All For A Story

Lately, I have wondered whether I should treat dating as a real, possible, feasible thing. If I am honest, a lot of my life and interactions feel oriented toward becoming an anecdote, blog, poem, or whatever else sometime in the future. It is similar to going out hiking or to see some marvel, and although you do technically experience it, you are really just living life through the lens of your camera. Your own eyes hardly touch the moment as you fill yourself with preoccupations about the quality of the interaction for later visual feasting by yourself and others on social media.

There is, perhaps, a level of intimacy lost when your interactions with another human are focused in this way. Suddenly, past mistakes and vulnerabilities are discussed not for more intimate knowledge of a person, but rather for shock value, or to expose another side of you specifically for the sake of the other party being exposed to such, rather than removing a layer of your own social facade.

I do not know that my perspective on this apparent loss of intimacy is necessarily a real issue. In my head, I hear echoes of think pieces describing what is wrong with such and such young people dating in America.

I suppose that I should remain with the method I know best, since it furthers my own inconsequential brand and makes me feel more comfortable. It is just that when I interact with someone who has no call to be interested in someone like myself, I do tend to ask whether this is all a part of the poisonous lack of intimacy that would lead to my own parents' divorce. Perhaps it is normal for my brand of humor, and I am simply being overly analytical. Is this why people go to therapy?

Lookin' Up

Things seem to be moving in nice directions. After years of going without, I finally had the chance to do another creative photo shoot yesterday. I was dressed as a clown, but on hiking trails by a lake. That evening, I went to my friend's parents' house to surprise my friend's mom as the same clown character, and had to improvise a back story for like ten minutes as I made balloon animals. They were generous enough to invite me to share in finer wines and scotch than I have yet had the privilege of tasting.

While there, my friend informed me that I would likely not have difficulty in scheduling the STEP 1 exam, despite the many delays (one of which I will attempt to fix tomorrow) in registering for it.

My practice test scores have been going up (though this week has admittedly hardly been productive), enough that I think I should be ready by the time mid to late September rolls around. The trick was to stop just trying to get through it, and start treating them like real tests.

Anyway, the reason to start caring about getting this test completed (aside from the obvious necessity of moving on in life) is that it looks like one of my closest friends will be free to travel at the time and place that I would like to travel. Assuming that testing and moving out and such go smoothly, I will be departing to NYC a day or two after my exam, and then road tripping westward toward Portland with my friend. Following this, there is also potential for travel through California. I have friends living in most major cities and areas, some of whom have already offered a place to stay. I even know someone in Napa, so I have some hopes there.

In any case, it is time to buckle down and study (with a slight hiccup when I drive to Dallas this coming weekend to see Tim and Eric live because #duh) so that these idealized plans in my mind may come to fruition.

In The Eye

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” she wrote

After I spun the tale of Belarusian flirting,
Which is done through excessive asserting
Of one's eye upon another's,
She and I stared

Each at the other
At alternating points.

Either looked away
When gazes crossed.

She journeys to the coast
In two days.

Here I study.
I remain

But with her beauty in mind's eye.

Just Wanna Quit

Let's throw down some honesty here.

I want to quit medical school pretty badly. Scores aren't improving, friends keep getting married while I'm unable to leave my studies, and I am still years away from the opportunity to do something very worthwhile with myself.

I want very much to just drop it and go to help with the Syrian refugees, one of the most incredible opportunities to do some of the greatest good as conveyed in the Bible.

I am just fed up with being selfish, and with having to force myself to be disciplined. Send me away. Please. I have two years of med school under my belt, so surely I would serve a purpose. I can be fun and entertaining.

Here am I. Send me. But have I already been sent, and I'm already here, and now it's just a matter of pushing through the difficult time? Part of me wishes that this whole exam process would fall through so that I would be forced to find something else. I could work on a cruise ship or something for six months to raise money for a trip. I could work for Disney. I could do so many things.

Yet here I remain.

The Shortcut

A buddy of mine killed himself the other night. I only really knew him during our awkward early teen years, but we hung out a lot during that time. He was the other little skinny white kid named after a place in the UK, which is a demographic that most other kids do not fit into.

He was the first guy that I ever really shared the gospel with, and he was very curious about it. I bestowed upon him much of my Sunday School knowledge and led him in the prayer for salvation. We were both in speech and debate as well, always performing comedy monologues. He was very good at it, which was not a common characteristic. For awhile, our school had a group that would go to Dallas to make a low budget television show for fun. He and I acted in addition to working cameras. It was called Nerd-O-Rama, and I remember being jealous of the fact that he had real headgear for his braces. I requested them from my dentist, but was told that they do not make headgear for the type of braces that I wore.

I had hardly thought of him for years, but then I had rarely thought of that time in my life for years. It was our shared awkward phase, and I naturally do not try to remember such phases. But to think that one of the few other smart, well-spoken, and funny guys that I knew growing up would take his own life seems crazy. But then again, I have dipped into depression and recognize how real those thoughts can get.

In fact, this news had me reeling back into that mode of thinking to some extent. I see life passing me by every day, and it seems as if I will never escape from this medical school purgatory. I cannot afford (financially, logistically, and in other ways) to attend a good friend's wedding in California in a few weeks. It would be a wonderful reunion with fun and dancing on the beach. Instead, I study alone and learn tragic news with only a Bible and a bottle to comfort in the midst of it. For whatever reason, I have an extra helping of serotonin sloshing around in my brain, so even in the midst of depressed mood, I only seem capable of being beaten down so much.

I do not often feel things, except in pivotal points of action movies, but my eyes grew misty a number of times after learning the news of my friend's passing. The very fortunate thing here is that there is no one of whose eternal salvation I am more confident. I am glad you found rest, Briton. The rest of us are going to try to take the longer route home.