On a Date.

So went on my first official date sometime last week. Like met a guy at a bar. Exchanged numbers. No friendly lines, just shameless-flirtatious crap. He picked me up, paid for dinner, possible kiss good night. The whole bit. And if I could sum up the experience in one word, it'd be: awkward. And the funny thing is that after hanging out with him, surprisingly, I may want to date again. Not him. But dating, major possibility. I just don't want to "date" people that are I think are hot or because they stroke my ego or because I'm lonely. I'm just done dating people that I know I wouldn't want to spend my time with. I want to share my time, my energy, my thoughts with men that I believe complement me. Challenge me. After being in each others company, makes me feel good, warm, content. Like in the heart, not necessarily down south. I want to leave after spending time with him, with the biggest and goofiest smile on my face. That, I think, is the definition of the best date ever. Not the after, per se. Though sometimes that can attentuate an even more awesome date if that be the case.

So the dude. He's the "guy from the bar" guy. Musician I met at Beehive. Cute. Skinny. Aka, I have bigger calves than him. Which reminds me, I need to date bigger men. Almost a jerk at first glance and yeah, sorta was. But you can't judge a person by his looks. Oh wait, you totally can. Ha. And as much as I don't wanna judge the process - I mean, I do have an amazing story of a best friend meeting her now husband at a bar - I would like to be realistic and think that the world won't be as generous with me as with them. But if this "dating" thing may be an activity I may partake in, how and where do I play? I've only dated only guys I've dated. Aka, never been friends before, which may be the reason why those past relationships failed. We jumped in with such strong agendas and never got to be ourselves vs. ourselves on-the-prowl. We'd jumped the chute and held hands before we knew each other's stance on politics and sex. As for dating my friends, I know there's some discrepency that its "not worth sacrificing" the friendship, I think sometimes it is. (Although, I'd be shocked if any of current guy friends find this attractive since some of them know me way too well/I'm way too comfortable around them. Definitely do not bring the sexy back when in their presence). So, not totally against that either. And for the record my buddies are pretty cute. Would totally tap that.

Anyways, back to the date. I felt like an asshole. Particularly, when he tried to hold my hand and I just slapped at it like a low-high five. It looked like we were playing patty-cake as we were walking down the street. In the end of the day, the reason why those pseudo-dates aren't dates is because my mental space isn't there. I know you can't plan this stuff out and trust me on this, I hate compartalmentalizing my life. Not a cute way to live. But for just this moment, where I can just breathe and figure out what the hell my needs are, is just too delicous right now. After almost 8 years of this, I need this more than ever. Wait, am I shifting my stance on dating again in a single entry? Hah I most certainly am. Last thing, I swear..

I want to believe that I may be able to date someone again, if/when the universe deems fit. I also may never date again too. Another real option I may need to spoon the idea of. But one thing I most certainly do now, is make decisions of how I use my time and energy in ways that make me happy either at the moment and/or for the future. Because, though you would never want to do this to "attract a mate" just imagine how attractive it is, for a person to see another being simply enjoying their own company and building the lives they want for themselves, every day. Sexiest thing ever. And by doing so, imagine the bees attracted to that sweet ass honey. Would you want someone attracted to you based upon the decisions you make and not because you wore a cute outfit to the bar? Shouldn't dating be just about that? The sharing of two lives of two very amazing people. Ha, that is the goal.

On Cocky Ass Bastards.

Cocky.. Ha. No pun intended.

So, to switch things up a little bit, I have a question for everyone. Why do you guys either 1) I want to be more than friends with them or 2) that if I was looking for someone, that it'd be them? I get it. I obviously like people, hanging out with them, sharing conversations over coffee and/or beer, heck I even show affection. Touching the arm, pat on the back. I like my pseudo-dates with friends. Sometimes, I send borderline flirtatious texts. Do I want somethin out of it? No, so stop "reading" into it. This is not also limited to my guy friends. Same rules apply to my lady friends. Trust me, my love knows no boundaries.. Unfortunately. I adore my friendly 'dates' with my friends - it's everything minus the spooning in the end. As for my man friends, there is this unfortunate trend. 

I literally had so much more guy friends the beginning of the year. Then, one by one. Each one whittled away. Either because they wanted more, explicitly (no assumptions here, trust me). Or they made the assumption that I wanted more, because Lord knows, who wouldn't want to be with them (sarcasm pouring out here) and didn't want to lead me on. Muther effers. Either way, someone did not get something as expected/wanted something. But for the record. I don't want anything, from anyone. An honest, sincere, loving friendship would be great. But that's all for the moment, folks. Really.

Why is it that my intentions can be easily misconstrued as something more than a friendship with the attracted sex? Does it go back to that age old sayin that men and women can't be just friends? I doubt it. But def feels that way. Who set up all-or-nothing? Like because we exist sans sexual tension, for the moment or for ever, why withhold the friendship? Pompous. I feel, once a guy either thinks I want more or realized that I want to be just friends.. they check out. As potential lovers, passing flings, FWBs but more importantly, we lose that real opportunity to be friends. Which despite all indications I may present, is all I ever really wanted.

Was Harry (with Sally) onto something? Is it not possible to be just friends because there this lurking agenda that one of the two, or two of the two for that matter, wants to sleep with the other at the end of the day.. I mean, night? Heh. Quick disclaimer: I do not mean this btwn men and women - this can go for men with men or women with women. Gender is irrelevant here. Anyways, what I am slowly (and sadly) realizing is that I have lost a number of guy friends over time. I would hate to think it's because I have changed in some way or dun dun duun, changed for the worse. I don't think so. Or else, that would be all my friends, not just the dudes.

Get over yourself. To make it easier for the both of us, let the record show, I will not fall for you. I promise, there is no way I will/want anything with you. Now. Or ever. So, get over it and give me back our friendship, please. I'm so sick of this. [Picture was added later.. and even then, it's still implying the "possibility". Don't even want that. I want to laugh, talk, hug. I don't want a boyfriend. Let it be said. No "start off" just at that moment. Good.]

On the Human Spirit.

Wrote this back in March. Which, coincidentally, helped my secondaries a bit. For myself more than anything. Definitely didn't copy and pass this one for applications. <3 elle

These past couple weeks, I've been outside of myself. Doing things that only youngin's do. Now I joke around that I'm this old lady, all the time. I know that is far from the truth, but I do have to say there is a sort of an advantage of where I sit. And its not so much the number of years that has passed but rather, because in those years I've been able to experience a number of things that not every one gets the chance to feel. A family death, an abuse as a child, a fracture, love, and amongst other things. 

Funny thing I'm actually screening this list, so to not have people think that I'm making this up. It all starts to sound like a joke but it's not. It's my life. And by saying that I went through certain things its never for bragging rights. Nor would I ever wish this for anyone, or have these experiences to make me "cooler" because I went through them. I guess, my sharing allows air to them, had I kept them inside. Sometimes, I think it's for a sense of validation from you but that's more of a scary thought to think that its true. 

After all that I've gone through, I still question resilience. The spirit. The thing that we all can't see but do.

I question if that still lives in me. This agility of the spirit. Have I lost it. I would not be here, to be able to smile, to joke around, to be the joke, to have good sustainable friendships, to be able to pursue the things in my life, if I did not believe that that existed. To move on from that shit that I found myself in and/or put myself through. Had I not had this, this "spirit", I really don't know where I would be right now.

People call it faith, some call it religion. But in the end of the day, it is this almost elusive version of ourselves that we 'feel' resides within. It has to. Right? I mean, I see it in others. Often, in fact. You know those moments when you're talking to someone and its just beaming out of their eyes? Every time I have an honest conversation with someone, I just see it in them. That's the part of them that I fall in love with. So, I must have one too right?

My whole pursuit for medicine is because of this. I want to protect that human spirit that resides in these physical body. I want to honor it, acknowledge its presence every day. I worked two years in clinical rehab. It is there where I fell in love with the human body. I know that the body is physical. We are a jumble of chemical reactions and physiological mechanisms to maintain homeostasis. But amongst all that jazz, there has to be a spirit that roams these physical entities. From my experiences with working with people - patients - I realize that the only thing that holds a person to come to a doctor's visit, to continue therapy, to find some sense of purpose through the pain require some sort of unspoken advantage. A spirit. A hope. A feeling that there is, or could just possibly be, something greater than themselves that is orchestrating its way through their discomfort. 

I know as 'scientists' we are to believe how certain things work, we must be analytical. There is no room in the sciences for the intangible. It's all about facts, numbers, graphs, physical ailments in response to certain triggers or stimuli. We must remain critical with the facts before us. You must always have an analytical mind, as my aunt always tell me. But I believe, partially bias since I minored in religion, that there is something substantial about the world outside of the physical realm we see every day. I know it sounds so simple as a decision to 'just believe'. That in reality, we all believe in something and it is only a matter of what basket we put our eggs in that matters. 

But in the end of the day, what 'believing' requires is work. A lot of it. Don't be fooled. Just because you can't touch it does not mean that a physical investment does not need to be made. I guess, that's sorta of the trick with it. Even though you can't see it, you have to practice in hoping that it exists, each and every day, in this concrete world.  that intangible form from within. I know it's there. I need to stop doubting it. By not believing, it screws me up. Yeah, I'm gonna stick by it. It's the only way to go. 

On The Descendants.

I love this movie, The Descendants.

Yes, yes. You probably haven't heard about it, to some it won't even be rental worthy. George Clooney is in it; that girl from Teenage Mom.  Its not an action film or a chick flick. Very Sideways and About Schmidt-like. I watched this the first time when I was with in LA with my mom and again in Boston with this guy I didn't want to watch anything romantic with/knew I can't wait until the DVD came out.

I find this the most appropriate for today. Father's Day, Hawai'i, a parent passing.. I realized the reason I loved it was because even when a parent or a person passes away, the film reminds you it doesn't necessarily clean their slate. Yes, it is easier to "let bygones be bygones" but the thing is that there are actual consequences to the choices that those who had passed away made. They just don't go away after they die. We, the living, have to work through their choices even when they are gone.

For example. My father. Now, I am not saying that my entrance to this world is a mistake, per se. But I wonder. Does my father living a certain life that may not have been parallel to what he may have wanted, take away the credibility of my existence? Yes, yes. Heavy. But my point is that I was searching for a long time if I was meant to be here. Not this, what is my purpose in the world kind of thing but more of, if me being here was an "oopsie" then is there a deliberate reason or telos of why I am here. The only way I can justify this is that dads, moms - parents are fallible. Just like their children.  There is no miraculous shift when one becomes a parent that makes them impervious to mistakes. They are human beings. They lie, they cheat, they lack confidence. But their mistakes are not necessarily their regrets. Nonetheless, I wanted him to explain himself. I wanted to know the truth, give him the third degree. I hated that any information I would get from him, to understand him, was always secondary. From what he wrote, from people's stories, from everything else but his own voice. Side note, there is a quick taping that my cousin has, from an interview he had with my grandmother on a tape. His voice is so soothing. Eloquent. Anyways, I guess the beauty of not being able to speak to him now is that there is no additional info infiltrating in, I can just work with the facts I do have and mobilize it to an idea of him in the present. Makes it easier to juggle. Not fun but easier.

People tell me he loved sitting outside at caffes, spending hours at museums, knew plants scientific names. Unfortunately, my image of him as a father is faint. I'd pretend that he would have enjoyed my presence, my conversations, my thoughts... my hugs, as his daughter. I hate that I am limited to any tangible experience with him. But back to the movie. There is this last scene where it ties in so well with my father's narrative. I would picture myself in the waters of Hawai'i, giving peace to him just like in the last scene. Nonetheless, let the records show, it was my choice to not have gone. I did not want that to be my last image of him. I hope he's not mad at me for not going. But if I could explain to him about that day, it would be: I'm sorry Dad that I couldn't have been 'there' for you. Both when you were here and when you were not. I was limited and fallible in what I knew and what I was wiling to accept in my life at the time. I know you wish you were with me here, too. I love you. Happy Father's Day.

On Sayin I Love You.

I have this profound fetish for saying "I love you" to my friends. Whether they like it or not. I know it sounds juvenile, this amicable puppy love. Its commendable but not of merit. I mean, I get it. It's not the same love 'love' we give to our significant other. I know the difference, I've shared those words in a number of serious relationships (and grateful that I have) but there is something so cute about saying those words to a friend. Especially for the first time. There is this gittyness, this rush of feelings that consume you when say I love you to that friend, dare I say, can be as delicious as saying it to a lover.

Why is it that, just because we don't share the most intimate positions - I mean, conversations - that they are any less important? The beauty of any friendship is that it doesn't need as much diligence as an intimate* one, but its resilience seems to be so much stronger. I joke with my best friend that she's been my longest relationship. She's been there from the very first one and to what feels like my last - though I'm not entirely giving up, quite yet - but we'll see if ever I'll be as lucky :) Anyways, the fun that comes out of love from a friendship, in contrast to the intimate type, is that - monogamy's not necessary. How awesome is that. Love is love. After my break up, I thought that my love from him sort of dissipated to my friends. Like this transfer of energy that was necessary for it to thrive. But one doesn't "transfer" love. It is not a limited entity. As a child, I thought love was given as 'tokens' - that there was a limited amount that we can give to others. How wrong was I. CS had my love and I had his; while simultaneously, sharing and enjoying the love for my friends. Exclusive to that of his. And thank God it is. 

I never really understood what it meant to be "in love" with my friends before until this year. I've had great, great friends in the past. From cheerleading to high school, to college and dancing buddies, to the people I met in New York and now Boston. The fun thing about my Bostonian clan is that none of us are really from Boston. It's fun - this immigrant-like family of mine, full of nerds. The range is aspiring. There is a certain spice that each one brings. I love them. Cue barfing noises.. But there is something unique about them than other friends. It's like we're going through a war together. What we all went through this past year together - this current vulnerability that we all are facing and the constructive ways we try to care for one another. Yes, most of the time our means of reacting to stress was consuming alcohol, blah blah. But there are moments in between - I swear - that are so sweet and sincere and generous. I love it. Whether it was getting coffee with me, getting ice cream, beers... hmm now I see why I gained weight these past few months.. for letting me crash at your place, for giving me hugs and/or handwritten notes; the conversations we had were so much sweeter than any pastry I ate. We have went through such a hard time together and there is still so much more to come. Even amongst the very short time we spent together, I am eternally grateful. There is still a long way to go but thank God I am not alone. And I hope that they feel that same sense of consolement when with me as well - I have no problem giving my love and attention to those who want it. 

So, for my friends that had known me for years but may not know my current agenda and for the friends I see every day that may not know my past - I love you. I am enthralled by you. Warning: Please do not misunderstand my love because I give it so freely. It does not mean less to me nor should it be taken for granted. I know I can be overtly generous, in more ways than one, trust me, I wish I wasn't sometimes. It'd be less painful. Yet I will give because I believe you deserve it. Everyone deserves a little lovin. So don't abuse it. I am happy - in gratitude - to be surrounded by so much love. Thank you, Friends. May our love be one heck of an affair. 

Dedicated to you, a Spice Girls cover song but with swag.

* intimate = your standard boyfriend/girlfriend or boyfriend/boyfriend or girlfriend/girlfriend situation

On Newton's Third Law.

Inspired by an old Facebook "note" I wrote back in 2010.

Who is it to say that you or I deserves anything or something? We have been taught to believe that when we do something, a certain effect must happen. The third law of Newton states that a certain force equals an opposite but equal force. Despite how we know this to be true in the physical world, how true is it in the intangible?

Is it that when we do a certain deed or act a particular way, we must await a certain reaction to our actions that compensate for it? For example, if I were to do something good, would I then have to believe that something good will return to me? Or vise versa, if I were to do something mean to another person, should I await the terrible consequence since it'll 'come back' to me in the end? The reasoning behind cause-and-effect bothers me. Frightens me, really. I hate to believe that what I do in the past will have a certain reprimand to it. People guise this as karma but that's not enough. Because the reality is, we've all fucked up at one point. And yet, despite those poor choices, we have been granted some break, some sort of grace from the universe - and even for us sometimes, a second/third/fourth/and counting..

Everything is not quid pro quo with the world. What are we to do then, if our world is so inconsistent? Maybe that's the beauty of it. The reality is, if we were truly 'awarded' for all the dings that we've created in the world, we would be screwed. We're aren't perfect. And because of that, to resolve the inevitable, what are we left with? To forgive and forget when we screw up - when others screw us over. Is that the force that we are supposed to reckon with? Reconciliation?

But Newton said, paraphrasing here, when something fucks you over, you push em right back. That's what the F's stand for, no? F = -F ... I wish I could. "Return to the favor" I never do. Unless I'm driving.. Because even after all that is said and done, particularly the situations I've had to deal with in the past months - whether it was the ex-boyfriend, or guys in between, or even worst, the one crossed the line - I'm still their friend. Seriously. Like I just had coffee with one of them the other day, sent an email to another. Oof and I'm sending back my ex-boyfriend's stuff that he left at my apartment on my bill, after he had left me for another girl. The hell is wrong with me? I actually still genuinely care for them. The hell. Even after all that. Shouldn't what they've done - cheated on me, stopped speaking to me, done things without my consent - come with much more heavier consequences? I should be the enforcer to this, hold back my time and my energy towards them. But I don't. I should equally hurt them as much as they hurt me. But I don't. Why would I provide not only my forgiveness but also a friendship to people who just don't care. About me. What does that say about me?  Am I the sucker, the pushover, the idiot? I would hate to think that this act of benevolence to forgive another makes me stupid. Vulnerable, yes. Stupid, no.

Forgiveness is the only compensation to our shortcomings. For others, for ourselves. Its like a hidden catalyst, a secret weapon in creating a swift, unpredictable change to our current predictable system. Much has happened in my life. Much. That required me to yield such regard. For my uncle, my grandfather, my 'friend' that went too far and most importantly, myself. Should we enjoy/fear what might happen to us because we 'deserved it'? Or do we hope to fall in this net of forgiveness? In the end I strongly believe there is only one option. I actually do not think that because I am willing to forgive others that I'm lame. I get it; it does make me defenseless against the dumb actions of others. Yet, I wouldn't have it any other way. I guess the reason I do this is, is because I know that I've messed up in the past and will continue to do so: act like a fool, fall on my words, regret my actions (goodness, I feel like that now). I just hope when it does, when I do mess up - someone will meet me with same amount of compassion along the way - not that I deserve it but because we all need it at many points in our lives. So, I guess in a way, it all does sort of balances each other out like Newt's said, when one force must equal another. Except this time, the "g" comes not from a direct recompense of equal malice but instead a place of kindness and compassion. That I can easily quite accept. Wouldn't you? A world balanced, grounded in much sweeter restitution. I most definitely would.

On What I Want To Be When I Grow Up.

My father died when I was seven years old. I was told that the cause of death was pneumonia and that was the end of the story or so I thought. It was not until years later after my first semester in college that I discovered a key element to his story. Pneumonia was only secondary to his primary cause of death, AIDS. This single but most important detail cascaded a number of questions. How did my father contract HIV? Why was my mother involved with him? How was it that I am here and healthy?

Uncertain on how to proceed from this, I spent most of my undergraduate career participating in a multitude of student organizations, volunteering in community projects, and even studying abroad in hopes to find rhyme or reason to my familial circumstance. Though personal inquiries of my father were still left unanswered, I found a temporary but resonating resolve through these acts of service. Whether it was building homes in Tijuana or producing a fashion show to fund student scholarships, I relished opportunities to extend my energy and ideas with others towards a larger, more productive goal. Utilizing my talents to create something tangible, while also formulating this interconnectedness with people developed this zeal within. By my senior year, I received the prestigious Senior Oceanids Award for my involvement in community service.

Motivated by this means of charity, I decided to work at Pomerado Hospital in order to make use of my skills in a new medium that is patient care.Working with patients learning to walk again after surgery; teaching a patient how to hold a spoon after a stroke - these simple tasks illustrated for me the subtle but relentless ways our bodies work towards healing itself every day. I saw firsthand the power that comes from a mobile body. Mobility produces functionality; functionality begets autonomy and without this, quality of life is greatly compromised. I realized thereafter that I wanted a life devoted towards enhancing the condition and quality of one’s life was in the role of a physician. 

Moving to Boston, working at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, volunteering at Massachusetts General Hospital and ultimately, enrolling in the MA in Medical Sciences program at BUSM; all were substantial to my professional and personal growth. However, none was more meaningful or impressionable to me than my time at AIDS Action Committee as a hotlines counselor. People called with general questions of HIV/STD transmission, while others spoke of scenarios of some possible exposure to a sexually transmitted infection. More often than not, calls were less concerned with physical ailments and more so for support as a caller waits for her test results or another discovers he is HIV infected. I became accustomed to consoling others through my words and realized that despite the information I could provide, it was my approach on how I spoke to them that made our conversations most productive. I had to assess what their main concern was, understand the expectations of that caller, and then fulfill those needs exclusively through dialogue. I would imagine each caller as a patient; probing for some solution to a certain, health-compromising predicament, and my voice was the only means of treatment. In the past, my ideas and my hands created the environment conducive towards helping others. This time, however, it was my aptitude to audibly observe the needs of another that produced a positive outcome. What was difficult about these anonymous callers was that for that brief moment I was on the phone with them, I would imagine that I was speaking to my father. This was the closest I have worked directly with the community my father was a part of, and with each case I would catch myself saying the words I wish I could have said to him. Saying the words like, your diagnosis does not make you who you are. Viruses are not bias upon your sexual preference. You are not alone, and you are surrounded by those that love you and care for your health.

Looking back on college, I questioned the reasons why my father died the way that he did. I realized now that my attempts to rationalize his death does not, unfortunately, change the outcome. It was in his lack of presence that I discovered my purpose in service, in the medium of patient care, and now in hopes, in the role of a physician. My father is my constant reminder of how valuable a life is, and how unfortunate it is when that life is compromised or shortened in such inopportune ways. My uncle, a physician for decades, told me that the eyes and ears of a clinician were the tools that direct accurate diagnoses and ultimately, better treatment of care. Understanding these details of the human body is imperative to become a doctor but the ability to mobilize this information in an advantageous way for the patient, using those skills of keen observation and effective communication, are as equally important if not more to become an influential caretaker. I want to use my talents to prolong, enhance, or at minimum withhold pain from a life through my words and actions. I am conscientious in cultivating these skills -- seeing, hearing, speaking truth -- and practice their mastery every day, so that I may be the physician I know I can become.

N.b.  A draft to my personal statement. Copy this, and I will kill you. Love, elle