what democrats say. I respond by telling her that I've researched this claim, and it is baseless. The democratic candidates never said it. But she does not relent in her assumption, and I am forced to resign to silence again.

It is strange to choose a political party based on which one promotes the use of facts. I would much rather that the arguments be over policy.

My mom explained to me tonight how we had no need for Obamacare. The Parkland Hospital in Dallas apparently used to allow anyone to write a billing address, and the Mexicans or black people would simply put down a false address. In her opinion, this solved this issue of healthcare. Of course, these argument seemed ridiculous to me, since we obviously shouldn't be reliant on a system in which people must lie in order to receive healthcare. Yet she remained convinced.

Talks with my dad haven't been much better, as he is convinced that the government is the problem with the world as it stands.

I just hope that I can meet new people and make friends (and maybe, perhaps possibly whatever..., a girlfriend #whaaaahhhhh????)

Happy vs Better

Tonight, I went hunting for Pokemon alone on campus. After I had made my circuit around campus wifi, I took a detour to the small cliff overlooking the ocean behind the school. I stared up at the stars, which are always plentiful here, and saw shooting stars, which are also plentiful. But as I wished to God and the stars, I found myself stuttering, because while I was wishing for things like "to be happy" and for passing the STEP 1, I was afraid of false hope in any of those scenarios.

I read a lot of posts on social media saying that all you need to do in life is find what makes you happy. Find happiness. Get the happy. I've never been after that. Short term, sure, kinda, but really, my goal hasn't included happiness. If I wanted that, my goal would be serotonin. Pop an antidepressant. No, my goals have always been to better myself as a person.

But should the goal of bettering myself make me be afraid of desiring happiness for myself? I've resigned myself to the idea that I'm probably not going to find someone that I connect enough with to marry. Sure, I'm always looking, but I'm not throwing heaps of hopes on that. I don't like false hope.

So my point here isn't so much that the pursuit of bettering oneself is preferable to the pursuit of happiness. I've just always been after the former rather than the latter (and often at the expense of the latter). I guess I'm just wondering if the balance should ever tip the other way, to the point that I can comfortably wish for happy. Curious as to whether this should be a possibility.