A Winter Wonderland: It's getting old.

So as you probably already know. It has snowed yet again in the DC area along with the entire north east.

While in the past, I've enjoyed the snow, loved it, cherished it, smiled as I watched snowflakes descend from on high, that is no longer the case. This is the second major snowstorm to hit DC this year, and my third in the past 14 months. These snowstorms have wrecked havoc on my life, altered plans, trapped me in my own home.

With that said, snow can go [profane verb] itself.

To be fair, snow can be beautiful. It makes what was a dirty city a white-washed winter wonderland. Yesterday I went on a walk around the block after the snow had stopped, and marveled at just how much of the white stuff had fallen. People were out and about, there were few cars attempting to make their way through it, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, dressed up in their warmest clothes, making the best of a sticky situation. I took a lot of pictures which you can see.

In other updates, I was finally accepted into medical school! One of the two schools in Chicago gave me the green light, while the other gave me a yellow (I'm an alternate). Either way, its a huge relief and affirmation of all the work I've put in the past year. With that said, I'm still unsure what I will decide on doing this next year. The Jesuit Volunteer Corps has the option of doing a second year and since the re-orientation I've been heavily considering doing another year, as a volunteer in Washington DC. In many ways I am torn. The feeling of excitement that I have of beginning medical school is something indescribable. I just feel 'ready' to do it.

On the other hand I've had such an amazing experience this year, love DC, love my work, love having time to kick it on the weekend, and love being challenged to live in a way that I am allowed to grow as a person. I've been told that I have the rest of my life to work, and only one time in my life to do programs like this, to live as a volunteer and to be in a community. We'll see where I'm at in 6 months.

Today, as a brief recap, I woke up, finished my JVC Second Year application, checked my email, went to Starbucks with my house mate Kristina, made Mac&Cheese, and read a bit. Yesterday, I read The Perfect Storm, the first full book I've read in months, and I got through all 300 pages in a day. That's what happens when you get snowed in.

We'll see if I have work tomorrow, if the Federal Government is closed, than SOME is closed, and then, it will be another lazy day! Until next time.

A new perspective

Once again, it has been a bit of time since I've updated, and tonight was an occasion that I wanted to write down, to be cemented on the internet for all eternity, to be whisked off into binary code, stored on some server farm in god-knows-where, and then fetched by you (or me) as you read this.

I sit/lie in my bed, challenged, confused, angered, saddened, and a torrent of other emotions which continue to pervade my thinking.

I say this, coming from my first week back on the job after our JVC retreat, after a few days at work realizing that I'm one of those people who likes their job because I miss it sometimes, and when I get back I feel a sense of belonging. If you'd asked me one year ago: how do you see yourself in a year, I would have been too scared about moving into the "real world" to answer. I'd have said something to the effect of, I'll be missing college, friends, California, and then might have burst into tears (again, just to sweeten the story, its not like I'd ACTUALLY cry or anything, I'm kind of a BA). In all reality, I'm a bit too content with the way things are right now which is where tonight's story comes in which kind of threw me for a loop and really altered my perspective on an issue that I don't think about a lot.

Be forewarned, if you're not wary to controversial topics, then you should stop here, because you might actually learn something, and might do something about it if you read on. Consider yourself warned.

Of all the controversial topics on the market right now, the death penalty wasn't quite at the top of my list of ones that I cared about, or even gave much thought to. While I did struggle a bit with what this issue meant, I could see both sides of the story. From the "eye for an eye" school of thought, if you intentionally, with premeditation, commit murder you should be killed, simple as that. The other arguments of proponents of the death penalty include that it reduces the amount that taxpayers have to pay to house an inmate for life, it gives the victim's family restitution in a sense, a feeling that justice has been served. It keeps that individual who committed the horrific act from ever committing it to another person again.

This is all well and good, in my opinion, ONLY if we lived in a perfect world, which for all arguments sake wouldn't make sense, being that if we lived in a perfect world, we wouldn't have people committing murder. This being said, for arguments sake, lets say that murder still happens in this hypothetical world of ours. Murder happens, but the justice system works perfectly every time. The perpetrator is always brought to justice. In that world, where we know absolutely, that the convicted is guilty, we are able to serve a penalty that is equal to the crime committed.

What I learned today, was the face of how the justice system fails, even in the case where someone's life is on the line.

One of our fellow JV's who works for a non-profit who bring exonerated inmates to do speaking events around the US was in town for a few days working to set up future talks, and had brought one of the speakers with her. We had arranged to have a dinner with this fellow, we'll call him Dave, and to hear about his story.

Dave was convicted of rape-murder. Going into the case, he didn't exactly have a clean slate. He had been in the drug scene for a while and was an easy target for the prosecution. In short, he was convicted of murder and rape in the state of Oklahoma and was put on death row, where he stayed there for 17 years. He didn't know when he would be killed, but he had seen many fellow inmates die during that time and he knew that his time was short. One glaring fact remained, however, he knew he didn't kill the woman he was said to have killed.

The short version of the story is this. While acting on a tip, a police captain was looking through the office of a forensics scientist. This particular scientist was known to be able to do the impossible, to get convictions where others failed. This is why prosecutors flocked to her, and why she had such great success in her field. However, when the captain went through her office, he found a box of evidence, with the court seals broken (it is these seals which prevent evidence from being tampered with and make sure that evidence is adequate to use in the court of law). He opened the box and found the seals on each piece of evidence to be broken as well. He looked to see the case which the evidence pertained to, and it happened to be from Dave's. With that, the process of exoneration began, and 4-5 years later, Dave was finally released.

He told us that that he gets asked a lot if on that day, the day he was released, if he considers that the happiest day of his life. "**** no," he replies. During the two decades he was in jail he missed out on so many things including being near his mother who was terminally ill.

How would you feel if 20 years of you life was taken from you? I don't know if I would be able to handle myself as well as Dave has been handling himself. Taking the anger that he feels towards the system that stole his life from him and putting it to making positive and constructive changes, by getting his story out. I can see how others in his situation would be overcome with bitterness, anger, frustration, and allow it to manifest in ways most of us would look down on. However, how can any of us really judge them if we can hardly taste the indecency which they had been served?

Questions to think about.

http://www.witnesstoinnocence.org/view_news.php?Curtis-McCarty-Speaks-5

A break from it all

Sometimes, I find a time to listen to the silence. These times are rare, and most commonly occur when I'm writing, blogging, singing/playing the piano and just contemplating stuff. Though right now there are voices, sounds of shuffling, people's feet making muffled noises over the carpet, and the presence of hundreds of people around me, but while I'm writing, I feel like I'm in a bubble. 

This is an interesting time for me, a time that I have been thinking about for a while, a time where I'm putting myself out there and hoping that someone or something will be there to catch me when I walk the plank. Tomorrow is my first interview for medical school and though I've thought out most of what I want to say, gotten tips and pointers from those who have gone through the process, I don't really know what to expect. Yes, what I do know is that the format will be as such.


Wake up, early, at 7:00ish


Respond to nature's call


Shower


Shave if necessary


Get dressed up all shmancy in my new suit, make any adjustments or changes to the tie. 


Walk a few blocks from where I'll be staying to the building on campus where my interview will start


Put my best foot forward.


I'll repeat this again the following day with a different school, hoping that I haven't sweat too much from the day before to make buying a new dress shirt necessary. 


I think the best advice that I've gotten from someone is this, which I got in an email and was told to me before when I met with him. Let's call him Tom. Tom was introduced to me by a mutual friend who knew that I was applying this year. Tom is currently a practicing radiologist in DC and went to one of the schools that is near the top of my list. I met with him a few times, first just for lunch and to chat, and another time for him to give me a bit of a mock interview so that he could write a kind letter on my behalf, which going back to the previous post, is one of those gifts that doesn't come on Christmas or on my birthday. 

Listen - don't be nervous, be confident, you have a remarkable story which you should not forget. This is the time to think very highly of yourself, but not arrogant.

Make sure to show your personality and be charismatic! Really shine and be upbeat and smiley. Good eye contact, mimic your interviewers body language. Don't be awkward or fake. Strike the right balance. Show energy. when all else fails, ask the interviewer questions about their life.

I think this about sums up what will be going through my head during my interview, as I'm sweating under my hopefully composed exterior. 

Right now I'm about to board my flight, watching planes take off, people watching (but making sure never to hold eye contact - creeeeeepy) and letting my fingers and mind do a little exercise.

Overall I would say that I had an amazing break, both Christmas and New Years. For a change, I threw out the plans that I had to go to New York and had an amazing time with some new friends as well as with someone who means a lot to me. It was so last minute but ended up being all the better. I enjoyed the time that I spent with family and friends in Woodinville, and probably drank more coffee in the one week I was home than the two months prior. Starbucks, I'm sure, enjoyed the business.

In the New Years, it makes you think, or at least makes me think, where I was 10 years ago. 2000. It was the year of Bush's election, it was the year that Y2K was thought to bring our civilization back to the stone ages. I was in Junior High, an awkward ginger kid who was inspired by a teacher, Mrs. Vincent, or V, to pursue science. I played soccer for a select team and made the switch from the clarinet to the French Horn. All these things which I'm able to remember, after not thinking about them for God knows how long.  I feel like I'm dusting off those old neurons and firing them up all over again. I was confused with life, thought that if I just thought hard enough and used "the force" i could levitate objects. I didn't want to grow up. I stressed over what would happen after junior high. I didn't want to go do senior high, and be the little kid all over again. Junior high was bad enough socially for me, I literally had nightmares over this stuff. All these things, and more, happened a decade ago. What will I think in another 10 years, what lessons will I have learned?

Who knows, but I'm ready to dive in head first.

My Dad's Dog...

It's a Mastiff.

I know what you're thinking.

Death. Destruction. Jaws. Brute Force. Killer Dog.

Well, I'm happy to report that I'm still alive and that he's actually pretty adorable, well, not as adorable as he was when he was a puppy. He's big now but still acts like a puppy, one that's a bit more well behaved...anyhoo, the pic says it all..

December Snow... it happened, again.

So a brief update, first, about the title, last year if you are from the Northwest, you would remember how we had the snowstorm of the decade. Well, apparently this 'snowiness' followed me to Washington DC, where I thought I could most certainly escape it. Well, read on...

I'm writing right now from my dad's house in Monroe, WA, the picture to the left is a shot from my Dad's porch, it almost makes living in the boonies tempting... Now I'm about to open some presents and eat some delicious food, all the while celebrating my grandmother's 94th birthday, aka, Birthmas. This is my fifth day here in the hometowns of Woodinville and Monroe, towns not so far apart. Monroe is a lot like how Woodinville used to be, before all the development came in. Now, I want you to know that I won't claim to be that old, to have been here way back when the family used to hop in the 'ol pickup and drive down the dusty road to the general store... but I thought I'd draw a picture of some of the similarities that exist between these two towns.

I arrived.

But just barely.

The wednesday before, some of my coworkers were talking about the 'big snow' that was predicted to hit that weekend. "Whhhhhhaaatt?"

My heart sank.

I couldn't believe it.

I immediately checked all the local news stations, finally going to the National Weather Service and seeing that they had a 'conservative estimate' of 1-2 feet of snow. My flight was to leave on Sunday.

Balls.

My coworkers tried to reassure me that the weather people we probably overestimating, and that the snow storm wouldn't even hit at all.

"Bull," I thought, the National Weather Service isn't an organization that tends to try to freak people out just to get good ratings, like the local weather folks, (nothing against them, though). I knew in the back of my mind that it was going to be an interesting weekend. I prayed for the best but assumed the worst.

Friday: Time, 7:30pm.

The air is crisp, as what remains of my house (Tricia, Emily, Pat, and I) walk through the neighborhood of Dupont Circle, to a holiday party at a friends'. Our breath is instantly cloudified and rises up from the  bright streets towards the orange sky. The moon isn't visible, just the greyish orange reflection of the clouds overhead. It just looks like snow, minus any of the white stuff actually precipitating.

We arrive to the house, well, basement, where Lourds (our friend) lives. It's a very cute setup, with plenty of 'hang-out' space, a table of beautifully organized holiday desserts, and a interesting walkway to the kitchen where alcoholic beaverages await. A keyboard sits in the 'hang' area and I looked longingly at it for a moment, before being offered baileys coffee and almost forgetting about it completely. My friend Carl arrives and as we start talking, people start yelling. I look outside and see the first flakes of snow coming down. It is beautiful, but I just hope that it stops just as soon as it started so I can get to where I need to go.

As we get ready to leave, the snow has continued to accumulate and there is more than a heavy dusting on the ground and it doesn't look like it is going to end any time soon. In the time it takes us to walk two blocks, my hair has gone from red to white. We hop in the car and head home, driving extra carefully.

Saturday comes, and I wake up to snow surrounding my room on three sides, filling the windows and stacking on top of the branches outside.

Balls.

It looks nice, but I can't help but thinking about how screwed I am when it comes to me trying to get places, IE out of DC. I walk downstairs and open the door: 1 foot of snow.

Ungh.

I shovel the porch, which takes about 10 minutes, the come back inside and work on an essay for an application. The snow continues outside and before long, I'm back outside shoveling another foot of snow. I decide that it is more prudent to just stay inside today, I make one attempt at venturing outside to send off a xmas card, and come back cold and wet.

The snow continues to pour, and pour.

I finish the rest of my Christmas cards.

I play a few tunes on the keyboard.

I also sign up for updates from the wmata, as I read that all the bus lines have shut down along with all the above ground metro stations, effectively cutting me off from where I need to go. It would make a good story to say that at this point, I just broke down and cried, but I didn't. Not my style, or I just wasn't feeling emotional enough. I just thought through a few choice four letter words.

Here is the breakdown of what happened the day of my departure.

1. I woke up
2. I checked the weather, and WMATA, and was assured that nothing had changed, the bus was still shut down along with all above ground metro rail stations.
3. Balls
4. I call the Super Shuttle, well, I go to their website and make a reservation. At no time did it say that they would not be able to pick me up.
5. I rejoice, that I will be able to make it out.
6. I pack my things.
7. At 2:00pm, 4 hours before my scheduled departure, I get a call from a Super Shuttle Representative. They inform me that they will not be able to make the pick up and that my best bet is a cab, (to Baltimore.... yeah, um, how about a 80 dollar cab ride?) even though there is a 4 hour wait for cabs in the city.
8. I scream bloody murder.
9. My housemates hear me, and ask what's up. I inform them of the situation, and Tricia and her BF, Pat, save my Christmas single handedly. They tell me that they will be able to drive me to the airport and that we are leaving ASAP.
10. We dig out the jeep, and drive to BWI. I make my flight, all is good, and I arrive in Seattle around 11:35pm.

It was so crazy once I got to BWI, there were lines of people who had had their flights cancelled the day before and earlier on Sunday. To me, it was surreal as I just stepped to the E-Check-in, and printed my boarding pass and made it past security without a hitch, 3 hours early.

I got out, but it wasn't by skill, or smarts, or anything that I intentionally did, it was luck and by the grace of others that I was able to make it home.

This week has been a whirlwind, of seeing friends I haven't seen in ages, and realizing there just isn't enough time. There's just not enough time, with each coffee date, an hour passes by faster than ever before, and we are left wondering where the time went, and part our ways, until our next meeting. In each coffee date, I'm halfway brought up to speed on their lives, I feel like I've missed out on so much.

Christmas thus far has been great, the presents, of course, because they're unexpected, and it isn't the gift as much as the generocity of others that surprises me and delights me each time that someone has thought of me and gone through the process of finding a present, wrapping it (especially wrapping it, its a pretty long process for me, at least), and giving it. I don't feel that the price of a gift should mean that much, it should be about the feeling of affirmation, the knowledge that there are people out that care. While I don't want to get to wrapped up in this (pun intended), I feel that presents themselves can be a physical manifestation of love or appreciation or friendship but really shouldn't by any means be the only way that a person feels loved. There are signs all around us that there are people who care for us, its just a little more apparent at Christmas because you "get" things, but in all other times in life, there are gifts we are given that arn't wrapped in paper, and sometimes it is hard to realize just how much of a gift they are.

Rain and Snow

Last night I went to bed to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, looking out into the darkness, past the trees, long since stripped of their ruby red leaves. Against the silhouette of barren branches, and rain drops, i could make out the glowing capitol building and the washington monument. There was something comforting about being in my warm bed, wrapped in fleece blankets, looking out at the city, while outside it poured, and poured. Speaking of rain, I've recently been introduced to a song which has topped my charts, and has remained at the #1 spot for the past few days. If you haven't listened to this song, get ready, its beautiful.




Well,  I should get to some good stuff, I mean, I expect you'd like to hear some good stuff about what I've been up to this week, the notable events, the good and bad ones, etc. Well, the week was extremely busy, I'll start off with that, there were not many evenings that I had free to just chillax, put what little hair I have down, and just sit down on a couch and drink some hot chocolate.

Let me see, a couple of the highlights:

I wore a suit to a fund-raising dinner.
I ate some amazing appetizers
I "met" Joe Biden.
I learned how to call "AAA" in the event I need to be towed.
I heard about the "Yes-Men"
I spent a few hours practicing "I miss you" by Incubus on the piano
Ate dinner with some Jesuits
Went to an urgent care
Watched Good Will Hunting (one of the best movies I've ever seen, period)

I might update this tomorrow and add specifics, but we'll see..

Alright, I found a bit of time to continue and elaborate a bit on a few of the highlights. Tuesday we spent an evening at the "Ritz-Carleton" of Jesuit residences, Georgetown. Jeremy, our Jesuit Liaison, had already spent time showing us around the Dupont Circle Jesuit Residence, but had raved extensively about Georgetown, and had brought us to meet an accomplished Jesuit, Fr. Curry. Dinner was amazing, as usual, with a nice smorgasbord or dinner items including mussel pasta in a buttery cream sauce, strawberry cake, fresh chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, phenomenal bread, mmm, i'm beginning to salivate just thinking about it. It was nice to just sit around a table and talk about the work we were doing and hear from Fr. Curry about the number of projects he has been working on, including a theatrical program for Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans to help them cope with PTSD and other war-related mental illnesses. Georgetown is also a fun place to just walk around. Being an institution founded in 1789, the architecture is stunning: Gothic and Georgian in style. I might have gotten a few chills looking up at the iconic Healy Hall, though it might have been caused by the 40 degree weather...

Wednesday was the night of our JVC fund-raising dinner. We might not have, as a house, been totally thrilled with going, as we were very tired, and usually our Tuesdays are low key, just hanging around, working to recoup all the energy lost during the first two days of work. But, we went, and did get a bit excited about dressing up. However, it was raining quite hard. Some of us went directly from work, while some came back home to get ready then took a bus. We all did end up on the same bus, and a little water-logged, got to the final stop and trudged the final two blocks to the hall. As we got there, we were greeted by the other DC house, and the JVC staff, we were given instructions on where to be, the format of the evening, and decided on a rotation so that some of us could eat while others took coats. I started talking with a few of the volunteers from the other DC house when we heard the buzz going around the room, Joe Biden was coming last minuted to the dinner to give a speech. Everyone was beside themselves. Well, he finally arrived with Secret Service in tow, all smiles, shaking hands, I may have been in a picture with him (he was facing away from me.) Everyone was getting so worked up about it that I just didn't care that much to get a picture with him, so I just carried on my other conversations and ate some delicious food, watching from afar the circle of people huddled around Joe move slowly around the room. I likened it to honey bees surrounding the queen, as she moves, everyone else moves with her.


So, that was the jist of the week. Briefly, I was able to meet up with a friend Zach that I had worked with the past two summers at CTY. It was so refreshing to catch up with him again and hear about all that has happened since we last saw each other. He's now looking forward to pilot school, as it has always been a life dream of his to be a pilot. He has this ridiculous attraction to planes, like he stares up the sky like a dog looks at a Frisbee. I'm just so glad for him that he's found his true calling, to be doing something that I know he will be happy doing.

Today has been pretty relaxing, I did a 8.5 mile run around town, and happened to run by the boathouse of Georgetown, George Washington, and like 3 other schools. I stopped to chat up a guy who looked like he was about to row in his single (crew speak for a 1 person boat), and learned about the place and that they were closing up shop for the season in a few days. Today was really beautiful though, sunny and incredibly brisk, like, REAL brisk. Like 32 degrees brisk. My route took me down to Mt. Vernon Square, down K street until I hit George Washington University, then down to Watergate and the Potomac. I wish I had brought a camera, the view from the boathouse was absolutely breathtaking as I looked up and down the river, from Georgetown down to Arlington. I could make out Theodore Roosevelt Island, where I had visited a few weeks before. I was a bit sore from my indoor soccer game yesterday and the cold weather didn't really help that much, but I made it all the way around and back, taking solace in a hot shower to bring some color back to my skin.

In the moment, I started thinking about how beautiful it is here (while at the same time, acknowledging the bitter cold) and wondered if I could see myself living here. The funny thing is, I think I could. Give me people I can spend time with, a group of friends, I can survive anywhere. I think that's what I learned from my experience in college, going to a place that I'd never lived before, and now I'm learning it once again here in DC. Some of the relationships I've formed here I know I will still have years from now, whether I stay here or not.

Oh ya, about the snow....it snowed yesterday (didn't really stick), as watched it from my room. (and that's my dog in some snow, I am kicking myself now for not taking any pictures of the white stuff yesterday, DOH)

Thanksgiving away...

Thursday was a pretty special thanksgiving. Despite being away from home, I was once again reminded of why we have this holiday. I mean, besides the whole food part.

Its so cliche, but we do tend to forget all the reasons why we should be thankful, all the blessings that are in our lives that seem so normal, so innate to life until they are taken away and we are painfully made aware of how much we rely on those things.

I started writing this post but then got a bit distracted, and I fear that if I don't do this now, it will be a while until I get around to it. I asked one of my housemates, Kierstin, how her day was, mid day on Thanksgiving. She had gone to work that morning, like all the other days she works, very early in the morning, around 5am. Miriam's Kitchen does not close, ever, as there are always people out there who are hungry and need a warm meal to get their day started:  hunger doesn't take holidays off. That morning she was frustrated. No, frustrated isn't a strong enough word. She was saddened and angry.

Why, on thanksgiving, are people without a place to go?

Why, on a day that is centered around family and friends, are people left with no where else to go but places like Miriam's Kitchen.

She thought this as she was looking across the room at the multitude of homeless who had come on Thanksgiving morning, who wouldn't be spending the day in a warm house. No one should be without a place to go, especially on a day like Thanksgiving. Then she told be about one of her client who came up to her, and listed off the things that he was thankful for.

"I'm just glad to be able to see another day, to be among the living, to be HERE."

Cue the waterworks. Proof that we all, no matter what, have something to be thankful for. Its all about perspective.

Race Day!

Who would have thought that getting to a 12K race would be the tough part?

Not I.

Back in September when I impulsively signed up for the Marine Corps 12K Crossroads race, the only thing on my mind was the training that I would have to do so that I didn't pass out by mile 3. For all of you die-hard Red, White, and Blue folks out there, 12 kilometers is approximately 7.5 miles. I've never been much of a runner, as in, I hated running my entire life. If I'm not chasing something or someone, running isn't worth it. I get bored easily. With running, all I could focus on was the pain/strain in each of my legs as each foot smacked pavement. My logic in obtaining from running was this: cost vs. benefit...the cost of feeling like crap with each stride multiplied by the number of strides taken in a 2-3 mile run (which is..... too damn many) is not worth the health and self-esteem benefits of running. Period.

However, when I decided to do crew in college, I was more or less forced to love 'long distance' exercise. While it felt like hell, the euphoria after it was all over almost made it all worth it. Almost. After quitting crew my junior year I turned to the weight room, and spent two years on my physique. Weightlifting appealed to me because once I got in the routine, I felt like I was missing something in my life if I couldn't make it to the gym for a day. Lifting is all about short periods of intense pain/strain. I could easily justify this because I knew that in 8 reps or less, (for the most part), the pain would be over, and the feeling of relief after seemed so close. For this, I didn't do much running in my later years in college, but on occasion would force myself to doing a late night run after a heavy meal.

Fast-forward to this year.

One of the values that the program instills in its members is simplicity. While if I really wanted to, I could dip out of my savings and put $20 a month to joining a DC parks & rec gym. When I sat down and thought about it, I realized that exercise can and should be free. Why pay money get on a boring treadmill so that you can chart exactly how long you run, how many calories you burn, and maybe...just maybe... look like a complete idiot when you screw up your dismount and get thrown onto the floor.....when you could run around and explore the place you live? Push ups are free, situps are free, heck, even Rock Creek Park has pull up bars and tons of other outdoor exercise equipment that don't require a membership fee.

This is how I started running, and why I wanted to have something to work towards... ie, a 7.5 mile race.

Back to how running the race was the easy part... So when I signed up for the race, I wasn't thinking about where the race was. I assumed that being in DC meant that public transit could take me ANYWHERE and ANYTIME.

Not so.

Quantico, Virginia is about 45 minutes away by car. While it is accessible by train, the service does not run on weekends. Also, while there is a shuttle service that goes from Reagan National Airport, it costs around $30 a person.

Weak sauce.

So I discovered this, only too late in the game. With no ideal means of transit at my disposal (IE a car), I found that the cheapest alternative was to rent a car, being that there were two other jesuit volunteers coming into town to go to the race as well.

Here's the break down:

Rental Car for 1 day (no options whatsoever ie insurance, blah blah blah...): $25
Cost of being 21-25 years old: $27/day
Taxes: $10
Gas: $13
Total cost: $75
Split between 3 people = $25 each.

Not to shabby...

Though to all you youngins out there, I didn't realize this but when you rent a car, don't be surprised when you give them your credit card and they say that the total will be $350.

I about shat a brick. But, that money is a deposit that you will get back when you return the car.

All in all the car rental went very smoothly and got us to the race so we didn't have to stress about using public transit. Oh ya, and I got an upgrade from a subcompact to a PT Cruiser, fo free... NBD.

The race, while I did say it was easy, really wasn't. I'd been doing a training schedule which has a mix of running, cross training, and strength training that starts out easy, then keeps upping the distance and intensity as you get closer to race time. This really helped, as I had never run a race before. However, I found that at mile 5-6, it felt like hours went by. I started to feel nauseated. My heart was pounding, my ankle hurt, and I about lost the will to keep running, but I couldn't stop. When you're in a race, you don't want people to judge you, to think you're weak, so you push yourself much harder than you ever could alone. This is why I about vomited when  I finished the race. With 250 meters to go, there was one guy ahead of me within sprinting distance, so to the frustration of my legs, I sprinted, passing him up and finishing the 7.5 mile race in 55 minutes.

Where to next?

Half Marathon in March.

Cherry Blossom Run (10 mile) in April, (A DC tradition).

Who would have thought that this guy would be running races by his own will? Not me for sure. But hey, I guess I'm a running junkie now.

The best / worst work week ever.

So this is how my morning went on Monday, and how that morning drastically changed my week.

      Over the weekend I had noticed a couple bumps on my arm, nothing big, I mean, they didn't itch, but I did think it was peculiar that they only appeared in one spot, and close together. Monday morning, I woke up, like any other Monday morning, absolutely stoked to start the week off good, a drastic change from the way things ended last week, (chaotic - it was the week of hell at SOME medical, if you want more details, you can ask). Two slices of bread, one side with peanut butter, the other with its pair, strawberry jelly, were pushed together, in beautiful harmony. I delicately wrapped what I anticipated would be a good hearty lunch for the day. On went my sweatshirt and helmet. Out the door I went, ready to make calls, see patients, and do what I do. I parked my bike in the back lot, locked it up, and put my elevator key in the key hole and turned it while pressing the call button. I walked into the clinic, set my things down, and then did what I thought I should. I asked Dr. Wright if I should be concerned about these bumps on my arm. He looked at them, then told me that I needed to head home for the week, and begin treatment for scabies as a preventative measure. You see, the Friday prior I had unintentionally screened a patient who ended up having scabies, meaning I was exposed to the parasite, and the bumps did appear to be from a parasite, as they were close together and localized. In my head, I screamed profanities. I kept my mouth shut though, as I was shown how to apply the neurotoxin cream that would kill whatever bugs were on me, was asked if I had a history of seizures, as that could be a side-effect of the medication. ARRRRGGHGHHH. Words could not describe how frustrated I was. I left work, dejected, and pissed. How was this happening to ME? Now I had to go home, and incinerate everything I owned. Well, not entirely, I had to put all my laundry and clothes, plus linens (and intimates), in a hot wash. My room had to be thoroughly vacuumed, everything sprayed down in critter-killing pesticide, I had to take a hot shower, then rub this white cream all over my body, avoiding the family jewels. This process took pretty much the entire day. Along with spraying my own room, I sprayed down the rest of the house. Made an errand to Target, to purchase two items.

1: Bed Condoms, AKA Mattress Covers
2: The baddest most deadly bed critter pesticide known to man, well, at least that was what I hoped it was.

That day of cleaning allowed me to let my anger fester. Anger at the job for putting me in a situation where I could have gotten scabies. Anger at my situation, that I couldn't work this week (which seemed to take some meaning away from the week, at least it seemed like it would initially). Anger at the divine. Not exactly, though, but I was most assuredly angry at a lot of things.

After everything was done, I sat down in my chair, and stared at the wall for a bit. Slowly but surely, the anger subsided, my housemates returned home to me, and we had a good reflection. I realized that my anger wasn't going to accomplish anything, moreover, it was keeping me from getting any actual work done. Sometimes, S****** just happens, [scabies]. My job isn't to blame, nor are the people that I work with. The real test is how I respond to the situation, and I made a conscious decision at that moment to not let this situation ruin the rest of my week.

Tuesday: I made the trek to Theodore Roosevelt Island, and I would say that it embodies the word, Island: being isolated. Walking though the trails, you almost forget that a bustling city is minutes away. I was also struck by the stark difference in fall color between the west coast (my home), and where I am now on the eastern side. The colors here CHANGE. I was engulfed by shades of grey, yellow, red, orange, brown, and every color in-between. Leaves completely masked the ground. Walking takes on a new feeling as you hear and feel a *crunch* with every step. The air was crisp, the day was beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky, and that unfortunately deceived me into believing that I was once again in California, where, if it is sunny, shorts are appropriate. Not so, I was not in California but in a Washington, DC autumn. My legs, uncovered, felt the sting of a cold wind, which sent shivers up and down. Still, I was happy. There's something special about seeing such a drastic change (relatively) in the look and feel of a city. Now i get it, the east coast has SEASONS. Case in point: when I arrived here, I was miserable. The humidity stuck to every part of me. It was sunny and hot every day, though, now and again there was a thunderstorm and torrential rain. Green and yellow were the primary colors of the landscape. Now, that feeling and look are gone. It is an undeniable fact that fall is here.

Wednesday: I awoke early, ready for a day on the road. I packed a hearty lunch of two PB&Js, granola bars, protein shake, and PB crackers. I donned a thermal with a running t-shirt plus shorts, ready to sweat a little. The day before I had been inspired by a Mount Vernon Trail information sheet I had found on Theodore Roosevelt Island. The Mount Vernon Trail extends from Teddy's Island (Theodore Roosevelt) down to Mount Vernon, a total of around 17-18 miles. I felt inspired the day before to check out the house of our former president George Washington. I mean, he's kind of a big deal. At 8:20am I hit the road, biking first downtown, then began the search for the trail. As I crossed the Arlington Cemetery Bridge, I had no idea where to find the trail. I looked around and saw nothing. I almost made it to the cemetery before turning around and looking closer to the Potomac. Low-and-behold there it was, and after crossing roads where cars were going around 60mph, I was on my way to Mount Vernon. The ride was spectacular, but soon enough my butt began to hurt and I would alternate 'spin' style biking with normal seated biking to alleviate the pain. I only made one stop on the way down, to enjoy the view a little bit at the Reagan National Airport. The planes would take off directly overhead, accompanied with a thundering boom. I've always loved planes, except (according to my parents) when I was born. I spent my first days around an Air Force Base and would cry when the planes would go overhead. I think I've outgrown that phobia. I digress, I continued on the trail until I hit Mount Vernon. The price of admission is $15, and is totally worth it. There is an extensive museum and education center which are beautifully constructed. There are exhibits which outline our first Commander and Chief's life, along with the events that coincided with his life. However, the most breathtaking part of the experience is Mount Vernon, itself. The house looks just as it did when it was finally completed. I did not realize that the house was added onto many times, before reaching its final look. I'll post a few pictures, but they do not do it justice. You just need to visit.

Thursday: That's today. I woke up a bit later, as I didn't have any particular plans. I had thought I would go to a few museums but I wasn't as motivated to get started early. I do recall having some bizarre dreams, which I kept waking up from, then turning over in bed just so I could continue the saga. So I got up, made some breakfast, read the paper, then decided that I would go visit the National Archives. It was pretty interesting, and I felt inspired to check up on my genealogy, maybe when I get some time I'll make an effort to find out more about my family history on my own. After that I stopped at the National Gallery, and went through their exhibitions, which were absolutely breathtaking. I loved the Monet exhibition, its crazy how it seems up close that the brush strokes look like the work of an amateur, and it is only when you step back you get the whole picture and see it for what it really is, a work of art. I also was able to see the only work of Leonardo da Vinci that exists in the United States. Anyhoo, its been a long day, my friend's Dad is here, so I should get back to entertaining.

oh, where has the time gone?!

So its the darndest thing, you keep telling yourself, oh, well I'll get to it tomorrow, and then tomorrow comes, and you do the same thing again. Well, that's exactly what happened with my blog. I let myself come up with excuses, some valid, some not so valid, and I would sleep, eat, write (essays), run, or do a lot of other things rather than blog. However, now that I've really forced myself to do this, I remember why I do it in the first place. It keeps me grounded, it keeps me sane, and helps me to go back on the days experiences, and as I see that it hasn't been since mid-october since I've done this, i realize just how fast the time is flying by me. Today at work, and this week at work, have been difficult. I've been pushed in ways that I didn't expect. I've recently dealt with my first emergency situation: one of our patients (a new one) began seizing and vomiting in the lobby. Before I knew what was going on, I was assisting our MD with putting on a non-rebreather mask to get some O2 flowing, reading his O2 saturation, and moving the patient to a position of comfort. It reminded me a lot of my time as an EMT in college and while it frightened me a bit, I also somehow felt calm through the whole experience. The patient was able to get transported to the hospital, with what appeared to be severe alcohol withdrawal symptoms (vomiting, shaking, SOB). Other than that, this week i've seen a man's foot reduced to bone, covered in yellow, green, and red stained curlex padding. This patient had been to a local hospital, was treated for a severe infection of his foot, and had a sizable chunk of his foot removed including the heel and upper area. Skin grafts were applied and held in place with stitches. The surgery was so extensive that the surgeon did three separate surgeries to take care of the extensive damage that had occurred to his foot. However, something caused the hospital to rescind on their goodwill and discharge the patient, telling him to find a clinic to take care of his foot. When he came to our clinic, he had been turned away from over 3 other clinics as he did not have insurance. He came to us with the same gauze on his foot that the hospital had left. It was my job to remove that gauze, and that itself was a process as (don't read on if you're squeemish) the skin had oozed pus and discharge that had dried and caked onto the gauze, forming an area which made it hard to distinguish what was flesh and what was not. We had no saline at the clinic so we tried to loosen the bandages with distilled water, maintaining a sterile environment. As we peeled layer after layer off, we encountered the funky colors, and finally revealed a disfigured foot, with stitches still visible and the graft still appearing like flesh. This was not a case that clinics deal with, it should have been a job for a wound-care center. The pt had not been given any follow up appointments with that hospital to have the stitches removed. We all at the clinic could not believe how a hospital could do such a half-assed job. To leave a man who had already been through so much, like this, hardly able to walk and without insurance. They easily could have enrolled him in the city plan, could have assisted him in getting insurance for himself that would have allowed him to heal, and maybe have a chance at walking again. Instead, his future looks bleak. He was sent back to that same hospital, where he will rack up again more debt, more costs, and deplete more dollars out of the health care system. A system that is so broken, so ridiculous in its costs, that I feel, at the root, is caused by a feeling of entitlement that doctors feel to money, and that everyone in the healthcare field feels entitled to. It is not cheap to go through medical school, it costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. That money must be payed off. Well, at this point I feel like I am rambling and that it is getting late, again, my apologies for the long period of silence, I hope that it does not continue. Keep in touch