Sixty-eight, Names

It's getting a bit confusing probably keeping track of all my good friends. So here I am attempting a listing of them and with names that I chose not by asking them, but based on characteristics that come to my mind.

Valiben - My baby cousin. I love her.

Beatnik - We've known each other since elementary school and our mutual love for video games. He has a English deg...my bad, an English degree and as of this year is pursuing work with AmeriCorps for nine months before starting graduate school. He is the youngest from a family that has welcomed me into their arms as one of their own. I am proud to be called one of their brothers.

Lord Chaos - The next oldest brother to the Beatnik, his propensity to know all sorts of information is well documented by us and well-respected. His steadfast attitude has often been a rock for me during unsure times both during my undergraduate career and currently during my professional one.

Engineer - This is our Texan friend--Texan because he began his post-collegiate career at a job down there recently. I met him through The Beatnik during my middle school years. If there is anyone I can easily identify with at times, it is this fellow. Apparently we hated each other early on but neither of us recall this. Our similar left-brain thinking often leads us to talk to each other since we can quickly grasp the other's concerns.

Alaskan - She went up there for an exchange year and fell in love with the place. She went up to study bears and ended up studying bugs although she has yet to pursue a degree in Entomology. Still, it was wonderful and I even got a chance to visit her while it was cold and wintery with many feet of snow everywhere during the month of...March!

Roommate - Also an engineer by trade, he and I have roomed together since 2003 when I moved into his dorm room. These days we have an apartment and we live well enough with each other knowing each other's abilities and limits. He is strong in his faith as well as in his collection of electronics ranging from the expected television/DVD Player to the exciting multiple gaming systems.

Crazy Blonde - She too is a friend I made during my college years. She has one of the cutest dogs I've known who loves me very much. She's also crazy. My bad, she's willing to study crazies since she has or almost has her Psychology degree.

Chris - I know, it's odd that I'm calling one of them by name, but it will make more sense when I explain it a little bit. I met him during his sophomore year in college and he, for whatever reason, became a permanent fixture on our extra chair in our dorm room (granted we did have an open door policy while we were awake). After one semester of having him in, playing games with him, heading out for some dinner as a group, I returned from Winter Break and promptly called him Chris instead of his real name. I have yet to live this down, so here's some revenge.

The Kids - Two friends who actually met the Beatnik first since they went to college with him (he went elsewhere than the Engineer and I). They're actually approaching graduation themselves but seeing that they began college the year I was finishing...they're kids now and always. One is a calm, wonderful girl while the other is a hyperexcitable flexible boy. They provide us with lot of great joy, both of the nice, "That's pleasant" type and of the "I need to beat something to feel better" type.

BRS (Biker/Runner/Swimmer) - Yup, he's an athlete. And he's a classmate of mine. We have been helping each other pass our exams for the past year and a half and we both realize the difference studying together has made to our grades. He's a married man as of yesterday (Dec 30th) and I wish him well!

Hmm...I'm having a harder time with the next two in-as-much-as their pseudonames are concerned. [thinking]

Woodwind - We marched in high school band together. She played clarinet, I played tuba. I never let her live it down! Hehe, BRASS RULES, WOODWINDS DROOL! She is currently dating Lord Chaos and somehow keeps him in check sometimes.

Amish Girl - I'm sorry, but when I think of a description of her, this pops into my mind. Truthfully there is nothing Amish about her other than there is a drop of that blood that runs in her family. She is one of my more studious classmates at medical school and the one I know best out of all of them.

That is it for the major players. There are others and I'll come up with names as I continue my blogging adventures. I just wanted to take a few minutes to spell them out to those who might wonder who these random "good friends" are in my life.

Sixty-seven, Flop-flip

Glancing at the clock I realize that it's almost 3:30 in the morning. How times have changed where I'm the one going to bed and wake up really late while my good friends go to bed early and wake up earlier than myself. I used to take a book with me on sleepovers so that I'd have something quiet to do during the morning hours that I'd be awake while the others slumbered. Lately I just collapse into bed and awaken when someone else's alarm goes off or someone shakes me awake. Yup, things are different.

Goodnight!

Sixty-six, Six? Ooo, be Scared!

Today I came to the realization (based on a sample size n=3) that females have an inherent want to get attention all the time. Tonight I spent time with my cousin (3.75 yrs) and our family friends' daughters (8 and 5 yrs old). HOLY COW! If it wasn't one wanting attention, it was the other. If it wasn't one person trying to play a game with organization then it was another one destroying guest toys. I tell you it tuckered me out!

Sixty-five, Balding

"Why do you keep rubbing my head?"

"You have hair!"

Yup, kids do say the darnedest things. My uncle is heavily balding and keeps his head shaved clean. I'm lightly balding and still keep hair on my scalp. My baby cousin can tell the difference!

Sixty-four, Babo

"Is the Father Hindu?"

"No...he's Catholic."

For many years now Christmas spent at home included Midnight Christmas Mass with one of my good friends. Every now and then the other members that accompany us change but I go with him when I'm in town. Yeah, it's odd going to a Christian church for a ceremony honoring the birth of their Son of God (in my world, another avatar). But it's joyous as well in the same vein that going to Janmashatmi or Shivratri at the temples brings to me. There is some energy gained from large groupings of spiritually-minded people, whether Hindu or Catholic.

Sixty-three, YAY KIDDOS!

So tonight my baby cousin showed up at my home. She is all of three and three quarters old and quite playful. A couple of my friends came home at the same time as she arrived and we had a grand time entertaining her and being entertained by her. It really is a lot of fun playing with kids. Earlier we were at one of my friend's brother's place where there were two two-year-olds and two less-than-one-year-olds. Joys of joys they were!

Sixty-two, They're Back for the week!

I've missed my friends.

Sixty-one, The Eyes

So, I'll admit, I fall for eyes and face. Tonight was no exception as this little guy looked up at me beseechingly and I feel in love...again. Yes, this is not the first time this has happened. After growing up terrified of them (oddly enough I focused on dog teeth at the time), I met one or two here and there that were very well behaved and so cute. And, as most of my friends know by now, I have bonded well with a very cute beagle who is so much fun to tussle with. I hope I will bond with my Texan friend's pup as well. One of my friends loves dogs and cats (especially puppies/kittens) and he too instantly bonded with the newcomer from Texas. I expect the puppy (who is now with his family) to get uber-excited upon the arrival tomorrow of his master and best friend in the whole wide world. I also expect my friend to get uber-excited upon seeing his buddy again (possibly more-so than seeing his family and friends again). The truth is, I think that that is as it should be.

Sixty, Exams and Puppies

For those wondering, the one exam in question from last week's Block Day I passed with 1.75 points.

And tonight I'm somewhat freaking out since I'll be transporting a puppy sans owner. It should be quite an experience!

Fifty-nine, Authority

"Can you believe the blanket we've given to her? It's falling apart at the edges. I just tossed it aside. Help me get a new one."

We walk into the walking closet.

"See that one up there? The blue one? Pull that out, she can use that."

I pull out the blanket--still in shrink-wrapped plastic and lay it on the bed.

"Oh, this isn't even opened yet. Bring the other one."

I put away the blue blanket and pull out a brownish one. She opens up the zipper and I get whiff of blanket-factory-scent. Ewwww.

"Yes, this one will work. Go put this out on the bed for her."

I go off to lay it out when I realize it too is falling apart in one area. I take it back.

"What? Oh, it's bad too. In that case, just bring the old blankets from the top shelf."

I go off to bring the old wool blankets. My toenails always got caught in them when I was a kid and I hated them. Thankfully they weren't for me, but I shudder at the memory.

"Yes, I don't like these but they'll help keep us warm. Go lay this one out for her and then put this one away in my room."

I go off to the other room where our family friend is staying and spread out the blanket into her bedspread of three other blankets. As I'm fixing it up, I hear a yell,

"Are you coming back? There's this plastic still here!"

I hurriedly finish up and go back to put the empty plastic bags back into the walking closet up on the shelf. There's no doubt in my mind that while physically she'll be recuperating for a while yet, mentally she's back to normal.

Fifty-eight, Yodeling Pickles!

Figuring out what people want for Christmas is always an interesting experience. Some years it comes naturally and some years you have to go on eighteen different shopping trips to eleven stores until you come up with something passable. So I came upon an article penned by Dave Barry which made perfect sense to me: blame the women! Ok, ok, so that's his solution to a lot of stuff but you have to admit, it makes for good reading. If I'd known about it earlier, I would've just shopped online for novelty stuff for all the guys and left the women hanging. But, as it stands, it looks like no one will be getting a pickle from me this Christmas.

Fifty-seven, Home for the Holidays

I've arrived at home and it's the start of a Holiday Marathon. But you know what? I think I'm ready for it. Last year was terrifying what with my six hours of studying every day over break. This year, none of that (no matter which way the grades fall). And after the past semester of hectic school, I don't mind hectic home. Running around fixing things up at home, cleaning stuff, getting presents, and more is just fine. It helps bring meaning to my semesters at school. Normal everyday stuff that everyone else get annoyed by or dislike? I'll soak it in to remember.

Remember what it's like to be normal.

Fifty-six, DroidCam FTW!

Fifty-five, Pain in Video Gaming

I'm a sucker when it comes to physical pain. Dish out all the mental pain you want and I can take it but try to pinch me and I'll squeal like a pig. So it comes as no great surprise that a video game that causes me physical anguish will not long be a favorite of mine. I know that unless I suffer through said physical anguish, I will not rise up in my experience level and so I will hold back others that I am playing with. But this is the sad truth.

The previous weekend of Rock Band has made my left wrist sore. And I don't particularly like having a sore wrist over a video game. I guess that means I'm just not a gamer? Ok, I guess my 2+ hours of Bioshock the other night means that I am still a gamer, just not a gamer who loves the music-playing games. I won't say I get no enjoyment out of them, but the enjoyment comes from playing and participating in something with my friends. Not from being able to beat a video game song on Hard difficulty while hurting myself.

I offered my roommate a deal: Every time Mario died during his game of Super Mario Galaxy, I would hit him in the head with a baseball bat. He turned me down. So at least I'm not the only one who has a limit when correlating physical discomfort and video game satisfaction (after all, it would provide extra incentive to keep Mario alive!). I'm ok having a different level to my discomfort/game relationship. Everyone is different.

To anyone who disagrees, Place it up thy butter churn!

Fifty-four, Kidney!

I had this in my "business" inbox today. Thought it was funny considering we just got tested on kidney pathology*!

*For the non-medical types, glomerulus is a functional filtration unit in the kidney composed of a small ball of capillaries.

Fifty-three, Got 'im!

I spent a couple hours yesterday and finally beat Bioshock. HUZZAH! It is a really cool game. I think what did it for me is the ambiance it creates. The constant background noises from nearby machines, the blood-spattered tapes here and there, the excellent voice quality on all the tapes and the couple spots of dialogue. Everything had its personality, even the machine turrets and cameras.

And now, back to the real world where the ground is being covered in dihydrogen monoxide as I prepare to get together with my "band" and "rock out" for a few hours. And then, weather staying warm enough, it'll be SHOWDOWN TIME! Between The Bowlinator and The Amish Girl!

Life is good when I have such goofy friends.

Fifty-two, One point seven five

As far as I know, that's how much I passed by...

how close I was to repeating my second year.

Fifty-one, Spontaneous Implosion

Is this what my life will come to mean in the upcoming years? Hours spent studying, ignoring my close friends to concentrate on passing exam after exam after exam? Having to cut short phone calls with people I care about; going to bed earlier than planned because of my exhaustion; I don't like estranging the people closest to me. Especially not when I've known over half of them for more than 10 years.

Some of my classmates have adjusted to it just fine by setting up scheduled times off. But this doesn't come naturally to me or to the way that I interact with my friends which has a lot to do with spontaneity. Spontaneity is quickly disappearing into thin air. I have a respite coming up this Winter Break. But even then, I'm going to be spending some time with dad paying for my Step 1 Exam fee and shopping for one good book to use as a Board Exam study aide.

I lost last Christmas because I did procrastinate. I don't want to lose this one as well.

Fifty, Nostalgic Cartoons

"but if our knees bend the other way, how would we ride the bicycle?"

-Pinky

Fourty-nine, Future Faith

Temples in the US are worried as they watch their supporters age and their children don't come in for any services. The growing number of priests watch in consternation as slowly the supplicants start filling in with white faces. Faces whose blood has never been to India, never seen a Hindu puja outside of videos of either friends' marriages or YouTube. Priests are taught the ancient rites for the different gods and goddesses, not the process of bringing in newcomers to Hinduism, especially with the language barrier.

I have often been pointed out as an example of a pious member of the younger generation. I used to be proud of this. Nowadays, I am indifferent. I either ignore it or I smile and duck my head at the attention if it's from multiple people. My faith is important to me because of the hope it gives me. The hope that I think everyone has and needs. The world is not an easy place to live in but all of us do. Somehow, we do. And my belief is that a large part of what makes it bearable is hope.

The Hindu Temples of the future will be filled not with people from India, but with Americans--Indian or otherwise--who see hope through the help of any of the gods and goddesses (or avatars) represented by this religion. Already, a large part of the bigger temples in the US are Caucasian Americans. And whether they come to a temple, church, synagogue, or another place of worship, they all seek the same thing.

Hope

Fourty-eight, Spic-n-Span

Some people write, others bake, others go running/biking, and others play games (myself included). But every now and then, I get this different urge. I only perform it because of how rewarding it is at the time I do it. I often have to wait for a month or so before doing it so I get the best satisfaction from it. And oddly enough, the best tools I have to do it with are my own two hands and the sweat from my brow.

Today I woke up and knew I was cleaning the bathroom. Not just a cursory job, but getting down on hands and knees to scrub the floor grit out of the tiles and wiping down every surface in that place (except the ceiling which has paint "wrinkles"). And usually it has been about a month since the last cleaning session so the tub has built-up grit in the bottom that I get a lot of satisfaction from getting rid of with the stiff-bristle brush. It's like the grit is an enemy force that has set foot in the pure land of my bathroom and I'm the one-man army to fight them back with my different magical spells like "409" and "Soft Scrub" and "Clorox." The only thing missing was some soap stuff to use on the floor to mop it with a rag and my two hands to free it of the ground-in grit.

I will hopefully add the ancient scroll of Mr. Clean and the Gauntlets of Safety to my ranks tomorrow!

Fourty-seven, George O'Malley's Dad

It's knowing that you'll never see a person again. The Ultimate Goodbye. I think that Forever is impossible for a human being to really understand. We just put an arbitrarily chosen large number there in place of actual infinity. No communication is possible. Did people feel this back when an adventurous family member would depart and no word would ever come back? No idea whether the ship wrecked and all hands were lost halfway through its journey or whether the fellow traveled the world, gathered riches, and lived the high life in some far off fancy world? What would his parents have thought? His siblings and his friends? This person who has been part of the fabric of their lives, just ups and disappears.

I know I'm terribly lucky in some ways. One of them is that in my conscious memory, I have not had to deal with the passing of an immediate family member. I've always heard about so-and-so dying here or in India but never been emotionally vested in it. I've only had one person go who I felt strongly about; a crotchety old man who I came to love through my best friend. So I consider myself lucky. I complain about not having luck in everyday things but I don't really mind. Not when I know that I've had a lucky life when it comes to the important things.

Then again, maybe I did pay the price for the luck. Just in a vastly different way than most others.

Karma will continues its march and I shall go with it.

Fourty-six, Cake

For those unaware, approximately three months ago, a game came out which I was really excited about. It was just a small little game but in my mind, it epitomized the hundreds of flash puzzle games I've played in my years. Except this was visualized on-screen in full three dimensions. Just like those puzzle games, it consisted of a certain number of levels increasing in mental difficulty as you went through.

During the end credits, they play a song. Here is one artist's view of the song.

Fourty-five, Hurricane

"The whole area looks sorta bad."

"...It's called a hurricane. Katrina, heard of it?"

Fourty-four, Observances

I skipped a day! Well sort of. It's still "Thursday" for me despite the clock having gone over to after midnight. So I will make these brief notes for you before heading off to sleep:

Wear shoes outside when it's cold.
Remember your Death Star-adorned pizza.
Always pet a kitty once.
Remember to toast the cook.
Four hours of sleep can last you 18 hours of wakefulness.
People in Alaska are crazy.
People in Texas are crazier.
People in Kentucky are wonderful.
And folks in New Orleans suburbs are eagerly awaited.

I did not post on the 6th of the month, HA!

Fourty-three, Time

Friends go through a lot for each other. It can be suffering through a movie that they might not care for or listening to the world's longest sob story with a straight face but they stick with you no matter what. Granted it was easier in previous years. If something had occurred or an important thought came up, it was simple to call up someone and go take a walk to Sun/H.H. Gregg and back (or around campus). The combination of exercise with spilling out my mind helped calm me. Now I find that it's harder. I have to schedule according to responsibilities. Walking is more difficult since no one lives near a place that's pleasant to stroll around in the dark.

The world changes. It's easy for most people to say that this happens. But it can be really difficult to accept it. Sometimes time is the only way to be at peace with change.

Fourty-two, Ceiling Ridges

Whenever I'm in a room with the splotch ceiling paint (you know what I'm talking about, round or amorphous splotches that have little ridges sticking outwards so when you rub your hand up there you feel all the texture) I will stare upwards in low-lit areas and imagine that the miniature mountain ranges have turned into gigantic canyons. It's a simple trick of the light to do really, then the ceiling looks all wrinkly.

Fourty-one, Humanism in Medicine

There's a reason why the number one complaint by patients about their doctors is not that they don't know what they're talking about. Rather the biggest complaint is that their doctor isn't treating them like a person. They barely spend time with the patient; they just don't get to know him/her; the doctors' abrupt manners affect their patients.

My thinking is that over the past 60 years, medical education has evolved in its ability to pass vast amounts of scientific knowledge to the learners which, unfortunately, has moved hours from the bedside to hours in a lecture hall. This lack of bedside hours equals directly into lack of communication skills with patients. And that's what doctors do. Anybody can make the diagnoses doctors can make as long as they learn the language which is vast. So the doctors have to take the knowledge they hear/see/feel and convert it into English. While I do think it's important to be able to build the knowledge base so that everything you hear/see/feel means something to you, I don't think one should neglect the ability to talk to the patient. After all, if you know everything wrong with a person you see, what's the good of not being able to inform them?

Our Dean recognizes this and is willing to stumble along in trying to find a solution. I'm just sad that I'll be missing out on his changes.

Fourty, DroidCam

Gas to drive home - $25
Having to get up at 6:30 to get to Staples on time - 2 hours of sleep
One new Webcam with Face-following Technology - $29.99
Being able to hang out with a friend one thousand miles away while folding laundry and without leaving the picture frame? Priceless

Thirty-nine, Compassion Overload

In my lifetime, many times have I been approached on streets by barely dressed 4 and 5 year-olds asking for money. Mothers holding babies begging for a few cents. In all these years I have never given them anything. Yet yesterday I gave some money to, not an individual or two, but an organization that specializes in feeding and caring for kids around the world. How can I condone giving to an organization and not an individual? For me, it has always been easy. I don't believe that anything going wrong can be fixed simply by throwing money at it. Rather, money works better if it's decided how to spend it first so instead of showering the destitute with colored paper with deceased people's portraits on them, it is used to pay for the creation of homes, for the purchase of foodstuffs and medicines, and hopefully on education for everyone--especially the children.

I don't deny that there are barely dressed children running around in American streets. But I guarantee that the number in this country is much lower than in most developing nations. The question then crops up: Do I support a National initiative to help people or a World-wide one? And this is where your individual ideals come into play. For me, the whole has always been very important to me. In classes, the learning occurs at the pace of the slowest learner to make sure no one gets left behind. Granted, this has changed in the past year and a half with the advent of Medical School but overall, the idea remains.

The Numbers. Percentage-wise, the US and India aren't at opposite ends of the scale in their poverty numbers: 12% and 27.5% respectively. But when I take into account the population, the US has ~36.4 million people under the poverty line while India has 321.5 million under the poverty line. For comparison, the total population of the United states is just over 300 million strong. This makes it harder for me to spend on people and organizations that service just the United States.

I do hope I have the nerve to offer up my services to groups like Doctors without Borders or go and provide free clinic care annually to areas that receive no care usually unless they travel hundreds of miles to the nearest hospitals which are too expensive for them and have overcrowding issues. That would be the best thing that I could accomplish to serve my fellow suffering human beings.

Thirty-eight, Question to Ponder

Why do some of the enemies in Super Mario games look so innocently happy as their mere touch kills Mario?

Thirty-seven, Phone Calls

So I was meeting up with a friend at the local Best Buy and was calling him to ascertain his location within the store. Of course, I happen to hit the incorrect speed-dial button and get his younger brother instead, who is currently in New Orleans with AmeriCorps. I say hey to him and then explain that I meant to get his brother. We joke about this for a minute but I realize that some part of him might be hurt by the fact that I didn't call Just to Talk. But I rarely do this. I am making a more concerted effort to do so with my friend in Texas with his new job but even he can claim that I don't call him as much as he calls me. This is not to say that I don't enjoy speaking with them, just that calling people hundreds of miles away just to talk isn't something that usually occurs to me.