Still Some Left

I went to that party filled with humans from homeschool past. Having been so inundated in the past years with social gatherings that always have a focus on alcohol, it is odd to interact with people whose most notable drug effect is likely to be the caffeine from soda. I spent a portion of my time there talking to my crush, but for the most part, I was meeting new people. And I must admit that, like many medical friends of mine, much of me dislikes doing that these days. But I also know that it is good for me, and crush was there, so that was the way of it.

One of the things I most appreciate about an alcohol-infused setting is that other people lose a layer of inhibition of which I tend to remain bereft. So without alcohol, I feel compelled to acquire that missing inhibition. Fortunately, the evening wore on and I defaulted to my usual habits of slurring my speech and walking oddly.

Regarding her, she seemed great. Dancing the whole time, as I once did. It was not maturity that shut me up in the dancing realm; instead, it was my time in medical school. I warned everyone that I would be a different person afterward, and I was right. I think I may be worse, though part of that is simply due to how much I know. In any case, she seems like me except without becoming corrupted.

I talked to God about it last night. I told Him (because I have not been a great listener for a long while) that even if she is just being nice and is not romantically interested, I understand that I need not lower my standards or feel helpless in the search for another. There are still some left out there.

Anyway, my relational maturity level has probably not progressed since I was twelve, so I am still following his lead on this.

One Seeking A Particular One (poem)

The society that I knew had

Without necessarily uttering the words

Convinced me

That for every one
There is another
For whom that one
Is intended.

Higher learning questioned this

And many other thoughts besides.

After all, Holy texts do not describe
One seeking a particular one
Apart from each of mankind to God.

So I instead became convinced

Of the opposite.

I am so particular as a person

With life as much a myriad

Of diverse interactions

And experiences

As an academic life would allow

That to imagine anyone
Fitting my odd corners
And squiggly puzzle shape
No longer makes sense.

Until recently,
When I became aware
Of beauty untethered
By relationship.

And then another.

I am dumbfounded

And bewildered

As the beams that frame my knowledge
Of social norms and romance
May potentially be
Bent,
Groaning asunder
In this glimmer
Of cautious hope.

Caution is still
Heavily advised.

Because there is only
One Hope
Sealed with a promise

Not to disappoint.

Hope Of A Misrepresentation of Reality

In an age when I increasingly feel alone with my learning and beliefs within my chosen field of study, it shocks me when I find anyone who is physically attractive and possesses similar characteristics. It feels like being the last of my race, a fairly open-minded Christian who also believes in science and has a strong desire to do missionary work. Those qualities do not appear often, and they honestly do not sit well together within me. So as the Trump era wipes out most of what remained of my kind, I am nervously fearful when I think that I have found anyone who even remotely seems to match me in many of these regards. Does she like me? Do I like her? How many of our beliefs have to line up for this to work? My parents are divorced and because I do not, in truth, recognize such a thing as preferred under any circumstance, I am even more hesitant with regard to romance than I was before it all began. Bear in mind that I did not date even before their divorce.

So the present fear today that inspires this post? The thought that the female human I like may already have a boyfriend, thus restoring the framework in my mind that all the good ones are already taken or are uninterested. Judging by the frequency of communication and social invitations, I assume interest. So that leaves the likelihood of her being taken. And given that I am somewhat emotionally vulnerable due to the recent failure of a major exam, the glimmer of hope that my aforementioned mental framework regarding romance in my world may be a misrepresentation of reality leads me to be on edge when I think of this interest as simply being friendly rather than flirty.

And yes, I know that I am using the immature defense mechanism of intellectualization in my analysis of my own self.

I miss writing. After this test, maybe I can do what I promised myself I would do after college (but never really did): go to a coffee shop and write poetry. Screw it, maybe I'll write poetry now. That would be a much more mature defense mechanism. Maybe like a form of sublimation?

Did Not Find My Stride

I failed by a single point. My hands were wild and tremulous as I entered my information to log in and discover my grade. In my mind, I had fixed the grade of 175. Even at my worst, I was better than that, so I held onto that so I would feel better regardless of the grade. And it helped. I was staying with my cousin in Chicago, and all of my plans to make additional stops on the way home suddenly seemed like a waste of time. After all, a victory lap after failure does not really make sense.

So that Wednesday, I drove the 13 hours home, slapped a smile on my face, and continued on. My ideas of finally living life again became foolish pursuits of a dream world, and now I once again struggle with making myself study as hard as I should. But I guess that this is my life now. Endless cycles of study and failure until God changes His mind and realizes that I truly was not meant for this particular calling. I have everything necessary to excel except for the academic prowess, which happens to be a critical requirement. I do not truly believe everything that I am writing, but a big part of me consists of those doubts, and the only thing holding me to this track is God. Though, if I am being frank, I have no idea what else I would do...

I met up with a crush of mine at a church event on Friday. Given that she started nursing school this semester, she and I had plenty to talk about via text over the previous month or two. She is very much into swing dancing and that evening confirmed my strong suspicions that I do not remember how to swing dance well. I had the same fear about all styles of dancing after my prolonged stay on the island, but my freestyle game appears to hold strong. We also hung out with a good friend of mine, but since he and I are both attention-grabbing funny people, we more or less dominated the conversation.

Anyway, today is Sunday and I spent half an hour debating whether to go to church. The last time I remember deciding to go last year, I felt the odd sensation of the Holy Spirit telling me that something was off. I am sure that it had something to do with the political undertones of the sermon. So a year later, after the politics have died down slightly, I still feel uncomfortable with church, due to the knowledge that a great many prominent members of its congregation support people whose actions and ideas are remarkably contrary to the teachings of Scripture. In a post-evangelical world, this is unsatisfactory to me as a believer, and I am unsure of how to deal with it.

It's Close

I'm a few days from finding out my scores. To distract myself, I visited a friend I met through Facebook (also named London Smith), then found another old friend in D.C., hopped by Baltimore, took some time to explore NYC, met up with my Polish Canadian friend in Toronto, and then met up with an old friend and a new one in Milwaukee. Tomorrow, I'll meet my nephews in Chicago (I've apparently been an uncle for awhile now), and then leave in a couple of days to go back to Arkansas, Oklahoma, and then finally to Texas. But my scores are supposed to be released on the day that I leave Chicago, so that means 10+ hours in the car with the knowledge of whether I passed or failed that exam.

Though this trip is meant to distract, I really have let myself think of it lately, mostly because the day is fast approaching. I had a stress dream last night. I was enrolled in a medical class (which I specifically remember simply being named "Washington"), the lectures and classwork for which I had not attended or possibly even been aware. Such was the intensity of this overbearing knowledge of the class that I woke up and only realized that it was just a dream because I realized how stupid that name was (for a medical class). In addition, I was also trying to leave the island upon which my medical education took place thus far. It really was a nightmare to navigate in reality, so I suppose that it is not so crazy to experience it again in a stress dream.

The waiting for the scores is the worst part. Well, so were the last couple weeks before the exam. I guess that every part is awful. Fortunately, I think that I did the very best that I could with the time before me (with regard to the time spent after the test).

It's so close. So scary. If I failed, there goes the holiday season. I'll just be studying again.