Monday, November 06, 2006
Letting the days go by...
Let's Talk About the Weather:
Today was so freakin' beautiful here in San Diego. Sometimes I can forget how phenomenal the weather can be (as I spend most of my day in climate controlled, flourescently lit hospital land). When I left work tonight, it was dark. But it was WARM. I went to WholeFoods, got some dinner, and then sat outside in a t-shirt and ate my asian tofu with noodles. Southern California Rocks! (O.K. So that was tacky and semi-literate. Cut me some slack.)
The monthly "Fuck You" Awards:
1. Hey lady! Yeah, you. You pushing your shopping cart with one hand and drinking your non-fat soy frappo-something with the other while doing your damn-dest not to make eye contact with me. I am flush up against the dairy case and cannot move any further. EAT SOME FUCKING PROTEIN AND STEER AROUND ME!
2. Hey lady! Yeah, you. You with the 5-year old who licked her fingers from the free sample and then proceeded to rearrange the entire sushi case with aforementioned spitty fingers. It is not o.k. to stand in the middle of the aisle of the salad bar and pick up individual items, show them to your child, name them, and then casually throw them back in the container when she sneers. SOME OF US ARE FUCKING HUNGRY! SLOW MOVING VEHICLES SHOULD PULL OVER AND ALLOW OTHERS TO PASS!
3. Hey ass! Yeah, you. You've been following me around, taunting me with your largeness and slightly less than totally-tonedness. It's been a rough year and all. When residency is officially over, I promise to eat less chocolate (fingers SO crossed behind my back) and run more stairs (O.K. That might really happen). In the meantime, could you PLEASE just fit in my cute jeans and quit being so unruly? Thank you very FUCKING much.
Finally, a tie in to the title:
Oh my god, how did I get here? (Thank you, David Byrne.) While I have neither a beautiful house or a beautiful wife, I find myself wondering about where I am. I never thought I'd be living in SoCal. I never thought I'd be a surgeon. I never thought the warmest thing I'd have to sleep with would be a boxer who snores and farts...(O.K. The whole boxer thing was always a possibility - I just thought he'd walk on two legs and have a few tattoos). As I draw near to the end of my residency, yet another move, and another lonely year, I can't help but feel as if I'm just letting the days go by. And letting them take me with them...
And as long as you're talking to your ass, will you take a moment to reassure it that other people think it's cute?
It's always - ALWAYS - disheartening to stop in the middle of a marathon and try to gauge where you are relative to where you want or need to be. Better to just put your head down, run the race as well as you can, and trust that somewhere along the way the rewards will kick in.
You're smart, funny, good-looking, and young. Oh, to be even one of those. You'll be fine.
Now here ... (spits on a tissue, wipes a smudge off your cheek, then brushes your hair back out of your eyes) You have such a pretty face. It's a shame to hide it. Go. Play outside. Stop moping around. Get!
You blogging every day is the best part of NaBloPoMo.
two weeks ago while in NC having tea with a former cariogology proff, I told him that I was not sure how I really got in vet school never mind graduating. i think we all have those moments.