Still Waiting to Hear Back

I sent that email to my old manager in Burbank two weeks ago and have yet to hear back. I called this past Friday to inquire whether a lack of response implies a lack of interest, but the woman who answered assured me that I should "give him time", that my old manager had been out of the office. In light of this, I have begun to think in terms of what forms of employment would work well with a venture back into the entertainment industry. I have begun applying for remote part time and contract jobs, with the hope that I could pay my way through a trip to Los Angeles, and, though this may be a more far-fetched dream, finding something that could pay for basic life and rent as I live in LA. Surely my doctorate should do something for me in that world!

For now though, I continue with what I already have. This week's episode of the podcast is a particularly good one, and we guested on another one in the same week with what felt like one of our funniest appearances yet. Before I left for Scotland, I prepared for what I rightfully expected to be a decent amount of hiking and other activities requiring physical fitness by working out nearly every day to some degree. I am endeavoring to get back to these habits, and this aspiration is further spurred forward with every glance at the mirror when I do not see the six-pack that had previously dominated my abdomen. Somewhat related, I visited a chiropractor with a groupon and though we agreed that the X-rays did not display full-blown scoliosis in my thoracic spine, there was certainly a noticeable abnormality in terms of just how squiggly my spinal column has become. I would still diagnose it as mild scoliosis. So I am now trying to be more conscientious in how I stand, walk, sit, and work out.

Checking for Opportunities in a Land Once Known

After receiving feedback ranging from no response to a decline when submitting some job applications, I decided on Monday to call my old manager in Burbank. They had me send them my info, so I did, and that combined with the spring weather has me dreaming of acting while living in Los Angeles again. I called my manager up again yesterday to ask what to expect or where to go from here, and they told me that they would have Terrance call me. Terrance is fortunately the main guy, the only name that I remember, and whose house I remember visiting numerous times as a child actor.

I am of course conflicted about such a concept. How could I not be? I spent so many years earning my doctorate in medicine that to consider doing anything besides practicing medicine feels like a betrayal of that education. But I have been trying to be more honest with myself about these things. For one thing, these may be my last years with youth and looks to assist me in my approach to Hollywood, whereas medicine will still be there in 20 years. For another, a lot of people have done well on all of their exams and are competing for the same spot that I will want, whereas I have done poorly on exams and would be reliant on charisma to carry me. That is not necessarily a bad thing since I do tend to be clinically proficient, but it is worth considering. To some extent I want to recognize that they may be better candidates for clinical medicine, and I for the entertainment industry, though hopefully I would have opportunities to apply medical and clinical acumen to such a place, not to mention ethics and morals.

Acting was the dream before the dream. Of course I want to go to the people who have nothing and provide healthcare, to war-torn Yemen or Syria or Ukraine and give aid, to meet the need where it is most earnestly required. But before I had these ideas, I wanted to act, to find within myself the voices and aspirations of a character, then become the vessel through which these concepts are portrayed. Or as my oldest brother would call it, become a professional liar. Perhaps it is my ego talking, but that sounds like bad acting to me. I have always been divided inside, and acting is a chance to safely increase the volume of one of those dissenting opinions, to give it a context in which to make itself known.

Maybe next week will hold something new for me in terms of opportunity. Or maybe not. I just need my current circumstances to change.

The Most Dangerous Game of All... Job

 After recovering from Covid-19, I spent a few days drinking too much, then got back into my daily workout routine and did not drink at all. Then drank to excess last night... 

The completion of that trip to Scotland was my deadline for figuring out life. And I did overcome the most difficult internal challenge of coming to terms with both where I have been and where I am now. I have failed in certain respects, and that cannot be helped. So many times did I pray throughout my education, telling God that I agreed with everyone else's assessments that I am not a good fit for medicine, for becoming a scientist. But I felt that He told me to press on, and so I did, using the hope of one day helping the less fortunate as a future reward for the sacrifices that I made in the present. So press on I did. That pressure led me to this place of wondering whether I obtained that medical degree just for the sake of a title, or for a more conventional intended purpose. Thus do I find myself job hunting while in the odd place of being overqualified for many jobs, yet not quite qualified or experienced enough for others.

I just spent the past few hours applying for a few research jobs in Dallas and Houston, realizing that I need to find something. Since I know that I am not guaranteed to find a job in medicine, I also intend to try acting again. Because I believe that I still have talent there, and frankly, I do still miss it. At this point, I will not consider it a matter of choosing between my education and my suppressed goals. Rather, it is a hobby that I enjoy and that could pay at a time when my more professional pursuits may not. Keeping my eggs in multiple baskets is the way forward, but most importantly, moving forward is the path forward. Doing something other than getting drunk at my mother's house is the goal. The pandemic may not be over, but it is at the point that it is no longer reasonable to hide away at home in order to protect my community.

Stateside and Infected with SARS-CoV-2

Brief catchup. I did the tasting at the distillery in Wick. Then did my bucket list tasting straight from the cask at the Strathisla distillery the next day. Turns out that they discontinued my favorite, Strathisla 12 year, so I bought two of their discontinued bottles. Then I spent my last day buying a few more bottles, tested negative for covid, then went to a few bars before catching a few hours of sleep before my flight home.

The first flight was from Inverness to Manchester. It was a long process with rechecking bags, but I made it to the flight to JFK. However, just before, the flight, my travel companion messaged me a picture of his positive Covid-19 test demonstrating that he had been infected with SARS-CoV-2. I wore my N95 mask diligently for the remainder of that day, which turned out to be long, with a missed connection at JFK due to a late flight, and learning about the free hotel hours later after spending hours with a headache walking between terminals with my suitcases in below freezing weather, finally reaching the hotel and making myself eat and shower before sleeping a few hours, and finally catching the flight home, at which point I had begun to more strongly feel symptoms beyond the headaches of the previous day. Cough, mild congestion, the signs of the common cold. I texted my mom, advising her to wear her N95 mask when she picked me up, and she instead wore a surgical mask. I kept my mask on. Every time I tried to tell her about the trip, I would begin coughing, so the car ride became silent, though she offered to take me out to eat. I had to decline because at that point, I knew that there was a fair chance that my breath could kill people. We got home and I had the relief of taking my mask off in my room. Shortly thereafter, I went to get tested, and sure enough, I did indeed test positive. So I packed up a partially unpacked bag and drove to my mother's Airbnb in Canton, which is where I have been all week. Symptoms have thankfully been mild, with the worst hitting on Tuesday, which was the fourth day of symptoms, at which point I began taking anti-cough and anti-diarrhea medicine, which solved most of the issues.

I was just reading about the psychological impact of post-pandemic life and how it will take adjusting. We will not be done overnight, and the psychological traumas of these experiences will stay with some of us for years to come. I do not know if I can or should ever remove the shadow that has been cast upon the character of those I once respected who were so willing to endanger the lives of those around them simply because of "freedom". My father who was proud of me getting an education, yet clearly had no respect for that education once it became relevant to the situation concerning which he had already decided that he was an expert. The same father who, when his father died from the virus, continually seemed blinded to the point of trying to repeat the same mistakes of gatherings that killed him in the first place. And the stepmom who, after demonstrating a lack of support for my fervently expressed wishes that they comply with public health guidance, said to me with a big smile "We are your biggest supporters". My oldest brother who, when asking me to show him the studies to back my claims, and to whom I replied that he can trust me because I am a doctor, denied that I was a doctor and said that I had studied at my mother's house. The church leaders who advertised large maskless gatherings at a time when vaccines were not prevalent, or who promoted a demagogue in an election simply on the principle that their conservative views were being empowered politically. The sister who was exposed to this deadly disease at a holiday party and would not move from the common room into a private room to isolate because she "didn't feel like it", thus driving me to move out for periods of time. And of course, throughout it all, the constant changing of minds that seemed to be based not on any rational form of logic, but rather on simply doing something other than what official guidance suggested. Wear masks at all times until those are the official guidelines, at which point switch back to being against them, or only wear them as prescribed rather than rationally thinking about situations in which viral spread would be most likely.

It was during this time that I began to reconsider some of my previous views on people, on humanity. To some extent, I know that my judgments here are limited to Americans, as this individualistic culture is clearly birthing the worst sort of people. People in general are bad, in my view. Self-interests ultimately reign supreme, though they certainly mean well and can feel justified in their actions. But well-wishes somehow do not overcome their politicized reasoning behind not putting on a mask or getting vaccinated. That is my feeling toward the general population. Within my own family, I can confidently say that I only think that throughout this pandemic, I am the only one that I trusted in the slightest to maintain rational thought and reason. Out of five of us siblings, what that tells me is that there should not be more of us. So whatever desire I had to eventually have offspring has changed into a bit of a responsibility to prevent such progeny from coming to be. I recognize that we were also raised a certain way, but with a sister, an aunt, and a grandma who all potentially have some form of narcissistic personality disorder, one has to begin to assume that there could be something very wrong with the psychological profile of our family tree, and I do not want to risk it any further.

I allowed myself to like a girl during this pandemic. That too taught me something, mostly that my brain cannot handle a romantic relationship. It certainly helped that the feelings were unrequited. My social anxieties might have turned into a shy and playful quirk a decade ago in the dating world, but enough of me has become rigid and moody that I do not think that it could happen. That alone is a significant reason. Then add in the fact that I am currently uncertain within my faith, in large part due to the aforementioned ethical betrayals of Christian leaders, and how very specific a type of person I am, and I just do not see me finding that person. And frankly, I no longer crave it quite like I once did. To be clear, that could be a form of denialism, but for the moment at least, it is certainly the sentiment with which I most strongly resonate.

I have hardly read my Bible over the past year, whereas it was previously essentially a daily routine. This is a habit that I would like to resume. It became distasteful to me when it became so tied to nationalism in the domestic terrorist attack at the nation's capitol last year, and in the midst of grieving the loss of my grandfather the month after, I lost all of that drive. Even at this point, I am realizing that grieving his loss really took a lot out of me, even thinking of my academic track, and perhaps I do not need to be quite so hard on myself. In any case, I used to say to myself that for me, saying that God does not exist is like denying that your own parents exist. It is a fact, regardless of how uncomfortable it happens to make you. I am far more eager to connect with my heavenly father than the other one. One guides me whereas the other one mansplains medicine to me, one who earned a doctorate in the subject.

Train to Wick

We made it back from Isle of Skye to Loch Ness, after a brief stop by the fairy pools, and finally ended the day back in Inverness on Saturday. That night, we went to a place that technically had karaoke, but I will contend that it was far more of a club vibe that just happened to have karaoke as the backing track for parts of it. Those in attendance appeared to primarily be involved in hen or stag parties, and all were likely at least a decade younger than us, most close to the local drinking age of 18. Nevertheless, I sang, as did my travel companion for his first karaoke experience. We then went from there to the Market Bar, which is the cheap and friendly dive bar in the area.

The next day, we returned our car rental to the airport and I found myself to be exhausted from our weeks of travel, so I did not do much for the next couple of days apart from attending an open mic and a singer-songwriter night, although we did also fit another distillery tour into our Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day spent traveling by train to drink a drink that I love in a land that I love, not so far from the place from which my people hail.

Last night, my travel companion had begun feeling ill, enough so that he took a rapid covid test. It was negative, but he felt even worse this morning, so I find myself on a train alone to the north of Scotland for a distillery tour and tasting of a maritime scotch sampling. I appreciate this. As difficult as it was all of those years ago when I backpacked Western Europe alone, my experiences there were made all the more rich by the fact that I was alone, that every step was a matter of me deciding to press on. Today is a day trip north, and tomorrow will be a day trip east as long as weather permits, and Friday remains to be seen as I prepare to fly home on Saturday.

The car rental cost more than twice what we were originally quoted, and I have been feeling the pain of going overbudget now. I do have money in reserve, but the thrifty approach is prevailing as we finish up our time here. Thrifty of course besides the several bottles of scotch that I intend to purchase. And the riddle of how to pack those will also be a fun experience on Friday.

In any case, my current views now are of a Scottish loch, to be followed in awhile by the sea before finally reaching my destination in Wick.

On the Isle of Skye

Feb 10.

Sitting here in a café in Portree, Isle of Skye. Various parts of the room painted in differing bright colors of red, blue, orange, and yellow, with the assorted heterogony leading to a distinct eclectic flavor balanced by the more serene view out the window. I have spent the better part of this hour gazing out there at the boats spotting this harbor and the inlet further beyond, with all overlooked by these cliffs. Some cliffs sheer, others with a perceptible climb to them, all with this fog and mist that alludes to just how moist the green and brown vegetation spreading across them must be. The magnitude of it reminds one of why this part of the world worshipped gods associated with nature. Even with the current relative calm of a simple persistent wind, one recognizes the inherent power that they must encounter upon the seas. Just as cathedrals were built in great sizes in order to remind oneself of how small they are compared to the might of God, these natural behemoths of cliffs and crags and waters bring one to a place of true recognition of one's spot in the midst of the elementals.

Though there is a constant feel of an overcast sky making its presence known, the sunlight also manages to make remarkedly pronounced bursts through its tunneling. My favorite moments thus far have occurred when the clouds are dark and angry, but a beam forces its way through regardless of the surrounding tempestuous mood.

Feb 11.

Back in the same café again, with the same view. As though to mirror my quelled excitement after seeing and doing so much yesterday, the winds and water of the bay have calmed significantly. The first activity of the day yesterday was also the highlight, as my research had anticipated. The hike up to the Old Man of Storr was at first merely windy, but still sunny throughout. But as one approached the rocky fingers, the local climate underwent a significant change from springtime sunny to foggy with harsh winds and sleet. I ran as full speed as I could only to be blown back, my face painfully pelted by ice, and it was during this time that the Old Man took my hat with my name on it. But even in the midst of this, the contrast and the views throughout were constantly breathtaking even as they varied by weather and elevation. We reached a point where a fence blocked the way as the ice pellets attacked, so we turned around and tried another way which gave us an incredible view of the mainland as well as the old man. We then decided to make the trek back down, and from there moved on to Kilt Rock and Mealt Falls, which fortunately consumed significantly less of our time than had the old man. We then ventured on to the Fairy Glen, where concentric circles had been placed. We heard that animal sacrifices still took place there, so that is a weird thing.

That evening, I resolved to have coffee after such a long day so that I could further enjoy the night, but I did end up just deciding on sleep. This has been a consistent decision for me, in part because it allows me to wake up early enough for alone time, contemplation, and writing these entries.

Today began with a trip to Sligachan Old Bridge, where legend has it that if you can hold your face in the water for seven seconds and let it dry off naturally, you get eternal beauty. If that is the case, then I have hereby earned my eternal beauty. From there, we drove on to Dunvegan Castle, but it was unfortunately closed with no opportunity even to see it from afar. So we drove onward toward the lighthouse on the far west side of the island, but this is of course when our tire went flat. Though we missed the Talisker distillery tour, this forced stop did allow us time to first roam the nearby hills, then finally sit and journal in the midst of that windy rugged landscape. Typing is easier, but there is something about the use of a pen on paper.

We had fortunately paid up for the priciest insurance policy on the rental, so there was no need to worry over the bill to come for the tow truck across the island nor for the tire replacement. We were taken back to town, the tire replaced, had dinner, and then ended the evening with a stop at the most popular bar that for tonight was hosting a billiard tournament. The skillset was lacking, which I only know from time spent around folks who were competitive in such an arena. My friend competed and after sampling some of the scotch that I would otherwise likely have tried on that missed distillery tour, I excused myself to write this.

That time with the flat tire in particular was a highlight for the day. Being forced to sit and listen to the silence, to stop fidgeting or looking at a distraction like one's phone, and instead to just be present and try to write something, anything. A form of peace is found in such a practice, and I miss the times in which I would do so more regularly. Part of my excuse for not doing so has been my laptop's keyboard, which does malfunction frequently, but is clearly up to the job of composing my thoughts (with occasional pauses to correct issues).

Westward to the Isle

I am here in Fort William, sitting in a café under the watchful eye of the largest mountain in this country, Ben Nevis. Yesterday, I paid a visit to a distillery that was named after this mountain, and this was my first scotch distillery tour. And oh what a wonder. The tour of course reminded me of all the science that I have forgotten, and then the tasting itself... they were clearly pushing their newer items, but the last scotch in the tasting was fashioned using a recipe meant to resemble their 1880s scotch, the kind that first garnered the attention of the queen. And I must admit that the balance was very nice, offering the flavor of the smoky peat without overwhelming the taste. I am kicking myself for not picking up a bottle, but we have not yet left the city, so I still have some hope of dropping back by there once more.

I met a fellow doctor last night who had his own similar complaints about this nation's medical system and training placement. Difficulties abound.

Update: I picked up that bottle of scotch along with another smaller single cask one, and then traversed by car through the mountainous highlands to reach Portree in the Isle of Skye. Though famous for its natural beauty, when asked what there was to do at night here, the hostel worker replied "it's pretty quiet". So it appears that our time here will be spent hiking by day and boozing by night, just as my ancestors did in days of yore.

Our room here houses just me and my friend, making it the closest to a standard hotel room that I have yet had on this trip. Maybe my next trip here will afford me nicer accommodations. I previously enjoyed hostels for meeting people, but perhaps because I have companionship throughout this trip... I mostly desire to experience these places in a solitary manner. Seems like it can hit harder if done in such a way. And if we are being honest, I dislike people more than I once did. Medical school and the pandemic have revealed to me just how selfish people are at heart, how unwilling most people appear to look beyond their own interests if it becomes at all inconvenient for them to do so. Ah, the power of an education to make someone so very negative.