Wheww. The long month of June is finally, finally over. I have been unbelievably busy this past month. There were days that I was literally on my feet for almost 16 hours straight. The first half I would spend at the Museum, teaching.. then from 4 to about midnight, I would have training for my new waitressing job. Then, I would come back to my room and study for my next training day, as well as making sure my lessons were in order, as well as doing some O-week stuff on top of everything else. It was busy. It was hard. I've never felt so in-demand or so spread so thinly than for the entire month of June.

I have said it, time and time again - I believe in the power of words.

Words have innate worth. An influence so great, that my mood is often affected in a way that is as silly as it is remarkable. I have always believed in the positive effects of positive phrases. And I am a lover of repetition. I repeat, a true lover of repetition.

But I was thinking yesterday, of how easily words are tossed around. I, myself, am perhaps the largest crusader in frivolous phrases. I believe that there will never come a period when the words, "I love you" can be used too often. Perhaps it is because of the atmosphere in which I was raised. The neglect from my biological parents was always far outshined by the undying adoration from my adoptive parents. When I lost the daily, physical affirmations from my parents when I left for college, the heavy responsibility of making me feel worth it fell on someone far too young, and for all of his logical realism and undeniable wisdom, far too unready for the battle that he was somewhat unwillingly enlisted in. Box. Box. Excuse me, sometimes I forget that he's in a box right now. I guess he's all packed away.. just without tape to seal it up. Analogy = too far.

More on words later! I'm still developing this.. but now I digress.

I started my first day of work, today! It was the most tiring and rewarding day that I've had in a while. I am working with campers, teaching the wonders and the magic of prestidigitation <-- I adore this word. :) My assigned classroom and assigned lessons will change every week, but there is something almost magical about the first day, my first set of kids, my first lesson. I am amazed at the gentle workings of the child's mind. They operate almost solely on curiosity and wonderment, constantly seeking something to awe and stun their beings. Teaching. Me. Teaching! I'm almost afraid to admit how much I love it. I literally called, Goblin, my best friend today just to tell her how much I love it. I believe my words were, "I could do this for the rest of my life."

Speaking of the rest of my life, I feel like I'm losing direction. MD/MPH. I should be like Nike, and just do it. But financially, let's be real. The simple truth of the matter is, one day, I will be the only person responsible for myself. Won't everyone, you ask? Well, yes. Of course. But work with me here. I've decided that I want to dedicate my life to serving. Maybe it's because of my own feelings of inadequacy, linked to the desire to better someone or something greater than myself, to add to my self-worth; knowing and understanding that I, in some small way, helped out just a touch. I'm trying to improve myself, really, I am. But there are certain things that I feel will not leave, even when I can confidently say that I am completely comfortable with who I am. And that is this desire to serve. It has changed from a need, from a necessary action and definition of my being, to simply a desire, a want. I realized it when I was defending my excitement for a waitressing position that I have just recently attained. It is so satisfying. And it lines up perfectly with my personality. Anyways, I want to be a doctor. I really do. And not for the prestige, or the fancy little letters that will precede and follow my name. Those letters are not badges of glory, instead they bear the responsibility of a wealth of knowledge privy to the especially lucky and infuriatingly foolish. I want to be a doctor because I want to serve. But I'm losing motivation, and I'm losing confidence. And to be honest, being a doctor - It's a ballsy move, a lifelong commitment. I sometimes simply do not think I have what it takes. MCATs, medical school, rotations, exams, competition, rising to the top. It's like a nonstop thriller-esque ride, Tower of Terror, anyone? The promise of the ground floor is so undeniably precious, but before it can be realized, you're whisked away to the 11th floor. Again and again and again.

And to be honest. I'm scared. I'm bone-quiveringly terrified. So, while my friends are busy preparing for the ride, from maintaining an airily high blood pressure to becoming accustomed to panic attacks and living off of the thrill and the crashes of 5-hr energy shots (Goblin, stop.) I am here.. just watching. Waiting, if you will. Biding my time, hoping that they make it out alive and lend me a bit of their strength so that I may hop on board. But this cautious nature is not necessarily the most desired characteristic of a Doctor. At least for me, it's not. Give me someone confident and assured, who.. knows. I need my doctor to know. But I also want him to understand and exude compassion when tears fall or when a fear-laced secret is shared. I have no desire to tell a machine how I'm feeling. The disservice towards the most basic form of communication, this human interaction, leaves me with chills. Please, please do not let medicine and those who practice it forget that while it is easy to reduce the patient to the portion of the body that is malfunctioning, we are humans after all.

Ahhhhaaaa... And there it is. Or not so much an Ahaa moment as a feeling of completion. I have only ever felt this way twice in my life. Once after hearing that I was legally recognized as a member of a family that has given me far more love than one human has the capacity to appreciate. The other over a Greek dinner, listening - perhaps for the first time, to him talk after months and months of surface words and silence. Speaking with nothing to prove and even more important, nothing to lose. I want to practice medicine. But more than that, I want to teach medicine. Not the biological science per se, I'll leave that for brilliant minds such as my dear California Connection *chuckle, chuckle* I want to teach the other side. The side that says it is okay to mess up. It is okay to be a little afraid. Maybe there is not room enough in the minds of physicians for these lessons. Maybe that is why the self-less position of the nurse was created. But maybe there is just enough room for a few lessons in humility and practices in compassion.

Medical humanities. Why do I keep fighting it?

Yesterday, I spent about 4 hours moving my stuff from my rather large room on the North side of campus to a rather puny room on the South side. I underestimated how obnoxiously inconvenient moving is. Not only did I have to pack up my life and put everything into boxes, I had to move the boxes into my room, and THEN at the end of the day, I had to unpack everything because there was literally no walking room. It was like an obstacle course just to take a shower or open the door. Oh. Joy.

But unpacking has come along quite nicely, and I'm starting to get settled in this little room. While unpacking, I found a box with writing on the side, addressed to my parents. The box was an old one, apparently from my former neighbor and according to the note, inside, there was a vase - from my biological mother.

Surprised my mom and came home for a short visit for Mother’s Day weekend. I really needed the break, and after a few short days, I am back with a renewed sense of self. I have a lot of unfinished business at school. From packing up my stuff, to painting my new house, to helping friends out.. So much to do! And I honestly can’t wait. :)

This weekend was a refresher for me. Friday night I spent two hours in hair and makeup getting ready for a fashion show. During my time in the hot seat, I chatted with the MUA about life and love and fashion. CandyBaby listened and shared a couple lessons in love, but that’s a post for another time. While backstage getting ready for the show, I was reminded of something. Models are, often times, not nice people. Oh sure, we’re glamourous and tall with piercing stares and fierce walks. But beneath all of that glitz and glamour, beneath the mask of makeup and the cans of hairspray and fake tanner, we’re just girls who want to be loved. I was talking with a friend today about self-esteem and how it seems to be an ever elusive quest to gain it. And my attention was brought back to models. I repeat, models are not nice people. But perhaps it is because we’re hiding something. Perhaps our insecurity turns into a high level of sass and diva-ness, and perhaps this is why I always thought models, myself included, were total b*tches. I admit, even when I’m in model-mode and getting hair and makeup done, when a man approaches me - I turn ice cold. This actually happened on Friday, but the guy pushed through. Turns out, he’s a top designer and wanted to feature me in his upcoming fashion show. My ice melted away.

But enough with that. On to the weekend! I watched a western with poppy, lunched with mom, gave a quick piano lesson, registered for summer classes, played with my puppies, baked for my neighbor, painted decorations for my new house, and wrote my future self a letter of wisdom.

I realized I need to have a little more self-respect. That even though I’m working on my self-esteem, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m an intelligent, independent, free-thinking woman, who doesn’t need to answer to or please anyone.

And it’s high time that I act like it.

When all else fails, when I'm at my wits ends, and when I want answers so badly I go through desperate measures to find out the details... I must remember.

It's that time of year again.. That time when the sun stays out a little longer, and it becomes just a little harder to stay inside and crack open the books. The semester is winding down, and summer is so near I can taste it. The other night I took a break from work and watched the movie UP with my future roommates. Five boys and myself, oh what an adventure it'll be!! :)

My plans for the summer are still up in the air... intern at local museum, take summer classes, work? But putting aside what I have to do, I'm starting to compose a list of what I want to do. It's an ever-changing list, almost entirely dependent on my mood, but here's a sample:

• Write - Poetry, short stories, update my blog (YAY!) Even writing letters to friends, letters which may or may not be sent.
  
• Take photos - I want to catalog this summer. I don't want to forget these moments
• Bike - 30 miles? 40 miles? 50?! I want to race long distances and take this sport seriously. I think I may have found a passion that I refuse to give up
• Redefine my wardrobe - Or well, define might be the right word. I am going to go through every single item in my wardrobe. Doesn't fit, smells, looks weird? I'm tossing them out, donating them, or maybe even redesigning them.. and treating myself to some style. :)
• Cook - This may be the hardest thing on my list, but it is one of the most important. A new recipe a week? If that's too ambitious, maybe one every other week? Regardless, I'm going to pull out some pots and pans and (hopefully) whip up something delicious.. Or sustainable at least.

This summer will be a time for me. Figuring out what I want in life, who I want to keep in my life. I'm going to be selfish and self-reliant, stubborn and sincere in my words.

I absolutely cannot wait... Summer, come now - I'm ready