Alright.
There have been a few diversions. I recently accepted a job as a research associate at Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore. It's on Johns Hopkins Med Center campus. In addition to this (which i will be starting on Monday!), I'm still going full speed with my EMT class. I'm still thrilled about that too despite the fact that I got a full time job. Oh my god, a full time job.
I'm looking into local (i.e. baltimore) fire departments where I can make myself useful one I get established in Baltimore. In the meantime, I'm staying with a friend in the outer burbs of the city. I have my car here, so I can commute to and from her house until I find an apartment. Oh, that also means that I'll have internet again!! I wont have to sit in the bathroom anymore to get connection.
Okay, so even though things aren't moving along exactly as I had intended, at least things are moving. Ha, listen to me..."as I had intended" Do we even actually "intend" on things to happen or is everything already planned out for us? I guess our "planning" we do just makes us think we are in control. I definitely thought I was. Like I had it all figured out. A timeline and everything. When I was little, I even made a timeline outlining the life I would have in the future, carefully planned decade by decade down to the city I lived in and exactly how I took my coffee. Bullshit. Might as well put it all in a blender.
I think the only thing that has stayed the same with the way I live my life now is that I still sleep with a stuffed animal. He understands.
I remember just about two years ago, when I was in NY, my dad had come to visit and take care of some business in town. We got to talking about "my life." Which, to me was always code for: "What are you ever going to make of yourself and why are you such a wasted talent?" Of course, that kind of talk always spirals into some sort of yelling match.
I'm always too scared to express what I want to accomplish because he always has a great way of making me feel like there is no way I'd ever achieve it.
Our conversation went something like this:
"What do you want to do with yourself?"
*get straight A's in all my classes, ace the MCATs, go to a top notch med school, specialize in pathology and be the happiest person ever.*
"I'm going to finish my science courses. I told you."
"Finish them?"
"Yes ... I - "
"What makes you think you can finish them this time?"
*because I'm older now and I know better than to let you emotionally bludgeon me anymore*
"...dunno."
His face turns red and gets tight with anger. "You CANT finish them! You FAIL all the time!!" He leans in and repeats.
"I CAN finish them!" I scream back.
"No you CANT!"
"Yes I CAN!"
"You CANT, you CANT, you CANT!! You're a NOTHING don't you GET it??!"
This time he's standing up, two inches from my face. Instead of ripping my head off, he grabs my green ceramic flower pot, the one I bought at my favorite art store, and hurls it against the wall across the room. It ricochets off the wooden loft post and explodes into dozens of pieces. I start to cry and stammer my protests.
With blurry eyes, I bend down and start picking up the pieces one by one, carefully, my hands shaking between gasps. As if it couldn't be anymore convenient, my dads cell phone rings. He answers it on it's second shrill and disappears down the hallway. I go and get the vacuum and like my life, I carefully try to clean up the mess.
