I’m the first one on my flist to do this!

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Am very bummed and am feeling like a very bad fan-girl.

Apparently, Elijah Wood was within mere miles of me, at a premiere that I could have attended, if I had of realized that he would be there. But the only celebrity news I had heard of Sundance was that Paris Hilton was going to be there, and I really have very little desire to meet her. Elijah and the other Hobbits are a different story.

*Pouts* And I just know that he was supposed to bump into me and fall instantly in love. That’s the only thing that’s been holding us back.

To top it off, I missed seeing the premiere of “Ringers: Lord of the Fans” because I was out of town when the tickets went on sale. I’m hoping that I can grab some same day tickets on Thursday, but I’m not holding my breath. However, Ellie, you’d better keep those toes crossed!

There’s pics on the slamdance website of my LOTR friends here in their costumes at the premiere. *sigh* I haven’t been able to go to a meeting in months. I miss the lembas bread. And raving about Tolkien.

In fact, I miss my Tolkien group online too, my LOTR Inklings. We started reading LOTR again and it just fizzled. I know I didn’t help matters by taking forever to get my chapter out and I’ve been a perfectly lousy list mommy. But I’ve been working on my webpage and hope that tomorrow, I will have all of Book 1 finished, and at least the index page looking nice. And since I’ve had to reformat all of the emails into a readable, pretty webpage, I’ve been reading all of our old discussions. I’m just amazed all over again of the insights we discovered together, the life lessons, the ties into mythology that left me astonished. I’m lost as to how to reactive the group to get that again. I’m hoping that the website will help – having all of the basic pages actually say something and actually have something to which you could navigate would probably be nice.

I suppose I could just let it die naturally, but I am really reluctant to do so. We really had something, something that I haven’t found in another group. But maybe, it’s just like everything else in my life and I don’t know how to say goodbye. Any ideas?

Enough pointless fretting about something that nobody wants to read anyway. It is definitely time for bed!

Am back. Am tired. And cranky. Don’t like airports. Will write more later after blessed sleep.

Love. Peace. Happiness

AM CURRENTLY ON VACATION IN ILLINOIS STOP IN GOOD HEALTH AND SPIRITS STOP HAVE SEEN MANY STATUES OF LINCOLN STOP INDIANA IS CENTER OF UNIVERSE STOP AMISH COUNTRY NOT PARTICULARLY INTERESTING IN JANUARY STOP HUGS TO ALL INTERNET FRIENDS STOP MISS YOU STOP WILL WRITE MORE IN FUTURE STOP

LOVE ALWAYS JULIA STOP

🙂 *hugs*

Dear Santa,

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, that I’m pretty greedy, asking for presents right after Christmas (thanks for the iPod, btw, it was just perfect), Or that I’m too old to still believe in you. Or both. But hear me out, will ya?

This is a letter for next year. I’m giving you a whole year to work on it, because I want a really special gift, and I don’t think that even with your or your elves superior skills in the workshop, that you can get this custom-made job done overnight.

Next Christmas, Santa, I want a boyfriend. I’ve been really good, for a really long time. You’ve gone and given every other girl a boyfriend, financé, husband, and I think I’ve been patient long enough. I deserve one. And more importantly–he deserves me. I know that I’m a really good catch – I’ve got brains and can crack a joke and am redheaded to boot! I’d make an excellent girlfriend. I know that wasn’t the case in the past–I was much too insecure and socially awkward. Yeah, I would have been pretty lousy about it. But you’ve seen how I’ve changed and I think it’s time.

So, I hate to admit this, Santa, especially since you’re going to be so nice and give him to me, but he can’t just be any boyfriend. He has to be special, and made for me. I mean, I know my grandma told me to stop being picky and just marry anybody as long as he was a good man, but I just don’t think I’m quite that desperate yet. I’m attaching the list of what I want, so you can get him to the right specifications, but I’ll allow you some leeway in the color of the eyes–I do want to be surprised!

See, I told you, it wasn’t too hard. And believe me, I want to make it easy for you. So if creating him all at once is too difficult, I’m more than willing to take him as a work-in-progress.

And Santa? I’m all for celebrating Christmas in July. 😉

Julia

CC: Big Man of the Universe

I’ve been planning a trip out to visit my best friend in the first weeks of January. I have a little bit of a break and I haven’t seen her in a year…

After two weeks of trying to buy the tickets, having them magically disappear when I pressed the “purchase” button–then the price going up, and my other friend deciding that I had to come and visit her too–I bought the tickets yesterday–

–Only to have my friend write me today and tell me that the day I had picked to fly out was the one day she couldn’t pick me up.

Screwed.

I called and cancelled the tickets. They’ll apply them to future travel, and since I’ll be applying to residencies next year, I’ll be sure to use them. But they’re charging me a $100 dollars for the change.

I’m positively sick to my stomach right now.

I bought new tickets, will be flying out a day earlier, for about the same price as original (huh, that wasn’t there yesterday!). It messes up plans with the other friend a little bit, but I’m resilient and I’ll figure something out.

I hope.

It’s ironic. I’m a medical student, have worked for six months in the wards. I talk to patients and their families every day, am present for the discussions with the family about “Do Not Resuscitate” orders and quality of life. One day, I will be the one who signs the death certificate.

But I have never seen death, except in an anatomy lab where we didn’t talk about bodies, but cadavers, as if there was something different about lying on a cold table with chemicals infused in the tissue than resting underground. My patients who have passed on did so late at night or in a care facility and I was not involved. By the time I found out, the sheets had been changed and another person had taken over the room–the hospital is never lacking in the ill.

I’ve never had a person close to me die. My mom’s dad died when she was 15. She doesn’t talk about him much, just a little bit about how he worked hard but still would laugh with his family at night. But he worried all the time, about how the world was going to pieces, and according to the family, that’s what killed him at 49. My other grandparents are getting older, but are still in relatively good health, and it’s hard to imagine them not being around for several more years.

One of my friend’s father died on Friday, an unexpected heart attack. Sam’s grandfather died Sunday morning–he had been in the ICU for a week, but he had just been sent home with health care, expected to live a few more years, so he could go to Sam’s wedding in a year, or at the very least, be around for the Christmas party in a week.

Adding to this feeling of entrapment, I got to school today, and found out that one of the medical students had died in an avalanche on Saturday. He was the boyfriend of Chris’s old roommate. I met him several times, he had a nice laugh and we all ate dinner together once. I know his girlfriend very well. She’s a fourth year, with a bright smile and full of advice on how to survive my clerkships and drove Chris nuts because she is too messy as a roommate. But there’s a picture of her in the news paper, sobbing.

I’m not writing this begging for sympathy. All of these people were just acquaintances, people who floated in and out of the periphery of my life… except their deaths affect people close to me. And I am at a lose for words of comfort over a telephone, a gesture beyond a silent hug, which I hope conveys all of the pain that I feel for them.

I’m not exactly scared of death… I believe in an afterlife and I have seen enough in the past month to realize that there are many things worse than death. Lying in a bed, a tube breathing for you, your mind shut down and unable to respond, just waiting for an infection or another stroke to kill you. But it’s a different thing when it’s a blink of an eye, unexpected and unfair… Now, my mind is filled with worries and what-ifs. It’s been creeping closer to me, and sooner or later, it will touch me personally. All of a sudden, I’m confronted with m own mortality and worse, that of my family and friends. It happens to everyone and soon, this protection of distance and impersonality will fail…

Article about Melvin’s death: http://www.sltrib.com/search/ci_2487012

I browsed all over the internet looking for icons of Eva Cassidy and came up short.

So, I decided to make them myself and sat down with a tutorial and some brushes (thanks crushedviolet!) and learned how. Layers are a pain, I don’t know how you people do it. These three have just about sapped me of my creativity!

1. 2. 3.

(It’s so cool to say this!) Anybody is welcome to use them. I’d certainly love feedback on what works, what doesn’t, etc.

To bed. I’m sleepy.

Because I haven’t updated on my life forever, I owe a catch-up journal.

Since we last (truly) saw Julia, she was in the midst of her neurosurgery block, wondering what in the world she had gotten herself into. The hours were long, she limped home every night, and nary a resident acknowledged her existence. I fear many night, she cried herself to sleep, as the sleep-deprivation added to the stress. But, luckily that rotation only last two weeks, and by the end, she had made friends with two residents (one, very very cute, but rather too crass for her taste) and had impressed the attendings with random knowledge about a genetic disease that she knows all too well from personal experience. In fact, she had so much fun, that she almost convinced herself that maybe she could do surgery for the rest of her life, and never seen the sun for the next 8 years and have no personal life. Well maybe not quite. However, time goes by (…you’re older than you ever were and now you’re even older, and now you’re even older… and even two long 5-hours-of-sleep-per-night weeks end, and we all must move on.

Our heroine, as you remember, managed to wheedle/cry/whine her way into neurology rotation. She had had inklings since the previous year, when none of her classes had intrigued her quite as much as the study of the brain did (I hear that she actually spent 6 hours a day studying–even when there wasn’t a test the next day!), that perhaps a career in neurology might be nice, and while she was determined to keep an open mind when approaching her rotations, that little niggle of a thought was always there. Radiology was boring–except when she studied brain MRIs. Surgery, dreadful on the feet–but the cases were cool.

So needless to say, she approached the neurology clerkship with more than a hint of excitement.

Two days into it, she had found her calling. She tells me that she loves being with the patients and her neuro exam, while still jerky (and yes, she still forgets to check eye movements), is improving and she can’t wait for clinic each morning, and, yes, the rumor is true, she stayed late on her birthday because she *wanted* to learn more about multiple sclerosis.

Of course, it still is too early to call–she has been known to be mighty fickle at the last moment, but you may be talking to a future neurologist here!

A big thanks and snuggles to my flist for their birthday greetings! *hugs* You are all fabulous, and every day I am thankful for the chance of knowing you and claiming you as friends.

…Try breaking down and crying!

Remember this post

Apparently sobbing about how your life is ruined works better than calm, rational explanations.

I got my Neurology rotation!! And I start tomorrow! I am sooo excited.

And yes, I survived neurosurgery and am much looking forward to sleeping in until 6.

Ta for now!

I had four lovely hours off today, four hours that I spent on the couch, unable to move, because my feet and back hurt so.

Oh, and I took a bath. I’m more of a shower person but oh, that bath was nice.

My current rotation I’ve been putting in 17 hours a days, more than 12 of them on my feet in surgery. The first night, I came home crying because I had exactly 15 minutes to eat before going to bed, in order to get 5 1/2 hours of sleep.

And now, it’s off to bed with me. A whole hour extra.

See you in 11 days (they’re slowly counting down).

Francis Crick’s obituary

From an age where exploration in science was as exciting as a treasure hunt for gold, as a teenager, he was truly one of my inspirations. I yearned to make a big, lifetime discovery like that. I devoured “The Double Helix” and although I, as a post modern woman cringed at the flippant remarks concerning Rosalind Franklin, I couldn’t help but be in awe. How the pieces of the puzzle, the hunt of the century came together so simply and so beautifully. DNA will always been almost magical to me, even after years of study and sure knowledge of what is it and how it works.

His more recent research in neurosciences still send that tingle of … calling down my spine:

“It is essential to understand our brains in some details if we are to assess correctly our place in this vast and complicated universe we see all around us.”

Maybe, just maybe I’ll answer that calling…

Although I missed the news of your passing, Sir Francis, you will be missed.

Awesome!

Hobbit

Am much excited by this! I knew there was a reason that I still(?) believed in fairytales!

No switch will be made. You must do your third year rotations and at a
break or first of the year do neuro. Sorry.

Dear Office of Student Affairs:

Thank you so much for taking the time to help me. Especially since I’ve been down to your office three times in the last month, addressing this issue. I was very patient in explaining things, time and time again, since you conveniently forgot about our previous visits, every time I came by. Glad to know that those post-it note are doing some good.

But thank you for finally deciding to go and talk to the Dean today. After all, it had only been two weeks–so you were ahead of schedule. And I’m sure that you brought up the particulars for the change, right? You know, the ones that outlined that this was based on health issues and circumstances out of my control? Of course you did. And since you all remember that I’m paying $17,000 a year for the privilege of adding to your salary, I know that you worked extra hard in the 30 second “talk” to make sure that you were living up to your title of representing the “student”.

That’s what I thought.

Been a pleasure working with you. Let’s do it again soon, shall we? I can’t wait until we get to talk next year about how I can’t apply for any residencies because of all this. It’ll be fun!

Love always,

J

I am truly fascinated by this thing called the Internet…

Today, I was wasting time (my favorite past-time) exploring LJ looking for some Star Trek: Voyager icons (unfortunately good ones seem to be a particularly rare species) and just started clicking on links taking me to different people’s journals.

It’s astonishing how much people reveal of their lives… some blatantly, others in obscure threads throughout their posts. I mean, granted I talk a lot about my personal life–but a good portion of it is put into friend posts–where I can control who sees it.

What’s more amazing is that some of them don’t seem bothered by the fact that they have 500 people that they don’t know reading and commenting on their day to day lives… Take for example epicyclical. I stumbled onto her journal because it’s the personal/HP LJ of the woman who wrote the hilarious “Very Secret Diaries of LOTR.” Her “friends of” list has 2706 people!!

I like it that people are so honest with strangers. It makes me feel good about this world–that (at least when there’s some anonymity) we do allow others to see exactly who we are. I find it fascinating.

On that note: how many of you have RL people reading your journal? Does it make you write different things than you normally would?

A particular gem from http://www.thisfish.com. Her motto is the best:

It’s lovely to be a feminist and all. I have gotten in plenty a tizzy over the inequity of the female role in this bizarre universe. Have even tried out the independent, “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle” track, and been quite good at it. Eventually, however, I settled upon this conclusion:

This fish needs a bicycle.

If not for comfort, at least for entertainment’s sake.

I think I am such a fish too…

~~~~~~

(Since I seem to need updating before I ever get an entry posted)

Spent the evening in tears.

Now, now, don’t get worried. I wasn’t (entirely) depressed or heart-broken. In fact, I paid money for these tears.

I just saw Howard Shore conduct his Lord of the Rings Symphony!! With a full choir and children’s choir. A young soprano male with the voice of an angel. And a background of the art and sketches of Alan Lee and John Howe.

I got emotional walking into the hall (a big feat for me actually–am terrified of building and I went alone) where a small group of musicians performed the Fellowship theme. And it just got better from there. It was amazing seeing it “live”–the artwork was amazing and part of it felt like this must have been when HS was first writing it–just going off the artists’ ideas.

Got teary during the sweet Shire music. Cried during the Fellowship themes. And openly bawled during Into The West. Wearing mascara was not the best idea. Looked like raccoon.

Only one complaint: it was too short!

Sometimes, you just need a moment to remember who you are… who you were…

I just got back from my grandparent’s. Their house hasn’t changed much–books are still piled all over, mixed with my grandmother’s knitting and writing projects, and Grandpa’s newspapers. The “willow” tree out front, where we cousins used to dress up and play “Little House on the Prairie” (I was Ma, ’cause I was the oldest. And my sister Laura was usually Laura, even though she was the youngest.) is larger now–we could no longer use the split in the trunk as a table. But there are still cats prowling around and apples in the orchard and swallow nests on the front porch.

Magic still lingers there.

My grandparents are getting old now. Late 70s with white hair and ill health. But Grandpa is already getting his snowmobile ready, at just the mention of an early winter. And Grandma has so many projects that I think she keeps to defend herself against death–she can’t go until it’s organized for her posterity.

I spent three days talking with my grandma about politics and religion, family and ancestors, art and poetry. We talked a lot about writing. I confessed that I still write when I can (although I don’t think she understood what fanfiction was).

Grandma writes–essays, short stories and poetry. It’s her poetry that I like the most.

PERSPECTIVES

Meme stolen from kimarama ” When you see my poem, you post a poem, too. I don’t make the rules people.” I went on a hunt for poems, because my favorite poetry book has gone missing and stumbled across this one. And I’ve been in a really sentimental mood recently, so, I’m sharing it.

Like Anne Shirley’s House

I want a house that lifts itself
from the ground with a porch
like the lap of an apron
made to hold me in wicker.
The floor will be fir, clear
vertical grain; cut, milled,
shipped down from the north,
painted over each spring
semigloss gray — deck gray
it will say on the can.

People will come to a porch
composed around
the private dignity of a house
open to friends.

It will have corners for secrets.
The trellised west side
dripping rampant vine, flowering
frantic with bees in July,
a niche for the intimate glance
as amethyst deepens to violet
and the small wild loves of earth
sing out its rhythm
as if the whole country round
were gliding to bliss on rockers.

Faye George from Back Roads