I often feel that my work is never done; that I never get a day where I can put it away. I have been working all night on a paper that I made little progress on again.
I long for something to cling to.
There is precious little in the world to cling to at 3 am aside from a lover or hope. When your papers are not finished and your eyes are too blurry to hold themselves open against the burning and the florescent lights these things seem far away and too intangible to rely on... there is the hope of feet on wooded paths, welcoming weather and the prospect of finishing the paper with fresh eyes and a cup of coffee. There are the facts of the night air, which is soft and wet and smells of leaves and twigs and the promise of freshly made doughnuts in the morning. But mostly, there is fog.
Tonight fog clings to the ground.Round and full she curves herself around the dips and rises of the earth like a lover.
Lovers and hope are what we cling to. No wish comes to us simply. There is always a twist. Tonight, ankle deep in this lover's fog I accept gratefully the twists.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Robbed!
Today a cold soaking rain kept me from my daily run. I put on my outfit and bundled up and started... it took 16 steps before my running pants were soaked through (they are really Laura's cast off pajamas from Victoria secret, but I don't have the money for fancy yoga pants, and they usually keep me warm). I put my laundry through, tidied my papers and reviewed the outline for tomorrow's meeting.
I hope it goes well.
Not an ethical issue, they say. I had an argument with my teacher about it. I didn't intend to, but when she said that it wasn't an ethical issue and dismissed it without discussion... well, I took offense to that. Lesbian health and Women's health is a big deal to me - if lesbians are disproportionately effected by an infection that can cause some pretty hefty health sequelae, and standards of care aren't up to date in recognizing that this infection is passed sexually between women who have sex with women, I think its an ethical issue. I mean - who's responsibility is it to make sure protocols are evidence based? And when they aren't, did someone do something wrong? What about the patient - did they suffer harm? Do they have to suffer to be treated unfairly? I think it is an ethical issue, they say its not -- it's simply standard of care issue. i do not believe they are mutually exclusive. Whatever the case may be, I can do a re-write (thank you, powers that be). I think I am too personally invested in this particular issue and should choose another issue. Alas, they told me I have to keep the same patient, so where does that leave me? At my advisor's encouragement I am going to speak to the co-teacher of the course to ask her to be my reader, ask her for advice on how to proceed and hopefully not ruffle any feathers from now on. Wish me luck...
I hope it goes well.
Not an ethical issue, they say. I had an argument with my teacher about it. I didn't intend to, but when she said that it wasn't an ethical issue and dismissed it without discussion... well, I took offense to that. Lesbian health and Women's health is a big deal to me - if lesbians are disproportionately effected by an infection that can cause some pretty hefty health sequelae, and standards of care aren't up to date in recognizing that this infection is passed sexually between women who have sex with women, I think its an ethical issue. I mean - who's responsibility is it to make sure protocols are evidence based? And when they aren't, did someone do something wrong? What about the patient - did they suffer harm? Do they have to suffer to be treated unfairly? I think it is an ethical issue, they say its not -- it's simply standard of care issue. i do not believe they are mutually exclusive. Whatever the case may be, I can do a re-write (thank you, powers that be). I think I am too personally invested in this particular issue and should choose another issue. Alas, they told me I have to keep the same patient, so where does that leave me? At my advisor's encouragement I am going to speak to the co-teacher of the course to ask her to be my reader, ask her for advice on how to proceed and hopefully not ruffle any feathers from now on. Wish me luck...
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Fox trot
A fox crossed the road in front of me as I drove into school this evening.
A funny sight in the city... they really do trot.
A funny sight in the city... they really do trot.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Cardinal Summer
Fall is here. Brisk rain-humidified air, the saturated colors of trees turning their flushed cheek toward winter, the smell of earth rising from the damp soil; the crunch of leaves underfoot. It is my favorite season. I shared it last year, this year it is just for me... it feels good to allow my focus to turn inward; to be finding my way toward contentedness. I've needed it.
The summer passed by without even being a summer. The days were cool. I used the air conditioner only once. It was marked by a visit with my dearest friends from college - long overdue and sweet and intense for the longing I've held in my heart to hear their voices in unison again.... and a local cardinal influx. The bright calls of the cardinals followed me everywhere I went this summer. A longtime friend called it the cardinal summer, and it was. Sitting on the back porch of her house, overlooking the steep drop of the woods as they plunge toward the lake, I was surrounded by bird song. I wrote this there, it was for someone who broke my heart but I loved anyway:
Cardinal Summer
In my retreating dream
you call to the Cardinal
your laughter-tinged
red-winged mating song
unrolls the moss underfoot;
calls spring leaves from bud --
The stirring and the first rays,
the sleep-heavy arm
around the warm contour of your body;
eyelids fluttering toward open.
Soft.
Soft, I rise
to bird-twitter commentary
on the rising of the sun.
-- Summer, 2009
People come in two camps. The kind that go to the ends of the earth for you and the kind that won't cross the room. It was a cardinal summer for me, not just for the bright song of the birds following me, but also for the lessons learned in this regard. For all the tears that ushered it in, it was filled with realization, birdsong, laughter, fire, accomplishment, tromps in the woods... and the kind of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for me.
The summer passed by without even being a summer. The days were cool. I used the air conditioner only once. It was marked by a visit with my dearest friends from college - long overdue and sweet and intense for the longing I've held in my heart to hear their voices in unison again.... and a local cardinal influx. The bright calls of the cardinals followed me everywhere I went this summer. A longtime friend called it the cardinal summer, and it was. Sitting on the back porch of her house, overlooking the steep drop of the woods as they plunge toward the lake, I was surrounded by bird song. I wrote this there, it was for someone who broke my heart but I loved anyway:
Cardinal Summer
In my retreating dream
you call to the Cardinal
your laughter-tinged
red-winged mating song
unrolls the moss underfoot;
calls spring leaves from bud --
The stirring and the first rays,
the sleep-heavy arm
around the warm contour of your body;
eyelids fluttering toward open.
Soft.
Soft, I rise
to bird-twitter commentary
on the rising of the sun.
-- Summer, 2009
People come in two camps. The kind that go to the ends of the earth for you and the kind that won't cross the room. It was a cardinal summer for me, not just for the bright song of the birds following me, but also for the lessons learned in this regard. For all the tears that ushered it in, it was filled with realization, birdsong, laughter, fire, accomplishment, tromps in the woods... and the kind of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for me.
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