Monday, March 26, 2012
Arthur
This guy is quickly becoming one of my favorite contemporary authors. His fake memoir - but is it fake? - I thought was brilliant not only in the rather unusual way he told the story but also because I love the way he captures some things with words. Sometimes when I was reading it, I would pass over a paragraph, then go back and read it again, and again, and be amazed that he just put the perfect words on something I have been trying to put in to words but never succeeded. I had to return the book to the library but these parts I highlighted as I read.
And here, finally, was the love she’d been expecting and fearing. The love that cannot be ignored or reasoned through, negotiated with, tamed, made cute or quaint or optional, a love as avoidable as act-of-God weather or resistant bacteria, the rebel army arriving in darkest night. I have known it only once, and I understood when she told me she felt herself voluntarily enslaving herself to him, “and if he’d said we were moving to Ely and I was going to wash toilets and he was going down the mines, I’d have had to do it. I wouldn’t have asked if I was happy about it. I just would have gone. That’s who he was.”
My initial intoxicating love never grew into something more adult, more settled, more profound, though she rightly expected that it would. How much shame should I bear for that? I, too, thought we would make it. But either I was the wrong man or she was the wrong woman or we were the wrong pair or it was the wrong time or I was broken from the moment my mother carelessly laid two eggs instead of one or or or. I could sympathize with the woman, who was every bit as frustrated and frightened and angry as I was.
Arthur Phillips: The Tragedy of Arthur
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Hospitals
It's a slow day in the lab. A slow week, to be honest. The boss is on vacation (in Rio, must be nice!) so it's tempting to be lazy. I was scheduled to present a journal club article this morning in lab meeting (I am still not sure after 5 years why we bother to have lab meeting when the boss is away - it must be the free coffee and breakfast!) and since it's my last one in the lab and since I wanted to present a funky paper anyhow, I chose this one about fruit flies' sexual deprivation and alcohol consumption. It was a success! Basically, less sex leads to more alcohol consumption, makes sense, doesn't it?
Since I knew this was going to be a slow week, I planned some more interesting things to do for myself. On Monday, I spent the day with a current medical student up at Einstein in the Bronx. Went to a couple of lectures on the cardiovascular system, had lunch with a bunch of very nice first years, checked out a student apartment (oh my god, I can't even begin to tell you how cheap it is to live up there, compared to Manhattan!!), toured Jacobi hospital, which is gigantic and then even met up with my long-lost friend who's a resident there - long-lost precisely because since she started her residency a year and a half ago, I have seen her 3 or 4 times, oyy, this is my future! I am not sure if they put drugs into the water at Einstein or what, but everyone I talked to seemed so happy, not stressed, liking the school, liking each other, friendly and warm! It makes me wanna just cancel all those waitlists and stop waiting for that phone call from Stanford. I don't know, not much time left now, I can do it!
Talking about hospitals... I probably spend more time in various ones already than I do at my apartment. My lab is in one, I volunteer in another one, most days I even get lunch in a third one (it's really because I cannot resist Au Bon Pain soups and pastries) and tour others trying to decide which one would be best suited to start learning to become a doctor, so that I can actually spend my whole life in another one! Well, I shouldn't complain, I like hospitals. Weird, huh? Obviously, it's very different being in one as a patient. I don't know anything about that. But last week, a friend of mine had knee replacement surgery (ouch! her scars look scary, like her knee is a huge zipper) done right here at HSS (not that I would want to further advertise this outstanding institution, but we are the number one ranked hospital in orthopedics in the US). So for the first time since I started working here, I visited someone in an actual inpatient hospital setting at HSS. Now I know why we are ranked number one! It's quite luxurious, actually. The view from my friend's room was something very similar to this:
Since she was a bit confused as a side effect of the heavy narcotics she was on, they had a nurse sit with her 24/7. The nurse who was there when I visited was wonderful: she was very motherly, kind, she even cut and arranged the flowers I brought into a lovely bouquet. While I was sitting in the room, a lady came by to take the next morning's breakfast orders. Coffee or tea? What flavored yoghurt? What kind of pastry? How would you like your eggs? What kind of juice? At one point I asked if I could come have breakfast with her the next morning. Apparently, they are similarly attentive if you just come in for an outpatient visit - although I have heard that some of the doctors who don't take insurance charge in access of $500/visit!
Today, we got gifts at work! HSS is also the official hospital for the New York Giants, and so they made these sweatshirts for all employees. We all posed in them for hours this morning, even though they were all huge - only L or XL available, I wonder, do they know there are women working here as well?? They are much nicer though than previous employee appreciation gifts (like the bright orange T-shirts that only came in XXXL).
Now I am off to yet another hospital (NY Presbyterian across the street) to visit my ailing friend who's now in rehab. The view from there isn't too shabby either:
Since I knew this was going to be a slow week, I planned some more interesting things to do for myself. On Monday, I spent the day with a current medical student up at Einstein in the Bronx. Went to a couple of lectures on the cardiovascular system, had lunch with a bunch of very nice first years, checked out a student apartment (oh my god, I can't even begin to tell you how cheap it is to live up there, compared to Manhattan!!), toured Jacobi hospital, which is gigantic and then even met up with my long-lost friend who's a resident there - long-lost precisely because since she started her residency a year and a half ago, I have seen her 3 or 4 times, oyy, this is my future! I am not sure if they put drugs into the water at Einstein or what, but everyone I talked to seemed so happy, not stressed, liking the school, liking each other, friendly and warm! It makes me wanna just cancel all those waitlists and stop waiting for that phone call from Stanford. I don't know, not much time left now, I can do it!
Talking about hospitals... I probably spend more time in various ones already than I do at my apartment. My lab is in one, I volunteer in another one, most days I even get lunch in a third one (it's really because I cannot resist Au Bon Pain soups and pastries) and tour others trying to decide which one would be best suited to start learning to become a doctor, so that I can actually spend my whole life in another one! Well, I shouldn't complain, I like hospitals. Weird, huh? Obviously, it's very different being in one as a patient. I don't know anything about that. But last week, a friend of mine had knee replacement surgery (ouch! her scars look scary, like her knee is a huge zipper) done right here at HSS (not that I would want to further advertise this outstanding institution, but we are the number one ranked hospital in orthopedics in the US). So for the first time since I started working here, I visited someone in an actual inpatient hospital setting at HSS. Now I know why we are ranked number one! It's quite luxurious, actually. The view from my friend's room was something very similar to this:
Since she was a bit confused as a side effect of the heavy narcotics she was on, they had a nurse sit with her 24/7. The nurse who was there when I visited was wonderful: she was very motherly, kind, she even cut and arranged the flowers I brought into a lovely bouquet. While I was sitting in the room, a lady came by to take the next morning's breakfast orders. Coffee or tea? What flavored yoghurt? What kind of pastry? How would you like your eggs? What kind of juice? At one point I asked if I could come have breakfast with her the next morning. Apparently, they are similarly attentive if you just come in for an outpatient visit - although I have heard that some of the doctors who don't take insurance charge in access of $500/visit!
Today, we got gifts at work! HSS is also the official hospital for the New York Giants, and so they made these sweatshirts for all employees. We all posed in them for hours this morning, even though they were all huge - only L or XL available, I wonder, do they know there are women working here as well?? They are much nicer though than previous employee appreciation gifts (like the bright orange T-shirts that only came in XXXL).
Now I am off to yet another hospital (NY Presbyterian across the street) to visit my ailing friend who's now in rehab. The view from there isn't too shabby either:
Sunday, March 18, 2012
NYC Half '12
Sunday was a perfect day for running; for my taste, a little cool still - if the race started just a few hours later, it would have been absolutely perfect! This was my first race for this year and the first big one since the marathon. In the winter I got lazy; it was always completely dark by the time I got home (I don't care so much about the cold, and besides, this winter was so mild, I could not even complain) and in the absence of a running buddy I had to meet at a certain time and place, the couch often won the contest over the asphalt of Central Park. I still kept up some amount of running, usually once or twice a week, not more than 6 miles at a time. Then came the news that I might get a race number for the big NYC half marathon. It's the biggest deal in city running circles after the marathon and even some pretty well known professionals race. I didn't apply for the lottery mainly because of the outrageous prices this year. I really think that running has become way too fashionable in a way. Isn't it strange that people are entering lotteries to run marathons and are willing to pay hundreds of dollars to sometimes suffer for hours (I am thinking of people who don't train or train much) just to say that had done a marathon, or a half marathon? I thought we were in a recession...
In any case, on Sunday morning, there were loads of people lining up as usual in Central Park. It was still dark and freezing and yet there were over 15,000 people, among them, myself in the overcrowded corrals. Since I was running in place of a man with a very manly name, I did not want to risk checking a bag (they have huge stickers with the names on them on each bag), which ended up being a good thing because I kept my extra layers on for the wait. Also because I was impersonating a manly man, who is also an ironman by the way, I had a very low number (meaning too fast for me) so I went back to a higher numbered corral - I knew I had to start slowly if I wanted to keep a decent pace for the whole 13.1 miles. I didn't know what to expect in terms of my fitness. Just a week earlier, I ran a little less than 8 miles and was sore the next day; it was hard!
I started at 9 mins/mile, which was very comfortable for the whole loop in the park and after making it out onto 7th Ave, I was super energized! Times Sq was largely hidden in fog; very mysterious and beautiful at the same time. There were people lining the streets, musicians playing, the energy was great! I was thinking that I should savor those moments; not just before reaching the long straight stretch of the West Side Highway, which I was dreading, but also in general. Savor the moment of running through TImes Sq, closed just for us! What great few minutes those were, those moments I really feel so alive! Then we were at 8 miles turning south by the Hudson. And I wasn't getting tired yet. I knew I was running a little faster and I kept thinking "when will I hit the wall?" Usually around mile 10 for the half it gets pretty hard, having to dig deeper. I saw a guy holding a sign that said "Fuck the wall!" in huge letters and I thought, ok, fuck it! So I cruised along that long straight stretch without a problem, keeping the same pace. Mile 10 came and went. Then we passed the World Trade Center site. I looked up but the top of the new Freedom Tower was in the fog and I almost lost my balance and fell in the effort. Then mile 12 came and went and we were all the way at the south end of Manhattan. I am sure there was no better way to do this but I wish we didn't have to run in a tunnel for half a mile while turning to the east side of the island. I was looking forward to having the view of the Statue of Liberty and the ferries, but that was all spoiled by the dark and noisy tunnel. And when you go down into a tunnel, you have to go up out of it eventually. With 800 meters to go, there was the uphill. The guy running next to me was cursing out that hill as if it did something terrible to him; I thought, this seems pretty darn easy to me. Hmm, I should maybe try a bit harder now. So for those last few hundred meters, I really gave it all I had an came in at 1:54:46, not bad for not training. Only about 5 minutes slower than my best. And most importantly, I think this was a bit of a milestone for my running career. For the first time I was able to run the second half a longer race faster than the first (illustration below, I could not get the picture to look nicer but it shows the trend). For the first time during a half marathon, I did not hit or even touch the wall; in fact, I felt great the whole time. And all this without training too much. I suppose I underestimated the power of being very well rested. Now I just need to get the marathon down and I am all set :)
In any case, on Sunday morning, there were loads of people lining up as usual in Central Park. It was still dark and freezing and yet there were over 15,000 people, among them, myself in the overcrowded corrals. Since I was running in place of a man with a very manly name, I did not want to risk checking a bag (they have huge stickers with the names on them on each bag), which ended up being a good thing because I kept my extra layers on for the wait. Also because I was impersonating a manly man, who is also an ironman by the way, I had a very low number (meaning too fast for me) so I went back to a higher numbered corral - I knew I had to start slowly if I wanted to keep a decent pace for the whole 13.1 miles. I didn't know what to expect in terms of my fitness. Just a week earlier, I ran a little less than 8 miles and was sore the next day; it was hard!
I started at 9 mins/mile, which was very comfortable for the whole loop in the park and after making it out onto 7th Ave, I was super energized! Times Sq was largely hidden in fog; very mysterious and beautiful at the same time. There were people lining the streets, musicians playing, the energy was great! I was thinking that I should savor those moments; not just before reaching the long straight stretch of the West Side Highway, which I was dreading, but also in general. Savor the moment of running through TImes Sq, closed just for us! What great few minutes those were, those moments I really feel so alive! Then we were at 8 miles turning south by the Hudson. And I wasn't getting tired yet. I knew I was running a little faster and I kept thinking "when will I hit the wall?" Usually around mile 10 for the half it gets pretty hard, having to dig deeper. I saw a guy holding a sign that said "Fuck the wall!" in huge letters and I thought, ok, fuck it! So I cruised along that long straight stretch without a problem, keeping the same pace. Mile 10 came and went. Then we passed the World Trade Center site. I looked up but the top of the new Freedom Tower was in the fog and I almost lost my balance and fell in the effort. Then mile 12 came and went and we were all the way at the south end of Manhattan. I am sure there was no better way to do this but I wish we didn't have to run in a tunnel for half a mile while turning to the east side of the island. I was looking forward to having the view of the Statue of Liberty and the ferries, but that was all spoiled by the dark and noisy tunnel. And when you go down into a tunnel, you have to go up out of it eventually. With 800 meters to go, there was the uphill. The guy running next to me was cursing out that hill as if it did something terrible to him; I thought, this seems pretty darn easy to me. Hmm, I should maybe try a bit harder now. So for those last few hundred meters, I really gave it all I had an came in at 1:54:46, not bad for not training. Only about 5 minutes slower than my best. And most importantly, I think this was a bit of a milestone for my running career. For the first time I was able to run the second half a longer race faster than the first (illustration below, I could not get the picture to look nicer but it shows the trend). For the first time during a half marathon, I did not hit or even touch the wall; in fact, I felt great the whole time. And all this without training too much. I suppose I underestimated the power of being very well rested. Now I just need to get the marathon down and I am all set :)
Monday, March 12, 2012
Unexpected things
I was in a pretty bad mood on Friday, evident from my last post here. God, it's so easy to fall into that "I feel so sorry for myself because life is so unfair sometimes" mood! Beyond my own feeling of loneliness, I could not stop thinking about my good friend whose teenage son might have cancer, beyond any imaginable unfairness that life can put a person through. But sometimes it's ok to be sad and to try to write about it and to make yourself even sadder by looking at old pictures, getting nostalgic, and thinking about people no longer with us. Puts some perspective on the good days, the happy moods.
After a good long sleep the world usually looks much brighter. Running errands, doing laundry, cleaning - oh my god, it's not even funny anymore how much I have been neglecting all of these things these past couple of months while I have been traveling and refereeing a lot: for over 2 weeks, there was no soap in the bathroom (I wonder if the other 3 people living in the apartment don't use soap?); I considered going to buy underwear instead of doing laundry but then I remembered that I would have to wash those too before wearing them; let's not even mention the state of my bedroom. For Saturday evening, I was planning to meet a friend of a friend who just moved here from Spain. I worked with the mutual friend for two years before she moved back to Barcelona and met the friend once while she visited NYC nearly a year ago. We had been emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks to try to figure out a good time to meet and finally it was going to be Saturday evening. On my way home from Target, I got on the bus - I was lazy, it was still cold out, etc - sat down and as soon as I looked over at the girl sitting next to me, I knew it was her: my friend's friend from Barcelona. I didn't really remember her face from when we met, but we both knew. After about 2 seconds of staring into each other's faces, she cautiously asked "Are you Julie?" and we laughed for a long time about how tiny this city of 8 million people really is. It turns out this is not as weird as we thought at first since we both live in the same neighborhood.
I did have some more errands to run that afternoon - like finally checking out Rob's wine store in Long Island City, which I was really impressed by (I really was there to get a bottle of champagne for a celebration today at a reasonable price, since I do get the friends and family discount, it's good to have friends who have alcohol!). Besides the reasonable priced alcohol, there is also this view from there, whoa! Right across the river from the UN. Can you imagine having this view from your living room??
So, back to my original thought. My new Spanish friend and I were to meet up for dinner in Harlem later in the evening, after my excursion to Queens. I am always a little anxious about these let's meet a friend's friend situations. Not to say that it isn't a wonderful thing! If I ever moved to a city where I didn't know a soul, I would absolutely want to contact anyone and everyone who was a friend's friend or a friend's friend's friend! Especially here. It can be so hard to make connections if you are here for a job. I always had the advantage of going to school in new places: so much easier to make friends. But in any case, I always meet up with friend's friends, especially if they are from far away, but sometimes I feel like even if we don't hit it off, I am sort of obligated to become friends with the person; after all, they don't know other people here and that's just not a good way to be anywhere.
After all that worrying, of course we totally hit it off with Pilar. Had a great night, she even took me to a Spanish party (and here I was thinking she didn't have any friends in New York), which was not so much fun - crowded bar, people only speaking Spanish, $12 drinks! - but I like having this feeling of "wow, I just met a really cool person". As a consequence of this late night adventure, I made it to bed after 2am, which was really 3am (day light savings) and my plan was to get in a good long run early on Sunday before brunch and other plans. When I opened my eyes just after 10am on Sunday, that did not look good at all. Shit! Quick text to push back brunch, quick advil for the headache I knew was the result of that $12 gin&tonic, and I was out the door and in the park for my longest run of 2012 yet. Reason: last minute desperate try to get in shape before I most likely run the NYC Half this coming Sunday - David, my marathon buddy, who signs up for every race on the face of the earth often can't actually make it to those races, so here I am with a possible race number for this year's big half! Cool, I didn't register because it's so freaking expensive this year, and what good thinking that was! Except for the part where I ran less than 8 miles yesterday and I am SO sore today! Oh well, should be fun :)
Best part of a long weekend morning run: the excessive amount of food one can consume for brunch afterwords: my favorite American meal - nearly tied with wings and beer. And there is nothing better than being totally lazy and going to see a movie after consuming a huge omelette. Friends with Kids, what a cute movie! Very New York, very funny, yet touching, real. Afterwords, walking down Park Avenue in the sun (it's suddenly very much like spring here, not that we really had a winter to speak of) I can't imagine leaving this place. When I think about it rationally, about making a choice (right now, that's between staying in New York or moving to Boston next year), it's difficult to make a decision. But when on a Sunday like yesterday was, I have no idea why I even have to think about it. No matter what I chose, I will meet a bunch of people next year. I will have a whole new life. But the more I think about it and the more I let myself feel it instead of thinking about it too much, the more I realize that the urge I sometimes feel to leave and start over in some new place is because, well, let's face it, it's always greener on the other side. Or so we always think. Would any of my problems be solved by moving to a new city right now? When I say problems, I do not really mean problems. I mean things that I am not totally satisfied with. No, no, most likely not. Because no matter what, it will always seem greener on the other side, no matter what side I am on. So with that, I think I am officially leaning towards Einstein right now. This weekend made my mind up. Starting over from scratch at this point also seems a little scary, unless of course it is in a place like California :)
After a good long sleep the world usually looks much brighter. Running errands, doing laundry, cleaning - oh my god, it's not even funny anymore how much I have been neglecting all of these things these past couple of months while I have been traveling and refereeing a lot: for over 2 weeks, there was no soap in the bathroom (I wonder if the other 3 people living in the apartment don't use soap?); I considered going to buy underwear instead of doing laundry but then I remembered that I would have to wash those too before wearing them; let's not even mention the state of my bedroom. For Saturday evening, I was planning to meet a friend of a friend who just moved here from Spain. I worked with the mutual friend for two years before she moved back to Barcelona and met the friend once while she visited NYC nearly a year ago. We had been emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks to try to figure out a good time to meet and finally it was going to be Saturday evening. On my way home from Target, I got on the bus - I was lazy, it was still cold out, etc - sat down and as soon as I looked over at the girl sitting next to me, I knew it was her: my friend's friend from Barcelona. I didn't really remember her face from when we met, but we both knew. After about 2 seconds of staring into each other's faces, she cautiously asked "Are you Julie?" and we laughed for a long time about how tiny this city of 8 million people really is. It turns out this is not as weird as we thought at first since we both live in the same neighborhood.
I did have some more errands to run that afternoon - like finally checking out Rob's wine store in Long Island City, which I was really impressed by (I really was there to get a bottle of champagne for a celebration today at a reasonable price, since I do get the friends and family discount, it's good to have friends who have alcohol!). Besides the reasonable priced alcohol, there is also this view from there, whoa! Right across the river from the UN. Can you imagine having this view from your living room??
So, back to my original thought. My new Spanish friend and I were to meet up for dinner in Harlem later in the evening, after my excursion to Queens. I am always a little anxious about these let's meet a friend's friend situations. Not to say that it isn't a wonderful thing! If I ever moved to a city where I didn't know a soul, I would absolutely want to contact anyone and everyone who was a friend's friend or a friend's friend's friend! Especially here. It can be so hard to make connections if you are here for a job. I always had the advantage of going to school in new places: so much easier to make friends. But in any case, I always meet up with friend's friends, especially if they are from far away, but sometimes I feel like even if we don't hit it off, I am sort of obligated to become friends with the person; after all, they don't know other people here and that's just not a good way to be anywhere.
After all that worrying, of course we totally hit it off with Pilar. Had a great night, she even took me to a Spanish party (and here I was thinking she didn't have any friends in New York), which was not so much fun - crowded bar, people only speaking Spanish, $12 drinks! - but I like having this feeling of "wow, I just met a really cool person". As a consequence of this late night adventure, I made it to bed after 2am, which was really 3am (day light savings) and my plan was to get in a good long run early on Sunday before brunch and other plans. When I opened my eyes just after 10am on Sunday, that did not look good at all. Shit! Quick text to push back brunch, quick advil for the headache I knew was the result of that $12 gin&tonic, and I was out the door and in the park for my longest run of 2012 yet. Reason: last minute desperate try to get in shape before I most likely run the NYC Half this coming Sunday - David, my marathon buddy, who signs up for every race on the face of the earth often can't actually make it to those races, so here I am with a possible race number for this year's big half! Cool, I didn't register because it's so freaking expensive this year, and what good thinking that was! Except for the part where I ran less than 8 miles yesterday and I am SO sore today! Oh well, should be fun :)
Best part of a long weekend morning run: the excessive amount of food one can consume for brunch afterwords: my favorite American meal - nearly tied with wings and beer. And there is nothing better than being totally lazy and going to see a movie after consuming a huge omelette. Friends with Kids, what a cute movie! Very New York, very funny, yet touching, real. Afterwords, walking down Park Avenue in the sun (it's suddenly very much like spring here, not that we really had a winter to speak of) I can't imagine leaving this place. When I think about it rationally, about making a choice (right now, that's between staying in New York or moving to Boston next year), it's difficult to make a decision. But when on a Sunday like yesterday was, I have no idea why I even have to think about it. No matter what I chose, I will meet a bunch of people next year. I will have a whole new life. But the more I think about it and the more I let myself feel it instead of thinking about it too much, the more I realize that the urge I sometimes feel to leave and start over in some new place is because, well, let's face it, it's always greener on the other side. Or so we always think. Would any of my problems be solved by moving to a new city right now? When I say problems, I do not really mean problems. I mean things that I am not totally satisfied with. No, no, most likely not. Because no matter what, it will always seem greener on the other side, no matter what side I am on. So with that, I think I am officially leaning towards Einstein right now. This weekend made my mind up. Starting over from scratch at this point also seems a little scary, unless of course it is in a place like California :)
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Little brown book
I was feeling lonely tonight. In an apartment full of people - it's a long story, maybe I'll write about it some other time how I live with a whole family from Iowa these days - I felt disconnected from them and just wanted to be alone. It's funny - or rather sad - how lonely it is sometimes in a crowd. I tried to write something. Not this, I had started another post some time ago. About loneliness. The human condition. Something about every person being on the bottom of a well. One well per person. Trying desperately to scream so other well-dwellers could hear. Silly.
Then I remembered something. I have this book somewhere I used to write a journal in. I also put all kinds of clippings, pictures, notes in there. Things nobody else is supposed to see but I figured I might want to read them or look at them at some point in the future again. I started looking for it. Must not have looked at it since I moved into this apartment because it took a long time to figure out that it was packed away in a box under my bed. But I found it eventually. It's this light brown leather book with a sticker of Tiger on the cover. Clearly a child's property. The entries start in 2000. They are rather embarrassing to read today. Even just to myself. It's the other things in there that I love looking at. Some newspaper clippings of teenage crushes. Actors and fencers. I had a crush on this German foil fencer for a while. We used to go to world cups in Budapest and watch the really good fencers. They were celebrities to us. There is a poem from my best friend Szidi she wrote on a piece of paper for me for a birthday. It says our friendship will last a lifetime. It makes me smile even today, we are still very close friends. Then there is a picture of an award ceremony: it's the under-17 women's foil final of the Hungarian National Championships from 2000. On the picture, which is printed on plain paper, I am on the podium, in 2nd place. It's all good except that I won that tournament. The picture was photoshopped by the father of the girl who actually got 2nd; on this version she is on top of the podium. He gave this printed photo to me at the next competition, as a joke. At 17, it's really hard to lose. It was one of those "never give up until the very last touch" bouts. I was behind by so many points after the first period of fencing that my coach, instead of the usual yelling and screaming, just told me he did not think it was worth to stay for the rest of the match and so walked out without a word of advice. Apparently that was all I needed. He didn't even realize I had won until he stumbled back into the room some time later, completely wasted, and I had a gold medal hanging around my neck. To make it seem like he had something to do with my victory, he claimed it was his leaving that motivated me. Right. Among the rest of the girls on the picture is Szidi in 5th place - one of the rare times I finished ahead of her. Then there is another friend, Bobe in 6th. She would end up in college in the US as well and we had competed against each other many more times in collegiate fencing after that year. She also, a few months later, beat me by one touch at the last competition of the season to qualify for world championships. That would have been my only chance to represent Hungary on a national team. In 7th place is Mariann, who just weeks after this picture was taken, passed away at a tournament in Bratislava, a day before her 17th birthday. Memories. It's been nearly 12 years, 12 years that she didn't get to live.
The last thing I found in the book was a 3-page note written on the back of a flight itinerary print-out. NYC-Chicago-NYC round trip from 2008. While flying back from Chicago I didn't have anything else to write on and I needed to get some thoughts out of my head and onto paper. Reading those 3 pages now made me weep. Mostly because I seemed to have had insight into something I could not have foreseen at the time. And yet I did almost perfectly. And in the nearly three and half years since then, memories in fact have been altered greatly. Our brains are like built-in time machines: except when we time travel, we have the ability to change the past to make it brighter, darker, more or less painful, or whatever way might benefit us in the long run. So keeping this little brown book is not such a bad idea; it might preserve some things I probably shouldn't forget or alter in memory.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
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