It's about...time.

Patience.

A virtue that I am severely lacking naturally but have been trained to cultivate over the last few years.

With so many goals that are time sensitive -- meaning that they may be accomplished only at certain times of year in a specific sequence -- patience is of the utmost importance. Not only is it the practice of waiting for the right opportunity, but doing so in the right spirit. Waiting in agitation is a waste of energy. It also distracts from the main goal.

Right now I am in a situation where patience is quite important. As my MCAT test date looms ever closer, it is imperative that I give my brain, body, and nerves appropriate care and preparation. Becoming agitated because I can't seem to memorize the formula for that one physics principle is not going to help. Slowly working through the formula and then applying it to several different practice problems is a much better approach.

I feel the time crunch and want to find short cuts. There aren't any. Just patience. And time. And dedication.

Just breath.

This will pass.

Survival is a given.

Changes in the Wind

With so much going on you'd think I'd have quite a lot to say...

Alas, not yet. I'm going to keep this all close to the vest until there is a little more certainty in my world.

Coming soon: Erda Days!

What I Want to Say is Not What I Shall Say

Oh wow, it's been a while since I've last posted. That's probably because I've got too much to say and when I've got too much to say I usually just keep quiet and hoard all of the words for myself until they expire at which time they are brushed out the back door and forgotten as they scatter in the wind. 

Really though, I've been busy.

Between work, studying, church, and family life my grandmother passed away this month. We took a weekend to spend time with family up in Oregon and it was actually quite a positive experience. I found out some things about my grandma that have colored my memory of her in a more positive light. I'm very glad that I was able to attend the funeral and give her a decent farewell.

My left eye has been weeping for about two months now. It just brims over with excess tears and I find droplets of water coursing down my cheeks to rest on the corner of my lip or on my chin. There is no infection and after multiple episodes of using hot compresses and flushing out the eye I finally caved and went to see my doctor. I'm going in later this week to have an eyeball roto-rooter poked into my clogged tear duct. I'm kind of excited for this. I bet it will send water through to my nose! I'll be crying through my nose like a normal person again! Today at work, a donor noticed my constant eye blotting and very sincerely asked me how I was doing. She feared that I was sad or going through a hard time. It was just so nice to have someone care about me enough to make the comment, even though we don't know each other well at all. Way to be, plasma donor. You made me feel loved today. :)

I learned a new word.
pusillanimous
[pyoo-suh-lan-uh-muhs]
adjective
1. lacking courage or resolution; cowardly; faint-hearted; timid.
2. proceeding from or indicating a cowardly spirit.

Pusillanimity is a serious problem. It leads to lower rates of dreams being achieved, destroys prospective dating ventures, and demoralizes to the point of diminished potential. Man up, ladies and gentlemen and help me in my fight against pusillanimous behavior! Together we can eradicate pusillanimous attitudes and replace them with the undaunted action of heroism.

Huzzah!

The Student

Open books and highlighters
Scattered around the scholar
Tell the sad tale far better
Of what was about to befall her

Awake before the sun
No sleep underneath the moon
She bravely stuffed her head
To take her test by noon

But long before exam time
And after countless study hours
She had to drop the pen
And give in to physical powers

Somewhere deep inside her brian
Knowledge began to seep
A dam had burst, all was lost
The student began to weep

"My head is about to explode!"
The valient student cried,
She crammed and fought to learn
But eventually, she died

Let this be a lesson,
Young students, gather 'round
There is so much more to life
Than to be too tightly wound

So when a test date looms,
And you begin to feel the need
To study all night and day,
Please, don't over-do the deed.


Wish me luck, I've officially begun to study again.

This week I have...

This week I have...

...been offered candy from a stranger.
...been the one to offer purse candy to a child and then noticed that it had purse fuzz all over it where the wrapper was worn away by worrying against things in my purse. (Ok, so the child was my adult, preggers sister. She technically has a child inside of her. And the candy was bad. When she turned it down, I tried to eat it and failed because the stuff I had to pull off my tongue was not worth the taste of the candy.)
...accrued over-time. Boo-ya for time and a half!
...been squirted with the blood of a stranger. Twice.
...had a proposal of marriage. I turned it down. He just wants me for my money.
...finished a good book.
...started a good book.
...listened to Newsies about a billion times.
...had my spirits lifted by others.
...had my spirits dashed by others.
...had to cover for someone who quit.
...almost said something mean to someone because I was hungry and almost couldn't control my inner monkey man.
...cried.
...laughed.
...raged.
...done the wrong thing.
...done the right thing.
...wasted time.
...made head-way on a project.
...felt like a loser.
...felt like a sexy beast.
...given relationship advice to a stranger.
...given relationship advice to a close friend.
...had no relationship advice for myself.
...treated myself to a one person date. Thank you self, it was lovely. ;-)
...gone to bed at an unreasonable hour.
...chatted with someone I love.
... invested time into an important relationship.
...wasted time that could have been spent on something of more worth but can't regret it because I had fun.
...been sick. Still. :(
...been complimented.
...been given delicious food.
...blogged.

Pinkenism

In high school I had a teacher who thought it was hilarious to randomly yell in the middle of class, "Everybody, look at Zarah!"

When 30 some-odd pairs of eyes were fixed on me, the temperature in the room would explode to a million degrees and something would just . . . happen. I would turn pink. Not just pink, but full on fuchsia with red highlights. And not just my cheeks, but my full face -- apart from a white line around my mouth and eyes . . . and I guess my forehead never really changes from stark white. . .

In any case, this little "joke" was not my favorite. I blush easily and hold color well.

People notice.

A few days ago during a lull at work I entertained two men who kept making me blush just by talking about how easily I blush. The fellow who led the conversation is quite creative. He spent some time telling me that he was a friendly mutant from a planet where everything is perfect and people live the law of "Do What You Do," which involves having resources at the ready to do anything you need/want to do when you need/want it (sounds like the law of consecration to me). He was willing to take me there if I wanted to go, but I couldn't change my mind. After much debate I decided against it and chose to stay in this less-than-perfect world. Sad day.

I'm not sure if he forgot the word "blush," or what, but he made up a word for what my face does when people stare intently at it for no particular reason: pinkenism. As in, "Girl, you got some pinkenism going on in your cheeks! Hoo-whee! Not just the round part but all up in your face and ever'thang!"

So, there you have it, folks. I've got a bad case of pinkenism and I am not ashamed!

This gentleman also thought that I couldn't be a day older than 19. And he told me that he'd met my husband. Thinking that he was going to offer up himself for the duty, I allowed my voice to drip with skepticism as I inquired after how he could have met my husband before I had.

His response was sweet.

"You wanna know how I know your husband? I know that you're a good person, so you're going to get good guy to be your husband. That's how I know. You're a good person and good people find good people."

My feelings about dating, love, marriage, and relationships in general seem to change wildly from one day to the next. Just today I was talking to a man at work who did offer himself as my groom in 10 years when I've finished med school so I can be his sugar mama. I declined the generous offer. I went on to declare that I wasn't on the market and wouldn't be for some time because my goals are too important to me. Citing  statistics that a significant percentage of med school students who enter their studies with a spouse end up divorced I denounced relationships as a non-priority for me.

I use this excuse a lot.

It's handy to have a well-accepted screen to hide behind when people begin throwing around uncomfortable topics. If I can tell people that I don't date because I have big plans and man would throw off my groove, they generally leave with visions of feminist bra burners dancing in their minds -- which happens to be in vogue in some circles. If I tell people that I don't date because I don't go out and meet guys they ask why I don't just date the guys in my area. When I tell them that I grew up with the guys in my area and have no interest in them because they lack ambition they walk away with the impression that I am too choosy and have made up my mind to be unimpressed.  If I tell people that I'd like to date but happen to be scared of actually finding someone I like because I've only had intensely negative experiences with that sort of thing they walk away feeling sorry for me -- this is not something I'm fond of cultivating.

It leaves me in a bind, actually.

I can't say what I really think about the matter because I don't really know what to think on the matter.

The following is an excerpt from my journal. Savor it, I doubt that I'll be posting anything like it ever again.

12 May 2011

For the past several months I have been questioning myself daily. "What do you want? What do you really want?"
The response that inevitably came to mind was, "I want what everyone wants -- to be loved."
But it has always sounded off to me -- as though it's only partially correct. Like the class of notes in a dissonant chord, my very being collided with this one idea to make something lovely but...wrong.
Why do I need to be loved?
I am already loved dearly by so many.
I am quite happy with those I call dear.
Tonight, in a moment of quiet meditation over the events of the day I repeated my well-worn self query.
"What do you really want?"
And tonight my soul answered, "I want to be understood."
This thought sang with Truth -- with a capitol T!
This is what I want! Love with come with understanding, but sharing one's self requires more than love alone.
I thought about boys I had dismissed as possible companions. The biggest fault I found in each was perceived inability to understand me -- to appreciate the crazy complexity of emotion and logic that makes me tick. If I can find someone to really understand me, I will never let him go. And he won't want to leave because he will know how earnest and faithful I am.

Maybe it's just my crazy talking, but this has become something of a priority for me: to find and understanding soul with whom I can share my whole self. Is that too much to ask for?

I have no idea where to start looking for such a person -- if indeed someone like that can actually exist -- so I just wait. Hopefully I haven't burned too many bridges  to explore past options. And hopefully I will be given new opportunities.

In the mean time, I really do have things to occupy my mind. .  . and hands. . . and heart. But I'll keep the light on.

One thing I do know: if he happens to like pinkenism, he'll just be one lucky guy because I've got a whole lot of that going on!

Oh, look, my mouth has some pinkenism too!

Someone To Watch Over Me

Tonight I came home to the strains of George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue pouring out from the television in my parent's room. I joined them for an evening watching the 1946 film about the composer's life, exclaiming a few times, "This is a fun piece to play -- I should know!"

I played Rhapsody in Blue and An American in Paris with the Murray Symphony last year.

We have a concert coming up May 21 at 7pm in the Murray High School auditorium. We will be playing several challenging pieces and a few just for fun. This is the symphony's 35th concert season and we are all so thrilled to be performing. Only one member remains from that first season but many more have been playing together for several years. And then there are newbies like me who have just discovered the joy of community orchestra. What a wonderful thing it is to be included!

The following song is a composition of George Gershwin with lyrics by his brother, Ira Gershwin. A particular favorite; it speaks to me tonight.

There's a saying old

Says that love is blind -

Still we're often told,

"Seek and ye shall find."

So I'm going to seek

A certain lad I've had in mind.

Looking everywhere,

Haven't found him yet;

He's the big affair

I cannot forget.

Only man I ever

Think of with regret.

I'd like to add his initials to my monogram.

Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost

lamb.

There's a somebody I'm longing to see

I hope that he

Turns out to be

Someone who'll watch over me.

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood.

I know I could

Always be good

To one who'll watch over me.

Although he may not be the man some

Girls think of as handsome

To my heart he carries the key.

Won't you tell him please to put on some

speed -

Follow my lead -

Oh! How I need

Someone to watch over me.

Someone to watch over me.