When to let it rip?

A few months ago I had written about the need to release some tension, but I couldn't do it in front of RedSox. Heck I can't do it in front of family.

As someone in the medical field, I am perfectly fine with patients farting. In fact, it's one of the questions I often asked while doing my surgery rotation. Farting is good for you. It means your bowels are working, and there isn't any GI obstruction.

But it is still embarrassing as hell. So when, if ever, is it ok to fart in front of your significant other?

For me, the answer is never. For RedSox, the answer is now.

Last night while lounging on the couch watching House, RedSox let one rip. I really wanted to laugh, but I held back and just said, "well, I'm glad your bowels are in working order."

I think he took that as an ok to continue. Later that night, he decided to pee with the bathroom door open.

I guess I'm ok with it, for now. But I'm pretty sure I can not return the actions.

I'd love to hear from your experience. Should I be ok with it by now?

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A night in with the Sox

When Bobby Kielty hit his home run, I texted a bunch of people with the words "We Win."

No exclamation. Just a statement of fact.

Some thought I was jinxing the team. I'll be honest. I would have rather had the boys back home in Boston for the win, but I knew that wouldn't happen.

I knew we were going to win. The couple of runs scored by the Rockies gave me "hope" that Colorado could bring the series back to beantown, but I still knew we were going to win.

OleMiss actually knows Seth Smith from high school. I texted that he was hot. OleMiss replied, "and he is so going down."

Which he did. Then the screams echoed across Beacon Hill, along with horns blaring. All of Boston busted out of the bars to tear up the streets in celebration.

I thought about joining them, but I was all cozied up on the couch... enjoying the win on my night in with the Sox.

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Drunk Advice

I think people purposefully ask for dating advice when I'm drunk because I'm not going to think things through. I'm going to tell them what they want to hear.

Which most often is "Do EEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTT! Go for it!! He TOTALLY wants you! Fuck that other slut in his life!"

Last night Madge asked me if she should go for one of the residents on her surgery rotation. I told her "YES!! Do EEEEETTTTTT! You both rock climb. I hate rock climbing. You're MEANT for each other!!"

The reality is that she should probably feel things out a little more and try to get together after they're done with the rotation.

Later Ems bitched about a guy in our class that she has been wanting. I guess it turns out that he had been hooking up with another girl in our class that Ems hates. Things haven't been looking good, so I told her "Fuck HIM! Fuck that bitch in our class! You rock! Who do you want tonight? I'm going to get him for you!"

I never did get Ems a guy. I don't remember what I told Madge towards the end of the night. Hopefully things will work out for both of them.

In the meantime, I need an aspirin.

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Homework Assignments

Lately I have had the urge to date other men... meaningless, one-time dates. I miss them. But of course I'm still dating RedSox, a great and fabulous guy who is taking me to game 1 of the world series tonight.

But I digress. Monday I woke up and thought "I need to break up with RedSox." It was a sudden, intense feeling. I panicked.

I have a tendency to act without thinking things through, especially when angry. This time, I decided to figure out why I was thinking of breaking up with RedSox. I was hoping I could find some answers. Is it him? Is it me? Is it us...

RedSox is the greatest guy any woman could ask for. He takes care of me emotionally. He pretty much takes care of me financially. He is a leader in his career. He is admired and adored by many.

So what's the problem? Moreso, what's MY problem?

I want better sex. I want him to be the MAN and not always let me make the decisions. I want him to lose 30lbs.

Monday night I decided to tell RedSox how I've been feeling. I told him I was upset that he STILL hasn't read the Guide to Getting It On. I gave it to him almost a year ago. Months later, I HIGHLIGHTED the relevant chapters.

I have asked him to decide what we're doing for dinner or for our dates, yet the most he gives me is a narrowed down list where the final decision is mine.

I ask him all the time about the gym and tell him about ALL of my work-outs. He admitted to never wanting me to get fat, so why should he get to stay fat?

He didn't like hearing any of this. I didn't enjoy dishing it out. In 2 weeks, I'm leaving for a 6-week rotation in Maine. I asked him if during that time, he thinks he could read the couple of chapters, go to the gym more often and figure out how to make decisions outside of the office.

He said he would.

Then I asked him if there is anything I could work on for him.

He said No... I'm perfect.

Brilliant. I guess my self-assigned homework assignment while up in Maine is to figure out why I am such an asshole.

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12

That's the number of american league titles we hold. For some that's a lot. But after 100 years, I think it's pathetic.

Today I will not complain.

I most likely will be going to the World Series game on Wednesday. I will cheer my butt off against the Rockies (though secretly I am very impressed with them).

It's another great year for the Sox and Pats :)

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Who are we really?

I started my blog as a way to try and open up to people, to not be afraid to be myself. It's been very helpful. It's been eye-opening.

Who I am in person is not too different from who I am on my blog, but the people who see me in person do not always know the secrets that those who read my blog do.

It's scary at times just how much my writing reveals... fear, envy, lies... the Truth.

I've been playing around with craigslist again, just to see who is out there, to see what is available should I choose to act.

I read a M4W where the guy wanted to take a woman shopping, no strings. It was rather odd to me since most of those kinds of ads require some form of sexual compensation. I was curious, so I responded.

We chatted a bit, and he pretty much revealed his extreme lack of self-confidence, of social skills, of self-respect. I felt sorry for him and decided there was no way I would ever meet up with this guy, but I couldn't help but ask about his past experiences taking women shopping.

He told me about licking a woman's feet, about eating another's feces (YUCK). I told him all I would want is to go shopping, and he told me he had taken one other girl shopping who ONLY wanted to go shopping.

He told me her name was Lin and she hailed from Chicago. Funny, I know a Lin from Chicago.

He described her beautiful blue eyes and that he wanted to hang out with her again, but she refuses. Then he says "OMG, you're friends with her."

I was shocked. I had sent him my myspace page, forgetting Lin had added me as a friend. She and I are not really friends. Actually she is one of RedSox's friends.

I had no idea that she and I were so similar... despite being so different.

I ended my conversation with the guy shortly afterwards, somewhat ashamed of the box I had just opened.

But the truth is the truth. It reveals very much. I knew I was no where near being the poster child for all that is good, but what I now know is neither is Lin.

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No denying the Predator

I cannot tell you how horny I was today. I had a certain blond man in my mind, and he wasn't RedSox. He's IrishRacer... blond, HOT, blond, Fresh-off-the-boat Irish, blond!

He messaged me through Myspace last week, and I've been coyly exchanging emails with him since. Short one-liners haven't led to anything, but today I couldn't stop fantasizing about him. I'm not sure what it means, but I want to find out.

I'm torn, though. I care about RedSox. He is probably the best guy I have ever dated. He might be that one last great guy who exists in my generation.

But I'm a predator. I don't fit the mold of a typical woman, yet I don't have a penis. I have a lot of power, and I love it. I want to use it. I want to make the most of it.

IrishRacer described his first date with me. I replied asking when this would be...

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Awkward Run-Ins

I have a tendency to delete people from my life once they've proven to be a waste of a human being. In doing so, it's almost like they no longer exist.

Of course in the back of my mind I know they are alive and probably doing well and living their lives somewhere. I pray to God that I never have to cross paths again, because there is nothing that raises my level of anxiety more than running into someone from the past who has "wronged" me in some way.

When it happens, all the emotion comes flooding back into my mind. I can only feel hatred towards them. I can only feel hate, and it is the worst feeling in the world.

Yesterday when I had my practice day with standardized patients, I was already feeling quite anxious. I hate doing fake patient interviews and physical exams while being evaluated. There is just too much pressure not to screw up and forget to ask certain questions or perform particular tasks.

I got my scenario and in walked my fake patient with his fake mother... the mother being a woman from my past who I "hate." I did the best that I could, pretending like I never knew her... acting. She was, after all, supposed to be treated like a real patient's mother.

This woman was one of my small group instructors last year. The meetings were mandatory, and we met at 4pm every week. There were a few times we tried to meet at 1pm, but it never happened.

There was one day where I was all set for my 4pm meeting. I had an appointment at 1:30pm. I figured I'd go and come back in time. After our last class ended at 12:15pm, I checked my email and saw a string of emails between this woman and the director of the course trying to schedule our meeting time for 1pm.

I emailed her telling her I had an appt at 1:30pm. If it turned out we were meeting at 4pm, I would be there. If not, I would forward my research along to a classmate.

The group ended up meeting at 1pm. My classmate presented my research for me.

The next day I get an email from the office of education saying that this woman had reported me for missing the meeting. It turned into a dramatic affair. My ethics and my commitment to education were questioned. My honor and maturity were shamed. I had to have a meeting with the dean.

It was an awful experience and I was incredibly angry. I couldn't see how it was my fault for other people changing meeting times at the last second. I was angry at this woman. She received my email saying I couldn't make it. My classmates informed her of my 1:30pm appointment that I couldn't (ok wouldn't) re-schedule. She never replied or acknowledged any of my efforts to rectify the situation.

She reported me, and put my integrity into question.

After my encounter with her yesterday, the feedback I received was excellent. I forgot to ask a couple of key questions, but overall everyone praised my history and physical exam skills. I curtly thanked her, then diverted my eye-contact. She no longer existed (once again).

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Allergic to Me

Do you remember that episode of Saved by the Bell where Lisa was allergic to Screech? I never really thought about it... People being allergic to other people.

But it turns out it is possible because OleMiss is allergic to me. It's been almost 2 years since we slept together. Back then every time I arrived back home in Boston, I'd get a text or an email saying that his eyes are itchy.

That's it! Just the eyes. Nothing else ever.

In the past two years I have bought more clothes, changed hair products, perfumes, lotions, detergents, got a couple cats, got rid of the couple cats, etc.

I had completely forgotten, and no one else has ever been allergic to me.

Today I get an instant message from OleMiss. I figured it would be a quick hello, but it turns out it was a playfully angry message about his eyes being itchy.

We tried to go through all the possible reasons, but there is no doubting that he is allergic to me. I felt bad because I'm in a profession that helps heal people, not make them sick.

His reply: "it only lasts a couple of days. its worth it."

I concur :)

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Time to Live

His 6th birthday is coming up in November, but we're pretty sure he won't live to celebrate. He is lying in his hospital crib, hasn't been able to grow like a normal kid. He is pale with a temperature close to 104F. His heart is beating incredibly fast, but his blood pressure is really low.

And yet there are no tears, no complaints. He's got his arms tucked up behind his neck as if chillin on the beach. He has grown accustomed to the pain. It doesn't matter anymore.

His mom just talked to the social worker about bringing him home, letting him die in peace. We're all surrounding the crib, ordering drugs left and right... hoping the fever will break and his vitals will return to the normal range.

I know this happens in the hospital, but I hoped to never witness it. I wanted to be on the team that sends the kid home smiling, telling him/her not to come back.

Today I can't do that. Today I am reminded why I go through hell... it's not about me after all. It's about you. I go through hell with hopes that you can enjoy the Earth a little bit longer and make heaven wait.

Goodbye Kiddo. You won't suffer anymore. God's got you now. Go play and truly live.

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Not Guilty

approximately 3 weeks ago...

Me: I want to leave Boston and do my residency in NYC. I love it there.

Mom: What about RedSox? (said with the vision of grandkids fading)

Me: I'm pretty sure he'll stay in Boston.

Mom: (after a few seconds) Is OleMiss still in NYC?

Actually yes, OleMiss still is in NYC and he finally broke up with his girlfriend. She was a very sweet girl. I liked her a lot, but she is 33 and wants to get married and have kids. He is 26 and doesn't. As much as it hurt, he did the right thing.

I went down to NYC over the weekend to attend the wedding of a college friend. I told OleMiss I was coming down and that we should hang out. I arrived at 11pm on Friday, dropped my stuff off at Sam's place and off we went to grab drinks.

We're at Thor, enjoying our wine and people-watching when Sam sees OleMiss and exclaims "WOW he's fat!" Sure OleMiss had packed on a few pounds, but he looked more like a linebacker. We all started catching up and the sexual tension grew.

Sam felt tired and went home. OleMiss, his buddy and I continued to imbibe plenty of liquid, making out way towards Murray Hill. We closed down a pub, left the buddy and went back to his place to watch a movie.

About 15 minutes into the movie, OleMiss pulled me on top of him and kissed me. I kissed him back. The kissing became harder, more passionate. Clothes came off and he picked me up and took me to bed.

In the year that I've been dating RedSox, I haven't felt that kind of passion. It was intense. It was incredible. It was me...

I didn't feel guilty. Even now that I'm back in Boston, I don't feel guilty.

I care about RedSox, but he still hasn't given me what I want. I gave him the Guide to Getting It On. It continues to collect dust no matter how many times I point it out. He won't go down on me. He won't even straight-up fuck me.

I'm not one of those girls who drops hints. Men do not understand hints. They need to be directly told what to do. I directly tell RedSox what to do and he still won't do it. I told him it would only be a matter of time before I won't take it anymore. When I stop asking him, he should worry.

I think I'm done asking.

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Temporary Solution

So after a lack of sleep and tons of anxiety, I sent my parents and sister an email:

Mom and Dad,

I do not understand why you must continue to stress me out, but you do. I hate medical school. I have not found anything in medicine I like. I have lost friends because of medical school. I am ONLY in medical school because you two won't shut up if I don't do what you say. I did not get a good score on the boards. I barely passed surgery.

Last week I thought I was going to keep the apartment to myself, but you stressed me out with the roomate situation. I stopped studying until I found one. Now you are stressing me out with rent, and I will not be able to study knowing that this is looming over my head. The landlord doesn't call you. He calls me and takes up my time and my energy and my life.

I am at my breaking point. If you continue to stress me out, I will have to go to the deans and tell them I need to take time off from medical school and possibly quit all-together. I am doing what you want. I don't want to do anything.

Sister called me the second she read the email to say that it was strong but good. Mom called me in the evening out of ear shot from dad telling me that I can't change people. He is the way he is. Just explain things to him and he will back off. She also tried to go on some tangent that would make the situation about her, but I cut her off.

Finally dad called. He played the Idiot card. Rather than call him out, I just called him an idiot. He is sending the other portion of the rent tomorrow.

Problem solved... for now.

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Last night's post

I wrote last night's post in anger. I should probably write a little bit more before everyone jumps on the bandwagon of me quitting medical school because you all only know what I write. Most don't know what it is like to be indian-american. My career is actually the least of the problem.

My rent is $1300. My share with the ex-roomate was $550. My father sent me an email yesterday saying that he only paid the usual $550 for October. "Relax. Wait to see if the landlord says anything. Then we will address it." I was fuming!

To me this is the equivalent of stealing. I called my mom very upset because I have a great relationship with my landlord. He has always been very fare and kind and this could ruin everything.

It set me off because I spend a lot of time SAVING my parents money. I work for a gym so I get membership for free. I go to free parties so I don't spend their money. I date rich men so my parents don't have to pay for my expensive meals.

I have talked to Sister about how much of a hard time I have in medicine. She struggled even more than I did. She failed the boards... TWICE. She had to take an extra year to finish up her program. She didn't match into a residency program. She had hard times in the residency she scrambled to get.

She went through a lot more pressure and bull-shit from my parents and medical staff than I do... but she did it anyways and LOVES her job.

Sister told me that as much as this struggle sucks, it is really worth it in the end. I will find my niche. Every doctor says the same thing. Medical school and residency suck. They're like 7-10years of pledging a fraternity. You go through hell, but the brotherhood is worth it.

The true fear I have is not that I will be a bad doctor or that medicine isn't for me. The honest concern is that I will become my parents... I will do anything to avoid that.

So I will talk to my parents today to see what will be done about the rent. If dad decides not to pay it, then he's an idiot for providing a joint-account and I'll just cut a check from that.

I sent an email to the Chief of Genetics to talk to her and see what I can do, and pending her response I'll talk to the deans and consider taking a year off.

I don't know if what I'm doing is the right thing, but I lost my way a long time ago and it will be tough to find it again.

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Dependent and Depressed

I love money. I love my parents money. I know they have a lot of it, and I want it. Unfortunately, my obsession with their money has caused me to lead the worst life.

Simply. I hate my life.

In order to get my parents money, I have to do what they want. It sucks. I know it sucks. And yet I still do it. I have fooled myself into believing that I gain some control when I do.

I don't. What I gain are short-term, ultimately-unsatisfying superficial things: clothes, accessories, restaurant meals.

It's starting to really crash all around me. I'm not doing well in school because as much as I love working with people, I am not passionate about medicine. I keep hoping to find my niche, to find that field that is right for me, and I keep praying to God that genetics is my niche. If it isn't, I am screwed.

But I feel like everyone of my other classmates cares about ALL of medicine and I should too. The lack of passion shows in my exam scores, in the pimping done by attendings, maybe even in my clerkship. I'll find out when I get my final surgery grade and my mid-clerkship pediatrics evaluation.

The problem is that I am dependent on my parents. I never get their money unless I do what they want... and really I never get their approval and support unless I do what they want. In fact, I am so afraid I won't get their love unless I do what they want.

And that kills me. I don't know what I want and I don't have the courage to figure it out. For to figure it out means I risk their approval, their support and possible their love.

And so I go along with life making sure I get all of that... and that is all I know how to do.

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