Thoughts on Annapurna

So, I'm sitting in Paris on my way back to the U.S., and can't contain my excitement re. composing this entry any longer. The past two and a half weeks in Asia have been indescribably amazing. The Himalayas have surpassed every expectation. The largesse and grandeur of these tectonic monoliths are more than just an unforgiving terrain containing the world's largest mountains, but it's also a venue to learn about yourself and a place to fall in love.

Contrary to what many new friends/acquaintances may believe, I am actually a surprisingly outdoorsy person. Yes yes, I do enjoy the occasional bougie brunch, afternoon shopping in the village, a full day spent reading/napping in a park. But I also love exposing myself to the elements, to "roughing it" in the wilderness, to pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. I think it's so easy to get wrapped up in the inanity of everyday life; you start forgetting to take care of yourself. You forget what makes you happy, makes you feel important. These past two weeks were a wake up call. It was a glorious reminder that I am the hero of my own story (thanks Srilehka). The Himalayas were one of the best teachers I've ever had, it inspired in me a renaissance to start cleaning house. To remember telling myself that life is an enormous gift, and that it's pointless to waste time grieving over something I've never had. It's strange that the majesty of the mountains evoke these emotions. I definitely didn't expect them to. Strangely it's the stubbornness of the mountains and their completely unforgiving nature that precipitated this epiphany. To be completely honest, the first few days of the trek were spent wishing the high points of the each day were spent putting my hand in someone else's--sharing that moment. Eventually, it was exactly the rigidity of those mountains that made me realize that complete rigidity is not something you'd find in a team player. I realized that going it alone in those mountains is far superior to longing for someone's presence when they don't long for you.

I know this entry has basically derailed, but I really need to digress. So, before beginning this [unintentionally existential] trek, I had come to accept being treated improperly. I accepted that I was the one that had something wrong with me, that my hope to find someone willing to compromise was irrational or futile. Well, that's what the unflinching ruthlessness of those mountains taught me: people aren't mountains. They're not several mile high towers of immovable stone. Two individuals that are meant for each other should be capable of engaging in an elaborate dance of giving and taking. To establish an equilibrium that leaves both partners feeling satisfied and fulfilled. As they say, "the essence of diplomacy is compromise." Usually, I see myself as both forgiving and diplomatic...so why must I always be the one that compromises? Well, I'm done. To follow the buddhistic principle of "om mani padme hum", I must strive to do what I can to eliminate suffering in the world. From my own perspective that simply means I must let certain things leave my life. Even if those things are people about whom I care a great deal. Yes, it definitely sucks that life rarely goes according to plan, but, luckily that disheartening truth is also a world of opportunity. It can serve to remind even the most defeated individual that life can change in an instant. That things really do get better.

It provides a lot of comfort to know that the world is incredibly
beautiful, and can teach you so many things!
~ Mt. Gangapurna near Manang, Nepal
(I took this picture on an acclimatization hike @13,000 ft)

I always find it very liberating to remember one of my favorite quotes of all time:

"I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found." ~ John Steinbeck

Here here, Mr. Steinbeck, here here. Until next time...when I'll actually discuss the specifics of the trek, and all of my evolving dreams to actually climb many of these mountains one day...I wish everyone health and happiness!

xoxo APGB

A Phoenix From the Ashes

So, I fully realize that my upkeep with this thing has been abysmal, but I'm convinced that I've had a legitimate excuse: med school's exhausting. Especially when you personal life is chaotic as hell.

Also, I find it funny that I'm actually composing this post in New York City, after [successfully] completing my first semester of med school (yippeeee!!). It's ironic that I somehow manage to find the resolve and inner-peace necessary to compose an entry in this obscenely busy city. There must be something in the oh-so-delicious water.

So the semester flew by. As many people say re. med school, "the weeks go fast, but the days go slow." It's SO true; it's a bizarre form of torture. In some ways you feel condemned to perpetually reviewing notes, but then somehow you also feel rushed to finish reviewing everything in time for the weekly Friday exams. It really is a horrible sensation of feeling stuck in a cycle of maddeningly monotonous studying while also being rushed. Seriously, it’s bizarre. That being said, however, I am still hugely grateful that a medical school saw me worthy of admission, and that I am taking the necessary steps to have a future as a physician/surgeon. So, despite the rigor of the curriculum, I’ve had some unspeakably amazing extracurricular opportunities, and I’ve come to love my classmates more and more everyday.

The last time I updated this thing was around the time of my White Coat Ceremony. After my White Coat, I basically fell off the face of the earth. I holed myself up in books, and distracted myself with inherently doomed relationships. But me, being the irresponsible, everlasting optimist (and stubborn romantic), fought to no avail. Alas, such is life, I suppose. Luckily, as an optimist, I can look forward and steadfastly believe that better things await me. I know for certain that I am not going to live out my life being treated unacceptably, and I will continue to look until I find a team player that cares about me, treats me the way I deserve to be treated, and looks forward to sharing my incredible journey as much as I look forward to sharing theirs. Until then, I’m going to continue busting my ass, and setting myself up for an exciting future in medicine.

It’s odd. My desire to ruminate on this a lil’ bit is totally spurred on by my being back in the city. The past few months have been hugely draining and supremely demanding. Strangely, though, within hours of being back in the city, I was texting the same cadre of people that I had barely spoken to since moving to Iowa, and immediately slipped back into the friend circles that I had during my time at Columbia. While I’ve missed the city enormously, and many of the people in it, it’s eerie sometimes how certain places/sounds can remind you of something so strongly that it feels like you’re almost reliving the original memory (certain songs do this sometimes (does anybody know what I’m talking about??)). Anyway, I’ve visited some places in the city that have certainly left a profound mark on my life. Unfortunately, they’re those places that have left marks you’d rather forget, put behind you, or erase altogether. Sadly, this amazing city is riddled with these little landmines. Landmines that remind you how futile life can be, that despite your best efforts to create incredible memories, you also risk those memories going sour. It’s strange that even after a crazy semester in med school, I return to NYC and feel like I’m stuck in a strange Groundhog Day scenario, where I find myself thinking/communicating with people I’d rather never think about/talk to again. In an attempt to see a silver lining, however, I know that this astounding place is constantly in flux. There will be ample opportunity to make new memories that will ease the passing of the old, no-longer-worthy-of-my-attention memories. Fortunately, I don’t think that’ll be so difficult (oy, also probably too optimistic).

Anyway, I’m currently writing this part of the entry in a taxi that I’m taking from the West Village to the Upper East Side. Gazing out the window as I go from one neighborhood to the next, I realize that life can change in a minute, and that holding onto the things that bring you nothing but stress and sadness is completely idiotic. When you feel neglected, the ONLY option is to cut that out of your life (if it’s a possibility). There is absolutely no reason to let anyone diminish how you feel about yourself, or ask you to become something you aren’t. The most appropriate response to anyone who asks that of you: “Thanks, but no thanks, and, oh, fuck you!” Someone who actually cares about you would never want you to change, they love the parts of you that many others might see as flaws.

"I was a sensitive mountain"
Saw this at a gallery in Chelsea. It spoke to me--particularly the past tense.
SO awesome.

So yeah, there’s my reflection on that. Fortunately, my unbelievably amazing friends have been there for me through thick and thin. What makes me so grateful is that they immediately recognize when I’m not my normal, eccentric self, and do their best to empathize and support me. I say this with complete certitude, I love them SOO much. J I would NOT have made it through the semester without their amazing support and heartfelt advice.

Anyway, now I’m too journaled-out to actually talk about med school. I mean, it’s pretty straightforward: study, study, eat shitty food, study, maybe sleep, repeat. But yeah, I’ll definitely update this thing again soon. I do want to discuss some awesome shadowing opportunities that I’ve had, and discuss the details of the journey on which I’m about to embark. Tonight, I leave out of JFK for Asia. I’ll be stopping in Abu Dhabi for a few hours, poke around that supposedly awesome airport, then off to Delhi (also for a few hours), and then finally Kathmandu. I’m sooo excited to get my hiking on, and to see Amruta et al.

Until then, I’m signing off until I’m on that side of the world! Tschüss!

Bidding adieu to the Big Apple

This post is so incredibly overdue that it's almost embarrassing to write. That said, I need to have it in here for multiple reasons.

1. I'm a sentimentalist-in-denial. I try to come off as flippantly detached, when, in reality, I'm a bleeding heart. What's worse is that I can try to convince myself that I convey an attitude of disinterest...but I'm pretty sure everyone knows I'm a hot mess.
2. The last few weeks in NYC were completely unreal. As I became increasingly excited about my move to Iowa, I also became preemptively homesick for New York.
3. To document the craziness. As I become increasingly swept up in the workload of medical school, having a narrative of my final days in NYC will be a fun little departure. I can live vicariously through myself. Is that weird?

Anyway, so the week of July 23-27 marked my last full week in NYC. As I was scrambling to accomplish as many things as I possibly could, I somehow managed to make my way up to New Haven to visit my friend Michael. A graduate student in composition at Yale, I've known Michael since we both attended a piano summer camp in early high school. During my first year in NYC, we saw each other regularly (as we were both living there), but since his move to CT for school, I saw him only on a handful of occasions for concerts at Juilliard.

Upon arriving in New Haven, we immediately did what any studious, dorky-type would do, walked past Yale's Secret Societies and perused their libraries (much like I did with my friend, Amruta, at Princeton). A few months prior I read an article about the country's best academic libraries, distinctly remembering that Yale's Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library (see below) was on the list.

The translucent marble walls were gorgeous, and the column of rare
books was magnificent.

After visiting the libraries, we continued making our way around campus, catching up about the past year. Before running to the theater to see Moonrise Kingdom, we passed Mory's, also known as Mory's Temple Bar, the exclusive New Haven institution known for weekly Whiffenpoofs appearances. The Whiffenpoofs are the nation's oldest collegiate a capella group. They travel around the world every year, serenading the world's a capella junkies.

Mory's. Opened the year of Chopin's death. Anyone know what year that is???

Anyway, after the movie, we went to grab pizza at a famous pizza joint, and subsequently called it a night (...after watching an episode of Downton Abbey (I mean, I could end every day with a little D.A.)). The following morning we went to grab some breakfast at a nearby coffee shop. I forget the name of the place, but it was adorbs. I made my way to Union Station shortly thereafter to catch the MetroNorth back to NYC.

I spent the remainder of the week doing arbitrary things around the city. Visiting museums I'd never visited, strolling through random parks, and finishing those last minute moving-related chores that seem to continue creeping up on you. Anyway, so Friday approached in a hurry, and before I knew it I was on my way to my going-away dinner at Sons of Essex on the Lower East Side. This place was country-hoedown-meets-grunge-Americana kind of place. Very American...but also very LES simultaneously. It was grungily delicious.

There was a consensus that my arm looks oddly long in this photo.
at Sons of Essex, 133 Essex Street, New York, NY

Naturally, dinner was followed with some carefree frivolity at this place called Viktor & Spoils. We enjoyed some 100+ proof libations, followed by some craziness in Wburg at this place called Glasslands. This place is freaking awesome. I don't know how to explain it exactly. It's basically in an old warehouse, filled with an eclectic clientele that's discerning but also laid-back. Essentially everything about it is confusing and nonsensical; par for the course in Wburg.

As I finalized the my plans to make the jump to Iowa that following Tuesday...I ramped up the energy of my final weekend in the city. In order to do that weekend justice, I'm going to devote a separate entry to the move and that weekend altogether. If I don't start making these updates more manageable...I'll never finish them. Oy vey; as I write about those days in NYC, the more distant it feels.

I really need to catch up...as so many incredible things have happened in med school and outside of it. There's never a dull moment in my life. I'm so blessed, and oh so happy stressed.

Actually, I'm incredibly happy...I'm pretty sure I've never felt more certain about where I am in my life as I do right now.

Until next time (which will be sooner than later, I PROMISE)...Tschüss!

The Ever-present Bureaucratic Hurdle, &c

I return! A lot has happened, this is a long entry, so buckle up! The last few days have been an almost humorous juxtaposition of proactivity and extreme laziness. My apartment has now reached the stages of being nearly unrecognizable from it's original [decorated] form, and my relentless trips to Goodwill down the street have turned into a farce. By this I mean, Goodwill is probably 700 feet from my front door, yet I've hailed a cab for three of my treks there. Luckily, four of the seven total trips I have made were accomplished sans NYC Taxi. It looks like I may not need to drop anything off again, thank god.

19 July: But alas, the point of this post is to discuss the "ever-present bureaucratic hurdle." Of course we all know that unending paperwork plagues today's world of anything serious (by that I mean, the paperwork re. getting ready to start school), but does it really need to be that way? So, to assuage my inherent anxiety that surrounds such matters, I ventured to a free clinic in the Bronx with Joe (fellow CCOM pre-M1), to inquire about my remaining "student health requirements". It was an interesting little odyssey, to say the least. We took the 2 to the West Farms Sq - Tremont Ave stop, which, although we thought it was basically a block from the subway, was actually a mile away. Knowing there are essentially zero yellow cabs in the Bronx, we traipsed over to the clinic.

I should preface with the fact that I had called the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics (UIHC) that  morning, to see if I was up to date with my immunizations. Luckily, I was up to date, but I still required my PPD test (the tuberculin skin test) and my hepB titre. So, once at the clinic, I asked if they provided these services, and of course they didn't. Ugh. But they quickly and smoothly gave me a list of facilities where those services are provided for little to no cost. Luckily, Joe ended up getting done what he needed to get done, while I sat there wondering what the hell I was doing in the Bronx. I must say, however, that the clinic was very clean, well run, and all-in-all a very smooth experience. I was impressed. If only I had harnessed the calmness of this guy before making much ado about nothing.

Tai Chi in the midst of the chaotic and sweltering W 4th St station
(taken on the morning of 19 July 2012)

So, after dealing with the Bronx, it was decided that we'd return to Manhattan. We lunched at this place called Frankies 570 Spuntino on Hudson Street. I've wanted to try this place out, so the large awning allowed us to lunch alfresco while it rained. The ravioli was delicious (although the sauce was curious), and of course my beverage involved Campari. Quintessential Italian. A stroll on the Hudson was the perfect digestif.

Post stroll, I bolted back to my apartment for a power nap, quick run (again, on the Husdon), and a pre-dinner shower. I met up with my friends Haruka, Yizhuo, and Marcello for dinner at this fantastic Greek Restaurant, Periyali. It was like Santorini and the Hamptons had a baby that grew into a restaurant on the garden level of a Chelsea brownstone. It was wonderful. I don't think I've ever had fresher octopus in my life. Which, oddly, is saying something, given that octopus isn't exactly a New England-coast aquatic animal.

As we stepped up onto street level after dinner, we decided to stroll (a recurring theme for 19 July 2012) to (you guessed it!) the Hudson. It was amazing. We had a little impromptu photo shoot in the dark. The long exposure shots on Christopher St. Pier with the skyline in the background are stunning, yet somewhat post-apocalyptic looking. The photo below is an example of the evening's snapshots.

Christopher Street Pier (Pier 45) at roughly 10:30PM, 19 July 2012. Me, Haruka, Yizhuo and Marcello.
(courtesy of Yizhuo / inspirimint.com)

After our dinner stroll, I met up with my biddies (a widely used term of endearment in my friend circle) Phil and Ralph at Le Bain in Meatpacking. This club is an ultra-swanky rooftop bar with incredible views of Manhattan. The drinks are solid, but the crowd can be über pretentious and snobbishly one-note. So Ralph, Phil and I (along with a few other "biddies" that joined us later) stole away to a cozy outdoor table that was directly up against a wall of glass that looked out over the West Village.

Phil, Ralph, and Me, standing atop the Standard, reveling per usual.

Of course, Meatpacking was followed with a classic descent upon the East Village. I didn't last long amidst the craziness of Alphabet City, as the exhaustion of the whole day began to set in, so I made my way home.

20 July: The following day's weather was a dramatic and painful contrast to the day before. I don't know what it is. If there's constant rain outside, I not only feel trapped, but utterly lethargic. So, while watching endless television on my computer, I continued packing boxes in slow motion. At 3:30PM, as cabin fever arrived in full force, I just HAD to leave my apartment. Naturally, I thought I'd poke around the Village for an outfit for my first day of med school. Luckily, the trip was a success, but the results of my scouring will remain a secret until the actual outfit surfaces on August 20th. After trudging in the rain, I returned home, took my 44th nap of the day, and made a quick jaunt to the gym. After running, lifting, and cooking up a little somethin' somethin' for dinner (dear god, someone needs to teach me to cook right now), I made my way up to Steve and Hanna's for a chill evening on the UES. We watched The Pianist (you know, something light and comical always does you good on a Friday night (sarcarsm)).

21 July: To continue NYC's bipolar weather trend, this past Saturday was incredibly beautiful. Knowing that I was set to depart for an afternoon trek to IKEA in Red Hook, Brooklyn at 1PM, I aimed to get myself out of doors as early as possible to read in some park. But, of course, instead of just reading, I decided to hit up Three Lives & Company. Undoubtedly my favorite bookstore in the entire city, this quaint little bibliophile's dream is at the corner of W 10th St and Waverly Place. Essentially right around the corner from my apartment, it has been an enabler of many impulsive book purchases in the past. It has also been the most prolific site for meeting academic celebrities, chatting about progressive/relevant recently published books, and endless inspiration for must-reads of the future.

This source of academic curiosities is one of the loves of my life!
No joke.
(Three Lives & Company, 154 W 10th St, NY, NY, 10014, http://threelives.com/)

I dropped into the little gem, and began perusing. I had been in a few months earlier to purchase a signed copy of The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York, a Pulitzer Prize-winning biography by Robert Caro. I really wanted to read that book, but had gifted it to a friend instead. So, given that my desire to read it still lingered, I re-bought the thing. Now, for anyone who already knows, The Power Broker is a behemoth of a book; trimmed originally from 3000+ pages, the book is still roughly 1200 pages long. You could kill someone with the thing. Yet, for some reason, I found it necessary to purchase it, even though I knew full well I wouldn't begin reading it until after I'd made my move to Iowa. So, after contemplating why I would buy a 14-ish lb. book before making a cross-country move, I realized that this truly came down to a matter of allegiance and solidarity. I would not postpone purchase, for fear that the only option in the near future would be some corporate bookstore that's responsible for destroying utterly wonderful places like Three Lives. Luckily, I do know that Prairie Lights is in Iowa City, so I won't need to go far if I require a book that cannot wait for an NYC visit (actually, Prairie Lights is a magnificent (although definitely not as quaint as Three Lives) bookstore (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prairie_Lights)).

About a man who is credited with simultaneously creating and destroying the grandeur of NYC.
Inspired to read it after reading The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs.

Anyway, I picked up the book, and made my way to the Financial District (after dropping off said book at my apartment), in order to catch the "IKEA Ferry". It was fantastic. Only in New York City would people get to IKEA by ferry. I mean, people in the outer boroughs clearly get to IKEA by car; but Manhattanites? Hell to the no. We take ferries. So, anyway, we arrive at IKEA. I, personally, was going solely to get an idea of what I may need to purchase for my new apartment in Iowa. My friends Haruka and Rose, however, were actually purchasing all the furniture they needed to furnish their new apartment. Amazingly, after purchasing all of their furniture, they took it to the home delivery center, arranged the delivery, and returned to the ferry with essentially nothing more than the same things they initially brought with them (except for a hefty amount of IKEA's Swedish meatballs). Such a smart design. It was clear that the ergonomists and logisticians that arranged the Brooklyn IKEA had thought long and hard about the context of that store.

We're basically a stock photo. Here, Abe, Rose, Haruka and I are feverishly discussing room dimensions.

So, we leave IKEA to grab the ferry back to Manhattan. It's decided en route that we were all starving, and that we wanted to grab dinner in the Village. Naturally, there was no contest from me. I quickly brainstormed a few places, and we settled on trying La Bota, this small Spanish tapas place on my street. Ugh, if only I had snapped some photos of the food, it was SO good. We split three tapas plates, before getting two paellas for all of us to share. The tapas were good (especially the charcuterie, the Plato La Bota), but the real strengths of the dinner were the paellas. So, opinions differed, but we ordered the Paella de Campo (w/ chicken, short rib, chorizo, and morcilla) and the Paella Negra (w/ squid, shrimp, mussels, and LOTS of squid ink). Although some preferred the de Campo variation, I LOVED the Paella Negra. I think squid ink is a terribly underutilized ingredient, it doesn't have a very strong taste, but it adds an ever-so-subtle hint of sea-like saltiness. It was perfect with the shrimp, mussels, and little rings of squid sprinkled throughout the dish.

After dinner, I had every intention of making my way to either the East Village or the Lower East Side for two respective get-togethers, but my post-prandial exhaustion got the best of me, so I decided to crash. I mean, I had showered and gotten completely ready. As I left my apartment, I made it about a block before I turned around and called it quits. I knew I had plans the next morning, so I decided it would be better to get some rest instead of partying all night. I'M SO RESPONSIBLE! It's clear that I'm either getting old, or just finally wising-up to the fact that I have limits.

22 July: Today was SO FUN. I woke up after a good night sleep (which NEVER happens after a Saturday night), and read in bed for a while (possibly my favorite thing to do in the entire world). I got ready and began collecting things for the day's excursion to Rockaway Beach in Queens. I had never been, so I was excited to make my way out there. I met up with my friend Amy at the Union Square Whole Foods to purchase some picnicking goods. I bought this cute little Whole Foods cooler, and we jammed it with ice, cured meats, quinoa cakes, coconut water, and tons of fruit. Oh, and pita chips. Which we devoured. Anyway, so we get to the beach right around noon, as the train to the Rockaways takes FOREVER. As we set up camp on the beach, I noticed that EVERYONE around us had a surf board. Not just a smattering of peeps with surf boards, EVERYONE. So, I impulsively make my way over to a rental tent on the beach and decide to rent a surf board for a couple of hours. This is my first (but definitely not last) time surfing. Despite not having knee and chest coverage (which is über necessary, as to avoid board rash), I took to the water.

It was amazing. The surf wasn't anything crazy, but that was perfect for me, given it was my first time. I swam out on the board (trying to act like I knew what I was doing), and sat there, waiting for some good waves to start breaking. It took me a while, but I eventually got it down. I knew when it looked like a good wave was coming in, I learned where to position myself to catch the wave right when it began to break, and knew when to start paddling like mad. I definitely didn't get up the first dozen tries, as I was swallowed under big waves that tossed me around like a small fish and sent my board flying away (only to pull firmly at my ankle attachment). But once I learned that you wait until the front of the board comes out of the water, I finally made some legitimate attempts. In the end, I stood up 3 times, each time for about 2-4 seconds. I don't know, pretty sure that's decent, having never surfed before, without an instructor, and while wearing the least compatible swim trunks ever.

Yup, definitely struggling; but always smiling! :)

Oh, I also learned I'm "goofy foot"!! Does that surprise anyone?

Anyway, we left the beach after a few hours of surfing, swimming, and relaxation. It was exactly what I needed after the rain of Friday, and the IKEA chaos of Saturday. So, after returning home to get all the salt off my body, I had a some fun with friends in Meatpacking, but quickly returned home to finish doing some reading. I ordered-in Thai.

Interestingly, typing all of this out makes it seem like my life is all over the place. Oddly, though, there has been nothing out of the ordinary the past few days. I'm always like this. I suppose my desire to chronicle almost every action is my way of bracing for an abrupt change in lifestyle. Med school is on the horizon, and I'm pretty sure that these spontaneous outings will diminish in frequency. Having this blog to read nostalgically will be a source of encouragement when I'm feeling stressed or secluded from the world outside. Maybe other people aren't really like this, but when I'm doing something like a 48-hour cram session at the library, I have a hard time remembering that a mere few weeks before I was visiting the Taj Mahal in India, snorkeling in the Galápagos, or surfing in (of all places) New York City. I just live so intensely in the "now", that I am sometimes overwhelmed that I'll never escape the monotony. Thank god for technology like this, which allows me to look back on the fun things I have had the privilege of experiencing. I am really blessed. That being said, I look forward to the last NYC updates ahead, and for the sure-to-be dramatic transition back to the midwest!

Tchüss!

The NYC pre-M1s Converge on St. Marks Place

Today I actually made some headway on packing up my apartment. As my village abode becomes increasingly stark, the sadder I get. I know I shouldn't be, as I have an incredible apartment lined up in Iowa City and the experience of a lifetime ahead, but this 500 square-foot pad has "done me right" (as I (and my friends) like to say) for the past two years. As much as I look forward to returning to Iowa, NYC has become my home. I feel incredibly comfortable here. The unbridled love for everything different and the city's unquenchable desire for new life experiences makes this place a very fast-paced yet enriching environment. Anyway...look at my apartment!!

My living room, before the packing commenced.

My living room, partially packed (w/ mildly tacky yet appropriate
retro post-modern filter applied)

I don't know, it's tough seeing my cozy place transform into a paler version of what it once was. I suppose, in some ways, moving is a form of trauma: as you're required to uproot all of your earthly possessions, place them into boxes and relocate them in one fell swoop. It just feels abrupt, harsh, and, well, traumatizing. I know full well that my new place will become similarly dear to me, but it doesn't make the process easier.

So, to deal with the difficulty, I did what I always do. Shop. Today, I made my way to one of my favorite places in the city: Black Fleece. Something about this little haunt on Bleecker Street sooths me. The aesthetic of the clothing, the friendliness of the sales associates (who know me frighteningly well), and the fact that there's always something I just need to have, makes this place ideal for escaping whatever woe may be afflicting me. Even when my dad visited one time, we stopped by, and all the SAs treated my father SO nicely by proxy. Oy vey, I just love that place. I ended up walking out with a perfect beachside sailor's tee and braided red/white/blue belt.

My kind of patriotism. (Black Fleece at 351 Bleecker St., NY, NY 10014)

Anyway, I returned home to continue packing until I needed to get ready for happy hour with my fellow CCOM pre-M1s. As far as I know, there are four of us in the city this summer. And, naturally, I needed to get all of us together. So, I coordinated a little shindig at 10 Degrees Bar, known for its generous 2-for-1 happy hour special. So, wearing my new duds from Black Fleece, I trekked over to 10 Degrees on St. Marks Place. Sweating the entire way, as NYC heat and humidity are at its zenith this time of year.

Anyway, they were awesome. Despite the fact that I had met two of the three individuals before meeting today, all three were amazing people. I can't wait for all of us to begin our medical training in Iowa City. I wanted to capture a photograph, but no such luck. As I see it, it merely means we'll need to snap a photo at a med school party in Iowa City, memorializing our NYC socialization sesh. Hopefully my mild inebriation didn't leave me too garrulous, as sometimes I can be unintentionally overwhelming (my friend Ralph echoing in my head, "as Coco Chanel said, 'less is always more!'"). :-/

I wanted to stay longer, but I had plans to get oysters at Fish (in the West Village) with my good friend, the aforementioned Ralph. So, I rather abruptly said my goodbyes and began my sweaty, disgusting, arduous East-West traverse of Manhattan's Greenwich Village. Dinner was great, although the oysters at this particular joint were sloppily shucked and were not consistently seasoned with vinegar. So, while Ralph and I heatedly discussed the goings-on in our lives, we imbibed the house white and criticized the oysters.

After dinner was finished, I then began my trek up to the Upper East Side to try Aperol Spritzers at my friend Steve's place. By the time I arrived, I was already a little tipsy, but that, of course, didn't stop me. I had done a little research beforehand, and given my predilection for Campari, I knew a lesser intense, yet still bitter apéritif would be a perfect way to end the day. I've seen Aperol on bar shelves for years, but I've never actually tried it. It was delicious. Steve preferred the drink a little more heavy on the prosecco, while I preferred it a little more heavy on the Aperol. Regardless, the orange slice, and the pleasant carbonation of the prosecco, mixed with the bitter tanginess of the Aperol, was a perfect day closer.

Aperol, and the famed spritzer

So, after parting ways, I had the usual dilemma of choosing whether the subway or taxi would be the most acceptable means of transportation. When in doubt, cab it! So, I jumped into a cab on 2nd Ave and E 89th. The heavily-accented, loquacious Indian cab driver wanted to talk the entire 15 minute cab ride about how smart I was for hailing at that particular intersection. I naturally started ruminating on this observation philosophically. Was my hailing a cab at that intersection a metaphor for my life? Have I put myself in the best position possible to succeed? I like to think yes, but I don't really think I've done it intentionally. So, I sat there thinking, "On this day I met some future classmates. They symbolize the beginning of a new chapter in my life. By some miracle I've put myself here. I'm just going to go with it!"

Here's to the exciting times ahead! It's going to be an amazing journey!

Tschüss!

So, I've decided that I'm going to do what many have done before me: write a blog. I'm going to immortalize my medical school journey. Rehash the ups and downs, the lessons I've learned, and the inevitable silliness that occurs in the interim.

Luckily, this fancy little blogging website allows me to retrospectively date my posts. So over the next month or so (before I actually commence medical school), I'm going to populate this thing with the events of this past summer in New York City and elsewhere, and with a post or two about the medical school application process itself. I foresee this blog not only being a place where I can look back and reminisce wistfully (which I will surely do), but also a repository for an assortment of arbitrary things.

First things first, my name is Anthony (which you probably know if you're one of the lucky few to see this post), I'm a midwest native that just completed my MPH at Columbia University's school of public health. In addition to spending the past two years getting my masters in New York City, I have been a tireless scavenger for the rich and textured components that make this city great. I've been living in the West Village, which (although I may be biased) is undoubtedly one of NYC's quaintest and most beautiful neighborhoods. All that said, it's nice to meet you!

My close friend, Amruta, and me at the The Little Black Jacket - Chanel exhibition at the Swiss Institute Gallery in SoHo (June 14, 2012)

I'm sure this blog will be a great opportunity to expound cathartically. Hopefully, as I acquire readers over time, this place can serve as a place for a little healthy discourse.

Tschüss!