A Voice in the Darkness

pokes head in

2009-07-01T16:07:00.000-04:00

I'm still alive, I swear. :-)

Got a bit tied up from so much studying that I flat forgot this was even here. But, a two-sentence summary. I'm doing well, and second year is satisfactorily over. :-D

Mmmm... microbes.

2008-09-14T23:09:00.000-04:00

Curse you, Leeuwonhoek! Curse you and your inventions!

If it weren't for microscopes, my job would be much easier. As it is, my back is killing me. ;-)

Gross Anatomy... DONE.

2008-03-13T23:25:00.001-04:00

It was a beast, it was nasty and evil, but it's DONE.

Pass, move on, and now a few days' rest before the next block. Behavioral Sciences should be easy compared to that!

pokes head in

2008-02-15T18:13:00.002-05:00

Don't know if anyone's still reading this, but I'm still here. :-)

I've been tied up with school of late, but all is well. Gross Anatomy just takes too long. Hopefully, I can sit down and write something longer tonight.

Hey, we finally learn how to do the whole doctoring thing!

2007-09-18T07:58:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow, the block of med school I think I'll enjoy the most starts- Fundamentals of Clinical Practice. It's a fun one- how to do the physical exam, ethics, all that good stuff.

Have to say I'm looking forward to it. :-)

Finally... only took four years!

2007-05-21T16:19:00.000-04:00

"IN. :-)"
"SQUEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"

So run the first two text messages Bainwen and I exchanged on the 17th. Why?

It only took four years to write them.

I first applied to medical school in June of '03, and got waitlisted at the Medical College of Ohio for the 2004 entering class.

Took two years of extra classes, got waitlisted at Wright State University for the 2006 entering class.

One year at a Master level, and I got waitlisted at Ohio University, Cincinnati and an interview request at the newly-renamed University of Toledo College of Medicine for the 2007 entering class.

Then came the 7th. Interview day. Thought I nailed the interview, but time to wait...

*opens letter*

No waitlist this time!

I'm in! All I have to do is finish the MS, which may require some luck, but if I do... I'm in!

Been busy, but in a good way. :-)

2007-04-14T13:15:00.000-04:00

Been so busy, I nearly forgot to update on here. My apologies, folks. :-)

Hmmm... starting from the beginning. I pulled an 88.6% in my Neuropathology course for the final, and just found out I got an 80% on my first Neuroscience exam. Been studying like mad for that class, so I've been consumed.

It's rough, but I've been making it.

However, I finally had a chance to keep a promise to my grandfather, back on 3/31.

What promise?

Well, he was a Mason for many, many years. 61, as a matter of fact. He never missed a meeting until he was well over 80, and always encouraged me to join someday. I knew I would, as the ideals of equality and fraternity appeal greatly, but life kept intervening. One day, Grandpa passed me an envelope with five crisp twenties in it- enough for my petition. I took it, and kept it safe until the time was right.

On April 3rd, 2005, he passed away. I was about twenty feet away.

As my grandma was helped to a chair to recover from the shock, I took a moment alone with Grandpa. I'll do it, I promised. As soon as I can, any way that I can, I will.

Time passed, as time often does. I kept getting close, setting aside time that was always eaten alive with classes and work, keeping me just far enough away that it was left undone.

March 31st, though, the stars aligned. A one-day class, from Entered Apprentice to Master Mason. My father was my guide, and my grandfather was there in spirit. If I didn't know better, I would swear I saw a tear in my dad's eye when he gave me the Master's grip.

If he'd looked closely, he would have seen one in my eye, too.

A promise kept, two years on. A promise kept, and the Light shines on.

So mote it be.

Where I've been.

2007-03-01T11:31:00.000-05:00

I'm back!

Yes, I know I vanished for a while. There's a reason.

Finals.

Well, a final. My Neuroanatomy class had its final yesterday. I needed an 89 to get an A, and I'm pretty sure I did it. :-)

Now it's spring break! :-D

The interview.

2007-02-08T22:47:00.000-05:00

Well, we're back. Now how do I classify that vortex of suck without large quantities of profanity?

I'll do it chronologically...

3-5pm. Exam in Pathophysiology, which I did pretty darn well on. 88%, as a matter of fact. Making things even better, a friend of mine was quite thoroughly delirious before the exam. He was leafing through my notes, and came across a circulatory system diagram. His reaction? "Aorta. That's pretty funny!" Need I say that has become a tagline for Bainwen and I? ;-)

5pm. Load the car and hit the road. Traffic wasn't bad for the most part, just normal rush-hour congestion in a few spots. Around 8, we stopped for dinner in Piqua. Pi-qua. Sounds like a reject Pokemon, doesn't it? Pi-qua-chu! ;-)

8:30pm. Dinner's done, but no check. Lots of weird looks from other people though- wonder why?

9pm. Still no check. The waitress had "forgotten" to give it to us, apparently. Never did get one.

10pm. In Cincy, through the nastiness that is the neighborhood around the school. After wandering around for about 20 minutes looking for an entrance to the hotel, we find it and get checked in.

Tuesday, 8am. Up! Shower, shave, get cleaned up. Take my time getting ready, and get looking good. All's ready.

10am. I head out, and Bainwen hangs around the hotel. That's when things start going wrong. She'd held off on a shower until I left, but just as she was getting ready, the power goes out. Some mental midget had flipped a breaker.

10:30am. After wandering around the horrific architecture of their MedSci building (Why the hell is there a single red-brick office in the basement?), I found their Dean's Office. Got my folder of information, and sat down. Nothing weird here.

11am. Weirdness begins. It's a comedy of oddness, with everything said about other universities finished with "but we're better" or some permutation thereof. The presenter had the personality of a rock, and then started a few things that made me question why I was even there. He says UC is the oldest university in Ohio, founded in 1819, and oldest medical school West of the Alleghenies. (Half right- oldest med school, yes. Oldest Uni? Ohio University (1804) and Miami University (1809) may beg to differ.) He says they have the largest Oktoberfest in Ohio (Outright wrong. Columbus is largest by far, then Toledo.) He says their board passage rate is highest in state, way above national average. (Misleading, at best. Their rate of 98% is excellent, but the national average of 93% looks better when you remember that US-protectorate schools that have low-40s rates are in there.)

If you can't talk without bashing the others, don't. You look arrogant. By this point, I was seriously questioning my being there. Had I wasted $300 in gas and hotel fees?

11:30am. Tour. Nothing special, though most of the students looked like they wanted to be anywhere else, as opposed to the other tours I've done.

1:30pm. Interview. The guy leads in with my least favorite question- Tell me about yourself. I answer as best I can, and it becomes apparent the interviewer has all the personality of a dead fish. I answered questions, and there were no follow-through questions. I can carry a conversation, but this was talking to a wall.

3pm. Time to go, and it's snowing pretty heavily. Bainwen and I jump in the car, intent on leaving Cincy as a memory and nothing more- she'd had an irritating day, too. Get on the road, and go... nowhere. Slip, slide, skid. Lots of slippery hills, and no discernable salt or plowing.

6pm. Get to an exit for I-75, after 3 hours of driving and looking for one, we finally see the highway. Standstill. Great. Find dinner and see if things clear.

7pm. Hey, Waffle House. Hear from a trucker that 75 is closed around Dayton, so we're stuck. He recommends a hotel a few miles down the road.

8pm. EconoLodge, here we are. Collapse, and sleep.

9am. Realize there's no way on Earth I can make it to class at 12:45, so I email my prof. She's understanding, which is a plus. Hit the road.

Finally, we're free. Stop for lunch in Versailles, hit an antique mall in Findlay, got home at 4. Never doing that again!

An interview.

2007-01-22T12:40:00.000-05:00

I seem to have located another interview, this time at Cincinnati. :-) Should be interesting, especially if Bainwen can keep me company on the drive. They only do one interview for an hour with one interviewer, which is weird. Everywhere else does either 2 (Wright State) or 3 (MUO, Ohio). I'm not sure what to make of this.

Never waste another day...

2007-01-10T00:12:00.000-05:00

“Never waste another day wondering what you threw away…” – Sugarland, 2006.

I’ve heard this song a hundred times, no doubt. Decent beat, nice sound, but today was different. Today was the time I really heard it for the first time.

That line means a lot, really. How much? Well, how many past mistakes are there?

Fifth grade.

I’d been bullied before, but this was when things got rough. What would have stopped it there? Telling a teacher didn’t work- they ignored it as harmless. Ignoring it didn’t work- the bully just came on harder. So it went on, up until I was a Sophomore in high school.

Seventh grade.

Algebra. It’s become a near joke in my family, how I should have taken 7^th grade algebra. Why? Because 7^th grade algebra would have had me in Geometry as a Freshman, Algebra II/Trig as a Sophomore, Pre-Calculus or AP Calculus BC as a Junior, then AP Calculus AB or AP Stats as a Senior. That would have set up my college math well, boosting my GPA. Maybe not taking a single class kept me from getting into medical school initially.

Senior year.

Similar to seventh grade, I should have taken AP Biology instead of AP Chemistry. Better fit overall, and maybe it would have made a difference.

Freshman year of college.

I found a tutor when I needed help, but maybe sooner?

Just a quick sample, those, but it ends now. I have what I have as my history, and nevermore shall I look at the past and wonder what might have been. I’ve made the right calls when it counted (Hi, Bainwen!), and that is enough.

Never waste another day wondering what you threw away. Never again.

Ahhh... a Christmas surprise!

2006-12-26T12:27:00.000-05:00

Since this is the first Christmas Bainwen and I have had to balance families, the last few days have been pretty darn busy. Christmas Eve with my family, with Bainwen meeting the whole lot of us for the first time. She'd met my father's side, but it's tiny compared to the mass of people on my mom's. Aunts and uncles aplenty, ancillary family all around, 85F rooms and stuffy air. A normal Christmas Eve for me, but a bit overwhelming.

Christmas Day was with her family. Simple enough, Lunch-Dinner hybrid and presents, with a little bit of a Christmas surprise at the end.

"So..." started Bainwen. "What are you all doing on June 21st?"

Blank looks.

"Well... we figured you could come South for a wedding! :-D"

Jaws drop.

Questions as rapid-fire as from an MG42, congrats and handshakes flying. Yet, in all of that, only one hand matters.

This one.

Incoming interview!

2006-12-03T20:09:00.000-05:00

Eeek! I've an interview!

Ohio University College of Osteopathic Medicine, 12/15. Sweet... :-D Now to clean my suit and hit the road.

Yipyipyipyipyipyip.... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

2006-11-18T09:28:00.000-05:00

Look, puppies! Let's listen in... It sounds like barking, but translated...

Puppy- Look! Look! Look! Look!
Puppy2- *head tilts to side* What?
Puppy- It's air!
Puppy2- Let's bark at it!
Yipyipyipyipyipyipyipyiyip...
Puppy- Okay, it's gone. :-p

Puppy2- Look! Look! Look! Look!
Puppy- *head tilts to side* What?
Puppy2- I forgot...

Puppy2- Look! Look! Look! Look!
Puppy3- *head tilts to side* What?
Puppy2- It's YOU!
Puppy3- *head tilts far enough to nearly fall over* Huh?
Puppy2- Let's bark at you!
Puppy3- *sad look*
Puppy2- *licks*

Puppy- Look! Look! Look! Look!
Puppy2- *head tilts to side* What?
Puppy- They're Mom's shoes!
Puppy2- Let's eat them!
Chompslurpchewchompburp...

And then the fun one, with two puppies that the Divine has blessed as soulmates, the day they open their eyes...

Puppy- *opens eyes* FRIEND!!!
Puppy2- *opens eyes* FRIEND!!!

Almost there, and a major boost.

2006-11-08T17:55:00.000-05:00

Got my Exam 4 score back yesterday- 89.74%, Honors. Now so long as I do well on the final, I'm gold.

For tomorrow, something light... conversations overheard amongst puppies.

And breathe...

2006-11-04T08:52:00.000-05:00

Done.

Finally.

11 weeks.
200-odd hours of lecture.
730 pages of notes.
2100 pages of handouts.
4200-odd slides.

Done.

I finished, and I think I did well with it. :-) Now to wait and get my score back.

4 binders, $35.
1 Color Atlas of Histology, $65.
1 Harper's Biochemistry, $95.
MSBS program, $10,000.

Being done with Block 1, and being able to relax?

PRICELESS! :-D

click Oh... wow...

2006-10-17T09:03:00.000-04:00

Well, I thought the MCAT scores would be back Saturday. I was wrong...

Friday, when I was half-asleep during a class break, I checked.

"August 2006 MCAT scores are now available for viewing."

*deep breath*
*click*

Physical Sciences- 11, 85th percentile. Okay. Lost one there, but who cares...
Verbal Reasoning- 12, 96th percentile. Sweet. Picked up three...
Biological Sciences- 10, 75th percentile. Awesome. Picked up two!
Writing Sample- P, 70th percentile. Lost one, but who cares?

33P, overall 90th percentile. :-D

If I pull this Master's out, I have my acceptance. Bet money. :-)

grabs rock, pulls up off cliff

2006-10-10T14:42:00.000-04:00

Hufff... puff... almost... there... PULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

Three exams down, two to go. :-) This last one, though, I feel excellent about. Class average was pretty darn high, and some questions were going to get tossed, due to lots of people getting them wrong. Considering those comprise some of the ones I was unsure of, that's a major help- I would wager I know for certain what 2 were, as the only way to make sense of them was to change words around.

Almost there. One month, and this block is over.

Someone mind helping me up from this bloody rock???

Hey, I'm still alive!

2006-09-23T10:07:00.000-04:00

It's been a while, but I'm still alive.

I've just been consumed by Biochemistry, so not much time to do much of anything fun. :-(

How much studying, you ask?

Thursday was 8 hours, on top of four of lecture. Friday was another 5.

Eeeeeeeeeee...

Hey, I can do this!

2006-09-08T09:12:00.000-04:00

Got back the first exam from my Cellular and Moleculr Biology class.

Pass. Unlike the 5 lost souls who failed. :-)

I wish I'd done better, and I'm going to some meetings today to refine my study technique, but I can do this!

This time next year, I'll have my MS. :-D

130 pages of notes, 385 pages of handouts, not enough sleep, yet strangely...

2006-08-31T09:01:00.000-04:00

I feel pretty darn good. :-)

Gorgeous morning this morning, sweet sunrise and a gentle breeze. It rained most the night, but that just leads to a good day.

I'm tired. Tired enough I could fall asleep standing up, but all is well.

Morning, folks. Have a good day. :-)

Doctor, can I be excused?

2006-08-24T09:03:00.000-04:00

My brain is full.

195 pages of handout Powerpoint slides, 60 pages of notes, and it's only 10am on Thursday. I'm on break at the moment- profs like having a few minutes of break every hour. Helps recharge the mind.

Overall, though, I'm pleased. I can do this. :-)

Heck, even my ID picture looks good! It's meant to be!

Almost there...

2006-08-14T00:00:00.000-04:00

This promises to be a long week.

Monday and Tuesday are normal enough, just workdays. Hard work, hot sun, but I'm okay with that.

Wednesday promises to be very long indeed. Orientation/Registration for my Master's. Starts at 8, and they have the schedule filled until 5, though mine should be shorter. Unlike most Master's programs, the MSBS is special. There's no choice as to classes. I take classes 1-9, in that order, and when they are offered. I should be out of there quickly.

Thankfully, it appears that Amazon and Barnes/Noble have my books cheaper than MUO does, so I'm going to try ordering them tomorrow. They'll be here by Monday's class, and I pocket a few extra bucks. :-)

Thursday I have a doctor's appointment. Just a checkup, but annoying. Friday, Bainwen does for her wrist.

Saturday is that wander through hell, the MCAT. Five and a half hours. Pray for me.

Snopesters, and jam, and... and... God, I'm tired.

2006-07-30T18:04:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was the second annual Midwest Snopester Meet, up at the Detroit Zoo. Great time, to say the least, and a chance to see a few people I have wanted to put faces to a screen name.

Admittedly, we looked a little odd...

1. Nametags. Nametags with screen names, not with real names. Lots easier to work with.
2. Constant searching for water misters, since it was 95.
3. Congregating in the Penguinarium, all 20 of us. Have to meet somewhere, right? :-)
4. Devastating the poor buffet at Mongolian BBQ. 20 hungry people who haven't eaten all day, at a buffet. Doom!

Most excellent way to spend the day. :-)

As a relaxation today, I pulled out the saucepan and made some jams. Strawberry, and a peach-blackberry. Yum. :-D

God, I'm tired. :-p

Got it!

2006-07-18T15:24:00.000-04:00

Well, my back hurts, my abs are on fire, and my poor knees may never be the same, but it is done. All of Bainwen's stuff is currently in the apartment, and mine is following. Squee! :-)

As an aside, adding to the rockage- got a secondary request from the University of Cincinnati. Two down, five to go. :-D

Saturday!

2006-07-06T01:01:00.000-04:00

Saturday, folks, Saturday! Finally, Bainwen and I go apartment finding. :-D Got the application accepted, now to front the money and get our apartment.

Squee. :-)

Apartment in view.

2006-06-29T10:19:00.000-04:00

As Bainwen posted, we now have an application for an apartment. Excellent area, nice solid apartment, basically everything I want. If it were closer to MUO, I would be there already. ;-)

It's strange, though. I was stuck for so long- applying to med school in '04 and getting shut down, applying to med school in '06 and getting shut out- that the pieces finally are moving is amazing. Two weeks ago, the acceptance came, and now I have an application to leave the only home I've ever known.

Soon. Less than a month, if all works well, I load up the truck and get what of mine is coming with to my new home. Less than a month, and I'm out in the world. If we want raw cookie dough at 3AM while watching MST3K, we can!

Pass the cookie dough, my love. It's time. :-)

New boots- now to add miles. :-)

2006-06-29T10:14:00.000-04:00

My old set of Wolverines finally fell apart- I've been shaking sand out of the left one since Saturday- so I went and got new.

Red Wing 202s, Size 10EE. Apparently I'm Bigfoot. :-p

They fit like a glove and are ready for woodland ninjing. Time to hit the trails and see what happens!

Oh. My. God.

2006-06-15T16:37:00.000-04:00

Got a letter today in the mail. Medical University of Ohio, School of Graduate Studies- the MSBS program I applied to.

I tore it open, and I think my mom will forever be hard of hearing in one ear.

"Dear Casey, it is my pleasure to inform you..."

BOOOOOOOOOO-YAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I got in! :-D

As promised, I return.

2006-06-12T00:54:00.000-04:00

As I promised, I am back, with a new entry. :-)

The other day, I was doing a little bookkeeping with some of my collections. Updating my rosters on my coin collection (I will finish that Silver Eagle set someday!), giving the more elderly samples in my pocketknife collection a quick wipe with an oily rag, letting my hands play.

As happens a lot, I ended up with the oldest knife in my collection in my hands, and the one that means the most. It's a pretty elderly stockman, somewhere around a century old, and pretty worn down. The blades wobble and flex, the handle shifts slightly as I press it into my palm, the old silver shield stands proud, high above where it should be. No collector would give me much for this- a no-name maker in poor condition.

Yet, it's the one that would never be sold.

Why? It was my great-great-grandfather's. Why are the blades so worn? Because my grandpa's earliest memories are of his grandfather carving with it, and using one of the little blades (so small even then) to scrape out his pipe. That blade is worn down to toothpick levels of size, but that's not all. The master blade? Thin and weak from years of carving, from whistles to walking sticks.

I never knew him. My grandfather gave me this the winter before he died, with the strict instruction to never let it go. I won't.

In its way, this old knife reminds me of Grandpa himself. Worn, but still sharp, even to the end.

We're all like that, I think. A cherished piece in a grandchild's collection someday, some worn memento of a life lived. That knife has its scars. So did Grandpa. Someday, my grandson will have it, and think of mine.

That's not bad. :-)

Just a late musing, folks. Don't mind me.

Lest y'all think I've vanished...

2006-06-06T00:22:00.000-04:00

Thought I'd pop my head in and say I'm still here. :-) There's a post dancing in my brain, but I'm too tired to let it fly right this second.

Studying.

2006-05-18T14:50:00.000-04:00

Well, blogfolks, there's a reason I've vanished for a while. Between working and studying for the August MCAT, I've been trapped.

The MCAT, you say? For those who may not know, it's the Medical College Admissions Test- the medical school GRE, basically. I took it in 2003 and pulled a very solid score, but I need to take it again.

Ouch. The Kaplan review book calls- 1066 pages of review of the material involved. :-o I'm on page 235, but there's only one problem. I've studied too much.

Last week, when I had my CD player going as background music, "Dust on the Bottle" came on. It has a rather pervasive background beat, just 1, 2..., 3. First thing I thought? That's an S3 heart sound!

I've studied too much. Maybe I should take a walk.

Ninjing...

2006-05-10T00:08:00.000-04:00

Tonight, Bainwen and I decided to do a little woodland ninjing. Nothing unusual, just a wander through one of the wilder parks in town. Yet, this night was different.

Glorious weather, for starters. Warm, but slightly breezy. Aside from the mosquitoes, the weather was perfect. :-)

(Though I did discover something- apparently my ability to weather mosquito bites has boosted since my time in Scouts. What were welts the size of dimes three hours ago are now gone. Squee.)

We got a bit turned around. Red trail became the brown trail, became a deer track, became a squirrel trail, eventually vanishing into a knothole up a hawthorne tree. But, in our wandering, we found something special.

Deer. Five of them, walking as casually and calmly as I do in my own living room, looking upon us and deciding we were okay.

Hello, friends. The woodland ninjas are glad to see you. :-)

Beltaine, sweet Beltaine.

2006-05-02T00:30:00.000-04:00

Beltaine. The Celt New Year is upon us again, and again, it has amazed me with its beauty.

Last night, I was walking through those woods I know so well, when an old familiar scent wafted its way towards me. Lilacs, those bright heralds of spring, sweet as sugar and soft as pillows. I picked one, and that old smell carried me back, back to a place long ago.

Not college.

Not high school.

Not my childhood.

Further. Much further, when these woods were wild and untapped, when the deer ran free and only small groups of Native Americans dotted the land. One hundred years ago, no, more than that. This vision was of back when these mighty oaks were saplings, and the oaks before them stood tall and proud. No paths ran these woods, save what the deer left behind. The lake was dry, but the creek ran strong and pure, over that good sandstone that lay beneath.

A flash of what life was in those days, with simplicity and harmony with the land, this was this vision. The stars danced in their heaven, Orion and Draco doing their tortured two-step in the sky, while Casseopeia looked on in her chair. Round and around they whirled, through months, years and centuries, leading me back home.

With a blink, I slid back into myself again. Back in today's world, with a new year of possibilities awaiting, I walked strong and sure. I know not what the future holds, but with a Beltaine that beautiful, I have no fear.

Won't someone please think of the cones???

2006-04-25T14:04:00.000-04:00

During some Webwandering today, I happened on these folks.

Poor cones. Despite all the Traffic Cone Preservation Society does, they're treated horribly. Hundreds are driven over every year, and you can almost hear them screaming...

Please, folks. Adopt a cone today. :-p

Hurt, but hope.

2006-04-19T11:34:00.000-04:00

Well, I heard back from OU yesterday.

Spent a long time talking to their dean of the medical school, and he said I was denied an interview, but not for anything that was my fault. The class was simply full when I applied.

But...

He also said that if I were to apply there early, say, this July, I'd be nearly guaranteed an interview, even without a new MCAT. I'd have to take the MCAT again, of course, but I could be in before end of this summer.

And, to fill my time for the year, I did a little searching.

MUO offers a Master of Science in Medical Science, which is exactly what I need. I exceed all of the requirements, and that class is still way below full. One year program, and I walk out with an MS and straight into medical school.

Failing that, there is option #2. Master of Public Health. 2 years, and I get an MPH that will easily get me into medical school.

Of course, Wright State could still call, making all of this moot.

It hurts, but I'm glad to at least have a plan.

But... but... it's THUNDERING!!!

2006-04-12T10:59:00.000-04:00

As I write this, both of my dogs are curled up under my desk. Why?

Thunder.

Now, you'd think a terrier mix that had laughed at danger, and a 110# mastiff wouldn't be afraid of a few clouds bumping into each other, but you would be wrong. Molly and Sara are scared today. ;-)

That's Molly on the left, Sara on the right. :-) They're both rescue dogs. Molly came from Save-A-Pet, one of the biggest no-kill shelters in the country, and Sara came from Petfinder, where she was pulled from an abusive home.

All the dogs we've ever had have been rescues or finds. Who says you need a breeder? :-)

Help! I've been tagged!

2006-04-10T11:20:00.000-04:00

*looks confusedly at the tag hanging off his ear*

Well, Bainwen got me, so here we go...

1. Who was your first Prom date?
$80 per bid, plus the fact that I didn't date in HS, meant I didn't go.

2. Who was your first roommate(s)?
Not applicable. Always had my own room growing up.

3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk?
Love Potions #5, same as Bainwen. Good stuff. :-)

4. What was your first job?
I started working for my dad when I turned 14, and still work there, though I have had other jobs in addition along the way. It's a good bit of locksmithing, tossed with installation and servicing of security doors and bars.

5. What was your first car?
1993 BMW 318is, got it in 2004. :-) Runs like a champion.

6. When did you go to your first funeral?
First one was the funeral of one of my classmate's grandparents in second grade- we had to. First that I was old enough to know what was going on fully was my grandma's, when I was 17.

7. How old were you when you first moved away from your home town?
With luck, I'll be 24. :-)

8. Who was your first grade teacher?
Mrs. Kulwicki. Evil woman.

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?
Washington DC.

10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with?
Solo, 17, just needed away for a while.

11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them?
Guy I went all through grade school and Cub Scouts with. He drifted out of the Scouts Freshman year, I was still very much in, and we had a knock-down, drag-out fight over a few things. Haven't spoken to him since.

12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house?
Hopefully an apartment in Athens. ;-)

13. Who is the first person you call if you have a bad day?
My girlfriend.

14. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsmen?
Never have been, though my dad is proud of the fact that he was flower girl at a lesbian wedding once. ;-)

15. What is the first thing you do in the morning?
Grumble at the clock a lot.

16. What is the first concert you ever went to?
Beatles revival in college. Man, those guys were incredible.

17. First tattoo or piercing? What age?
Zero.

18. First Celebrity crush?
Never really had one.

19. Age of first kiss?
I was 23. It was worth the wait.

20. First crush?
Third grade. :-o

21. First time you did drugs?
Never done. :-)

Love.

2006-04-03T22:18:00.000-04:00

Last night, driving home, I was listening to my favorite country station and getting steadily more ticked off. It's not the music- I love country, as Bainwen can attest- but the commentary. The DJ was ripping on a few of the songs, specifically It's Your Love by Tim McGraw and She Don't Tell Me To by Montgomery Gentry. I happen to like them both, and the comments were getting under my skin.

Why?

Well, let's go at it this way.

As I see it, when you love truly, you put all you have in it. You don't hold back, you don't hide things, you don't have a side the other can never see. But, that's what this DJ was suggesting. Every kind act was ridiculed as being full of ulterior motives, or proof that the men had lost their testicular fortitude and rights as men.

In a word, bullshit.

Ex duos, unus. Despite my issues with Catholicism, this is part they have right. In the traditional wedding, the two candles of the individual are used to light a larger candle of a pair. From two there comes one whole.

If you choose to go through life believing that everything has a hidden sinister meaning, I pity you. I choose to love wholly, completely and purely, and that is all I will ever do.

Another week down, a few to go...

2006-03-27T12:25:00.000-05:00

Another week of the semester down. Good.

I'm quite ready for this one to be over. Both classes sounded great in theory, but neither one is really a good fit. My Materials class sounded perfect- teaching ways to help people become involved in their own healthcare. Instead, it's been lots of money spent on projects I'll never use again, and time spent learning procedures I'll never need after I leave.

My other class... well, how do I explain it?

MST3K followers may be surprised to hear that I've found out what TV's Frank did after the satellite escaped- he is currently living as a woman, and teaching my Health Issues class!

Eeek.

The class is weird, just like the prof.

Spring, spring at last!

2006-03-21T10:54:00.000-05:00

It's cold.

About 25 degrees outside, which coincidentally happens to be the MPH rating of the wind. Cold, windy, but I don't care.

Soon, the new buds will start poking their way out of the tree branches, and the grass will get that light, soft green of a new year. Soon, the holly bushes will pick up the soft new leaves that just whisper to be touched, the siren call of leaves that would draw blood for now soft and inviting.

It's nearing that time of year when all seems new and clean, when the sunrises are shot through with gold and salmon pink, when the skies are blue and the birds are fuzzy. Soon, the wild Studentus americanus will be able to shed its winter coat, growing a new, cooler summer one. The wind will grow warm and peaceful, and the rains soft and soothing.

It's that time of year. Spring, the Beltaine tides, the rebirth and reawakening of the world. It's a new beginning, and I love every minute.

We are stardust, we are golden...

2006-03-20T11:32:00.000-05:00

Bainwen's post on her Theology Blog got me thinking. I figured, I know a different angle of attack, so maybe I can meld science and theology together. :-)

Earth.

A marble in an ocean of darkness, a tiny blue-green dot going around an insignificant star, in a low-level solar system and a backwater galaxy. Yet, there is life. Why?

Water. The very liquid that carbon-based life comes from, made it to Earth about 2 billion years ago. Before that, the Earth was a searing-hot ball of molten iron, silicon and carbon, totally inhospitable to life in any form. Giant icy snowballs called comets smacked into the Earth like torpedoes into the sides of a great ship, and simultaneously cooled and shaped the Earth's crust to their will.

Cooling, the Earth made use of the greenhouse gases that had been building up since the beginning from volcanoes and such, and there was rain.

But, there is one other bit making it even strager. Amino acids. Looking at the fossil records, oceanic life shows up very quickly after the seas. Far, far too quickly for random chance to create them from the primordial soup.

Give them a starter. Give them a seed crystal known as an amino acid, and the rest can fall into place. The skies gave life on Earth a gift- a start point.

A different account...

01:001:001 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

01:001:002 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was
upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon
the face of the waters.

01:001:003 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

01:001:004 And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the
light from the darkness.

01:001:005 And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called
Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.

01:001:006 And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the
waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.

01:001:007 And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were
under the firmament from the waters which were above the
firmament: and it was so.

01:001:008 And God called the firmament Heaven. And the evening and the
morning were the second day.

01:001:009 And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered
together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it
was so.

01:001:010 And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together
of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good.

01:001:011 And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb
yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his
kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so.

01:001:012 And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed
after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in
itself, after his kind: and God saw that it was good.

01:001:013 And the evening and the morning were the third day.

01:001:014 And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of the
heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for
signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years:

01:001:015 And let them be for lights in the firmament of the heaven to
give light upon the earth: and it was so.

01:001:016 And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the
day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars
also.

01:001:017 And God set them in the firmament of the heaven to give light
upon the earth,

01:001:018 And to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the
light from the darkness: and God saw that it was good.

01:001:019 And the evening and the morning were the fourth day.

01:001:020 And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving
creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth
in the open firmament of heaven.

01:001:021 And God created great whales, and every living creature that
moveth, which the waters brought forth abundantly, after their
kind, and every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that
it was good.

01:001:022 And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and
fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the
earth.

01:001:023 And the evening and the morning were the fifth day.

01:001:024 And God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature
after his kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beast of the
earth after his kind: and it was so.

01:001:025 And God made the beast of the earth after his kind, and cattle
after their kind, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth
after his kind: and God saw that it was good.

01:001:026 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our
likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea,
and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over
all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth
upon the earth.

Sound familiar?

All right, OU, let's play.

2006-03-13T12:18:00.000-05:00

My application is off, signed and sealed, check included. Three letters from professors should be there, and a letter from a DO should be postmarked today. That gives me a few days to spare.

Now to wait for an interview... God, I want in this one.

I vant to drink your... fake blood?!? Bla?

2006-03-06T18:54:00.000-05:00

Not long ago, I read a news report where trauma patients in Chicago and the surrounding areas were given fake blood. Well, not fake, really. Synthetic. A new form of synthetic blood, just approved by the FDA for testing in humans. Since trauma cases use lots of blood, it was decided to use this stuff, called Polyheme, as a stopgap in emergencies.

The ethics of this are shaky, to say the least.

There is the most obvious problem, of course. How can you use an experimental substance on someone without their consent?

Common ethical practice says no. People like to have their right to choose protected, and not giving an option takes away that right.

Of course, then it must be balanced against the potential good. Is it ethical to deny someone a right to assure them a chance of life? That's where it gets thorny.

Going further, we have the physician's duty to help. In effect, it states that when a patient is unable to decide for themselves, the physician can stand in as a surrogate decision maker, and act in what they consider the patient's best interest.

So what right to we deny? The patient's autonomy, or the physician's right and duty of care?

In this case, unfortunately, I have to break with my normal libertarian leanings, and side with the physician. Denying the patient's right to autonomy will also force the loss of their future rights by their death.

It's hard to decide. Polyheme is known to be quite safe, but where should the line be drawn? 10 heart attacks from Polyheme in heart patients, but how many is too many? I don't yet know.

Hmmm... I have an email...

2006-03-02T11:29:00.000-05:00

4:53 AM? Who the heck would email me at that hour?

Ohio University's School of Osteopathic Medicine, that's who. They want a secondary, letters of recommendation and essay. Hence, today, I'm running around like Jesse Owens, talking to profs (got 3 letters going out, need only 2), writing my essay, and trying to line up a DO to use for my letter. Next week's spring break, if I need to, I can go anywhere for one.

Whew. Three irons in the fire, three lines in the water. Now to get a bite. :-)

Oh yeah, almost forgot... SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Repent? For what?

2006-02-28T17:27:00.000-05:00

It's Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Martes Gras, the Bacchanale, call it what you will, and I'm troubled as always. It's the last blast, the last day of fun and revelry before a long 40 days of Lent and repentance. There's my problem.

Repent? For what?

"Repent, for the end is near"? Doubt it. While the signs of the End Times are all around, they always have been. Global conflict, weather upheaval, strife and disease? Try the year 1000 with the Crusades, the early 1800s with Napoleon, 1918 with the Spanish Flu, any of a number of places, but don't tell me the world is about to end this very second.

Repent for my sins? What is so special that it needs repentance so badly? If I take the Catholic view, then all but the most heinous of sins are washed away by attending services. I haven't done any of the bad ones requiring special confession. If I go Protestant, it's even easier. Be truly sorry for your sins, approach God humbly, and depart in peace. No need to take six weeks worrying yourself to death.

Original sin, you say? I've had professors claim that one. Yet, it's wrong. Matthew 25:17, the tearing of the Temple Shroud upon Christ's death. A symbol, great and mighty, of the supreme sacrifice, freeing us of the sins of our forebears. I don't need to repent like that- someone already helped me out, 1950 years before I was born.

Lent is good for contemplation and focus, and that is how I choose to spend it. Focusing on the important things, and seeking the deeper meaning, these are my goals.

No, Father, I need not repent this day. I already have.

Five thousand...

2006-02-27T00:52:00.000-05:00

Today, I broke the five thousand post barrier on Snopes. No big deal, really, until you realize what it represents.

Five thousand posts. That's a book, depending how long each post is. That's a novel of two years of my life, encapsulated in snips and snatches, bits and pieces of conversations. Bits of me are woven into vibes sent for jobs and ailing families, cheers for victories and sorrows for losses, and sparks wind up in the fires of debate and challenge.

Five thousand.

Eight hundred and six days, six and a quarter posts per day, bits of life and bits of my experience. It's interesting, though, to read the early ones. This time last year, for example, I was fighting a rough patch in my life. Now, though, I'm over it. I'm free.

Five thousand. Think what you will of two years' postings, talking to the same people, but I'll say this. That's two years correspondence with people I never would have met, friends I never would have made, glory I never would have found.

That was worth the time. :-)

Aliens? Could they? How could they not?

2006-02-23T12:52:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about abductions. Not child abductions, obviously, but alien ones. The classic abduction from bed, probing and prodding, then a return, only to be thought crazy.

Do aliens exist? I'd say they have to. No way around it.

How? Sheer probability, folks. Thinking logically, what are the odds that life would evolve on Earth, but nowhere else in the cosmos? What are the odds that this tiny blue dot, orbiting an unimportant star in a backwater galaxy, is all there is? It seems awfully Terran-centric, to coin a phrase.

Would they come to Earth? Why not? The great conquerors of Europe couldn't restrain themselves from coming West, across the sea. The human race couldn't stop itself from reaching for the skies, so why would an alien society be any different?

Of course, I know what you're thinking. Roswell. 1947, New Mexico, a craft crashes in the desert, and "bodies" are seen to be removed. Supposedly, those were aliens, and the government has been covering it up for 58 years.

Not a chance. The government couldn't keep Clinton receiving oral a secret, they couldn't hide Kennedy's bad back, or Grover Cleveland's throat cancer, so how would they hide this?

They're out there, folks. Somewhere. When they come here, you'll know it. I'm certain of that.

The Olympiad, and watching people have fun.

2006-02-20T17:54:00.000-05:00

The last few days, I've caught snips of the Olympics- women's gold-medal hockey here, curling qualifier there, long-jump skiing over there- and I noticed one interesting thing about it.

People are having ablast. American sports can be so serious, so life-and-death, that to see someone truly just thrilled to compete is incredible. It feels so good. :-)

Citius, Altius, Fortius, ladies and gentlemen. Faster, Higher, Stronger. May it always be.

A letter to myself, about a year ago...

2006-02-14T15:54:00.000-05:00

Every so often, I like writing letters to myself, to me years ago. What that I know now would I like to have known back then?

Well...

Dear Me, circa New Year's 2005,

Casey, these next three months or so are going to be rough like you can scarcely imagine. Things are going to seem dark and cold, and you'll be close to throwing in the towel.

Don't.

One night, a light is going to start shining in your life. You'll find the love of your life in that darkness, and she will lead you to the light. The two of you will dance in the dark, and with a twirl, you will come to the light again.

Good luck, bud. Keep strong, and keep an eye open. She's out there, and you have met her already. :-)

Love,
Me

Now, gently shifting gears...

Dear Bainwen,

It's Valentine's Day. Now, here, I just thought I'd make it clear. I love you with all my heart and soul. Tomorrow, dinner's on the house. :-)

Love,
Me

But there's FLOAM!!!

2006-02-09T10:57:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, Bainwen and I were watching TV late one night, and a commercial for Floam came on. We were both slightly delirious from sleep deprivation, so the commerical became quite hilarious.

Floam! Magical stuff!

What happens if badgers get their paws on Floam? Would there be a mecha-badger result that would eat Cleveland?

Floam! Wondrous stuff!

Is Floam needed to keep the Soviets in check? I mean, I know that the Russkies aren't pointing nukes at us, but the concept of Floam delivered by the nearest ICBM scares me more than 110 megatons of Pu-239.

Floam, folks. For your family's safety, keep away from badgers.

And now for something completely different...

2006-02-05T10:35:00.000-05:00

My dad played for the Wheeling Ironmen from 63-64, before the founding of the CFL. That's a Pittsburgh farm team, their equivalent of Triple-A.

Hence, on Super Bowl Sunday, I can do nothing else but pay homage to the Steel Curtain. Go Steelers!

Memory castles...

2006-02-05T10:24:00.000-05:00

In this post, I mentioned how dragging the bad memories and shames to the forefront could help coping. Yet, since I've mentioned dragging one up, what is done with it? It can't be let sit at the front of your mind, can it?

No.

The memory castle is your friend.

You see, every memory you have, every triumph and every terror, is a room in your memory castle. The rooms group together into wings and floors- HS, childhood, work, family and the like- and each room contains a single memory.

You've looked at this memory, now take it in your arms, and carry it back to your memory castle. Find the room it belongs in- there's something in the room linked to it. Cruel people in PE classes, those memories are linked to dodgeballs for me. My eventual triumph through weightlifting is a golden barbell. There is something linked to that memory in a room.

Place that memory back where it belongs, but this time, you'll do something a bit stronger than normal. In your mind's eye, turn around, walk out the door, that ancient and heavy oak slab, and lock it. Let the warm brass lock click home, locking that memory away.

You can still access it. You have the key. But, it can no longer access you. Take a few minutes and wander through the happy rooms in your castle, a child being born, your doggies, your first true love, and when you are ready to leave, do this. As you walk down the steps back to conscious thought, remember that lock. Remember the sound of the bolt slamming home, and remember how it is now locked away.

Just thought I'd finish what I started, folks. Don't mind me. :-)

All day, staring at the ceiling, making friends with shadows on my wall...

2006-01-30T12:09:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's a Matchbox 20 song. Yet, there is also a great deal of philosophy buried within.

It's Plato's Cave, two thousand years on.

Huh? How do a modern rock song and ancient philosophy relate? Just like this...

In Plato's allegory of the cave, a man is chained to a cave floor, facing a wall. He cannot turn from the wall, and what he sees becomes his reality. Behind him lies a fire, and between him and the fire, objects move. So, he sees the shadows flickering on the wall.

Shadow-chair becomes his chair. Shadow-woman becomes his woman. Shadow-life becomes his life.

It isn't reality, of course. It's a pale shadow. Yet, this shadowy reality still exists.

There are many people who willingly chain themselves to that wall. A refusal to admit people's nature, as those future teachers have, a refusal to accept pain, as people that run away, a refusal of the self, as so many have.

Explore your souls, folks. Look deep, drag out the secret that you are most ashamed of, and face it. Write it down and stare at it, speak it to the darkness when you are alone, but face it. When you have faced it, you will have unchained yourself from that wall, and can finally see the light.

Idealism, and watching people lose it.

2006-01-25T14:56:00.000-05:00

This semester, I'm in a class called Health Issues in Childhood. It can be taken by any major, and is designed for education and nursing. It's a good class, lots of information, but there is one problem.

Idealism.

Stars in the eyes.

"I'm going to be a teacher, and all my students will love me, and they'll all be so brilliant and respectful, and, and... yeah."

Well, I'm the one non-education guy in there this semester, and the prof says I'm the one student there who isn't trapped by idealism.

Kids act out. Kids talk back. Kids don't study. Kids do drugs sometimes, or have unsafe sex, or smoke. It's the way it is, and every class period, when the stats are brought out, I see a little more of that idealism dripping away. Reality is setting in.

Before you say I'm cold for wanting to see the idealism gone, consider this...

What if I went to medical school and expected that I would never have a patient die? You'd say I was insane. Same here. Life demands that problems happen, and it seems some of these folks have made it to 20, 21, 22 years old without seeing that.

So, I just sit back on my nice fat 98% in the class, with a small smile, as I watch the future teachers of America step into life's classroom for the first time.

DO? MD? EKG? WTF? BBQ?

2006-01-19T22:14:00.000-05:00

Just thought I'd slip another update in here, between philosophy and stories...

The EMT course fell flat. The professor was, to say the least, a pompous windbag. He spent about an hour of the first lecture ranting about college students. You see, he previously had never taught college students this course, just firefighters looking to upgrade. Since they already have practical knowledge, he had a perfect passage rate on the national exam. His first semester at Owens, he had half his students fail, a trend that has continued every semester since.

Doesn't sound bad, until you realize...

40 started.
20 had an 80% in the class by the midterm, which is enough to start field work and take the exam.
10 made it through fieldwork and passed the exam.

So 25% of those starting, passed. Ow.

After three hours of insults, conferring with other students (13 of the 18 had taken the course before and failed), and thinking about it, I dropped it. $800 is too much to gamble for a 25% shot at passing.

So, I'm back at UT. Two courses, one in Community Health, one in Childhood Disease. Great classes, and worth the money.

Now, what of the initials above? This.

An MD is the standard medical degree, offered by over 100 schools nationwide. It's what MUO and Wright offer, and is the normal route. DO is a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine, which takes a wider view of the body. A patient is seen not just as a bad neck or back, but also in how those nest together with everything else.

Why do I say this? Of the seven schools in the US offering only DO degrees, one is in Ohio- the Ohio University School of Osetopathic Medicine. I've applied, and feel quite good.

Now to wait and hope. I don't know where I'll be next year, nor what initials will follow my name someday, but I have a feeling this will work.

Bound with golden chains...

2006-01-14T13:14:00.000-05:00

As a spin from Bainwen's writing about reincarnation, I figured I'd toss in mine.

Years ago, if you asked me if I believed, I'd say no. Birth, death, afterlife, that was enough. Yet, now... I've swung the other way.

Why? Flashes and bits, more than anything else.

Minutes where I truly feel as if I've been wherever I am before, even if I never have been. Brief glimpses of how things used to be- a Miakonda without paths or cabins, UT with only UHall, rising out of the farm fields, echoes of previous glories at schools who haven't been successful in my lifetime.

So I would say I've been here before. What was I in those past lives? I don't know.

But, there are those who say that my spirit is in danger with this life. In Buddhist tradition, those who dedicate their lives to service- doctors, priests, and the like- have their spirits bound to the Earth by golden chains. Why? Their purpose is to help others acheive the divine, so they cannot advance themselves.

All right.

Bring it on. I may be chained, but I've never felt so free.

Another story...

2006-01-11T00:51:00.000-05:00

Another story, this one from when Bainwen asked me to tell a tale of heroism, the struggle between good and evil...

Many years ago, before the white man had walked the plains, there lived a peaceable tribe, one of men and women of honor pure. They traded fairly with their neighbors, never cheating of a single morsel of food, or even the tiniest member of the largest stable of horses.

Yet, there was trouble over the horizon, across a mighty river and atop a green mountain. There lived two men, one young and of great cunning and smooth speech, and one old, of great spiritual power but weak will. These men saw what the tribe had amassed and created, a life happy and safe, and envied it greatly.

They couldn't trade for such security, as they had nothing to trade. They couldn't work for it, as neither man could work. They could take it, opined the younger. Dim their eyes, dull their wits, and they could take whatever they wanted.

No. The old man was firm. They couldn't. What if there were survivors? The younger rebuked this lightly. There need be no survivors. If there were none, it was safe.

So it was sealed. As Iago dripping the poisonous thought into Othello's brain, the younger had started the older down a path that would lead to great wealth- and death.

Rituals were performed, rites offered, dark magic performed and repeated, each successive wave building on the last. The village across the river began to get sick. The strongest man to the youngest baby, each fell ill, and lay still, consumed with fever. Slowly but surely, the fevers advanced, taking victim after victim, and soon they would begin to kill.

A young shaman saw this, this evil that had befallen his village, and knew its source. In his younger years, the old crone who had taught him some of his incantations and prayers had spoken of the two men across the river. Evil lay in their hearts, she said. Evil, and the ability to bring it to life.

There, he knew what he needed do. With his wife he prayed, gathering his strength and the power of the spirits behind him. With a small bag at his side, holy sage and water inside, he traveled across the waters.

He came upon and bound the younger man, and saw what had occured. The old man had been completely consumed by the darkness, the dark power he had summoned. There was only one way he could be released, and that was for the shaman to go head-to-head against that evil. Alone. His spirit would need to walk the shadowy otherworld, and he would gamble it all. Win, and his people lived. Lose, and they died. Oh, by the way, his soul would take the place of the old man's- locked in the dark.

Lying before the fire, with a token of his totem in hand, the shaman let his spirit wander, willing it to enter that realm where the old man was trapped. His spirit met the evil within, and grappled with it. It was no contest- the evil was winning, and easily. Yet, with his last gasp, with the last bit of will and strength his spirit had, the shaman prayed.

"Wakan Tanka, tunkashila, onshimala...", it intoned. Pity me, Grandfather Spirit, so my people may live. With that prayer, begging for mercy and pity, begging for the strength of others, a light pierced the darkness. The evil was defeated, to never return. As he struggled back to wakefulness, the shaman saw a change had occured in the two men. The older man had healed, back to his normal self. The younger had been changed, and now pledged himself to service, disappearing into the wild.

On returning home, the shaman saw that his village was healing. The fevers had broken, and as he gathered his wife in his arms, he knew all was well.

Impromptu storytime!

2006-01-05T16:13:00.000-05:00

Several weeks ago, I was watching something on the History Channel about how legends start. A few nights later, Bainwen and I were talking one night after dinner, and she asked me to tell her a story... Here it is.

You see, there are many stars in the sky, constellations, pictures of people and animals that are permanently enshrined in the heavens. There are two, though, that bear a special story.

It started many years ago, with a young boy. He lived peacefully, in a land and time untouched by the modern world, but he was troubled. His troubles were usually helped by walking through the woods, so he did. His keen tracker's eye caught a small track in the dirt, a track he had never seen.

The boy followed this track, and at the end, he found a small dragon. Friendly, and it began to follow him. When the young boy returned to his village, his new dragon friend was in tow. Of course, in an age where grasses and wood were excellent building materials, this was a mistake. After thoroughly incinerating a few small buildings, the boy and his dragon were cast out of the village, sent to the forest and away.

Through the later years, the boy grew into a man, and became quite the hunter. His dragon liked meat, after all! As the young man matured, his dragon began to learn to fly. Halting at first, but then stronger and higher. It would even consent to be ridden sometimes, as the two had learned to trust each other.

One day, when his dragon had learned to fly, powerful and strong, the young man settled on his back, and urged it to soar. Over the village they go, scaring the populace, and the man felt like a boy again- urging the dragon ever higher. Higher and higher, until the sky turned from blue, to violet, to black.

They had reached the stars, and that is where they remain to this day. Draco and Orion, the hunter and the dragon.

So confused.

2006-01-05T12:46:00.000-05:00

Monday, the new semester starts. Yet, I am registered for precisely nothing. I found a few courses that may be useful, but then, there's the cost.

$2400.

That's money I don't have. I am trying to locate a job with my EKG certificate, but as yet, the cert hasn't come back. Can't search too hard without the paper.

So what do I do? Take semi-meaningless courses for big $$$, or sit out a while as I find a job? Compounding it all, I need to keep things looking good for medical school interviews.

What in hell do I do? Confused.

What a long, strange trip it's been.

2005-12-31T11:31:00.000-05:00

So runs one line in my HS senior yearbook- the guy thought he was being original. :-p

But, this year does qualify. Battles with school, interviews with medical school, staring old enemies in the face and daring them to bring it on. Finding friendship in odd places, and love in stranger places still, just caps off the year right.

Snopesmeets and long email conversations, roadtrips through green hills and snuggling by the Christmas tree. Offering counsel to friends with troubles, and asking for help myself, challenging courses and proving the doubters wrong.

It's been one helluva year. I returned triumphant to the Miakonda woods I love so deeply, conquered steep hills in places I'm learning to love, met a bunch of new faces, and, above all, I fell in love.

It's been an incredible year. Here's to hoping 2006 is just as good, if not better. :-)

Christmas!

2005-12-24T13:19:00.000-05:00

Finally and at last, Christmas Eve is upon us, and it promises to be a good one. :-)

After the usual family Christmas Eve festivities, I'm going to visit Bainwen to hear her sing at church. Trust me, she is going to sound incredible. :-)

Afterwards, I have a gift to give, one of deep symbolism and meaning. Built with my own hands, and polished and perfected over many long nights, this promises to make Christmas a bit merrier.

Making Christmas happy for those I love is all that matters. Merry Christmas, a Joyeux Noel, Happy Chanukah, Blessed Solstice and Happy Kwanzaa, folks. :-)

Snowpeople and snowdiversity.

2005-12-19T13:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, Bainwen and I went shopping, in a search for an ornament of our own to add to the tree. We found two nice ones, and kept looking around the store, pointing and laughing at some of the "festive" stuff.

I mean, really. What says "Christmas" more than...
A chili pepper decorated with lights?
A Jewish Santa? (still puzzling this one)
A cowboy boot?
A slot machine with "Viva Las Vegas"? (In Michigan?)
An armadillo with a Santa hat?
A fish. That's right, a fish. WHY???

Well, Bainwen saw a series of ornaments, and started a little mock rant. They were of little snowman families, mom, dad and kidlings, with varied numbers of kids. The moms had bows on their heads, while the dads had nothing- easy to tell the difference. So, the playful rant- "This is 2005! Where are the gay snowmen? The lesbian snowwomen? The mixed families? They're all snow-white, perfect families!"

Afer laughing a bit and waiting for her to take a breath, I just reached out, pulled a bow from its gummy moorings, and placed it squarely on a bare snowman head.

So now, we had one family with two moms, and one with two dads.

There, we both lost it laughing. The absurdity of it all, and the fact that finally, social justice had been served.

But, the snowy night had one further surprise. As we were standing off to the side laughing, a woman who had heard our exchange picked up the newly lesbian snowcouple, smiled softly, and bought it.

Merry Christmas, ma'am. I don't know for sure if you heard why I did what I did, but if it means more now that I changed it, I'm glad I did.

Lightening things up.

2005-12-17T19:44:00.000-05:00

I just noticed that the last few of my posts have been a bit dark. Well, time to change that. :-)

My Christmas shopping is officially done. :-D Something personalized and right for the ones I shopped for, and a good Christmas will be had by all.

The semester is officially over. 2 As locked up, an A- or B+ waiting. Nice solid B+ average at least, maybe a bit more. Even pulled off a perfect score on my final presentation, despite giving it without as much prep as I would have liked. I hate public speaking unless I can have the floor, and fortunately, the prof did me the favor of shutting up for 10 minutes to let me weave my work. I may hate doing it, but I am mighty good at it. Go figure. :-)

The really good things?

I found someone I have fallen head-over-heels in love with, built a strong enough application to medical school that acceptance is a matter of time, certified as an EKG technician, and conquered a few fears along the way.

It's been a good year.

Arguments that make no sense.

2005-12-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

Back in April, my grandfather died. Dad, being the one with financial control, has been handling the resultant bills for my grandmother. One of the big expenses is a headstone.

Dad likes the way my great-grandparents' stone is done (so does Grandma), so he decided to replicate it for his parents stone.

Enter familial controversy.

The Masons were extremely important to Grandpa, so he wanted the Square and Compass to appear on his stone. No problem, Dad included it in the design. But, now Grandma's half will look unbalanced with nothing between her dates. So, Grandma suggested the Methodist cross. No sweat, right?

Wrong.

According to the family...

The dates are done wrong. It shouldn't be 1916-2005, but September 3, 1916-April 3, 2005.
Grandma's half will "look stupid" with the cross there. Never mind she wants it.
Grandpa shouldn't be shown as "Dad" on the stone, but "Father". Never mind he was never called that.

Oy. A $10K piece of near-flawless granite from the quarry down home, cut by the best place we know, and $100K worth of controversy. Screw it. When I go, put a plaque with my name and dates on an oak tree, and don't worry about it.

But, this isn't the first argument and weirdness my family has had with stones.

Back some years ago, when my great-uncle still lived, he was widely known as the cheapest SOB around.

How cheap, you ask?

He has two headstones.

One of them was his, paid for by his estate. Name, his MD degree, and a etching of a Cessna, as flying was a hobby. The other? Army bronze, the one given out to vets whose families cannot afford a stone. So, he has a headstone and a footstone.

Death is big business, but that doesn't mean there aren't a few laughs afterward.

Escape Clause.

2005-12-12T21:43:00.000-05:00

I couldn't sleep last night, so I flipped on the SciFi channel. They run Twilight Zone episodes late, and I've always been a fan. Checked the program guide, and "Escape Clause" is the episode playing. Classic.

In it, a hypochondriac is met by Satan who offers him a simple exchange. His soul, for not twenty, not fifty, not a thousand or two years, but immortality. Of course, the usual amenities are thrown in- agelessness, freedom from illness and injury- and the man accepts. There is, as expected, one escape clause. At any point, his demise will be swift and painless, if he wants it to be.

So, our ageless man begins to play with his newfound invincibility. Jumping in front of buses, lying on train tracks, talking a long walk off a small apartment building roof, all the things he was afraid of. In true TZ fashion, though, he abuses it. Kills his nagging wife, gets put in prison for life, and invokes his escape clause.

That leads me to thought. Would I, even if I could have it for a lesser price than my soul, take immortality? The freedom from fear and worry, the safe and sure knowledge that I will see glaciers advance and recede, diseases plague the Earth and armies rage, all without fear?

No.

Never.

As is said in "The Green Mile", "We all owe a death. There are no exceptions." Taking the immortal route would assure me an out, but what of those I love? Losing those would be a fate worse than death.

So, no. No thank you, I'll take the ravages of age and time, the grayed hair and the creaky joints, and the flame of a crematory fire that awaits when it's all over. I've an oak at Miakonda and a river in the hills waiting.

Here we go again...

2005-12-08T12:54:00.000-05:00

This coming Saturday, the neo-Nazis will march again in Toledo, this time around downtown. I'm a fan of the First Amendment, but isn't the limitation on hate speech clear here?

Still, I can't help but shake my head. Last time around, the rioting was after the neo-Nazis left, not while they were here. Let me repeat that- the rioting was after they left. They were safely on a bus out of town while all that garbage was going on! This time, counter-demonstrations are planned, there will be marches in response, and in all likeliehood, the same rioting and crap will happen again.

I weep for the sanity of the world. They came spewing hate and vitriol last time about how people couldn't contain their violent and base nature, and they were proven right.

An update.

2005-12-03T12:30:00.000-05:00

I just heard back from Wright. Got put on the standby list, with a "high" ranking. Judging from my research, that is a good sign, just a matter of time. Don't like waiting, though.

Basically, as I was told, the standby list gets first crack once the interview process is done, then the remnants of that go on the alternate list. Hence, my chances are pretty good. :-)

"That Don't Impress Me Much..."

2005-11-26T01:42:00.000-05:00

"That don't impress me much."

Just a song I heard driving home tonight, nothing major, but a few bits made me think.

She's going through the people she's known, the ones who are unique, and wondering if there was anything that truly impressed her, anything that really had any true value.

First on her assault was a really smart guy she knew, a rocket scientist with a mirror in his pocket and a comb up his sleeve. But, what good are brains if you don't have the touch? What good is knowing pi to the Nth digit, if you don't have the warmth in your heart that can keep someone smiling?

Without the touch, brains are all flash, and no dash. It's a car without a transmission- it sounds great, but it goes nowhere.

Next? A guy who was gorgeous- she compares him to Brad Pitt. Looks that don't quit, a physique as chiseled as a Greek god, and a thousand-watt smile. Yet, without the touch, without the heart and soul behind it, you have a mannequin. Nothing more. An empty smile without substance, a hollow grin without a thought behind it.

Last? A guy who was obsessed with his car, always polishing it and demanding that shoes be removed before it was sat in. But, what good is a car without a driver? What good is a car, if the guy driving is as unthinking as a robot, or as cold as a doll's eyes?

"Don't get me wrong, I think you're all right, but that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night."

I may not have the perfect mind- darn good, but not perfect- or the looks, or the flawless car, but I try and do the best I can by those I love. As someone on Snopes once said, "Make me smile in the dark, and you'll have me forever.". That's my goal. I may not be perfect, but I try to leave everyone I love smiling in the dark, and happy I was there.

Just a late-night musing, driving down I-75. Good night, folks.

So, what am I thankful for?

2005-11-24T12:12:00.000-05:00

I've never been a fan of setting aside only one day to give thanks for a whole year, but, since that's the system we have, I did some thinking.

I'm thankful for the friends I've found, the ones that have helped me through some rough spots in my life.

I'm thankful for the votes of confidence people have given me, when I needed them most. Some people saw diamonds where I saw broken glass. A kind word of hope and encouragement was just what I needed to keep rolling.

I'm thankful for having a place like this to vent, and people who are willing to listen - and every so often, think I'm pretty good at this writing thing!

The things I am most thankful for, though? Those are the things that showed up when I needed them most.

When my grandfather was in the hospital, several days before he died, I saw the most perfect sunrise I have ever seen. Salmon shot through with gold, soft and warm. It was a message of hope- that no matter how bad things got, the sun would rise again.

Some months ago, when I was feeling down and pretty sad, my girlfriend surprised e with our first kiss. She didn't know at the time that wasn't just our first, it was my first. Such perfect and sweet love is something I will treasure until the day I die.

So what am I really thankful for? Love. Hope. Encouragement and friendly words. People who have become friends, and moments where the world stopped in sheer beauty.

Those are what I am thankful for. Happy Thanksgiving. :-)

The long wait...

2005-11-20T00:31:00.000-05:00

Three to eight weeks. That's what Wright State said to get back to me on an acceptance. It's week 4, as of last Wednesday, and I wait. 95 slots, I want but one, and I wait.

A chance to heal people, a chance to slip on the white coat with my name stitched over the heart, a chance to do what I am meant to do, and I wait.

I don't like waiting.

Encouragement, and strange coincidences.

2005-11-15T12:49:00.000-05:00

Did you ever think how weird coincidences can be?

Looking critically, Bainwen and I should never have met. Small age gap, went to college in different states, lived about 40 miles apart, different religious backgrounds and home lives, no initial point of contact.

Then, one day, a thread was posted on Snopes, and we started bouncing private messages back and forth- talking about philosophy and religion, literature and logic, Tolkien and the Bible. One thread led to another, led to a first meeting, led to a first kiss, led to falling in love.

One thread, posted on a message board. If I hadn't read it, I wouldn't be where I am. If I hadn't asked that initial question, nothing further would have happened.

Yet, I did, and she responded. We spoke, laughed at each other's jokes and dried each other's tears, and fell in love.

Now, I stand on the border of the unknown. Medical school calls to my South, and Bainwen has been looking at her MA at the same university. Culmination of two people's dreams, started with a thread on nothing.

Wow.

Meeting a kolamama...

2005-11-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

Bainwen put in her side as to what she thought, I figured I would do the same. :-)

I thought it went surprisingly well. Very comfortable, very easy, just two good folks talking that happen to have a dear friend in common. That's exactly how I hoped it would be, though I've seen different.

My father and his father-in-law have always gotten along all right, I guess, but there's never been any real level of comfort. Grandpa's a Catholic. Dad's a Methodist. Grandpa sold insurance. Dad worked construction. Dad's a divorcee, Grandpa was married for 54 years. They get along well enough, but these are two folks that simply would never meet in the real world, absent this connection.

Here, though, I can picture meeting the Kolamama easily enough. Message board, wandering through a park, something, but there is an ease there that is a very welcome thing.

I built the entree for dinner (Chicken and 40 Cloves), while Bainwen handled dessert and the salad course. We complement each other well, and the Kolamama in question even commented on how happy we made each other. :-)

So, I close with a quote from Casablanca. "This could be the start of a beautiful friendship." And yes, I do think it could be. :-)

12???

2005-11-05T12:34:00.000-05:00

Today, I finished my EKG Technician course. It was fairly simple, though you could tell the students who hadn't taken an anatomy class- there's way too much information for anyone to just pick up.

An exmaple of a question...

The heart is a...
a. Hollow organ that pumps blood.
b. Solid organ that pumps blood.
c. Hollow organ that oxygenates blood.
d. Solid organ that filters blood.

The answer is, of course, A. Yet, a few people messed the question.

Another one, just to confuse...

A 12-lead EKG has how many leads?
a. 9
b. 10
c. 11
d. 12.

Ironically, the answer is not D. It's B. Two leads double up. :-)

But, that leads me to the purpose of this rant.

We read EKGs in the class. Simple, how to read the strip and how to give an EKG. The last strip we read one day was easy. Heart rate of 78, PRI of 0.16 (normal), QRS of 0.08 (normal), in other words, dead normal. The prof asked who knew the rate, and a great mumbling came up "78...76...80...77" All close, so good enough.

Guy in front raises his hand, and says "12".

Eek.

If that guy passes his certification, I'm turning mine in.

Achooo!!!

2005-10-31T16:53:00.000-05:00

A few nights ago, Bainwen and I went out to dinner. Our waitress was adequate enough, but a mite dim. Well, after a dinner of just laughing and joking, the waitress came by to collect the bottled sauces and knocked over the pepper shaker.

Everyone knows the superstition where salt is thrown over the left shoulder- it tosses salt in the Devil's eye. Well, I was in a mischevious mood, so I just told the waitress that she needed to toss the pepper over her right shoulder- makes the Devil sneeze.

Bainwen backed me up, claiming everyone knew that, and the waitress bought it. She lit up, and started talking about how much bad luck she probably had seen from that!

So, if ever you want to mess with a waitron's head, mention pepper. :-)

An update.

2005-10-28T00:52:00.000-04:00

The interview went quite well, if I do say so myself. Very comfortable, no questions I really struggled with. I'd spent enough time pondering what could have been asked as to make it a little simpler.

I'm not much of a betting man, but I've a good feeling on this. :-)

Onward to victory...

2005-10-14T18:19:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know it's part of the Notre Dame fight song, but bear with me. :-D

I was driving home today, when my phone strikes up a chorus of the Nutcracker Suite. My phone is set up with a different ringer for every caller, and that's the "Caller Unknown" ring. I answer, and guess who it was?

Wright State University School of Medicine.

"Is this Casey Lastname?"
"Yes..."
"Hi, Casey. I'm John from Wright State School of Medicine, and I'd like to offer you an interview."
*mind reels*
"All right, when can you get me in? When do you have?" *talking excitedly and faster*
"I have October 26th, if that would work for you."
"I'll take it!"
"Great! We'll be sending a confirmation email out early next week."
"Excellent! Thank you!"
*usual pleasantries and disconnection*
*nearly runs off the road doing a happy dance*

YES!!! Finally! :-D

Got my suit, my properly subdued tie, a broad smile and a steady handshake. I'm good to go. My new life begins now. :-)

I Made It ~

2005-10-13T18:53:00.000-04:00

Though I'm not sure I'm doing it right. Am I just supposed to post here to leave you a message and to reply to your posts or shouldn't I be "posting" at all? (Blush)

Standing up.

2005-10-12T15:07:00.000-04:00

In a previous entry, I mentioned how I was teased pretty strongly in school. That stopped pretty fast when I turned 16. Why?

I started lifting weights as a Freshman. Bench 150 by the end of the year, press 300 on the legs, curling 20s and 30s without much problem. Still, a limp survived. As HS boys will do, one in particular found that flaw, and exploited it.

We had gone through grade school and HS together, and he had always had it out for me. Bullying, threats, the works. He could get under my skin like nobody else, and it drove me crazy. Teachers advised me to just leave it be, but I couldn't ignore it.

Then came the end of my sophomore year, age 16. Back in grade school, I had borrowed money from this guy's mom when we went on a field trip, and had paid her back. Yet, he chose this moment to bring it up, claiming he would beat the hell out of me if I didn't give him $20, right now.

I had had enough, looked him square in the eye, and told him to bring it on. He got in one punch, a fairly weak shot to the gut, but my first blew the air our of him like a balloon. Right under the ribs, left side, hard enough to nearly collapse a lung.

As he was curled up on the ground crying, I was somewhat dazed. It felt good to have it done, but now what? What trouble was waiting?

None.

The football coach, a good guy and friend of mine, had seen the whole thing. School rules said that throwing a punch was a demerit offense, but defending yourself was not. Sine he threw first, I was in the clear. It was over.

And he never so much as looked me in the eye after that.

That's not a path! That's a dry streambed!

2005-10-10T12:34:00.000-04:00

So runs the sequence of events that my kola and I think will make up our first true argument.

Why?

We wander a lot. Find a park and walk in, ignore the marked paths and see what can be found. Deer snacking away in the underbrush? Seen it. Oak trees as big as skyscrapers, wrapped in mistletoe? Seen. Rivers gently whispering in the afternoon sun, and full moons as bright as spotlights? Seen them.

Well, on one of our more epic wanderings, this exact situation came up. No marked path, so we were stuck using side trails and dry streambeds. Got us home safely, but now and ever after, our destiny is fixed.

"That's not a path!"
"Yes it is!"
"It's a dry streambed!"
"There are footprints in it!"
And on. :-)

Kola.

2005-10-06T16:30:00.000-04:00

Kola.

A simple word, really. Not English, not a misspelling of the beverage, but one of the Lakota. Its meaning?

Well, I'll let Lame Deer, medicine man of the Lakota Nation, do the honors.

"Friend. White people use this term lightly. Maybe you don't know what real friendship is. The young men who vowed to become a kola to one another would almost become one single person. They shared everything- life and death, pain and joy, the last mouthful of food... They had to be willing at all times to give their lives for each other."

Lame Deer speaks only of male-male bonds, but I am convinced that male-female can exist. How do I know? I've seen it.

When I graduated college, I was king of the hill. Bachelor's with Honors, cum laude on top of that, interviews to medical school, I had it all.

Then, it crumbled. My Midas touch turned to dust. No shot at medical school this time. Close, but no cigar. Stuck doing courses I didn't want to do, to have a crack at 2006. I posted to a message board I frequent, and asked advice.

A friend answered the call. Through posts on there and emails, she talked me out of my funk, and started helping me get my confidence back. Then, in April, we met for lunch.

It was strange. Not like meeting someone new at all, but like seeing an old friend. We talked like we'd known each other for years, and when we parted, I felt a deep sadness tempered with joy. I had found a friend, and a good one. She couldn't stay that day, but I still had found a friend.

I helped her cope with a failing marriage, encouraging therapy and doing all I could to try and help. Through it all, though, I didn't realize the most important thing that was going on.

I was falling in love.

One day, we kissed, and that sealed it. Looking deep in her eyes, I saw love as clear as the sunlight and as pure as fine gold.

Now, I stand on the border, looking out into the great Unknown. Medical school applications again, interviews coming soon, but this time, I have my kola by my side. This time, I am loved.

Whom might this be? The reader doubtlessly knows.

Bainwen, my kola, I love you.

Echoes of the past...

2005-10-01T03:34:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I was watching TV, and a commercial came on. Don't remember for what, and it doesn't matter. There was one part that had meaning, though. In it, a child is walking on a football field, and looking up into the stands, hearing the cheers of fans long gone and the crunch of pads long hung up and forgotten.

Thinking about it, I know what they meant. Sure, it was just an ad, just something to hook the viewer, but at a deeper level, I know what they meant. I have seen it.

Camp Miakonda, established 1917, in constant use every summer since. The echo here is one of peace and laughter, one of the happiness of green-clad Scouts wandering. From the brown and green of the 1920s, growing and shifting into the olive of the 1950s, to the khaki and green of today, that is the sound of this place. It's the sound of snapped blades in Scout knives, of burned dinners over wood fires, of snowball fights and German Spotlight, of the pure laughter of a summer's day and the pure shock of flipping a canoe in the lake.

UT's Glass Bowl football stadium, built 1933 through the generosity of the WPA. The sound here? The roar of the crowd and the crunching of pads. Soft leather in the early days, growing sharper and harder as the players get stronger and the pads get tougher. Coaches carried off the field as champions, and players carried off with shattered bones and dreams, those are here. It's of winning streaks and solid beatings, of fifty-point blowouts and last-second saves. The hot dogs still sizzle on the grills, the peanut slingers still hawk their wares, those are the sounds that endure here.

Riverview Cemetery, established early 1840s (nobody knows for sure). The sound here? Mixed. Tears, sure. There are many dead that lie here. But, there are also the quiet intonations of Masonic burials in many languages, of quiet rituals and soft words. There still echoes the low whistle of the barges on the river below, the mechanistic thunk-thunk-thunk of the hammers in the forges at the steel mill, and the quiet, respectful chatter of squirrels and birds in the trees. Even superceding the sadness, that quiet respect and affirmation of life is the sound I hear most.

A friend once told me that she could see flashes of the world the way things used to be. Forests where there are now only streets, valleys and hills now covered with concrete. I understood her then, as well. I tried then to explain what I can see, those flashes of the world gone by. Maybe, just maybe, this will do the trick.

These are the moments I thank God that I'm alive...

2005-09-27T20:10:00.000-04:00

So runs a popular song, but ever think about what it really means to be alive? What is alive? How do we define it?

There's the basic biological definitions, heart rate, breathing, brain function, but they have limit. It is possible, given enough money and resources, to keep a body "alive" forever. But, is it truly alive? I say no.

How? Come, I will lay it out, and I wager nearly all of you will claim at the end that it is better to be dead than to be how biology defines alive, so empty is that definition.

You are at a party. There's liberal amounts of alcohol present, and you've had a few. Little tipsy, but nothing major. End of the night, a mysterious man comes up to you, and reveals that he poisoned your drinks. You will die within 24 hours, guaranteed. But, he does give you a choice. You can go, and die painlessly the next day at midnight, just off like a light, or drink the second potion he has.

It's a PVS potion. It will reverse the effects of the poison, and you will live whatever lifespan that God has set for you, but you will live it in a permanent vegetative state. No knowledge of the world around you, no consciousness.

What do you do?

I take the last 24 hours of my life, and make them the best.

That leads to my definition of what it is to be alive.

A friend of mine is fond of a saying she saw- "To love is to live. I am still alive". I take that one step further. To love is to live. I am still alive. To be loved is to live well. I live well, indeed. The people who I've wanted to tell how I felt would know. Those I love would know I loved them. Then, I would truly be alive.

Peace...

2005-09-24T13:56:00.000-04:00

Last night, I went to a friend's house for a while. Just enjoying each other's company, and she had a doctor's appointment she wanted company for. After the appointment, I whipped up dinner, and we relaxed.

Peace.

Quiet.

Nothing to hear but soft breathing and quiet snuggling in each other's arms. Just holding each other close and letting the world melt away, putting my hands to work in a neck rub, and just letting the world go.

Forget the Miller Lite ads, it doesn't get any better than this.

You know what? No.

2005-09-20T20:56:00.000-04:00

No.

I won't allow it.

Not here. Not now.

To the anonymous poster whose purposes in posting seem to be naught but insulting and irritating me, you lose.

How? I'm not going private. Nor am I setting it so only bloggers can post. I refuse to give up even that small bit of autonomy to you. I will delete your posts whenever and wherever I see them, but anyone is free to post here. You may continue to try and irritate me, but it is for naught. Your posts will be removed, and life will go on- just without you.

Why am I doing this? Most of the regular posters here have blogs of their own, so setting the blog to allow only bloggers wouldn't change things much, but it is that rare person who stumbles on this blog that I do not want to deny. I have friends who post who do not have blogs, and simply don't want them. Blocking you blocks them. I won't do that. You're not worth it.

Goodbye, and good riddance.

All right, now push against me...

2005-09-15T22:49:00.000-04:00

How many times did I hear than between 5 and 7? I don't honestly know. Hundreds? Perhaps. Thousands? Possibly.

Now why am I hearing this?

I was born with a spastic Achilles' tendon. Spastic enough and short enough that it would have landed me in a wheelchair at 14 or so, had it not been repaired. Repair? Nothing much, just going in, cutting it, and reattaching it elsewhere. Recovery? Not much, just six months in a full-leg cast, a year in a half-leg, then time in rehab.

So, at the age of 5, my medical file grew a bit deeper. It was already inches thick, this just added another one or two. Cut, stitch, replace. Cast, rehab, hope.

One fine day, cast was finally removed, and I could finally have a leg without plaster poundage. But, one problem. When a body part is immobilized, the muscle around it atrophies- no use. My right leg was fine. My left? Half-size, if that.

Enter Dr. Monk, Chicago. Enter also the "Push against me" command, twice a week, for a full year. Slowly, the mobility and strength came back, with lots of stretching, swimming, and therapy. That left would never be the right's equal, but it could do the job.

Over time, I caught unimaginable hell for that leg. Teasing the likes of which most people have never seen. But, I endured. High school, my gym teacher, also the assistant football coach, introduced me to weightlifting. Suddenly, most of the teasing stopped. Curling 20s like air, pressing 300 on the legs like a feather and benching 150 seemed an effective deterrent- the high school equivalent of mutually assured destruction.

Yet, there was still one lingering aftereffect, beyond the limp I have had since the operation- a fear. Heights and falling. Both are related, as I instinctively treat that leg a little differently- it's betrayed me before.

That largely ended on the last camping trip I went on, on that hill I have mentioned before. Thinking logically, that hill is more than I can do. I shouldn't have even tried. Yet, I had to. Last stand, last hand, last card, just me and Doyle Brunson, staring each other down across the green velvet at Binion's.

The time came to finally push all in, and see what happened. Pocket Kings, Queen, nine, five and Ace on the board. The leg? Pocket Jacks. Last card, that fell when I crested that hill? A King. Game over, three Kings beats Kings and Jacks.

I win.

Floating down the river of a dream.

2005-09-10T01:02:00.000-04:00

In case y'all haven't noticed, I'm a country music fan at heart. Always have been, always will be. Yet, there is one song that transcends genre and singer, one song that becomes nearly holy, particularly when sung with sufficient passion.

I present, "The River", by Mr. Brooks. ;~)

They say a dream is like a river,
ever changing as it flows,
and a dreamer, just a vessel,
that must follow where it goes,
trying to learn from what's behind you,
never knowing what's in store,
makes each day a constant battle,
just to stay between the shores.

Life is a river, isn't it? We're paddling along, trying mightily to avoid that downed alder in the water and the rocks below, but never knowing what's along the bend. It may be smooth sailing, it may be rough waters, it may be a low branch that will drop you flat on your back in a second. We just never know for sure.

But I will sail my vessel,
'til the river runs dry,
like a bird upon the winds,
these waters are my skies.
I'll never reach my destination,
if I never try,
So I will sail my vessel,
'til the river runs dry.

These are the only waters in town. We are dropped in a creek at birth, and left to drift. Some of us are lucky enough to find someone who knows what lies ahead and has been there, some are able to find one willing to ride shotgun, but we still know not for sure. We can't paddle upstream and change the path, we can't leave the river of our lives, we can only change how we face it.

Many times we stand aside,
let the waters slip away,
'til what we put off 'til tomorrow,
has now become today.
So don't you stand upon the shoreline,
and say you're satisfied,
choose to chance the rapids,
and dare to dance that tide.

The water is our life, and the river is how we live it. Stepping out of the river? You're letting life pass you by. You're letting the sand in your hourglass slide away, without even a glance.

The rapids and the tide? The fun stuff. It's the 70-degree grade, the spur-of-the-moment trip with a friend, the stolen kiss as the sun fades and the beaming look of joy at seeing a deer wander by. These are not mandatory. You can always portage past the rapids, and avoid the tides by staying mid-river. But, you miss on the challenges and the fun.

Now I know there'll be rough waters,
and I'm bound to face some falls,
but with the Good Lord as my Captain,
I'll make it through it all.
Yes, I will sail my vessel, Lord,
'til the river runs dry.
Like a bird upon the winds,
these waters are my skies.
I'll never reach my destination,
if I never try,
so I will sail my vessel,
'til the river runs dry.

There are rough waters and falls throughout life. Everyone takes their lumps on the river, the fallen branch that hits you in the chest like a prizefighter, the sunken rock that punches a hole in your thin hull, the falls that send us, screaming and terrified, on paths undreamt and unprepared for. There, you have to have faith. THere is no other way. Trust your guide on the river. :-)

*straps on his PFD* Pardon me, folks, I'm going canoeing.

We call them cool...

2005-09-06T21:46:00.000-04:00

Driving home last night, I had the radio going, and one of my favorite songs came across- Standing Outside the Fire by Garth Brooks, prior to his selling his soul to Walmart, that is. ;-)

If there is one thing I truly love about country music, it's the story, the poetry set to music, the rawboned chunks of emotion that are somehow burned into a CD's silicon. This one, though, has always set me thinking.

"We call them cool,
those hearts that have no scars to show,
the ones who never do let go,
and risk the tables being turned."

That's where we all start. From that moment we split from the Source of All Souls, we are clean and pure. No scars, no hurts, no memories of lost loves and lingering pain. Some try so hard to maintain it, that they become as the ones who never let go, and they miss out on the joy of life.

"We call them fools,
who have to dance within the flame,
who chance the sorrows and the shame,
that always come with getting burned."

That is where most of us go at least once in our lives. At least one time, we each take up the headdress, and dance the flame. It may be a career, it may be a love, it may be a life lusted after and wanted with great passion, but we all dance the flame at least once. We may get burned, sure, but the dance can always be worth it. Those who do not dance will never understand the lure of the drumbeats, the feel of flame licking at your heels, and the near-intoxicating joy from doing it right.

"We call them strong,
those who can face this world alone,
who seem to get by on their own,
those who will never take the fall."

This is the dance of a cynic, of a fool that has been burned too badly, or of a coward who is afraid of the pain. They dance, but alone. There is no one at their side, there is but an empty space waiting in the West. They dance alone, and lick their wounds alone. It is a lonely way to be.

"We call them weak,
those unable to resist,
the slightest change love might exist,
and for that forsake it all."

This is the most beautiful dance of all, for it is the one dance that is done with someone else in the ring. The others, someone waited outside the fire, but here, they dance with one they love. The Masculine and the Feminine? Perhaps. Yin and Yang? Sure. God and Goddess? Yes. The dance is not a solitary one, as it is the dance of two souls, each of which has found its match. It is rare and it is beautiful, and it is the dance of a lifetime.

Where dances thou, folks? I know the dance I perform, and I perform it well. :-)

Now with wordverify!

2005-09-06T20:56:00.000-04:00

Folks, I started getting a few spam comments here and there. Thus, I have enabled word verification. Just thought I'd warn y'all. :-)

Fall...

2005-08-31T20:05:00.000-04:00

The summer fades. The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer, the blistering heat of July is giving way slowly to the crisp coolness of September. For some, the loss of summer is a true sadness, as it is also the call of school, of an oncoming winter, and of a return to weather dreary.

Yet, for now, no such thought crosses my mind. Why?

The crunch of pad on pad at a football game. The smell of freshly grilled cheap hot dogs, the ear-splitting crackle of fireworks, the bright lights of the stadium, these are what call to me. The coolness and calm of wandering through the forest as the leaves change, the soft chatter of squirrels hunting for the last acorns of the year, the gentle crunch of leaves underfoot, these call to me.

It's the leaves that change color in waves as I head South, the lengthening of the shadows that fall on my patio, the sudden need to build a fire, sit around it, and relax with someone I love. These are what call to me.

Summer? I care not. Fall? Bring it on.

Faded photos and letters.

2005-08-28T01:58:00.000-04:00

Over the last few months, we've been slowly emptying my grandparent's house, readying it for sale. Grandma still lives, but the house has to go. Her apartment costs too much.

Last time my father visited, what did we see coming back? Pictures. Boxes and boxes of pictures. People and places lost to time. That's the fun part, though, seeing what is there.

A plastic baggie reveals my great-uncle Delmar's medals from WWII, topped by a Silver Star and four parachute jumps in Europe- first on D-Day. Another one? My great-grandfather's 10th Degree medal for York Rite Masons, something rare and precious. A photo of Dad sitting on the hood of his '51 Chevy in HS, one of my grandfather in his fishing gear, one of the old house on 10th Street, buried in five feet of snow back in 1960.

There's a shot of Delmar's grave in Arlington, Grandpa's friend Ed's Apron from when he was International Grandmaster of Scottish Rite Masons, and a newspaper clipping showing Grandma overwhelmed by boxes when she bought for a department store.

Photos are our history, folks. Look, and see what is there.

Notes.

2005-08-22T13:27:00.000-04:00

Today is the first day of Fall Semester. It'll be an easy one, three courses, tutoring, and an EKG Technician course on weekends. The tutoring pays nicely, and the EKG Tech course will look great for med school.

But, I was cleaning out my workspace, putting the binders and books in their places, when I started looking through them. My old notebooks and legal pads, with legion pages of lines about the Krebs cycle and C. elegans, thousands of lines on point masses and Western Blots, but what caught my eye are the drafts.

Half-finished philosophical debate, letters written to friends and enemies, but never sent. I know what I thought at 21 about gun control, how I told off Schwert my Sophomore year for being a crappy prof, and my flow of thought when faced with challenge.

Therein lies the rub. Look through old notebooks and files, and see what people will find out about you. You might be surprised. :-)

Beauty in the sound of silence...

2005-08-18T19:56:00.000-04:00

Not long ago, a friend of mine and I did a little traveling. I've mentioned some of it here- my little issues with the hill and the Falls were on that trip- but there is another facet that was not mentioned.

You see, I am not comfortable in cities. Why? I'm trapped in the worst parts of them, 30 or 40 hours a week, every summer. I drive through them every day, see the decay and the hopelessness, and after a while, I learned to loathe it. The ugliness is not something I want to surround myself with any longer.

Well, on this little trip, we stopped at a state park just inside the WV line. I've been there many times, but this day was special. Hot, clear, but comfortable enough with a light breeze.

While meandering, we chose to hit one of the trails. Due to the park's inability to mark trails, we actually likely walked three or four of them, but we wandered until we found our way. Then, on the way out, we saw the kind of thing that really brightens my day.

A deer. A single, young, whitetail doe, as a matter of fact. About thirty feet away in the brush, as peaceful as can be, tail whisking away flies smoothly and easily. She looked right at us as we stood and watched, but was unafraid. You see, this park is huge. It is also a nature preserve, so this deer, along with her ancestors, had never known hunting. They never knew fear. So, she was unafraid. :-)

After watching us for a while, the little deer wandered back into the brush, and we moved on, basking in the beauty and the glow of joy that brought.

Another half-mile, and I wordlessly motioned for my friend to stop. There, about 50 feet away, was a big mama doe and two little fawns. I dropped down, and crawled a little closer, my friend in tow, as mama watched. She was unafraid, though her younguns were fascinated by this white-coated stranger on two legs! ;-) Who knows how long we sat there and watched? Ten minutes? An hour? I don't know. I know my water was warm when I got up, though it was cold when I dropped.

All too soon, one of the fawns meandered into the woods, and mama silently followed. The other little one followed after, keeping mama in sight. As they crept into the woods, I stood, grinning from ear to ear. My friend? Well, folks, if I had a camera, you'd see the most beautiful smile I've ever been a party to. :-D

What once were tired legs and aching ankles from miles of walking were renewed. We'd faced some of the most skittish creatures on Earth, and they saw us as friends. That's something to be proud of, in my book. :-)

Of rocks, 70-degree grades, and the noonday sun...

2005-08-16T04:29:00.000-04:00

Over this last weekend, a good friend and I went on a bit of a roadtrip. Down into SE Ohio, over into West Virginia, and back again.

Not long ago, in my list of the top 100 things nobody knows, I mentioned a paralyzing fear of heights. That's something that will definitely be worth remembering...

You see, we went to Valley Falls in WV. It's a beauty of a park, though tough to get to and technically a demanding walk. After some time wandering on the established paths, the most irritating thing possible came to pass; there was no more path. The path ended, and gave no way back. It was either turn around and walk the path in reverse, or find something better.

Every cloud bears a silver lining. Wandering around, trying to find better ways, my friend stumbled upon a small pool fed by one of the rivers. As she encouraged me to start climbing the rocks over to see it, I noticed something special- a beautiful little waterfall, just carving its way through the rocks. That settled it. I was going over, as far as I could make it safely. After a few minutes of paralyzing fear, I found a clear way. I was rewarded with an excellent view.

Yet, there was a single problem. No way back, except how I got there. Rocks that were gently sloped on the side I initially trod were nearly sheer and vertical on the side I would now need to tread. After some pondering, a wink, and a "Follow me", I started up the safest path I saw. Technically, it would class a 2.

In mountaineering parlance, a Class I is simple: Walking up a gentle grade. Class II is a bit different, using one hand as an aid to climbing. Class III requires four points of contact- feet and hands, feet and knees, some combination. Class IV requires the use of other objects- saplings for support, or something stronger. Class V requires rope and specialized gear, with Class V.13a as the hardest climb ever completed.

After working up that, there appeared to be a path at the top of a seemingly moderate hill. Whoops. Thanks to tricks of distance and scale, the hill looked about 30 degrees elevated. It was about 70, once we started. Class IV. Remember that fear I mentioned? It was challenged by the rocks, but this set it reeling.

What did I do?

Well, what could I do?

It was a challenge, a direct gantlet thrown in front of my inborn stubbornness and fears. That could not be allowed to stand. Though a quiet voice in my head told me I was insane, I had to try.

Half hour, about a hundred and fifty feet and four slips later, I stood at top. Hot, dirty, but happy to be there. I faced down a challenge, and I faced one of my strongest fears, and on that day, I won.

The next 50...

2005-08-11T10:56:00.000-04:00

As promised...

51. I love dissections in lab.
52. I probably should have minored in Philosophy in college.
53. My college pick was kind of a mistake- started well, hated it at the end.
54. I keep strange hours. I can work until 2 or 3 on something I like, then be back at 8.
55. I first read Lord of the Rings at 12.
56. When I was taking Spanish in HS, I translated twelve chapters of Don Quixote as my final project.
57. I read my entire British Literature and World Literature books in HS.
58. It was worth it.
59. At the LOTR video games, I am unbeatable.
60. My favorite course in college was Medical Ethics.
61. My least favorite? Calculus.
62. I would love to take the SAT again.
63. One day, driving aimlessly, I ended up in Indiana. Still no clue how.
64. I can legpress triple my body weight.
65. I can read the language of the woods, and know what they say to me.
66. Given a pocketknife and rope, I can survive very nicely, thank you.
67. I was the only one to finish First Aid merit badge the summer of 1993.
68. Despite my loathing of public speaking, I am very good at it.
69. I have never gotten a speeding ticket. Or any other kind.
70. Given a choice as to when to live, I would take the present, or the near future.
71. Nothing else gives people the equality I want to see.
72. I have cable, but don't know why. All I need are six channels.
73. God has spoken to me, in a night of extreme stress and desperation.
74. I listened.
75. Very closely.
76. Given a choice, I would live anywhere but a city. Woods appeal to me.
77. My car has vanity plates, but they're not vain.
78. I have infinite patience if someone needs my help.
79. My eyes change color easily, depending on mood.
80. Serving as Grillmaster, my record was 90 hot dogs, 36 burgers and 24 brats on grill at once.
81. Nothing burned.
82. I have no uncomfortable temperature range. Heat and cold do not bother me.
83. For one day, I think invisibility would be cool.
84. I had several professors I hated, but they think I like them.
85. I can keep secrets well, especially dark ones.
86. I don't care where I go to medical school, so long as I am on my own.
87. I graduated with Honors in Biology, one of only 4 to do it.
88. You couldn't pay me enough to go through my life from 13 to 16 again.
89. 18 to 20, though, I would love to just tell myself a few things.
90. I have been known to hate things because they were popular (baseball, for one).
91. Don't care what anyone else thinks, the author of Why Bad Things Happen to Good People is a no-talent hack.
92. My second-favorite class in college? Propaganda and Social Controls.
93. Third? Theodicies, Ancient and Modern, but I loathe the professor.
94. I have won awards for my writing and photography skills.
95. Tutoring is supposed to make people feel good about making a difference, but tutoring some people I work with just depresses me.
96. I am a Spyware Hunter. Any comp I use will be scanned.
97. I never knew how much I needed a hug until I finally got one that was given with love.
98. My first kiss was at 23. It was worth the wait.
99. I have nearly been hit by falling goalposts.
100. People both fascinate and scare me.

There's the list. ;-)

The top 50 things nobody else knows about me...

2005-08-11T00:54:00.000-04:00

A few folks I know have composed lists such as this, and I figure it's an interesting excercise. :-)

So... here we go...

1. I am deathly afraid of heights. It takes a lot to get over it.
2. I am pretty scared of needles, too, but that's lessened over time.
3. I never dated in high school.
4. I didn't have a driver's license until 20, or a car of my own until 22.
5. I can sit down and devour a thousand pages of a book in a day.
6. Writing is one of my passions. If I were not going after medicine, it would be writing.
7. I have two half-brothers, one of which I have not seen in nearly 20 years.
8. I am more comfortable walking through woods than streets, even though I live in the city.
9. I got a 1340 on my SAT.
10. I can program calculators to do about anything besides wash my socks.
11. I have a mild palsy on my left side, and nobody can tell.
12. In HS, I cheered with extreme glee when my nemesis got expelled for drug possession.
13. I have an extremely high tolerance for pain.
14. My Sophomore year of college, my then-girlfriend got pregnant by another man.
15. I would have married her.
16. That would have been the biggest mistake of my life.
17. I got a D+ in Physics in HS, then got a B the next quarter. Don't know how.
18. After Sophomore year, I didn't date again until I was a graduate.
19. I am an excellent listener, and remember everything said.
20. Thanks to a grill incident, I had no hair on my arms for a year in college.
21. I was baptized and confirmed Catholic.
22. I no longer believe that Catholicism's tenets fit me.
23. I once lost a hundred bucks in grade school.
24. When I shop, it is as a commando raid. Quick and done, smoke grenades a plus.
25. I do my own automotive repairs.
26. I am self-taught on highway driving.
27. I swore many years ago that I would give my virginity to someone who truly appreciated it.
28. I kept, and will keep this promise, until I find the right one.
29. I was a photographer in high school.
30. Nothing makes me grin more than a well-executed tackle to win the game.
31. One of my legs is slightly shorter than the other.
32. In HS, I was so unable to offend that I carried on a conversation with a Marine recruiter.
33. I finally had to ask my dad if he would talk for me when the recruiter called.
34. I still get calls.
35. Despite their number, I am proud of my scars. Work, play, they speak to me.
36. Some time ago, I was probably clinically depressed.
37. A friend or two pulled me out of it. Now, I am fine.
38. I know where all my great-grandparents are buried.
39. I hate public speaking with a passion.
40. When I presented my work in lab at a conference, I secretly hoped I woudn't win.
41. Given a choice, I would pay a great deal of money to run the world for one day.
42. I was the Grillmaster in college, and some still call me that.
43. I can still rattle off the complete OA Rituals for all Degrees, even though I haven't performed them in years.
44. The smell of bleach makes me wince.
45. I will put up with a great deal of pain in my life, if there is no way around.
46. I will NOT put up with that for my friends and those I love, though.
47. I am technically lying on my driver's license. I weigh less than it says.
48. In grade school, I was picked on constantly.
49. I would give my right arm to tell me back then to stand and fight.
50. I don't drink alcohol, ever. Last alcohol I consumed was communion wine.

If...

2005-08-08T19:17:00.000-04:00

"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!"

"If", Rudyard Kipling, 1909

So run the words of Kipling, defining what is a man. It's a definition I quite like, as it is universal, but...

What is a man? What makes a male a man, what makes a female a woman? It is not age, for I have known 14-year-olds who were twice the man some 30-year-olds will ever be. It is not rank and status in the world, for I know those of high rank and stature that perform shameful acts any true person of honor would feel shamed of.

It is honor. That is the key. It is not providing for those you love, for we all have times when we cannot. I know in some years hence, I will be essentially broke. If I am living with someone, I will be a drain on their finances, and I won't like it. That makes me no less a man.

I can sum it up simply, I think. Two Oaths I took many years ago, that ring more truly today than ever.

"On my Honor, I will do my best, to do my duty to God and my Country, to obey the Scout Law, to help other people at all times, and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.

A Scout is: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent."

So run the Oaths I took when I was 11, and so I live. That is my standard, and male or female, that is the standard I hope everyone tries to live to. That is what makes you a person of honor.

Take me home, country roads...

2005-08-04T20:39:00.000-04:00

About a month ago, I went on a little trip. Just a run down through the hills where my roots lay, a stroll through the greenery that my heart smiles to think of.

Though, the longer I stay down there, the more times I go without a clear goal in mind, the clearer something gets. I cannot be truly happy unless I am in the green. Be it the green woods of Miakonda or the rolling hills of Appalachia, I need that as I need the air that I breathe.

So many little things set it apart, really. Here, I know none of my neighbors. Everyone keeps to themselves, and it is as if they aren't even there. The ones next door moved in five years ago, and we still have no clue who they might be. After being yelled at for accidentally cutting a foot of their grass (our property lines aren't fenced in that area), I have no reason to.

Contrast that with home. I know everyone that lives up and down that block, from Dana next door to old Bill across the street. When my grandfather died, dozens turned out for the wake, even though he hadn't been active in anything for some years. What impressed me most, though, was this.

Grandpa was a Mason for 60 years, Lodge Master, High Priest, the whole bit. Hence, it was a no-brainer that he would have the Masonic Ritualistic service at the funeral home. Yet, before the service, when his Lodge Brethren were standing around waiting, some took the chance to talk to me. I said I wasn't a Mason, which is true, but that I intended to petition, which is also true. What response did I get? Universal support. One even said that the Lodge down there would be open to me for the Third Degree, whenever I chose to do so. That's pretty special. It wasn't just talk, it was knowledge that the family name means something, and I carry it with honor.

Maybe the cities of this nation were like that once. Maybe at some point in the future, they will be again, where deals are closed on a handshake, and your name is your entry. Maybe the power of the green hills will rule again someday.

Tell us about yourself, in 5300 characters or less.

2005-08-04T00:31:00.000-04:00

Not long ago, I sat down to write my medical school application. Most of it is simple stuff- what courses and grades, what schools, what test scores- but then there is the challenge of the essay.

It's freeform, just 5300 characters to explain why you want to do this. Why do you want to rack up the massive debt (Around a quarter-mill for 4 years), the stress, the long hours. Why in God's Name would anyone do this to themselves?

Most essays require thought. Deep contemplation and pondering are normal, followed by a great deal of wrangling with words and phrases, trying to distill a normal person down into a perfect fifth of Med Student 2006.

This one didn't.

Why do I want to do this? I am a healer by nature. I help heal hearts and spirits every day, and help heal bodies as best I can. Whether it's listening to a friend that's hurting, or delivering the deep-tissue massage of a lifetime to relieve stress, that is my destiny.

Quarter-million in debt? Bring it. I don't mind. If that is the price to pay for me to be able to heal bodies as I can already heal wounded hearts, hit me.

Four years of study equal or greater in intensity to any I have ever known? Let's dance. Every second of it will be worth it, since at the end, I will be doing what I am meant to do.

I may not be perfect. I may not have the perfect GPA, or the stellar extra-curricular record, but you know what I do have? Unshakable will. I will do this, and well. Just give me a chance.

Poetry in steel, a convex-edged musing.

2005-08-01T18:41:00.000-04:00

Some time ago, a friend of mine was trying to come to grips with a failing marriage. I'm a single guy, so I can't speak from experience there, but I came up with something that seemed to explain. The more I think of it, though, the more it works.

I'm a knife collector, so it makes sense to me to put things in those terms. Perhaps it will make sense to the rest of the world. ;-)

You see, there are three grinds one can put on a knife's edge- hollow, flat, and convex. How in the heck do these relate to a friendship or a marriage? I will tell.

Hollow is just as it sounds. Formed by two circular wheels coming together, it starts out very thin, and has little substance. Basically, it's a friendship based on looks- it has some connections, but minor ones only. Yet, once this edge hits anything tough, say the knots that run in the tree of life, it breaks.

Flat is, again, just as it sounds. \/. Two planes, meeting at a central point. It's better, as there is more meat to the relationship between them, but it still has its weaknesses. Still, it is better than hollow. It can survive the small knots and burrs of life easily enough.

Last is convex. Formed by two equal arcs coming together, creating a softened V. Lots of substance. In a relationship, this is where you start by seeing a person's heart, and then the rest falls into place. It runs deep, and very strong. Burrs? Knots? This powers through them like an axe. Strong and beautiful, it is one that can conquer all.

Though, there is one important thread amongst the three- the two sides must be equal. If one barely works, and the other works perfectly, the edge will never reach potential. Yet, when they do, when the two sides of a convex edge work together, it is beauty itself. Clean, sharp, and flawless.

There's my answer. I am but one edge, seeking the other edge to form the blade of a relationship. :-) Will work for sharpness! ;-)

A Voice in the Darkness

*pokes head in*

Mmmm... microbes.

Gross Anatomy... DONE.

*pokes head in*

Hey, we finally learn how to do the whole doctoring thing!

Finally... only took four years!

Been busy, but in a good way. :-)

Where I've been.

The interview.

An interview.

Never waste another day...

Ahhh... a Christmas surprise!

Incoming interview!

Yipyipyipyipyipyip.... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

Almost there, and a major boost.

And breathe...

*click* Oh... wow...

*grabs rock, pulls up off cliff*

Hey, I'm still alive!

Hey, I can do this!

130 pages of notes, 385 pages of handouts, not enough sleep, yet strangely...

Doctor, can I be excused?

Almost there...

Snopesters, and jam, and... and... God, I'm tired.

Got it!

Saturday!

Apartment in view.

New boots- now to add miles. :-)

Oh. My. God.

As promised, I return.

Lest y'all think I've vanished...

Studying.

Ninjing...

Beltaine, sweet Beltaine.

Won't someone please think of the cones???

Hurt, but hope.

But... but... it's THUNDERING!!!

Help! I've been tagged!

Love.

Another week down, a few to go...

Spring, spring at last!

We are stardust, we are golden...

All right, OU, let's play.

I vant to drink your... fake blood?!? Bla?

Hmmm... I have an email...

Repent? For what?

Five thousand...

Aliens? Could they? How could they not?

The Olympiad, and watching people have fun.

A letter to myself, about a year ago...

But there's FLOAM!!!

And now for something completely different...

Memory castles...

All day, staring at the ceiling, making friends with shadows on my wall...

Idealism, and watching people lose it.

DO? MD? EKG? WTF? BBQ?

Bound with golden chains...

Another story...

Impromptu storytime!

So confused.

What a long, strange trip it's been.

Christmas!

Snowpeople and snowdiversity.

Lightening things up.

Arguments that make no sense.

Escape Clause.

Here we go again...

An update.

"That Don't Impress Me Much..."

So, what am I thankful for?

The long wait...

Encouragement, and strange coincidences.

Meeting a kolamama...

12???

Achooo!!!

An update.

Onward to victory...

I Made It ~

Standing up.

pokes head in

pokes head in

click Oh... wow...

grabs rock, pulls up off cliff