?

Log in

The rough dancer and the cyclical night [entries|friends|calendar]
Mariya

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[30 Nov 2011|01:19am]
Forgot about this thing. Need to start journaling again. Hello.
2 comments|post comment

A thing I learned this week: [13 Aug 2010|02:28am]
My body is not invincible, and is not as tough/indestructible/sturdy as I think. Being 1 of 2 transporters of a large wooden desk down two flights of stairs in Williamsburg and up one flight in Morris Park taught me that A) the initial extremely uncomfortable pressure in my back is not actually a sign that I will explode/become paralyzed in a 24-hour time period, and B) there are way more muscles in my back and shoulders than I was ever before conscious of.

Ow.

The bright sides of now:

I have a magnetic white board, and I know how to use it (presumably), (even though I may not quite have a plan for how to make it adhere to the wall).

Speaking of walls, we will be living in a glorious apartment off-campus. It has many walls (way more space than I ever thought I'd want). Definitely out of my comfort zone in some respects, but fundamentally, as part of a moving into a more-or-less "adult"/"respectable" home setting, doesn't feel like an unnatural step for me/us.

The white board will help make it a little more real/accessible. As will Christmas lights in August.

Cannot wrap my head around the fact that medschool starts on Monday morning. Excited and anxious. My head is teeming with ideas about how to really get it together this year (learning things! caring for people! being an intellectual and emotional sponge!), and with fears (social -- being one of the, like, 3% of students living off-campus, combined with being awkward -- Orientation panic! academic -- should I have taken the summer biochem class? can I focus well enough after having been out of school for more than a year!? logistical -- how will I get my refund after tuition has been magically taken out of my oodles of loans? how will I prove that I don't need Einstein health insurance without appropriate documentation? what if realize that I can't pay my bills? what if I lose/forget my apartment keys!? stupid -- what if I gain weight? what if I get depressed to the point of not being able to keep up? how do I care for my (now quite angry) nose piercing in the absence of time/comfort? how the hell do I magically become less awkward in all ways, more confident in all ways, more helpful in all ways?)

For now, I will take refuge in juvenile excitement about trivial things and material objects. It is both comforting and scary to be as physically exhausted as I am now -- on the one hand, I cannot imagine making myself do anything aside from trying to stay upright long enough to finish typing this entry, and o the other hand, it feels absurd to start an intense year having had such a draining summer and physically trying week.
1 comment|post comment

[06 Aug 2010|04:39am]
Red Bones. Rehearsal dinner for J and F's wedding tomorrow at Celtics arena. Signing lease (fingers crossed) and moving in next week. Orientation the following week -- 3 days; class starts following day. Head exploding; mostly happy.
post comment

[16 Mar 2010|12:15am]

Wings spread thin Stretch like
cobwebs. You spider You trap

Wind, prey on its song.

 

 

 

Lukewarm leaf, fiber
character of porcelain
Flood Earthquake Drought

post comment

[03 Feb 2010|10:28am]
Forcing myself to post again, partially as a desperate attempt to produce something. My goal is to post every day, no matter how mundane... I have not been producing much of anything (aside from a general aura of negativity) lately, and if this kicks me to change, then it's better than nothing.
3 comments|post comment

[21 Jul 2009|05:08pm]
It is between the neck and chest, grown so big I can barely swallow. 
It is a specimen of coincidence.
It has outgrown my voice.
The almond eye of the Venn obstruction, it shrinks as physiology and affect float apart, wanting to disown their intersection
I too want to spit it out.

It is the moment after the elbow meets the table corner, before the acceptance of pain.
It is the thoughtlessly rejected oil on the surface of soup refrigerated since last Sunday.
I too do not want to absorb re-heated absurdity.

It is the banal dreamcatcher that pulls me up and out of bed by my hair when it is dark.
It falls on my face every morning.
I scramble to tease its cobwebs out of my eyelashes.

It waits for me to curse as I throw it into the corner and shudder it off, trailing strands.
It has made me weak.

My arms and then my lips give out when I try to hold its grudges,
So I watch them drop like bombs.

Mercury balls scamper under the rug, quick and aimless.
The daze settles yellow clouds on the afternoon.
I too was born of broken glass that was never whole.




post comment

[18 Feb 2009|12:47am]
I miss pediatric endocrinology.
post comment

[29 Aug 2008|12:42pm]
If developments this November force me to renounce one side of my dual citizenship, it will be a very tough call between the Russian Federation and Wasilla.
::national facepalm::
post comment

on sarcasm [23 Aug 2008|10:07pm]

A fear turned fortune turned goodbye postponed

The frantic, futile threat “You’ll die alone”

Will turn the stomach and the mind around

From force to impotence, plant in the ground

 

My coldest sweat, his sharpest pain, collapse,

The final grain of yellow sand elapsed

All hope abandon, ye who enter here

Effect goodbyes, lest fortune turn to fear

post comment

[20 Aug 2008|07:33pm]
years from now folks will have forgotten ever saying "you just got schooled" and the pun in my last panel will seem really forced and weird. THIS I PREDICT
post comment

[07 Aug 2008|02:44am]
2 comments|post comment

[03 Aug 2008|06:39pm]
I know what could make an already globally ominous day even creepier. Solzhenitsyn could die of heart failure. Good thing I'm the master of safe hypotheticals.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/2276650.stm
post comment

blaaaaaaaaaargh [03 Aug 2008|03:09pm]
Wow. This NYTimes page makes me want to cower in a corner and wilt. Must snap out of self-induced feeling of powerlessness in negative 10 minutes.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/04/world/asia/04india.html?hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/us/03deport.html?hp
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/health/03aids.html?th&emc=th

Twilight zone. Feeling physically sick and motionless. Practice tests flashing on the screen. Brain 'splodes. Need some direct winds, a panda influx, or a violent massage.

In other news, had a dream that Eddie Izzard wrote me a rec for med school. This is past ridiculous. Gap year will be crucial in maintaining sanity.


2 comments|post comment

On not projecting one's childhood onto one's children [23 Jul 2008|10:07pm]
I'm a little concerned about tomorrow, with regard to my sister's camp: they're having their "wear something from your favorite sports team" day. She's going to wear a blue and white dress, I specifically instructed her to say that she likes all the teams if anyone asks, my mom told her to say that she likes ice skating as her favorite sport; basically, I'm just hoping that nobody gives a shit and that she's not stuck in isolating situations in which people take more trouble than it is worth to be jerks. I'm sure that it won't be too bad, but I won't be reassured completely until I get back from work and see her smiling and in one piece.

[And yes; she is, by all intents and purposes, my child. It's really great to slip "my five-year-old" into conversations with strangers and watch their response.]
4 comments|post comment

rant: M.D./Ph.D./MSW [13 Jul 2008|02:44am]
1. I have little interest in doing research. Especially when I'd be doing the kind of research that I'd rather be learning about while doing the actual legwork in talking to patients. All the Ph.D. and even Psy.D. programs feel like foreign limbs. I'm also underprepared, research-wise, for a Ph.D. program, though that could technically change within the next few years if I want it to.
2. I have little interest in spending 10 minutes with a person to prescribe him chemicals. All the psychiatrists I have worked with/met so far do just that. I'm terrified of the M.D. because I don't want to set myself up for a position that pays me to push people away.
3. I cannot imagine being satisfied with the scope and depth of a social work education; nor does it seem like it will help pay my and eventually my sister's rent.

Is this really a lose-lose situation?

I am interested in:

1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy as primary line of defense [preceded by motivational interviewing/ analogous/chimeric techniques specific to substance abuse, if this ends up my general field of choice].
2. Looking at faces more than looking at papers, numbers, computer screens [an impossible dream?].

I need to know, to put it bluntly, if psychiatry can be therapeutic in more than a pharmaceutical sense, whether the modern psychiatrist can manage to be an effective and thorough therapist. My personal experience shows that there's room for this as a Psychology Ph.D. and an M.S.W. in the context of private practice.

My burning question for the audience:

It would really help me to hear a bit more personal feedback. If you have had any experience engaging with a psychiatrist, I would be thrilled to hear your thoughts or stories. Reply to the post anonymously if you prefer, or e-mail me; I will be eternally grateful.
21 comments|post comment

[08 Jul 2008|11:54pm]
When we walked in, she was sitting up on her bed. Have you seen my picture? She asked Dr. H. You look wonderful, He said. No, she said,  Have you seen my picture? Unrolled a sheet of paper with paint and glitter, the average of a child's Little Mermaid painting and a finger-painted nude; This is from my class on Thursdays. It's too sexy for me, He says in his thick Hebrew accent. His eyes are always smiling. He leaves me with her and says he will be back.
She is in her 50s, looks like she is of the texture of water-balloons; I do not touch her for fear of rupturing her skin. She tells me about how special she is, how beautiful, how her new psychiatrist thinks she's excellent and attractive; amid a half-dozen waterbottles on her bedside table are bright eyeshadow containers and lipstick. The nurse walks in; the sitting patient is hostile, What do you want, Nothing, Then go away. She tells me about the medication she doesn't want to be on, because it's almost killed her; it made her fat, it made her eat all her money. She tells me how awful, terrible they've been, how she wants to sue them, how she thinks they should be in jail, the social workers, the nurse who treats her horribly, her husband, the incestuous monster, the workers who clean her house. She says her lawyer might not come because he can't deal with her not loving him anymore, but if she could sue them, all of them, she could spend all day and all night in court. I am reflecting these statements as neutrally as I can, minimizing them a bit so she doesn't get too flustered, but apparently not nearly enough for her to hate me and throw me out. She designates me as her messenger, so that I can go forth and tell Dr.H. to please not put her on that pill again. She emphasizes her inability to function, says that she has kidney problems and cancer, that she can't go shopping or clean on her own. Tells me her husband is abusive and treated her awfully and didn't take out the cat litter, that she has 2 cats and they are 10. She tells me she's an artist, that she sells  her work and people love it, people just see her and talk to her and buy her art without seeing it because she is attractive. She says that she wants to move back to Missouri, where her brother is, but doesn't know how to leave the cats or the apartment, from which she is afraid of being evicted. Tells me about the humiliating time she was thrown out on the street without her shoes. Speaking fast, fluently, continuously; her mouth moves in an augmented way; she looks me in the eye and gesticulates, her massive bangles clanking against one another. I ask her about her medical history; she tells me she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was 23.
Dr.H comes back in, asks her when she wants to go home, she asks him how she's supposed to go home when she can't manage the apartment on her own. He suggests a free public service, she protests loudly because they were nasty, he suggests another one, she has similar suspicions about the second organization as well. He suggests talking to the social worker about everything; she says that she hates the social worker, who was cruel to her, throwing her out without her shoes. As we walk out, she screams after him, telling him to listen to me, because I know everything, because I heard her speak.
1 comment|post comment

[02 Jul 2008|04:08pm]
What's a good [safe, etc] place to get pierced in northern Jersey/NYC?
9 comments|post comment

[02 Jul 2008|02:03am]
Under the cut, an incoherent log of my 7 ER hours, not well-written, sort of self-indulgent... Want to keep a record of people and cases, without knowing exactly why. Wow, latenight splitting headache, maybe I have encephalitis; Imma get me a spinal tap the next time I come in. Here goes.



Summary: If yesterday was the chemotherapy-associated sepsis day, today screamed "ATYPICAL CHEST PAIN," in bright capital letters, written across something expansive and hemispherical that draws perverse attention and preferably includes a navel, as a focal point.
5 comments|post comment

[26 Jun 2008|12:20pm]
I had forgotten how nice/happy/fuzzy/shiny orgo is, and that I actually liked it at one point in time [at some point before its stomach acid completely dissolved my brain and possibly even before its proteases digested my GPA, still surprisingly post-ingestion]. It is kinetic, responsive, and physical.

One alarming issue is that somebody who still gets distracted by drawing on her skin with gel pens should probably not be allowed anywhere near medschool.  Or the internet, which tends to present a frequent and more extensive time commitment. Case in point. If you see me moving in any way anywhere on the internet today, please shoot me in the face.

This has been a public service announcement. It is now complete.

Omg pixel cookies: http://www.flickr.com/photos/27064046@N00/sets/72157603857787202/
9 comments|post comment

[23 Jun 2008|11:30pm]

Here’s how we pull our shades closed here: self-consciously, silently

Plugging our ears from the moans of the neighbors next door

Spending our flickering evenings obstructing the violently

Humid, the desperately dimmable, breathlessly sore.


post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]