The stars in the sky and the stars in the sea
mean nothing to me.
But the stars in your eyes
let me know I’m exactly where I need to be.
Tag Archives: inspiration
The stars in the sky and the stars in the sea
As of yesterday, I’m back to the real life: books, powerpoint slides without an end, and marker packs in so many colours the rainbow would be jealous.
But if all goes well, this year won’t be the same as last year. I mean, not that last year was bad or anything, it is just that I want this year to be even better. (Who doesn’t? … You don’t have to answer that.) Anyway, part of this whole New Year’s Resolutions thing is to actually follow through with good intentions.
It’s day three. How many of you have already broken your resolutions? Be honest with yourself, because I know the vast majority of you have. Well, okay, maybe only a few of you have since it is only day three. I’ll give you a couple of weeks.
I actually did make resolutions this year. I intend on keeping all of them, despite some of them nearing the verge of insanity (in my already crazy mind). Why? Because if I don’t make the changes for a healthy life now, when will I? Life will only get harder and habits will only set firmer. When I see myself in the future, I don’t see someone who would rather grab a bag of potato chips over an apple. …Okay, I do but only one time out of ten or so.
Cheers to a new year, and a slightly modified Kristin.
First, I am cutting out sweets from my diet. In case you were wondering, my sweet tooth takes up most of my face. Sorry, Pinterest. Your dessert folder is going to have to be ignored until a friend needs a cake baked for them. No sugar in my oatmeal. Black coffee when possible. No birthday cake at birthday celebrations (unless it is my own, of course). Crazy, huh?! Here’s the remaining sanity in it: I will allow myself all the gum I can chew, breath mints when needed, honey (in HEALTHY things like my homemade granola, which is way to fantastic to give up), a rare energy drink if needed prior to an exam, and ONE serving of sweets on holidays. Yes, my birthday is a holiday. No, Ground Hog’s day is not a holiday, nor is Presidents Day.
Second, I am going to work out SIX hours per week. This one is going to be the hardest for me to keep, because I can’t guarantee that I have six hours to spend in a gym EVERY.SINGLE.WEEK. The point of this resolution is to find the time. And if you think about it, that is less than an hour if I decide to go everyday. That’s not bad at all.
Related to the last one, I am shooting for a goal of running 300 miles this year. That is completely doable at less than 1 mile per day, even when taking holidays off. The thing is that I really am not a fan of running unless they have happy colour powder to throw at me every kilometer I run. (Side note: I’m already registered for the Colour Run this year! If there is one in a city near you, DO IT!)
Thirdly, I want to do as many random acts of kindness as I can afford. Which, on a med student budget, probably is like three. Sadly, the thing that I realized, though, is that someday I will be able to pay it off. The person I help doesn’t likely have that same luxury. It can be overwhelmingly blinding to look at my bank account and see nothing for several years in the near future. Take those blinders off, miss. There will be money there. Those loans will disappear, no matter how ginormous of a number they get to be.
And lastly, do more artistic ventures. I probably (most likely) have said that I love to do various art projects, crafts, writing, poetry, things and stuff. Med school shouldn’t prevent me from doing things like that. I’ve
accumulated hoarded nearly everything I need for any project in my supposed-to-be-a-studying-office-that-has-become-more-of-an-art room.
The best part? Now that I have told you, I have just made you all accountable for my goals, too.
Even better? If you tell me your resolutions, I will remind you like none other that you should probably be sticking with whatever your resolutions are. For real, you made them for a reason.
I have found that I quite like cardiology. I would like to think it is not all the little hearts I get to draw throughout my notes, but more how far common sense can make me sound like I know what I am talking about. The hearts truly do help, though.
Because of this, I have been able to breathe. I haven’t been losing hair at the normal “stressed out school rate.” I have found balance. Peace.
It is the type of peace that I haven’t found other than when I am hiking in nature or lying in my bed, my safety zone. The picture above was taken during one of those peaceful nature hikes I went on with my sister. I’m hoping I can make it back to this spot this fall when the leaves are just a bit more fall-like with the little bit of extra time this class is giving me. It’s a perfectly beautiful spot, and I’m hoping I can manage to sneak a few more pictures to share with you all.
If you aren’t the person I dreamt you would be, you can still be you, and I will love you just the same.
Oh goodness, this is from a long time ago already. When I used to have time, I would do self mini-photo shoots around the house to waste time. This is the product of one. (Obviously, or I likely wouldn’t be telling you this story right now.) I know retrospectively that I over bleached and over saturated it… However, I still am fascinated with the concept of the picture. If I remember right, I was inspired by the episode of America’s Next Top Model where they did beautiful dead pictures. Combine that with a recently ended relationship of over two years and some free time, and voila!
Plus it reminds me of that crumby old apartment with the gorgeous gold claw foot tub I picked out all by myself. Gosh, I sure do miss that place in all of its terrible glory.
P.S. I love that WordPress is suggesting I add a link to “free time.” I mean, I know it was something most people don’t have, but I didn’t realize it was something I needed to link a definition to. Thanks for the suggestion, mastermind behind the site.
While surfing around the lovely land of WordPress, I recently ran across an interesting post on a wonderful young lady’s blog that I loved. After mulling over it about a week, I think I have finally decided I can do this.
To just steal the quote right off Miss Docimo’s page, this “is a blog-writing challenge to break through the mist of this shiny happy pretty blogosphere and tell the real truth about your life—the things you’re afraid to tell because you think they might shatter who people think you are. I have talked about this idea often with my husband—I think the internet is a blessing and a curse—it is amazing to be able to connect with people from all over the world and inspire each other, but it can also be down-right depressing to go around to one blog after another that makes the blogger seem like they have everything all together, and success is literally raining down upon them while they take bubble baths and drink champagne in a beautiful beachfront home. Even though I realize that people are representing only part of the truth (I’m a blogger myself and tend to focus on inspiration), I often find myself feeling depressed and jealous as I make my blog rounds, and tend to avoid reading blogs when I’m in a certain mood.”
1. I’m terribly afraid of growing vain. I would much prefer struggling with insecurity issues than be blinded of my over-confidence issues. On the same note, I’m not comfortable with my body size and shape, with how thin my hair is, with my fingernails, with my lingering acne, with my hunchback, with the stank of my feet, with my awkward incoordination, and with me in general.
2. I’m afraid of people really getting to know all of me. I have no idea why I don’t like anyone knowing everything about me, but I feel it may have something to do with vulnerability.
3. I’m afraid of being held responsible for other people’s lives in my future. I think this is for obvious reasons, though.
4. I’m afraid if I tell you that I don’t have many fears, you will think I don’t care. That you will think my lack of fear of dying means I don’t understand the meaning of life. That you will think I don’t feel anything when I tell you I’m not afraid of heartbreak. That you will think I am stupid for not being afraid of heights, spiders, snakes, rats, etc. That you will think my lack of fear of failure means I haven’t ever failed. That you will think I’m fearless, when in all reality I’m not.
5. I’m more scared of meeting my significant other’s parents than sky diving. Don’t translate this as me rather jumping out of a plane than meeting his parents. It’s a little bit different than that.
6. I’m terrified of having children.
7. I’m afraid to tell you I have this drafted since Tuesday and just haven’t been able to push the publish button until today.
The difference between you and me is that I know what I am thinking. I know where I have been, and where I plan on heading. I know, most of the time, how I feel despite not being able to express it well. You, on the other hand, could have come from anywhere.
We had a long group discussion on cultural competency today, which I found to be eye-opening in a respect completely different from most people in our class. We talked about expanding our knowledge of other cultures by reading books, meeting new people, volunteering in locations that we would otherwise not go to, blah blah blah. I was shocked to find such ignorance in what my peers were saying. I do admit, though, this ignorance could be directly related to naivety. But I wouldn’t know, because I am not them.
People talked about having friends from various cultures. They shared uncomfortable moments they had during a wide array of experiences. We recognized that we should go out of our comfort zone to further our cultural diversity experiences, and we discussed the internalization that is required to truly gain from times such as these. Our class reflected that our actions are not necessarily perceived as they were intended. How could we know what you were thinking?
Yes, all of those things are true. However, I feel as though a vital piece of our discussion is missing. To know one person is to know one person. It is not knowing a culture. To immerse yourself in a new culture for a day, a week, a month, is to flip through a history book in 20 minutes. Did you learn? Undoubtedly so. If you look back at the same pages, could you learn more? Sure. Do you know that culture, that language, those customs? Not a chance.
“But,” you say, “but I had an open mind! I reflected, I didn’t judge, and I treated a person as a person. I learned. I am always learning.” Did you forget, my friend? You only know in certainty your experiences. And those experiences are interpreted in a vast number of ways by others who experienced similar, or even identical, events.
Cultural competency isn’t about seeing the differences and reacting appropriately. Cultural competency is recognizing there are not differences that separate people, but understanding that our differences bring us together, even if disguised as being conflicting ideas.
How does one teach that? How do we get a firm grasp on an idea that is so vague? An even more difficult perspective: How do we implement into our daily lives a concept that is so vague?
The answer: We don’t. Even if we grapple with the idea of becoming culturally competent, we inadvertently become selfishly wrapped into our own comfortable experiences that are so commonplace we expect other people to think similarly, to act similarly, and to react similarly. Adding to that notion, in my experiences, I have been told to fight for what is right. I have been told to fight for what I believe in. I have been told not to let anyone change who I am, because I am perfect the way I am. I don’t know about you, but I find this is to be a cesspool breeding ground for ignorance and hate. If I fight for what is right, I may be fighting with the Taliban. I may be fighting for the red, white, and blue. If I fight for what I believe in, I may implement laws pertaining to eugenics in hopes of destroying entire races. I may fight for keeping individuals of color off buses. I may be fighting for gay marriage. I may be fighting in the name of Muhammad. If I am perfect the way I am, and have no flaws to change, I am not looking at what others do well.
While you may argue that my examples are extreme, I may agree. I may even be trying to prove a point. Where is the line drawn separating extreme from not extreme? Would you draw the same line as I would? If I were on the other side of the line, where would I have to stand for you to become defensive or even intervene in some way? Is there a point where you stood that I would consider using my constitutional right to free speech or bear arms or my god given right to shun you and wish you to hell? Is there a point where we might drop both you would drop your defense and offense simultaneously? Maybe, but I am me and you are you. You could have come from anywhere.
Have you heard me? Have you heard me at all?
Have you changed? Have you changed at all?