Truer words

Hmong in California by yankeepez

I have been reading "The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down" which is a book about Lia Lee, a Hmong infant with a terrible seizure disorder, and the culture clash between the American medical system and the Hmong people. I am instantly wary of all such books, because 99% of them are about how stupid the American medical system is, and lay the blame squarely at the doctors' feet.

This book is remarkably fair, and showcases the completely divergent cultural attitudes. I was discussing this book with a colleague, and remarked, "This story is horrible. I almost wish it was malpractice, but how much worse when everyone has the best of intentions, and still they cannot do something so basic as care for a little girl."

There are two things about this book that got to me though. One is that the book talks greatly about the Hmong people. It helped me to understand a lot about the Hmong patients I have seen, but the thing that got me the most is how the author talks about Hmong culture, but in reality, I have discovered something on my own quite in opposition to the book.

The problem with immigrant cultures in the US is not just one of assimilation. It is that the culture of the Old World is stagnant. It cannot grow. All change is viewed as corruption from the American way of life, and these transplants who were once the most liberal of their generation become the most rigidly conservative. And for me, the way of life that I was taught I now understand to be archaic. I am a man living a dead culture.

The other bit from the book is a line from one of the Hmong people, Jonas Vangay, a French educated man who helps the Hmong community to navigate the American bureaucracy. He utters this aphorism: "I am always the one who laughs last at a joke. I am a chameleon animal. You can place me anyplace, and I will survive, but I will not belong [sic]. I must tell you that I do not really belong anywhere."

I have never read a line that I have felt is a more appropriate description for myself. And I can't help but think to myself that truer words have never been spoken.

loser

loser by ifinding

I was surfing around on CT's blog and decided to take the web quiz. While I was taking it, I ran into this question, and I just had to laugh long and hard. I am the living embodiment of answer B.

I think that all of my annoying, stupid crush posts are ample proof of that...

And how are you, doctor?

I was sitting at the nurses station, minding my own business, and Blondie nurse was walking by. Blondie nurse is probably the hottest nurse in the hospital, and she routinely has physicians wrapped around her finger. I've always been polite to Blondie nurse, but never much more.

She stopped, and we chatted for a few minutes about my life, and then I was paged away. She wanted to know all about my career plans, and was sad to find out that my rotation ends soon. The strange thing was that she was very flirty.

I am entirely unsure of what prompted this. Although I am nice to the nurses, it's not like I do anything novel or exceptional. In fact, some nurses have a pretty dim opinion of my medical abilities. So, it's hard for me to decide whether events like this happen because nurses think I'm approachable, or if it is because they are interested.

Now, I'm not complaining that the sexiest nurse in the hospital is talking to me, but I really wonder. Because I'm not that handsome or dashing. I'm not charming or romantic. I'm not flirtatious. So I have a hard time seeing why any woman would be interested in me.

Some of my friends find this self-assessment infuriating. But I just don't see it. I don't. When I look in the mirror, I see plain, boring, chubby, nerdy. It just doesn't make sense to me why women would be interested.

Chocolate Thunder, he tells me that I lowball myself. I'm a good person, a doctor, dedicated to my work. In a few short months, I will be making six figure salary. On paper, I'm great. But I can't help but see the same self-conscious, scared kid when I see myself. And maybe I'm still mired in the college age mindset, trying to impress these impossible to please 20 year old girls.

Someone told me something very profound: "You're such a funny guy. You're really nice and friendly, hard working, dedicated, and really compassionate, and you don't see any of that. You're always so down on yourself! You need to realize that you're a fantastic guy, and if some girl can't see that, then she doesn't deserve you."

Church Barbie

... by strochka

Every week, my church has a lot of different mass times, but I go to the same mass every week because of one girl. She is a girl I casually refer to as church Barbie. I call her this because she is very blond, very pretty, very curvy, and very much an object in my eyes rather than a person.

After all, I don't know her. I have never had a conversation with her. I have in fact heard her say a total of 6 words, none of which were her name. She is just a pretty girl sitting in the next pew. For all I know, she is rude or mean or *shudder* a typical girl in her early 20's. I don't know.

I like to tell myself that she must be one of these shallow girls whom I've met so many times. Nothing is less attractive than the sense of entitlement that comes with being beautiful. I think back to high school sometimes to one girl in my class. She was gorgeous. I mean, wow, absolutely beautiful, but she was the worst person I had ever met. She was bitter and shallow and hollow. Interacting with her was sheer torture. It's like eating a chocolate truffle only to discover that it was full of vinegar and mustard.

So, I like to enjoy her from afar. That sounds far creepier than I mean it. What I mean to say is that I like to enjoy the beauty in the world, and I try not to question it. I try not to find the flaws and blemishes and cracks.

I used to go birding (aka bird watching) a lot when I was younger, and stargazing. I still go stargazing every now and then. I love to go to museums and wander through room after room of beautiful things that I cannot touch. I have sat for an hour in front of a painting of El Greco, soaking in the beauty of it. I walk through the woods and photograph things, trying to capture of beauty of it. I enjoy seeing beauty in the world.

Still, I know that there is another whole plane (as in plane of existence, not 747 plane) upon which beauty exists. I am just seeing the shadows on the walls of the cave, and am somehow content with that [blatant Plato's Republic reference]. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" is often credited as an aphorism but it simply isn't true. A bird in hand is worth far more than two in the bush, or ten, or two hundred, or even a million.

Because a bird through the binoculars is beautiful and wonderful, but it is not mine. I can only enjoy it from afar, like the Mona Lisa behind bulletproof glass. And that is the relationship I have with church Barbie.

WTF is wrong with me

So, I left the hospital at 6 PM, and I realized as I stepped out the door that I had no plans, nothing to do, nowhere to go. I stopped in the coffee shop near my house and did a little writing, but otherwise, went home. I didn't even eat dinner.

I didn't eat dinner because I've been feeling guilty about my weight and decided that I need to cut out about 700 calories from my diet. Sounds like a lot, but I take like 2600 kcal a day. So 700 is a drop in the bucket.

Anyway, I came home after 3 cups of coffee, watched some TV, goofed around on the comp, and now I'm going to bed. It's Friday though! C'mon! Shouldn't I be going out and doing something? Shouldn't I be living life to the fullest?

I need a life. I really, really, really need a life. I actually spent tonight listening to medical podcasts. MEDICAL PODCASTS! WTF.

Concession

friend: C'mon, there are some single girls in the program, you know... we need to have something to gossip about.
me: No, I'm not interested. I thought about it, but no.
friend: Are you sure? That would be a good match, I think.
me: No. Really, I thought about it, and no. I don't think we match at all.
friend: You say that like there's a specific person...
me: You and I both know that you're referring to a specific person.
friend: Well, just for fun... to get the ball rolling!
me: How would going out with someone I'm not interested in be fun?
friend: You can't say then that you don't have opportunities.
me: Quite honestly, I think I have conceded defeat.

My social life has come to a somewhat of a screeching halt. I was dating a bit in my intern year, but not since then, and not without some opportunities, as my friend was apt to point out. I've actually had women had expressed this sort of vague interest in me.

The problem is that I was not interested at all in these women. And it's not entirely me trying to date thin, attractive, chesty, blond 19 year olds. It's just that I can't talk to these women. It's a one sided conversation. There's no spark, no chemistry.

The arguments that I should 'have fun' and date 'just to do something' have been made to me, several times by multiple people in fact. But I can't bring myself to do it. I can't see wasting two people's time and money on a venture destined for failure. And I've done the leg work. I've talked to these women, had some legitimate conversations, but all going nowhere.

Even worse for me is that there are girls who I am interested in, but for the most part, they want nothing to do with me for one reason or another. This is not necessarily for malicious reasons, mind you, but boyfriends, fiancés, husbands, lesbian, or (the most dreaded) a patient.

I used to believe quite honestly that this whole nice guy routine was an effort that would pay off in the end, but I see now that being a 'nice guy' has really very little to do with dating. I mean, of course, it has an affect, but there are a variety of factors conspiring against me. For your pleasure, I will list them.

1. I am Asian in the heart of the Midwest. I am, quite literally, the only Asian person whom most people around me know. I am a curio. I am not dating material for the same reason that you don't have a spot picked out for hanging up a Picasso: you've never considered the possibility of owning a Picasso. Similarly, women I've asked out display not contempt or disdain or even scorn, but surprise at the thought of an Asian boy asking her out. How can this be?
   
   
2. I am, essentially, a hermit by nature. I don't enjoy going to clubs or bars or large social gatherings. I hate meeting new people, and like most introverts, such events are draining rather than 'fun.' I'd rather work. And like most hermits, my friends are also hermits, and we connect infrequently. I have tried to expand my social circle. I have reconnected with some friends. But all in all, I still would rather sit at home reading a book than go clubbing.
   
   
3. I am seriously out of shape. I need to lose some weight, yo.
   
   
4. My standards just might be bordering on ridiculous. What I want in a woman is not a trophy wife. I want someone smart and intelligent (not the same thing...), classy and graceful, eccentric and funny, with interests and passions. Now if this woman were to be 19, blond, and chesty, I wouldn't complain at all. But I've met a lot of women who were physically stunning, and mentally vapid. That's not what I want.
   
   
5. I am tremendously shy. I am. What can I say. I've tried to be more 'open' but I'm pretty shy still.
   
   
6. Apparently, I come off as mean. This will be a whole nother post at some time.

So, for now at least, I've given up on romance. I have other things that I'm worrying about, and it's not that I'm all sobbing about it like in med school. I'm not all 'woe is me, I'll never find true love. Boo hoo!' bullshit. But my life does feel palpably empty, like something is missing, and I don't really know what to do about that.