impostor

When I was leaving Cora's today, I almost ran a stop sign and smashed into a truck. I careened to a violent halt and the driver gave me the glare of death, staring straight into my eyes while he pointed to the sign emphatically.

While this is undeniably just a good driver frustrated with the inadequacies of poor drivers who don't obey traffic signals, I chose to interpret it as a sign from God, mostly because it's Sunday and I was on my way to church and it just seems fitting. Besides, if I don't look at it that way, this blog post is cut kind of short, and I suppose would end right about here.

So anyways, God today took the form of some ruffian construction worker driving in his pickup and today pointed at me to take a look at what's around me and STOP. The message was clear: Here I am minding my own business not paying attention to what's going on around me and how I'm impacting the world, and I should take a breather, look up, and see how I am changing the world dynamically.

I haven't given myself a chance to think about myself lately. Well, that's a lie, I always exercise my metaconsciousness and evaluate what I'm doing on a moment-to-moment basis, but then therein lies my fault. I'm evaluating moment-to-moment and not seeing the big picture. I am so nose-to-the-grindstone that I'm not seeing that I'm making wheat products with the mill I am grinding.

So this segways into a question to myself: Am I an impostor? One of the greatest fallacies of grad students is the Impostor Syndrome, where we are unable to recognize if what we are doing is tangible, constructive or helpful in any way. I ask myself this question all the time - is anything I am doing meaningful?

I feel like an impostor at school, filing in every day among the ranks of these anatomical geniuses who probably sing the muscles, joints, bones and ligaments of the body in three-part harmony every morning while they have their breakfast. I stand in lab holding my goniometer as if it is some foreign instrument I have never seen before while the others use it with ease like it's a third arm. I feel so stupid, as if everything I have learned in undergrad and everything I have learned just last class has gone into my auditory canal, crawled into my brain and just curled up and died. I was awesome in undergrad and now?

I feel like an impostor at church, filing in every day among the ranks of these Biblical geniuses who probably sing the genealogy of Genesis and the gospel of Paul in three-part harmony every morning while they have their breakfast. I feel like I stand in church, arms supinated singing "how great is our God" when he's not even my God yet - what is this relationship with only a one-way acceptance? I go to cell group and speak and I sit at home and read and I lie down and pray but for what reason? Is this selfish, do I feel like I need a God and that's why I'm speaking to Him? What the hell (pun?) am I doing at church? Why is God so important if I recognize how much has been done for me but don't accept Jesus as my savior??? (!!!)

Mostly, I feel like an impostor with my friends. My mind is saying that I would be happy cooped up in my room with a coffee reading but my soul tells me I need to be with people. I stand in 528 lab sometimes when everyone has partnered up and I go to the front of class and yell, "Does anyone not have a partner?" and that's who I go with, like the last person to be chosen when everyone's picking teams. I stand in the sanctuary surrounded by all these brothers and sisters who have come to worship and I don't know any of their names or have forgotten them. I leave immediately after the service.

Honestly? I'm kind of lonely. I don't mean like support groups lonely - I could hang out with anyone and have a great time if I wanted to. I mean I feel lonely knowing that my personal satisfaction with my life will never be appeased and that I am the only one who can change that.

***

Can't get over this tune:

le sigh

I am at the juncture in my life where the paths leading to happiness are all difficult ones to traverse. It seems the culmination of my effort and labors have not come to fruition as of late, and my inability to produce results is making me feel rather discouraged.

I know this feeling comes around for me quite often, almost every month actually, but I suppose it does make me appreciate the good things. I've been pounded with academic, spiritual and financial riddles that don't seem to have easy answers to them. I thought I had the formulas for these things all worked out in my head where x = easy street but it is clearly not so.

Oh well. A little more elbow grease is required here and there, and I suppose some extra thought is needed contrary to my last post. Things just seem never ending these days and the lifestyle I should be leading is not one of happiness but one of hardship and discord. I suppose everything works out in the end so less stress is warranted.

On the good side of things, I did manage to find a $20 bill in the computer lab hiding under a chair. There are good things in life.

confusion

Today I found myself watching an arm angioplasty case. One of the arteries (I'm going to guess brachial because it was really big and that's actually like one of only two arm arteries I actually know) was really stenosed so the plasty was routine. I don't usually sit in on body angiography cases because I don't understand them, but today I forced myself to sit there and watch the whole thing through.

We become very accustomed to the familiar so that when we are suddenly faced with something novel we panic, we feel uneasy, we feel uncomfortable. Through my years of undergrad, I've largely been exposed to looking at everything from the neck up; a product of neuro. I know what orientation the head is in when I look at a radiological scan, I know where things are in relation to each other and I can name the vessels as they appear. I'm not really bragging because this is all I studied in University. Just as someone in Chemistry probably knows the anatomy and physiology of the elements, this is only basic knowledge if you have been immersed long enough.

The moment I look at an arm under X-ray, I get disoriented. The quality is different, the picture is grainier, and there's all these bones that get in the way. I can't tell radius from ulna so I have no idea what position the hand is in, and when Sean came over and asked me what was up I wasn't really sure how to answer. It just let me know how much I don't know, how there are so many things beyond my scope of interest that I haven't the faintest clue about. It made me feel very stupid to be frank.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to mention it, but Will and I had a talk about Heaven and Hell yesterday and about what it means to be Christian. In the manner in which I always preach, I gave him my two cents about what I thought it means for a Christian to be able to attain eternal rewards posthumously and what it means for a non-Christian to live by similar principles and travel in the opposite direction. I also made some judgments about Christians that I was thinking about today and want to rescind. In reflecting, I realized how little I know about religion no matter how hard I am trying to learn it and strengthen my relationship with God.

Lastly, I've been accosted with an interesting proposition from the University of Alberta. I just recently received an acceptance letter for Physiotherapy at the U of A, which I'm going to take because it makes a lot of sense. I'm just deeply upset almost that things have taken a drastic 180 turn. The night before I got the call, my mum was yelling at me to lock down a place before I went to Halifax because finding a place in September that's close to campus is extremely difficult. The next day, after hearing the news, my mum's trying to convince me to return the laptop we bought since I wouldn't have a computer there. The last few days have felt really foreign to me, almost like my world is wrapped in a few layers of saran wrap - I can see what my life is supposed to be like but it doesn't feel accessible. I feel as if the key to independence was dangled in front of me and pulled away just at the last possible second in a similar manner to Lucy and Charlie Brown. I'm really glad I'm staying because I have Mag and I have friends and Shelby and Blacky and a place to stay that doesn't charge me rent, but at the same time I'm suddenly faced with the brutal realization that I am not getting away.

When my parents left for Asia I was extremely content. I bought the groceries I wanted, cooked it in my own time without anyone rushing me or badgering me with what I was doing, and I was able to eat and read in solitude. I had ten books going at a time all strewn around the kitchen counter. I felt master and chief of my own domain, making to do lists that would actually get done and being in charge of my own well being because nobody else was there to fall back on. I had no excuses and the responsibility rested upon myself; my autonomy was paramount.

After yesterday, I have no more testicles for they belong to those around me. I am no longer a voyager of the world but a child cooped in a playpen. I'm sure I'm looking at it in a largely depressed light just because I'm not going on an extended vacation anymore. I'm sure I'll get over it, but for now this shit kinda sucks.

crisis

I woke up this morning and the existentialist alter ego of mine took over as the main identity in my palette of mixed personalities. I put on my headphones and listened to a variety of thought inducing tracks while I stared out the window: Taylor Swift - Fifteen, Emily Haines - Reading in Bed, My Brightest Diamond - Golden Star, Kanye West - I Wonder, Kings of Leon - Manhattan; soundtrack of my life. I've finally achieved that state of nirvana when doing this, almost akin to when I was staring at the ocean off the coast of Peggy's Cove in Halifax. I'm able to see my thoughts stirring in a pot before me and better control how they appear to me - it's easier to understand yourself when you're omnipotent over your mind.

One thing I noticed lingering over all my thoughts was a cumulus stratus of unease. I zoomed real close to it like you would zoom in on your digital camera, and I found that this was the air of disappointment. Earl, my dissociative existentialist state (I just dubbed him that), realized that this portion of my mind is the choking smog that constantly swirls around me, hovering like the cloud of pollution above industrial countries. It is this air that continuously tells me I will never be enough, I will never be satisfied, I will always sell myself short.

So I pan out and observe my life through the lens of Earl's -5.75 and -5.25 degree glasses, and I see clearly. No ring, no surgical prowess, no semblance of artistic talent, no published works, no subscriptions to Nature Neuroscience, no understanding of social interactions and being part of social constructs, a lousy Scrabble score, an empty bank account, and a person that has never traveled anywhere he's wanted to go in his life. If I was Earl all the time, I'd kill myself.

God, if we are to be humbled, I am humbled so. I understand what it means to be at the nidus of this web of excellence yet be at the nadir of the ziggurat of achievement simultaneously, so please, I beg you, take me by the hand and show me where to go.

a lesson in humility

And so it begins anew:

Hatred bubbles in me, a boiling, curdling sort of hatred that is black as tar, black as midnight. Here is an invisible lesion that festers, oozing the pus of madness, blistering with anger and frustration. I long to find an easy escape, to stab the center to relieve the pressure. It would be all too easy to lash out, to use words that sting more than these emotional nettles that plague me.

I am reminded all too often to take the path less travelled, to walk in the sandals of Jesus or to "be the bigger man." My desktop tells me that the only answer is love, God appears to me in my dreams only to say I must use my heart and not my head, and my only love tells me to love even when I don't feel loved. It is so easy to say it and so difficult to carry out.

I start arguments with bubble tea owners over the intrinsic value of offering a napkin. I mouth off employees of AHS when they berate me for going for a second helping at the free pancake breakfast. If Mag is impatient with me for being dense or stupid or forgetful, I am immediately incensed, raise my voice, and take on a condescending tone. I yell at movie theatre employees and managers even when they are being perfectly nice to me and are following all the rules and regulations they outline in their workplace policy.

If I attempt to be so good, to come to a full stop at red lights even at 2 AM with no cars around, to hold open the door for anyone and everyone no matter how far away they are, to not take advantage of a situation for its utility, I am suddenly faced with the embarassment of the human condition, that I am so mortally full of sin that sometimes I wonder what it even means to try. But such is the battle, and if we give up hope then we are no more than the evil which intends to consume us.

And so I am reminded not to think that I am anything more than an animated sack of water with a handful of mineral thrown in who has been given a world of opportunity by God.

snowball

It often takes the slightest of events to trigger my train of thought. Today, I found myself compelled to pick up a book and read as I often do when I run into a moment of boredom. I looked about, spotted a pile of books I have yet to read or are midway through reading them, quite obviously ignored them, and reached for Time Traveler's Wife which was on my chair and started reading about Henry's first time traveling adventure in the Field Museum of Natural History. It took me a second to register what I was doing, and then I put the book down and made a mental note to talk about it later as a reflection of how I operate.

I think Mag of all people would notice that I have old favorites that I return to. She notices that I like to stick to routines and if I am bothered or if something changes in the least, I get agitated and possibly even upset. That's not to say I'm inflexible - I'm rather agreeable when it comes to things I don't have a prior setup for, but if I have a specific way of doing things that I have found to be effective, I will revert to that method and will be less willing to explore novel means of achieving the same end product.

Let us explore: I always make the same meals and am hesitant to explore new culinary avenues unless I have a good idea in my mind of how it will end up. No matter what beers I try, I always eventually return to Canadian or, more recently, Keith's pale ale. I put new albums on my mp3 player but tend to just listen to the same two or three albums I always listen to. Whenever I feel the least bit dirty, I shower. It's a terrible habit that dries out my skin really bad but I can't get away from it. I also brush my teeth and Listerine (esp. the latter!) several times a day if I'm feeling gross orally. If I am not allowed to do these things, I get grumpy and even belligerent (Mag can attest).

I mean these are just a few things. I love installing old games that I love like Quake 3 and Raptor and Hugo's House of Horrors. I call Mag's number for no reason at all sometimes just to hear her familiar voice, even though I make up some excuse about what time she gets off work when I know it's 3:45 PM. Sometimes when I feel stupid I read old neuro notes because the brain is something I am comfortable with and has been my only ballast through my tumultuous University education. I own anthologies and yet I always read the same short stories, the same poems, and am usually drawn to the same lines every single time. When I sketch freehand on my notes when I'm bored in class it's either a swirling brain-type pattern, stick figures killing themselves, robots, or Pochacco (only because Mag taught me how to draw him).

Is it comfort that I turn to these constants in my life? Or is it desperation - that I am so secretly afraid of the unknown that I grab whatever is closest to me?

***

reach for me
don't wanna wait another day without you
take me to higher ground
we'll be safe and sound
reach for me

maintenance pt. VI

So as you know, I just got back from a country-trotting vacation of sorts. I'm hoping to get into a more regular schedule with this posting business, but I do apologize for being largely absent as of late.

Let's start off slow. Halifax was an experience in and of itself, not because of the sightseeing or what have you (although that was really great), but because of the general niceness of people that lived there. I have never ever seen a city where all the waitresses/waiters have been ridiculously polite, and where everyone holds the doors open for you, no matter how far you may be away from the door. Mag and I had no qualms about tipping 20%+, simply because it was just absolutely fantastic to be in such an atmosphere. People on the streets give out change to the homeless like it's candy on Halloween, so regularly in fact that Mag and I would pool our change and make sure we had some to give out along the way. It was such a pleasant, charitable environment, none of this hustle-and-bustle, I have no time for anything type of New York style people we sometimes see here in Edmonton.

There's no litter anywhere, and I think we saw like 3 cops our whole time there, two of which actually were in front of us the whole way to Peggy's Cove and were only going there because they wanted some lunch, not because they were on patrol. The malls are open at night for anyone - even though it seems like everybody drinks a lot, generally people aren't rowdy or raucous. You feel very safe on the streets, the type of place where I would feel totally okay with leaving everything visible in my car and not stash it in the trunk for worry of theft. Everyone is so polite and so courteous and everybody talks to everyone like they've been friends for years.

I'd have to say that even though I've given a lot of thought of what I'd do if I were accepted to Dalhousie, now that I've actually visited the east coast, I'd have no hesitation in living out there. I'd accept in a heartbeat, hop on the nearest plane, and get ready to be happy for the next two years. I had expected a vacation of general misery and a complete lack of things to do, but I encountered quite the opposite, and will let you know gradually what we got up to as the week progresses.

So to conclude, just a little thing I found lovely. I was perusing this quaint little bookstore near the Halifax public library on Queen St. called Back Pages, and I found a book that I purchased called "Notes to Myself". They're just little thoughts and musings from some author who is sometimes quite deep and other times just thinking out loud. Anyways, there was an inscription on the inside cover that I found particularly touching, because rarely nowadays do people encourage each other to lose themselves in their thoughts. We always stress practicality and doing rather than thinking, so it's nice to see the push to do the opposite, a push to be tangential, whimsical, cathartic.