lesson learned

a surgery resident stopped by yesterday to tell me that the surgery consult i ordered was inappropriate. he didn't really go on to explain what was inappropriate about it, but instead tried to make an analogy. failing miserably, i cut him off, telling him i was post-call and didn't have the patience to listen to him founder. what he must have heard was that it was because I was post-call that I had decided to consult him, and he proceeded to tell me that being post call was a poor excuse for making a poor decision.

we transferred that patient to surgery today.


This whole experience reminded me of something important. (Why yes, I am about to preach)

Never complain down. It does no good to whine to those beneath you. It makes you sound weak, lazy, and unprofessional. If you have a complaint to make, speak to your peers or voice your concerns to your superiors. But you have nothing to gain by grumbling to your juniors. Even if the consult had been a poor decision, I'm not about to pass on this surgeon's unhappiness to my resident or attending. If he really hoped to prevent bad consults in the future, he would have been better served by spending his time doing a little education.

Instead, I just think he's a crybaby with poor clinical judgement.

Where is the spirit in 1+1?

If he suspends the glass above the flame, the brew will sizzle until one chemical interacts with another. The concoction will sizzle every time. Molecules colliding with increased energy, their behavior ruled by the laws of physics. Ruled by the laws of physics. The future, present, and past of every material object is subject to the laws of physics. The orbit of every celestial body, the fall of every drop of rain. His own body a collection of molecules. His desire a cauldron of hormones whose chemistry has just been scientifically documented. His brain a case of matter, blood, and bone.

But he feels direct experience of his own soul, his spirit. He cannot accept that as an aggregate of flesh, a clump of matter, that his future, past, and present are already determined by the laws of physics. He cannot crush out the intuition that he makes choices, influences the world with his mind and spirit. He cannot crush out his belief in God.

mean? yes, but that's why i didn't say it aloud

little old lady (LOL): i'm old enough to be your grandmother
me: ... {no ma'am, you're too old to be my grandmother}

In the beginning...

"All beginnings are difficult"

It's hard to know where to start, because it's hard to know what exactly is pertinent. Where can I begin the story so that it makes sense? Well, but I'll try to keep things concise.

I grew up in the church. Truly, it can be a wonderful way to grow up. Went to church school, starting in elementary. Went to Sabbath school and church services every Saturday, and saw the same people there as I did the other days of the week. My parents were fair and reasonable, but firm when it came to their own values (which didn't necessarily coincide with the official church line). It's a very structured and secure environment, and I did quite well. I excelled in school; I remember how upset I was in 3rd grade when I got a B in handwriting. I played by the rules (by and large, and when I didn't, I didn't get caught); I was never sent to the principle's office, or even so much as reprimanded more than once or twice. I had friends enough, and a younger sister who would help me build forts and Lego bases. Ok, so I had a bit of a temper (I once kicked in a windshield), and some prominent isolationist/introverted/antisocial tendencies (though not enough to be considered on the autism spectrum), but all in all, I'd say my parents could give themselves a Win.

To be fair to environmental considerations, I've grown up with a remarkably well-adjusted and well-behaved group of friends, and they're to be credited for keeping me out of all sorts of trouble. We all were good students, and altogether we managed only minor mischief. As a group, we were active, with music, sports, church activities, student governments, etc. When I say this, I'm thinking mainly of high school days, but the roots go even further back, to Kumon, and computer and swimming lessons, and piano class.

So, those are the sorts of things you could learn from report cards and interviews with my parents. Really, that would give you a pretty good picture. There's not much else that went on under the surface. Well, some self-doubt, self-loathing, self-hatred, though not for any particular reason. I wasn't mean to people around me, I didn't lie, cheat, or steal. (Ok, a few lies sometimes to save me some trouble, and I sometimes looked at my neighbor's test, but mainly out of curiosity, as I always trusted my own answers more). I was never bullied or abused. I was very naive and innocent to the things that tend to get people into trouble (substances, feelings, hormones, power, vanity, etc.) Ok, I had a few early crushes (Cheri Wild, Tiffany Lo, Jacque Copenhaver, Katrina Gonzaga), but I didn't know why I liked them or what I wanted to do with them. I'm getting off track though. What I'm trying to say is, I hate myself sometimes, for no particular reason, and this tendency goes as far back as I can remember.

Let's summarize: Enter one bright and talented young boy, well-bred and with similarly gifted friends. He had some struggles with self-worth, and possible depression vs dysthymia, though this was ego-syntonic, and caused no great distress.

I didn't give much thought to life and love and why in the early years. I believed in the church doctrines, more or less, but I didn't bother to get baptized. Still, I participated in my church; I was religious vice president of my class for a couple years, and was a Teen Minister in the church youth group. I talked at school chapel once or twice. I never enjoyed Bible study though. To me, it seemed like a waste of time, since I wasn't even reading it in the original languages. I mean, I figured scripture was pretty much true, but I never considered it to be infallible; how could it be? It's just a translation of someone else's words. In my mind, if I saw the big picture, I didn't have to worry about the details. Anyway, I saw the impact that God could have in the lives of others (even if I got sick of hearing the drug addict conversion stories, I wasn't one to argue with results), and even felt His presence myself. This would change, toward the end of high school, but that will be the next chapter.


A few last words, things that are important on a very foundational level:

There can be no comprehensive understanding of my psyche without talking about love. In the end, or maybe in the beginning, or probably both, I'm a romantic, an idealist, an INFP; despite all my cynicism and skepticism, I ultimately have hope. Hope for myself, hope for others; love for myself, love for others. This probably deserves its own posting, maybe a chapter, and maybe I'll acquiesce, but at the least keep it in mind as you read.

And this might be the most important, and the key to all that will follow. There are a few things I've never had any reason to doubt, but if I had to pick one, it would be the love of my family. In this I consider myself to be immeasurably blessed.

Foreshadowing (+/- foreshortening)

My friend Dustin rather recently published the highlights of his philosophical journey, and I thought I might try something similar. It will not be a comprehensive understanding, but I hope to make some of my thoughts (which ultimately aren't really mine, but a mash-up of many others) better understood.

I will say up front that I don't see any reason for anyone else to believe as I do. If part of it resonates with you, fantastic. If not, then enjoy the glimpse under the hood(ie). This here is not a road map to happiness, or salvation, or success. It will not help you get through school, meet (or enable you to so much as talk to) the boy/girl of your dreams, or find a job; if anything, I'd predict the opposite. It will be an attempted summary. Mein Kampf, if you will. I feel no need to apologize, because this is likely to be intensely personal, and subject to all sorts of revisionist memory. I will be as honest as I can, though not at the expense of others. Furthermore, this journey is by no means complete. At least, I hope. You never know. Each new day is so wonderfully unpredictable.

It sounds a little bleak, I know, but trust me, I've tried to consider my options very carefully. Here's the short of it: it allows me not to want/have to kill myself.

galeanthropy is the proper term

i was thinking i'd diagnose "lycanthropy" in a patient, just to see if anyone took note. then i thought, no, that's too common. this person looks more like a cat. what would that be called? feline-anthropy? felanthropy? i googled felanthropy, and all i found were people who couldn't spell.

if i was a girl, i'd use "miss anthropy" as my gaming handle

mono no aware (alone and nescient)

break up - heart break

stunned silence, no mistake

cancelled plans, wasted wishes

blurry eyes, broken dishes

dont talk to me, for goodness' sake

let me dream, never to wake

break down - new low

chest heavy, mind slow

collapse defeat surrendering

memory re-rendering

resignation tendering

total shutdown, world of no

break in - what is lost?

papers strewn, drawers tossed

trust broken, lines crossed

self-loathing, unforgiven

recreated, changes striven

devil deal reeks of faust

break out - taking flight

desperate aimless through the night

hazards met couragelessly

unparalleled depravity

hidden from the garish light

longing still to have things right

break through - breaking dawn

yesterday now all but gone

tiny shards, remnant prayers

buried under new affairs

cracks oozing despite repairs

unseen beneath impressive brawn

break away - day all new

sky is shining, sun is blue

ear pressed close to far-off wind

search for whispers from a friend

secret heart murmurs true

(((i miss you, i miss you)))

+stealth

I'm strongly considering posting anonymously. At least for my poetry.

- It would allow me to elaborate and exaggerate with much less risk of repercussions. And while I'm thousands of miles away from these complications, I'm only about 5 seconds away from my phone.

- I just mean, not much comes to me "out of the blue." There's always some sort of connection. Oh mercy, this is just what I was complaining about the other day. These little threads that keep me tied to reality. Some days I feel that they vanish altogether, and that I'm drifting drifting drifting. It's no small wonder I always find my way back, eventually.

- It wouldn't decrease circulation, which is probably best characterized as "arrested," for all i know/care

But then, why "post" at all. Why not just journal if I wanna be all secretive about it? I have no good answer.

I wonder, if I became a musician, how I could write songs that were so personally revealing and part with them. I would hope very successfully...

books, my new old best friend

the top row of my bookshelf looks totally badass right now. that is to say, it's pleasing to my eye. here's how it's stacked up: the idiot, high fidelity, the house of god, a collection by auden, the stranger, kafka on the shore, the imitation of christ, paradise lost (bleh), my name is asher lev, the rivals sheridan, edith hamilton's mythology, for whom the bell tolls, wuthering heights, on liberty, haroun and the sea of stories, the notebook (oh dammit, that'll subtract a few manliness points), franny and zooey, and how to survive the end of the world as we know it. i also have a stack of books that i'm supposed to read (by when?) but i recently got a nook, and now the stack is slightly taller but will last me a lifetime.

so, currently i'm reading (i mean, i've started, with some general intention to finish in the next decade) on the road, the great book of amber, sputnik sweetheart, and persuasion. i probably will finish persuasion first, just because that's on the nook, and the novelty hasn't even begun to wear off.