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Category Archives: Reflections

with only thirty days to go

Saturday, July 2, 2011

I never made much of an express effort to get to know Wisconsin. I didn’t want to waste time dating it if I didn’t think I was in it for the long haul, didn’t want to get attached. I’m only passing through, I thought to myself. Then, at some point in these last almost-eight years, these surroundings became so familiar, these people I have met have become such fixtures in my life, as to tinge this long-anticipated departure with a hint of sadness.

I’m moving back home, but in a way, I’m also leaving home.

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project 365: epilogue

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

(365/365)

On my last day of being a twentysomething, I thought perhaps I should try to make the 365th photograph somehow meaningful. I drove through the neighborhoods in which I spent my childhood, thinking the familiar might spur my imagination, trying to picture in my mind that last image…eventually coming to the conclusion that I was trying too hard. This wasn’t what I had set out to do one year ago. A photograph I took on that day of an El station seemed to connect nicely with the first photograph I took for the project; but after some thought I figured that I already had enough images of public transportation. In the end, this is what I chose to represent this day, ordinary on one level but with some serendipitous significance, hints of a tangential nature to an as-yet unwritten future. That this project concluded in the same city where it began is no accident; it is the city of my birth, the city I think will always be home.

In between, it was not altogether uninteresting; though there were times where the decidedly uninspired photographs reflected the ordinary, mundane days underlying them, quite a bit happened on both ends of the emotional spectrum. 29 was not without its moments of sorrow and grief, losing an old friend to cancer and having another friend go through a tragedy of his own, but in the realm of things I can control, I can say that 29 was the year I finally, successfully, made my ultimate career move. I think that this year, straddling two chapters of my life as it were, catalyzed a fair amount of introspection that no doubt informed many of the photographs that made it into the project.

On a personal level, I like to think I’ve managed to improve my skills a little along the way and also inject some narrative into the imagery. Having a decent camera on the iPhone helped immensely in keeping up with the demand of generating a photograph each day; using something with considerably fewer controls than what I’m used to certainly forced a different dimension of creativity.

When I began, I said that if I could say I lived and experienced each moment of every day, then I will have been successful. I dare say this to be true. To those who followed this project to its end and offered your comments and support, you have my thanks.

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raison d’être

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

“Why did you decide to be a doctor?” she asked. “And don’t tell me you wanted to help people.”

I was exhausted. I sat on the edge of Mandi’s bed. “It’s true,” I said. “I want to help people.”

“Ha!” She poked a mound of vanilla pudding with a fork. “That’s what they all say.”

–”A Fire, Deliberately Set,” Peggy Sarjeant

(Continued)

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what kind of fortnight has it been

Monday, November 22, 2010

(with apologies to Aaron Sorkin)

Even as I charged ahead towards a new future in my trips to Boston and DC, in my visits with old high school and college friends I was reminded of an altogether different past—a past in which I envisioned something completely different than the path I now find myself following, a future characterized by Fourier transforms and Smith charts. Delighted as regions of my brain probably last exercised in college sprang back into action talking shop with Amanda and John the electrical engineers and Angela the computer engineer, I nonetheless felt wistful at leaving all of that behind. At the same time, in Donna the teacher, and in other classmates and friends who went onto separate careers, I found some reassurance.

Technology never stopped exciting me. Math and physics still excite me. But are they enough to make me want to wake up in the morning?

Only if I can directly help someone by doing it.

I’ll just have to find some way to be an EE-doc, I guess.

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rest well, kenny fare.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

As I listened to the soloist at Kenny Fare’s funeral service perform “Amazing Grace,” I thought to myself: there are songs I am incapable of singing (short of effecting a complete mental dissociation from time and place) because hitting certain notes within their scores choke me up, indelibly associated in my memory with tragic events. Songs on that list include anything they played in church immediately after 9/11, especially “God Bless America”; and definitely “Amazing Grace,” which is certainly a staple of Christian funeral services. I thought of the songs they sung for Auntie Menchie. I thought of “Ave Maria” and how I don’t believe I can listen to it without remembering her, or Grandma. I thought, rather cynically I admit, why have those songs sung if it just ruins your ability to listen to them.

As I listened to the stories of how Kenny Fare impacted so many people’s lives, I couldn’t help but be saddened by how early he was taken away. I remembered my cousin Krystine, who tragically left us at a much earlier age. I remembered classmates who passed away, Elizabeth and Dan and Deneen. I remembered something my brother said to me, about how he wouldn’t know what to do if I were to pass away suddenly, that echoed this same situation with Kenny and his older brother Don. I remembered Mom’s heart attack in a foreign country eleven years ago and remembered that each day since then with her in my life is a gift not to be squandered: it could easily have turned out much differently. I remembered Dad’s own heart problems; though I was much younger at the time, I remembered that the conclusion is the same.

As the service leader asked those in attendance to stand to recite the Lord’s Prayer, I searched my brain to remember the version that includes “for thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever.” (Catholic practice is to include the doxology separately, worded as “for the kingdom, the power, and the glory are Yours, now and forever.”) No matter, though; a significant fraction of the audience didn’t say it. Clearly Catholics.

No, this post isn’t a remembrance of Kenny Fare. I didn’t know him well enough. Though, I knew him enough to be able to laugh in appreciation at the shared recounting of his personableness–his loud and boisterous, but friendly, personality, and to be able to sympathize with the deep loss his family feels right now. As his wife, Judy, said tonight: “it isn’t fair.” But if I understand correctly what he was about–then this is a reminder to never take any of our time together, with loved ones (family and friends), for granted. When the time comes for each of us–and we are all of us mortal–it would be foolish to expect no tears of sadness, but there should be no regret; there must be a celebration of the life that passed. No one wants to remember how someone died, but rather how they lived.

Hopefully we all can remember that.

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aaaaaand…we’re back.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Now that I’ve had a bit of time to recover from this whirlwind school year, I have to say that it really feels like the year went by kind of quickly. If you were to have asked me how I felt during the school year, my answer would have been completely different–the year couldn’t have been over fast enough–but in retrospect there is a twinge of sadness accompanying the sense of accomplishment at having survived a year of classes (and organic chemistry in particular).

The problem is twofold, I think: now that classes are pretty much done (I may have to take a couple more classes, but I have the next two years in which to complete them), it’s back to the [more than] full-time grind at the job for me, replete with the reminders of why I’m doing this in the first place. The slow realization that I’ll be at the job for another couple of years is, sadly, rather soul-crushing; it has caused me to wonder on more than one occasion if I shouldn’t try to find something else to do during this time, such as do something more healthcare-related, something that will help to answer the question “do I know what I’m getting myself into?” (Which is, apparently, what med school admissions boards want to know.) Normally, I think that would be a fine plan, but given the state of the economy, it’s probably best if I remain at my job and try to complete my responsibilities as best I can.

The other thing that makes this ending somewhat bittersweet is that I didn’t take the time until later in the school year to start to get to know some of my classmates… and now that school’s out and it’s back to 40+ hour work weeks, I just won’t have the time to hang out with them all that often. (Not like I had free time during the school year–but scheduled class time kinda counts. Ahh… that brings back memories of all-day cramming sessions before organic chemistry exams…) Whether or not that actually ends up being true is well within my control, however.

Oh yeah, and there’s the MCAT. I should, uh, get right on that.

It’s not a total downer, though. It’s admittedly nice to be able to focus more of my time and attention on a single thing, rather than trying to juggle multiple things. People seemed to be rather surprised (and perhaps a bit amazed) when I explain that I’ve been working full-time hours and taking two classes; in retrospect, I’m amazed I pulled it off. (Of course, I know how I pulled it off… by shortchanging at least one area of responsibility, though I won’t say which one(s)…) Speaking of, last quarter saw an A- in bio and a B in chem. My requirements were to not get C’s or lower–so I think I can consider that requirement verified. (eeew, engineering-speak.)

The best part, though, is being able to spend non-working hours actually doing fun/relaxing things, hence actually having the time to futz around with my poor, neglected website, finally putting up that photoblog I’d been meaning to do for quite some time now and actually writing this stupidly long blog post. (I feel as if I need to make up for a few months of inactivity… and also, a brain dump in this manner is remarkably freeing.) Of course, whether or not I’m just typing into the ether is a different consideration entirely (but some of us prefer illusion to despair).

What’s next, then? Catching up on what feels like a year’s worth of backlogged work responsibilities (not to mention culling/editing 1800+ photos from Jessup week), working on the whole med school application process, and maybe actually trying to enjoy life. (‘Cause there probably won’t be any time to do that once I’m actually in med school.) Who’s with me?

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I wonder how an electron feels.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

It’s been a busy couple of weeks lately, buy I did want to take a moment to log the brief observation that living a sort of “dual” existence–in occupation and home–makes you feel as if you have neither. The level of disconnect is incredible. And it extends to identity, too: a dual identity implies, somewhat confusingly, that you have none in reality.

At some point, maybe sooner rather than later, I’ll have to make a clean break from one of the existences and focus on only one, if only for sanity’s sake.

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some things need to be said first.

Monday, May 24, 2004

Okay, so not bye for awhile just yet. You’ve still got a few days with me here–I will be away from civilization soon, and hopefully–hopefully–going cold turkey from the intarweb and rediscovering the joys of the outdoors will cure me of this addiction. I’ve already gone a full day without Orkuting, and almost two full days without logging on to IRC.
(Continued)

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“what could you possibly have seen?”

Thursday, March 11, 2004

…she asked me.

long lines of shell-shocked people trying to figure out some way to help donating blood being turned back a man fresh from the district needing to call home the emptiness of neighborhoods once vibrant alive the surreal atmosphere of tony apartments and elegant restaurants altered by a certain something in the air drowning what was left of our diminished capacity for comprehension in a $170 bottle of wine frantic clearing of the bus terminal from yet another bomb scare descending circling into the tunnel a great cloud of smoke tarnishing otherwise beautiful days ethereal nightscapes the void now occupied by remembrances of sunny days colored by majestically rising steel people flitting to and fro eating lunch a band playing in the plaza the sound of the fountain running water then flowers candles banners wreaths St. Paul’s Chapel Trinity Church Union Square Washington Square Times Square have you seen this person multiplied a thousandfold reminders in the subways the streets the sidewalks firehouse memorials persisting J and R reopened no filter could banish the smell friends watching helplessly from the bridge friends running away friends looking for answers looking for revenge the Gray Lady full color an emptiness a construction site unconsciously superimposing faded and worn images a ferry to New Jersey leaving it all behind

“Nothing I really care to talk about.”

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“What’s it like?” “Meh.”

Wednesday, February 4, 2004

Detachment comes easily when you’ve had practice. On the sidewalk, in a city of eight million, you would expect to feel some sort of connection with the ones you pass. It’s the opposite. The sidewalk is for getting from point A to point B. No time for pleasantries. No time for the homeless or the panhandlers you walk by. No time for the tourists who thoughtlessly crowd the sidewalk, the lollygaggers, the ones with their heads craned skyward, impeding your progress. Subway trains may consist of ten cars of small communities, but they really are just carriers for a thousand single-existence bubbles. The man loudly berating his companion across from you is but background noise, as are the Chinese immigrants who troll the subways hawking their noisemaker cellphone toys and their flashing yo-yos and the representatives of various homeless organizations peddling sandwiches and asking for donations. Detachment comes easily when you’ve had practice.

Detachment and disinterest.

It’s hard to be disinterested when a rare opportunity comes your way, an opportunity full of promise but rife with risk. The disinterest is what spares you the torment of endlessly running risk analysis scenarios in your head only to come up with a single question that is unanswerable until you decide to bite the bullet: “Is it worth it?” Disinterest nullifies the potential disappointment. Enh, you say, I didn’t care anyway.

But you care. Ever since the opportunity presented itself, you’ve been preoccupied with it, weighing the cost against the benefits. That’s what makes the opportunity rare rather than commonplace. It bestows value upon the transaction. The potential payoff is incredible, but the potential loss is similarly just as large.

You may think that God has been dropping you hints, but God also gave you that strong pessimism–that pessimism that leads to detachment and disinterest. In which do you believe more: fate, luck, or that your negativism is a true reflection of reality?

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