Here’s the list I brainstormed to blog about:

•  A response to Susan’s blog about lifelong friends and how, whoa, it reflected all of the feelings.
• A recap of Liz and Edgardo’s visit a few weeks ago
• A recap on Chris and Gretchen’s visit two weeks ago
• My feelings about fellowship: what’s been good. What hasn’t.
• My solutions to San Francisco’s traffic problems and how it would make everybody (ie me) happier
• Reflections on my new church congregation and getting kicked out of my old ward
• Finally finishing up the entries I wrote from the beginning of summer: my cousin Jill’s visit, my graduation, the move across country
• More moping about the house (two showings this week! 🙂 No offers! 🙁 But the hardship letter is done and submitted and hopefully didn’t sound to terrible.
• My feelings about the latest season of Downton Abbey
• Things I like about San Francisco (there are a few, I promise)
• The allure of the “real job” in just a year and a half; I’ve got some serious daydreaming going on right now!
• So You’re Like That Huh. Which I begged and begged bjorks_defender to post and then never did. And for which I’m consumed in guilt for not doing.

The last one is winning out. Guilt is a very strong motivator. 🙂

1. You’ve just run into the person you were five years ago. Give yourself a piece of advice.
You are an intern. A wee baby doctor. Right now, it’s one of the busiest months of your entire intern year. You hate your senior (even though you’ll become friendish with him in a few months or so. Your attendings are demanding and weird (and yet, you’ll become facebook friends with one of them by the time you graduate too..). Make time for your friends. These people that you work with: they are your family. In a few months, Karem will have a massive head bleed and almost die. Mohammed will get married and move away. Kara will find a boyfriend who then becomes a husband and she becomes a mother. Go out with them, go to every neuro dinner that you can, even if you’re sleep deprived. Go dancing with Sima (why did you never go dancing with Sima?). Hang out with Aish, and get to know Katie because she and her husband Craig are the best people ever.

Oh, and there’s a girl in your ward by the name of Sarah who just broke her hip – vist her. And two Lauras and Brittany and Michelle. Friend them now. You’ll become friends with them within a year, but these women are special, so why don’t you get on that now? You’ll be very glad if you do because they will squee with you over the mundane and live life to the fullest and you should have more Friday night movies and backyard campfires. They will encircle you with love and trust.

In a few months, a few years, they’re going to move away, a few more than that, you’re going to move too. And you want those friendships to last forever. Please remind current-me, 5-years-ago-me, to call them now.

And stay away from Aaron, the med student. He’s not interested. Or worth it. Ditto for the guy you met at the bishop’s house a few weeks ago (and will reconnect with this weekend). Really – believe me on this.

2. What one word would you say best describes your country?
I’m going to use two. Apathetically impassioned. Especially since elections are coming up tomorrow. Everybody’s got their opinions (and loudly) but you can bet that voting turn out is going to be something like 15-20%. I’m included in the nonvoters this year – I’m keeping my registration in Wisconsin for now, so I can sign the petition and vote for the recall of Scott Walker and the idiotic senator who “represents” me, but I forgot to get an absentee ballot. Shoot.

3. What was your favorite moment of the past week?
Dinner with Prem. Prem has been a mentor to me – he’s one of the med-neuro group (two years ahead of me), and has been one who helped guide me into critical care. Plus he’s unbelievably hilarious. You should hear his stories about when he was a med student and spent a summer as a bum on an island in Malaysia because he couldn’t find a ride back to the mainland. His wife is awesome too and they had a baby a couple of years ago after they moved away. So, so, so awesome to reconnect.

4. What place are you most tranquil in?
The mountains. Five years away has definitely made me realize that I am a nature girl, and I love being in the mountains. My lifelong dream is to retire and become a campground host.

5. What is your strongest emotion?
Hmm. Right now – worry. Endless worry about not knowing enough, not being smart enough, not being good enough for this fellowship. Worried about how I’m going to do a research project when I kinda hate research, but how I won’t get a job if I don’t do a research project and freaking about about K grants and everything related to an academic position. Worried about getting a job in just a year and a half and wow, that’s not very long at all. Worried about the house. About the short sale. And what happens if the short sale doesn’t happen. And foreclosure. And how I’ve probably screwed everything up. My grandfather, I’m told, was a worrier and died from ulcers caused by his worrying. And even though I know that bacteria and acid and possible medications were more of the cause, well, I’ve never been so close to a nervous breakdown before. I’m okay (really, I promise), but I can’t stop the niggling little dread of “what if I can’t handle all of this?”

Is anybody watching Once Upon A Time? I started watching it on Hulu this past week and I’m loving it so far. I’m a sucker for fairy tale retellings: I own a dozen different young adult novels that are retellings of one fairy tale or another, and eagerly pick up others; The 10th Kingdom is one of my secret dirty laundry loves that I would never ever admit to. At least in polite, judging company. Anyway, Once is by the same writers as Lost, which is obvious in some of the story-telling (backstories, reveals, dialogue), but man, my life has had a big gaping hole since the end of Lost, so I’m not seeing that as a downside. It verges on being predictable and cheesy and it’s not as clever as Lost was by this point, but their first season was nothing less than pure genius, so I’m not holding it against them. I love the slow development the characters (also a Lost motif), although there are some that are bothering me. I hope that we get to see a little bit more from some of the minor characters.

In short. I’m enjoying it and want others to watch it so I can gush with them and ponder theories. Solitary fandom is so lonely sometimes.

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Julia
2. Dr. (Last Name)
3. Julio (although not as much in the last few years…)

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Black socks
2. Magenta cotton pajama pants (can’t find my fleece ones.)
3. Fleece bath robe – it’s chilly today!

THREE THINGS YOU WANT VERY BADLY AT THE MOMENT:
1. An offer on my house
2. The bank to agree to a short sale
3. Homemade pumpkin pie

THREE PEOPLE WHO YOU HOPE WILL DO THE MEME:
1. I don’t think I’ll even have three people who will read this…

THREE THINGS YOU DID LAST NIGHT:
1. Watched the pilot episode of “Once Upon A Time”
2. Ate chinese food
3. Watched the latest spoiler videos for Glee (shut it)

THREE PEOPLE YOU LAST TALKED TO ON THE PHONE:
1. Prem (today)
2. Dad (Wednesday)
3. My resident (Monday)

THREE THINGS YOU ARE GOING TO DO TOMORROW:
1. Church
2. Afternoon nap
3. Weekly phone calls

THREE OF YOUR FAVOURITE DRINKS:
1. Milk – I prefer 1%, but usually drink skim
2. Water
3. Pineapple juice

THREE THINGS THAT MADE YOU SMILE TODAY:
1. A reference to Lord of the Rings
2. Dinner and a movie with my friend Prem. It’s been two years since I saw him. We had a wonderful time.
3. The ridiculous movie, The Three Musketeers. I can’t decide if it truly was that stupid, or if they were trying to be funny. Dear Orlando, you will never be Johnny Depp, no matter how hard you try to create quirky villians, so just stop. The boy sitting next to me and I kept making eye contact as if we both couldn’t believe how ridiculous it was. I recommend keeping it as a RedBox night. Before they raise the prices. 🙂

My internet died for most of the evening (which is why this is late). I’m mooching off a neighbor who has open, unsecured access. I know, I know, but I haven’t had any weekday time when I could be home to get it set up. This month I’m on elective (and have been spending my time writing this hardship letter I should have had done a month ago, and researching the HARP program and Wisconsin foreclosure and short sale laws – next week, I’ll do some medicine-y stuff and plan research projects and learn how to do transcranial dopplers) so there should be a free afternoon or two. I’m hoping to get an eye appointment as well – looking at pictures, I’ve discovered that it’s been about 4 years (!!) since I got new glasses, and that needs to be rectified.

I have decided what I want, more than anything in the world, is a summer vacation. San Francisco has been pleasantly warm for the last several weeks – their summer months are from September to November, I’m told and it really made me want to just bask in the sun and nap. I want to go to the library and get as many books as mom will allow me, weed a garden, swim at Bear Lake and get a sunburn, paint in the sunshine, can peaches, attend family reunions, go to the state fair and eat fried food, and visit the playground and lazy around eating popcicles. Two months of freedom. That’s what I want. Childhood is wasted on kids – it’s the adults who have jobs and serious real lives who need it the most.

I do have the weekend off. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon (ugh), but then, freedom. I’m contemplating running away for the weekend, except it’s supposed to be cold and rainy (of course it is). I had really wanted to go north and drive in the redwood forest and camp with banana slugs. Maybe down to Monterey Bay aquarium? I hear it’s amazing. I just need a reprieve from the city and the noise, you know? Any suggestions for day trips? Or day and a half trips – I might still try camping, even in the rain. Or splurge for a motel. The weekend’s my oyster…

Pass.
Certified.

I was going to post the screenshot of those beautiful words, but the American Board of Internal Medicine website is down now – likely overwhelmed by the thousands of impatient doctors. It took 70 days to get the results back. Don’t ask me, in the day of technology and computerized exams and statistical programs that can analyze instantly which questions are outliers, why it took 70 days, but since they threatened up to 90 days, I’ll stop complaining.

So relieved. So, so, so relieved. Everybody always asks me after taking a test how I felt like I did and honestly, I can never answer that question. Especially with these 8-9 hour exams where by hour 4, I’m just wanting to get done, done, done, and hope that I can manage to leave without a roaring headache. It really has been 70 days of uncertainty.

I get to repeat it all with neuro boards next year (I think?). Critical care boards the following. It’s never-ending.

Still.

There’s something so sweet about being able to say that I am board certified in internal medicine – that I’m a “real” doctor now. It may be a little while before I get tired of tasting the words on my tongue.

I can honestly say that these last months have been some of the most depressing I’ve ever experienced.

Moving to a new, overwhelming, busy, big city (I have discovered that I am a country mouse). Leaving all of my friends behind. New responsibilities. New medical systems and new expectations that take forever to figure out. Still waiting to find out whether or not I passed my medicine boards. And then the on-going house drama (the short update: the buyer didn’t qualify for a loan. No other offers. This. Sucks.), which has basically drained me of all happiness. Every time I feel like I’m made a little progress, it’s all taken away from me. It’s been hard to be motivated to do anything. I won’t tell you the list of things that I need to get done that I haven’t touched.

It’s National Blogging Month. As a yearly NaNoWriMo nonstarter, Nablopomo has been much more my style and this will be my 4th year straight (although I failed last year). But then, I’ve blogged, what 5 times in the last 6 months? This might be a little more difficult this time. I’m so rusty. What did I used to talk about here? I haven’t wanted to blog because my thoughts have been so negative and black and unhappy. In years to come, I honestly don’t want to read my journal documenting these months. But there have been some positive things in my life (friends visiting, finally clicking with some of the neurology residents to where we might be friends), and so I’m going to try again.

Mon of thanks: I am thankful for comfortable shoes. Last month, I had to wake up every morning at 5 am (okay, it was really closer to 5:30, and I was late pretty much every morning) and we rounded for 6-7 hours. I’m a very, very boring shoe person and have one pair of shoes that i wear pretty much everyday and overall, I’m able to stand for hours without too much pain. A small blessing.

(For a visual representation of my last few months, Allie’s latest Hyperbole and a Half comic was spot on. Highly recommended reading (warning for language).)

I was late to church yesterday. I was switched to a new congregation (another story) and their services start at 9:00 am, and I was late. So rather than waiting another waiting another 10 minutes for the bus, I decided to drive. I got to church only a couple of minutes behind and drove around looking for a parking place. And drove. I circled the block 3 times, extending the radius. Nothing. After 15 minutes of this, I threw up my hands and yelled at God that if he didn’t help me find a parking place, I was going home and I was going to be done. With everything. With believing and sacrificing and trying to maintain faith.

Tears started then and I continued my yelling of frustration over how my prayers had been answered with silence. For months, I had prayed and pleaded for a solution to my house problem. I had no offers on the house. I was pursuing a short sale, but in order to do that, you actually have to have a buyer and I had nobody looking at my house. Renting was prolonging the inevitable and I was dreading the nightmare that foreclosure would bring.

The talks at general conference last week were all about the general authorities finding their quarters or five dollar bills – all of their prayers answered just so perfectly. I was so frustrated and angry at Heaven’s silence.

Two minutes later, two blocks farther than where I wanted to park, I found a parking spot and made it to church, which was uplifting and calming and the ward was welcoming.

Today, I opened up my email and found a message from my realtor that we have a potential offer – an offer with the promise of helping me with the mortgage payments until the paperwork goes through. I started crying on the elevator: my boss, who knows how much this has been weighing on me, hugged me. There’s a lot that could go wrong: I’m freaked out about convincing the bank to agree to the short sale and going through all of this to just end in foreclosure.

But, there’s a glimmer of hope, absent yesterday, a whisper that I have not been forgotten. And my faith burns a bit stronger.

(this is sort of to say that I’m alive… More real updates to come, promise)

The story.

Five years ago, our plucky heroine moved to Milwaukee and bought a House. A lovely House with romantic little nooks (built in bookshelves! A little reading bench!) and a lovely backyard with raspberries that were the envy of her neighbors during the summer. Besides the flooding basement (which she eventually conquered as any plucky heroine would), she thrived in her little Home.

Until she got a new job and moved across the country and had to leave behind her little House. She fretted and fretted about what to do with her beloved House. There were many many orphaned houses, ala Charles Dickens, who weren’t able to find owners and so selling the house didn’t seem possible. And of course, somebody would love her House as much as she did and take care of it and nurture it. So she decided to rent. For 2 months, she advertised and kept the Home loaded with flowers and every corner swept and sparkling. A few people came by ad said that the House wasn’t right for them. Initially, that was okay. She wanted somebody who would fit the House too. But then even those few people trickled away and nobody came by to see the House.

By now, our plucky heroine wasn’t feeling so plucky. In fact, she was getting nervous. She conferred with her top advisors. One suggested to “leave it all behind and make a fresh start.” There were a lot of orphaned houses, the advisor argued, so the House wouldn’t be so different. Another suggested to continue to try renting. Her top two advisors finally suggested that if she were to sell, that they would help out. Overjoyed, the plucky heroine contacted her Broker and put her darling little House up for sell.

Days went by. Our plucky heroine moved as she had to, leaving the House abandoned. Nobody came by and visited it. She tried to make it look better by getting fresh pictures and describing it to people, but to no avail. She lowered her asking price. Once and then again. And then again. Orphaned houses around the little House sold, but nobody came by to see the little house.

Our intrepid heroine is now at a crossroads and this is where you can help. She can no longer afford to continue to try to sell the house (unless someone finds her a magical godmother or the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow…). Should she

CHOICE 1 (turn to page 86): Try to rent the house again. To get a renter, she would have to cover some of the mortgage every month to make the rent more affordable, which would mean that she would be living on very tight means in an expensive city. She would also have to rent long distance and would be unable to “hand select” the renters and would have to trust that they wouldn’t destroy the place. The advantages are that her credit score would be saved and she could try selling again in a couple of years when the market stabilizes again (hopefully).

CHOICE 2 (turn to page 54): Walk away. Let the bank repossess and foreclose on the loan. This would mean losing every bit of extra time and money that she put into the little House over the last 5 years, all of the repairs and improvements, all of the “good homeowner, paying extra every month to reduce the loan” payments. And it would seriously affect her credit report – a credit report that she had diligently improved over the last several years. It is stellar now. It would potentially affect her ability to rent an apartment in the next year or buy a new car or buy a house in a couple of years. On the plus side, there would no longer be a financial burden to carry and worry about. And there are lots and lots of abandoned homes so little House wouldn’t feel completely alone.

Your choice. Make it wisely and let our heroine know what she should do. Leave a comment with your reasoning. 🙂

From my facebook two days ago (I thought I was being terribly clever):

“Unbeknowst to most, the urban apartment is one of the planet’s most elusive prey. Quick to disappear, it lurks in shadows and is easily scared off by threats of habitation. The predator must possess fine-honed skills of experience, patience and speed. Our hunter has found its desirable prey and the timeless dance of pursuit and retreat are underway. Will the exhausted and frustrated hunter be successful in capturing the apt or will it flee the jaws once again? Tune in later (after the hunter has a nap) to find out!”

I have found an apartment that I am really interested in. A med student is subletting her place while she leaves for a year and it sounds good: fantastic location, just 2 blocks from the school and from the Golden Gate Park and easy transportation to downtown. There’s an included covered parking space for free (unheard of) and in-facility laundry (also rarer than rare) and the price is reasonable, especially since it’s two bedrooms, so I’d have space for all of my friends when they come to visit (hint, hint). It’s not perfect – it’s furnished, which means that I’ll be getting rid of all of my stuff (I love my couch!), and she won’t be moving out until the end of August, but she’s willing to let me move in early and split rent for 2 months.

Unfortunately, I have competition. Of course. It’s between me and two med students, although I think it’s really going to come down to whether or not she wants a roommate who is pretty flexible with her move out date, or not. We’ll see. She’s supposed to call at the end of the weekend to let me know. There are some other potential roommate situations as well, so things feel less dire than they did a week ago.

I’ve decided to take the weekend off apartment hunting, because it combined with everything else has been stressing me out to the point that I was developing bulimic eating patterns and wasn’t getting anything else done, as I obsessively clicked on craigslist – I’ve only completely about 2 hours of cardiology studying this past week, not good.  So I made a spontaneous trip down to central Illinois to see my friend Susan and her little family for the last time before I leave. We’re going to have a fantastic weekend. As the baby wakes up at 7, I’d probably better get some sleep. 🙂

This apartment hunt thing continues to be a nightmare. I’ve emailed dozens of people about apartments. I contacted one person about potentially becoming a roommate, who emailed and stated that she would call – she hasn’t. Today I found a place that sounded, well, not ideal, but the apartment was large (3 bedrooms) to be shared with just one person. It was a 15 minute walk from the hospital or a 6 min direct bus ride that has service all night long. All good things. Until my potential roommate wrote back, saying that she had a medical marijuana card and smokes in the apartment to wind down. Um no. I won’t comment on the pros and cons about medical marijuana, but as far as I’m concerned, smoking is smoking and I don’t want to live in a smoky/stinky apartment. So that’s another dead-end.

captainsblog‘s friend and my Laura G sent me an apartment listing for an apartment complex close to the hospital – just down the hill. I called – they won’t send me any information, pictures, anything because they don’t rent except in person.

I also emailed a bunch of women who were listed on a housing list to see if somebody wanted to be my roommate. I think I could do one roommate; any more than that would be too much potential for badness. So far, I’ve heard from 2, but they were really wanting to live in a different area than what I want. I’ll be exploring that more.

In other news. I refinanced my home. And can’t find a renter. I’ve shown it to 3 people now who have called my place “cute” and selected a different place. I’ve got somebody from my ward coming to look at it on Thursday, so all hope is not lost. But. I can’t really advertise on craigslist since my refinancing specifically states that I will reside there and I’m already stretching that definition.

Oh, and my “bored” studying sucks right now. And did I mention that my car is now stalling at stop signs and lights?

Guys, I need advice.

You may all remember that I’m moving to San Francisco to do fellowship. In about 5 weeks. 5 weeks. Back in March, when I was browsing for housing, I stumbled on options for on-campus housing that was right above the hospital. Beautiful apartment buildings overlooking the valley with free parking spaces. It sounded perfect for a transplant like me – I’m still sort of petrified at the idea of living in one of the “densest metropolis in the country”. I applied right away and thought that since I had applied early (the website recommended applying about 2 months early, this was almost 3.5), I thought my housing problems were solved. It’s been hectically busy and I haven’t had the time to browse for apartments nor the time to fly out there, etc. I know, I know, putting all of your eggs in a basket before they hatch – stupid. But honestly, as a person who does believe in prayer, this felt like an answer to prayer and that things would work out.

Sum up: this week, after many unanswered emails and unhelpful conversations with desk clerks, I finally got in contact with the housing supervisor who stated that “we have a very limited number of apartments in July and a lengthy waitlist” and that there was a “slim chance” that I would be offered an apartment. Cue the freakout. I’ve poured over craigslist postings and other websites, got on the church housing mailing list, and have been emailing like mad. I’ve heard back from 3 people: there’s a shoebox available, a 1 bedroom “in-law” apartment that is about the size of my living room now, or a room with a single mother and her 6 year old child or a room in a house with 3 other women (but I’d only have to share the bathroom with one other person) that’s a ways from the hospital.

I’m just… I’ve been constantly nauseated for the last 2 days. I didn’t sleep last night. I am truly worried about this. It’s not just finding an apartment, it’s finding an apartment long distance. Because if I thought I didn’t have time before, I definitely don’t have time now.

So my question: 1 – who lives in SF and is willing to go apartment shopping for me. I jest. Not really. 2 – who has done the long distance apartment hunt and how did you do it? 3 – Has anybody used a realtor/property manager before? Recommendations? I’m really starting to lean this way, because renting an apartment without seeing it sounds horrifying. I remember college and looking for apartments and some of the death traps that were billed as “charming.” But from what I’m seeing, using a realtor is expensive. 10-15% of the “yearly rent” and since the monthly rents are more than my mortgage here, that’s costly. I’ll pay it if I need to, but ouch. This moving thing is going to drain me of every penny in my savings.

I’ve contacted the program coordinator and hope to get some assistance from her. But any advice you all can offer would be great too.

Today I:
– Went to the gym and walked on the treadmill for 30 minutes. It was hot and miserable.
– Gardened for 2.5 hours. My yard looks AWFUL – the hickory nuts that the squirrels eat and scatter shells has caused patches of my lawn to die. So I tried raking up the shells. There are thousands. I’m seriously contemplating going out there with my heavy duty vacuum (I know, I know, bad idea). This week, I need to go out there with some weed killer and then fertilizer and seed to see if I can get some lawn back. Or hire a lawn person to do it for me.
– Showered and collapsed on the couch for an hour because ow, ow, ow
– Ran a couple of errands (but not the grocery shopping that I needed to do)
– Went to my friend Sarah’s house and painted her kitchen and bedroom
– Did my federal taxes. Still have Wisconsin’s to do, but hey! Refund!

I’m dead. I’m achy, everything from my shoulders to the balls of my feet where two lovely blisters have taken residence hurt. I’m on call tomorrow (yes again. I’ll save you the rant) and I think I’ll be limping into the hospital.

“All You who Sleep Tonight”
Vikram Seth

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above –

Know that you aren’t alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.

Another reminder today of why I’m glad I’m graduating: the neurology program where I’m training seems to be dissolving. The chair of my department, Dr. J, is leaving. He stepped down as chair a year ago, but they’ve never been able to fill the position, so he’s been “acting chair.” Then several neurologists left: 3 of the child neurologists, 3 epilepsy doctors, 1 movement. In January, the dean of the medical school (who influences how the hospital and the clinics are paid and run in many, many different ways) was sacked on a Sunday night. While everybody is happy to see him gone (believe me, he had few supporters and is the root cause of most of the deserters), we currently don’t have a dean, which makes everybody nervous: big decisions get postponed, people don’t want to take positions here, money for research gets funnelled elsewhere, etc. And now Dr. J, who I adore and idolize and wish, someday, that I could be a quarter as brilliant and meticulous in my neurological exam and localization, is leaving.

I’ll admit that I’ve had many frustrations with the neurology department. When I started here, the program director (who was not the same one I interviewed with, nor was I told about a change in management before I started) was brand new – he had just finished fellowship. Unfortunately, Dr. W had been a resident in the program only two years before, and many of the attendings remembered him as a resident and had a hard time accepting him not only as an equal, but in an authoritative position. Within a year (with the combination of decreased financial compensation for teaching), most of the attendings stopped giving lectures, stopped doing teaching on rounds, stopped doing journal clubs. In essence, all of my education has come from my program director and I don’t like or respond to the way he lectures. Neurology was my favorite subject in medical school – I excelled at neuroanatomy. It’s been a different experience in residency. I don’t regret doing the combined residency (most of the time) and I have learned so much, but I do wonder if I would be close to a “mini Dr. J” if I had gone to another school. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate Dr. W – in many ways he has been an excellent program director. He has worked endless to try to improve our working conditions and he is always, always available for any question or concern or problem. He’s come over to my house when I was having flooding problems (he lives about a mile from me) and many, many times, he’s supplied the residents out of his own budget. I just don’t agree with his teaching styles or some of his management skills.

In any case, I’m kinda glad to leave behind this drama. Politics exist everywhere, but I hope to be blissfully unaware of my new department’s problems for at least 6-9 months.

Anyway, today’s poem is one that I apparently downloaded earlier this week. I have no recollection of doing so (eta, it apparently downloaded itself when I clicked on one of those websites that had automatic midi music and flashing gifs – the things I go through to find you poetry!), but it seemed appropriate. It is lovely read aloud though: hopefully by clicking on the link, you’ll only hear some random person’s gravelly voice and not tinny “harpiscords” http://www.eaglesweb.com/realaudio/yeats_to_a_friend_whose_work_has_come_to_nothing.ram

To a Friend Whose Work Has Come To Nothing
by William Butler Yeats

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete,
Being honour bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in his own
Nor in his neighbours’ eyes?
Bred to a harder thing
Than Triumph, turn away
And like a laughing string
Whereon mad fingers play
Amid a place of stone,
Be secret and exult,
Because of all things known
That is most difficult.

I just got back from the gym. And am off to bed, so I can wake up in 6 hours and go again. I think. I haven’t made it to the “5 o’clock gym date” this whole week, because by the time that wee hour of the morning arrives, I’m very cozy in my bed and don’t want to wake up. Going to the gym sucks me of three hours of sleep in the morning. Exercise just has a hard time competing with that. I’m seeing benefits in duration though, already.

In any case, no time to search for new poems. So this is stolen from the Writer’s Almanac from yesterday.

Why I’m Here
by Jacqueline Berger

Because my mother was on a date
with a man in the band, and my father,
thinking she was alone, asked her to dance.
And because, years earlier, my father
dug a foxhole but his buddy
sick with the flu, asked him for it, so he dug
another for himself. In the night
the first hole was shelled.
I’m here because my mother was twenty-seven
and in the ’50s that was old to still be single.
And because my father wouldn’t work on weapons,
though he was an atomic engineer.
My mother, having gone to Berkeley, liked that.
My father liked that she didn’t eat like a bird
when he took her to the best restaurant in L.A.
The rest of the reasons are long gone.
One decides to get dressed, go out, though she’d rather
stay home, but no, melancholy must be battled through,
so the skirt, the cinched belt, the shoes, and a life is changed.
I’m here because Jews were hated
so my grandparents left their villages,
came to America, married one who could cook,
one whose brother had a business,
married longing and disappointment
and secured in this way the future.

It’s good to treasure the gift, but good
to see that it wasn’t really meant for you.
The feeling that it couldn’t have been otherwise
is just a feeling. My family
around the patio table in July.
I’ve taken over the barbequing
that used to be my father’s job, ask him
how many coals, though I know how many.
We’ve been gathering here for years,
so I believe we will go on forever.
It’s right to praise the random,
the tiny god of probability that brought us here,
to praise not meaning, but feeling, the still-warm
sky at dusk, the light that lingers and the night
that when it comes is gentle.

“Why I’m Here” by Jacqueline Berger, from The Gift That Arrives Broken. © Autumn House Press, 2010

*sigh* I just lost my whole post. Sadly, I don’t have time to recreate it, so just the poem tonight. It’s one of my favorites, a poem that I recite during difficult and trying times, or when I’m lonely and overwhelmed.

(For background about the poem, this was a nice article)

Time for the Gulls
by Carol Lynn Pearson

It’s time, Father,
For the gulls, I think.

My arms shake
From flailing my field.
I sink,
Broken as the little stalks
Beneath their devouring burden.

I yield it all to you,
Who alone can touch all things.
It’s time, Father,
For the gulls.

I will be still,
And listen for their wings.

You may not have realized it, but we’ve been having a little bit of political fun here in Wisconsin. It’s been fascinating to see how involved people have gotten on both sides and how sustained it’s been. Today was the mid-cycle elections, which (I found out this year, d’oh!), happen every year for the nondenominational, er, nonpartisan races. There were two real races: that for state supreme court and for county executive to replace the seat vacated by our wonderful, thoughtful, listening, full-of-grand-ideas, compromising (can you hear the sarcasm??) governor. Wisconsin public radio is reporting that the voter turnout was close to 60%, for a regular fall session, that it remarkably high, for spring, it’s astonishing; I love democracy in action! Less than a third of the precincts have reported yet – as I’m still trying to get up and exercise at 4:30 in the morning, I don’t think I’m going to wait up for results.

Poem for today is one that I discovered last year, on the interview trail. One of the attendings who interviewed me in Detroit was a nice guy, but just a little on the intense side – meaning, within minutes of meeting me, he wanted to know what things in life brought me pleasure, how I foresaw the ethical values affecting medicine, and what was the meaning of life. I tend to be a philosopher, but only after warming up, and I was quite off-guard through the interview. In any case, somehow poetry came up and he stated that this was his favorite poem. After reading it, I could see why. I know extremely little about the poetry of the eastern cultures, and I didn’t even realize that there were well known Muslim poets (very western-centric of me, I know). Let me know what you think of this one and if you have any to share.

His Winter Crop by Hafiz (translated by Daniel Ladinsky)

I have
Seen You heal
A hundred deep wounds with one glance
From Your spectacular eyes,

While your hands, beneath the table,
Pour large bags of salt into the heart-gashes
Of Your most loyal servants.

Dear world, I can offer
An intelligent explanation
For our suffering,
But I hope it really makes sense
To no one here,
And come morning,
You are again at God’s door
With ax and pickets,
Eloquent petitions and complaints.

Think of suffering as being washed.
That is to say,
Hafiz, you are often completely soaked
And dripping.

The only advantage I can see in this
In the Friend’s long-range plan
Is that when the Beloved bursts
Into ecstatic flames

This whole world will not turn into
A bright oil wick all at once
Then divine ash,
And ruin His
Winter Crop.
From The Gift

If I make it through this week, without snapping at my passive-aggressive, inefficient, endless rounding attending, I will consider it a success. Last time, it took about 3 days for me to decide that I did not enjoy working with her. It took less than 15 minutes today to remember why. Of the 7 days that I’ll be working with her, I’m on call for 3. Did i mention the long, long hours?

This poem has nothing to do with the above. 🙂 Or maybe I’m feeling like I need a catfish right now.

Your Catfish Friend
by Richard Brautigan

If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, “It’s beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,”
I’d love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, “I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them.”

Fishing On The Susquehanna In July
by Billy Collins

I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna
or on any river for that matter
to be perfectly honest.

Not in July or any month
have I had the pleasure — if it is a pleasure —
of fishing on the Susquehanna.

I am more likely to be found
in a quiet room like this one —
a painting of a woman on the wall,

a bowl of tangerines on the table —
trying to manufacture the sensation
of fishing on the Susquehanna.

There is little doubt
that others have been fishing
on the Susquehanna,

rowing upstream in a wooden boat,
sliding the oars under the water
then raising them to drip in the light.

But the nearest I have ever come to
fishing on the Susquehanna
was one afternoon in a museum in Philadelphia,

when I balanced a little egg of time
in front of a painting
in which that river curled around a bend

under a blue cloud-ruffled sky,
dense trees along the banks,
and a fellow with a red bandana

sitting in a small green
flat-bottom boat
holding the thin whip of a pole.

That is something I am unlikely
ever to do, I remember
saying to myself and the person next to me.

Then I blinked and moved on
to other American scenes
of haystacks, water whitening over rocks,

even one of a brown hare
who seemed so wired with alertness
I imagined him springing right out of the frame.

I absolutely adore Billy Collins’s poetry. I discovered him thanks to a 3 year old boy who became a YouTube sensation (for your own good, click and listen). I had no idea that he was the Poet Laureate and had to find out more about him after that. Some of the lines – “balanced a little egg of time” – yes, those are why I love poetry.

You know that giddy, butterfly feeling when everything is going well – the sun is shining and the weather is warming up, or perhaps the trees have blossomed or the potential that the boy you’ve been eying is flirting back, or you’ve just received affirmation from people you respect and admire and love that they respect and admire and love you back. That feeling. That’s what I’m feeling tonight because of an incredible concert with Vienna Teng. Not only was it a solo performance and she the main act, but she played for two hours, then signed autographs and posed graciously for photos, and then, then, invited the remaining audience to sit on the stage around her piano while she serenaded us for another 45 minutes. I had almost prime seating, right across from her piano – but directly facing the stage lights, so all of my pictures have halos and spots. But, oh, oh, to get to see her play and hear her sing and talk to her: bliss.

So the poem today is actually one of my favorite songs of hers, one that she performed tonight. I think it reads well as poetry as well (although punctuation is off…).

Kansas by Vienna Teng

Sun sets in an ocean of brown farmland haze
Power lines draped across roads you could drive on for days
Well it’s all too perfect
Time to look back at us now

Endless and empty like Kansas
Our cities of clouds
Flat on the table like Kansas

I lay down in sheets suddenly worn threadbare
Every wall I lean on transforms to sliding doors and thin air
Well I hope yours is kinder
Let go of this when you find her

Bury this hard
Down underneath your white canvas
Our houses of cards
Flat on the table like Kansas

It’s not regret
Just an unexpected accounting of debts
Only now called
No it’s not regret
Just remembrance is all
Of how close we had come
The war almost won
But I sent up our flag and moved on

You and I
Lost to the winter like Kansas
And all my goodbyes
Flat on the table like Kansas

I am, in a word, overwhelmed. This graduating and moving across the country bit came sooner than I expected. As Gretchen Rubin in her Happiness Project blog often states: “the years are long but the days are short,” and how true that has been. The list of stuff I have to figure out before moving seems to grow exponentially every day: endless paperwork for privileges, billing, licensing, etc, decisions about renting versus selling my house (which could be paragraphs, so I’ll spare you the drama. Tonight.), finishing this poster for the presentation in May, Grand Rounds on April 22 and I just barely decided on a topic, but I’m still trying to narrow it down: Music and the brain, which is fascinating but too broad. Do I talk about disorders affecting music appreciation? Perception? Rhythm? How about the recent discoveries of the neurophysiology of music and the particular brain cortices and pathways involved? Or maybe music therapy for stroke and Alzheimer’s patients? Obviously, I have no clue. Add in daily studies for Medicine Boards – I’m behind again on my schedule *sigh*. And did I mention that I’m on pediatric neurology this month, on-call every third night, which means fragmented sleep and long hours. Lastly, I’ve decided that I *must* get reasonably back into shape before starting fellowship, so I’ve been getting up at 4 bloody o’clock to exercise for the past two weeks (honest prevails me to mention that I’ve only made it half the time. But still!) – this morning, I was so exhausted and tired that I could barely stay up straight on the machine. Keep reminding me that it’s good for me, okay?

It’s National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt, like every year, to post a poem a day. Anybody want to take bets how long I’ll last? I just discovered this one and I love the imagery.

Evening
By Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell

The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls;

and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises;

and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternately stone in you and star.