Other people's pictures.

I got sucked into facebook purely for facebook stalking (as me and my friends call it) reasons. What kept me going, though, was refinding all the people who meant so much to me in elementary, middle, and high school. Those people I’d swore I’d be friends with forever, who I wrote international mail to, who I haven’t spoken to in years. Though, in defense of childhood friendships, it isn’t so much because I don’t want to as I am missing the e-mail/phone gene. E-mail tends to be purely business to me (though I love receiving them) and phones are for weekly conversations with my mom and brother.
Anyhow, facebook quickly lost me, as have all those other similar things—myspace, friendster, etc. It’s exactly like e-mail but with pictures and lots more people to keep up with. What I still find interesting about facebook though is that people can post pictures of you and tag them. So I open my e-mail and it says H has posted 3 pictures of you. I go to check them and they are pictures of me, yet not. Seeing myself in other people’s pictures is kinda like seeing myself in other people’s eyes lately. Facebook shows a girl who lets monkeys play with her hair, who hugs children in Bangladesh, and who looks extremely happy to be 26 in a red dress. I don’t feel like that girl, though I wish I knew her—she seems far more self-confident than I and I would even say she has together.
The real me, the me in the mirror, who wear purple sweatshirts and pajama pants at home and sits in front of a book or a computer ¾ of her life is usually frazzled, she runs late all the time (and excuses herself by saying things never start on time), she almost puts milk in the cupboard and cereal in the refrigerator, she abandons her vacuum cleaner at another person’s house for months, she writes blogs instead of studying for a final, etc, etc, etc. Not together, but kinda spread out all over the place—even in that little crack of space under the refrigerator where lost things never reappear from…
Anyhow, maybe I should look at other’s people’s pictures some more. Being overconfident isn’t good but not recognizing your good traits isn’t either, and I haven’t quite grown out of judging me from how other people perceive rather than from the virtue of my actions…
So that’s it, back to studying. Congenital heart disease—usually not a good thing.

Art

I've been drinking sangria... For my heart originally and then later because I was drawing and usually when I'm in artist mode I drink something or another. Call me Julia de Burgos...


Anyhow, I was drawing and noticing how med school makes it into my art someway or another lately-- poems with lines about scar tissue in them, and (look towards the bottom)
this... My broken heart is anatomically perfect... Aorta, pulmonary artery, and all.
I like it-- it's like I'm finally learning how to tie the two sides of me together.

To Community

Well, first off, thanks to my Midwest following for commenting on my blog. I love it! I've laughed, scratched my head, and just had much fun reading the comments. I even learned something about pig latin via Wikipedia because of the comments (In Puerto Rico we used "chi"). Chiyo chime chilla chimo chixa chivi chie chira...

Anyhow, I've been reading "The Alchemist" over the past week for the third or fourth time in my life. The first time I came across "The Alchemist" was in twelth grade when my friend Michael told me he picked it up and didn't stop reading until he was done. Michael never read unless forced to so I was curious. Since then "The Alchemist" has been the book I turn too when I need to be reminded that things happen for a reason. Now I concede that Coelho is not a great writer as far as literature goes. His language is simple, his message is obvious-- his writing is more parable than fiction. But that said, I like his message, and I like that he made it simple enough to be understandable to a majority of people. So I am a Coelho fan (people either love him or hate him I think).

Ok, that's the background you need for my story this week.

This morning I got on the wrong bus. It was the right route but it was just a bit to late to make it to class on time. To top it off, I got off on the wrong stop thinking, "It's gonna be one of those days". I knew I still had frantic studying to do for my final yet I had made lunch plans already, and then I was going to be late to the first day of my elective. But, then I saw red Doc Marten boots and short dark hair. I called out a name, and H, a person who's e-mail I had been frantically trying to find a few weeks back turned around. We had a quick conversation and I got her e-mail again, then I headed to class, happy to be late because when I met H, she seemed like someone I could be friends with so I was happy to see I still have the chance to make that happen.

The rest of the day actually went excellent from there. I had a nice lunch, the final, well, the final seemed passable, and then I spoke about the Global Health Pathway for a group of first year students. (I really get to toot my own horn here because, struggling with anxiety, it's very hard for me to do public speaking but it went pretty well). After speaking, Dr. Acosta introduced me to a student who is interested in the Global Health Pathway. We talked a mile a minute, the way people do when they know they've met someone who fits right in with them.

And then I took the bus home and thought. I've lost an individual for the moment. I might get him back as a friend in the long run. But in trying to get through it, I've gained a community: I've gotten closer to my roomates who, I now know, will come home if I say, "I just can't be alone right now." I've met a pastor and his amazing partner who walks for AIDS, does craft projects, and accomplishes the amazing feat of being upbeat and healthy after 26 years of living with HIV. I've made friends with a displaced Indianan (other than Sarah). I found a person I thought I'd never see again and I met a potential friend. Community-- I love it.

And best of all, my very best friend arrives in 2 days to spend my birthday weekend with me. Yey!!!

Disclaimer: The above image was taken post-final and thus cannot be taken as a true represetation of what Sage Cottage house-members look like. It is only intended to portray the idea of community.

This weeks assignment: Write your own question. And I will answer. Unless I can't for HIPAA compliance issues...