serendipti's Diaryland Diary

1:45 a.m. - Sunday, Jun. 26, 2005

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

verbal diarrhea? you be the judge

i am so excited to be here. on this page. with you. because I have been gone for so long, in so so many ways, and today feels like the official kick off of something new and exciting and wonderful. I have not had movement in my life for so long. Any movement. Very Paula Abdulish 2 steps forward 2 steps backish (remember that cool animated cat in the video?), and frankly, and this past year has been so difficult and there were so many aspects of it that made me feel like I was mired in a stagnant pool, a thick green film of slime, assorted fungi and algae, if you will, covering my life....or else maybe the fetid body of water was my life itself. I don't know, but maybe the rank water analogy needs to stop, along with my flair for the dramatic.
Regardless, I have come out of one of the toughest years of my life thus far, and I feel like my character has really been tested this past year, and although shit went down that gave me no real joy on any level with regards to outcome, and definitely made me shake my fist at the universe in frustration, anger and resentment, I have had a moment...a moment, albeit brief, to take a breath and survey my actions and reactions to what the universe has hurled my way, and there is satisfaction there. In that very real, I respect myself for the way in which I have handled my bidness sort of way. And maybe this entry is really not for you, but more for me, since my surgery rotation starts monday and I need to go in feeling as positive about my role in this world and in a place of honoring myself, before 2 months spending 80+ hours a week surrounded by surgeons beats all of that positivity out of me body.....so maybe I am writing this for me, and frankly I am just fine with that. I miss this. I miss the time to sit and think about my life, critically, with a bit of distance, so that I can reflect on what needs to stay or go, or needs to be fine tuned or completely revamped.
I miss feeling connected to the people I love. And thus to myself. I see no difference between the two. Bold statement, you say? I will defend it tooth, nail and claw, if I must, but otherwise with a rational, syllogistic, polished defense. I like the word syllogism. I like the concept of it too, by the way.
So I have had, after a LONG LONG LONG while, a place to be. A space to breathe. Just for a sec. And that sec has been delicious. I have spent the last two weeks recovering from the last year of my life. Physically and emotionally. Recharging. Processing. Nina Patel calls it mental housekeeping. The one thing I learned from my grandfather is that the point of the Gita, Hinduism, life in general, is that you do your duty, and you do it well, and that is the only thing that you should look to in order to derive any satisfaction out of your life. You cannot change the outcome, you cannot control the circumstance, but what you can control is your conduct within the context of those circumstances. And so when you look back on your life, regardless of whether you passed or failed a test, or did or did not get published or end up with a successful marriage, you will not derive satisfaction from anything but the way you did your duty in all of that. Did I act with courage? With honesty? Did I try my best, best in the context of maintaining my mental health and emotional sanity? Even if this situation does not turn out the way I want it, can I respect the way I dealt with it?
I have held my shit together this past year. A lot of the time when I was very isolated from much of the rest of the world, in a library, in a kaplan class, trying my damnedest to cram my brain full of shit that had nothing to do with my immediate concerns, with any of the stuff that was consuming my emotional landscape...at all. I mean, the places my mind would wander when I was trying to study was nothing short of insane.
And there is not this sense of triumph in any sort of marathoner-breaking-the-finish-line-ribbon-chest-first-bathed-in-perspiration-as-the-swelling-chords-of-some-triumphance-implying-mozart-sonata-booms-in-the-background-sort-of-way......no, this is not like that at all. And this is why it feels way more adult, and mature, in a way. And this is why I finally feel like an adult. This feeling I have, it is very quiet. It is this very quiet joy, like the kind when you realize that the words coming out of your mouth are echoes of words that came out of your father's, the kind of words that made you look at him and be in awe of his solidness, his righteousness, his character.....and you don't high five anyone, but you sit there, thinking, I am acting in a way that would make my parents proud, and it is my essential self that would make them proud. I feel like there have been so many times this year that if my parents had been watching me on a hidden camera, they would be tugging at the sleeve of the person next door and be like, that is my daughter.
I am becoming the person I have wanted to become. I am clear, and consistent, and honest (for the most part, except when I have to get out of work to go to a friends graduation in LA), and I know my weaknesses and am working on them with a lot of vigor, but none of the sort of childish, oh, so I suck, cuz I do this, approach. Am I making any sense? It is like you look at yourself and you can clearly assess your strengths, but just as crucial, if not more, is assessing your weaknesses. So maybe it is not that fact that I bitched out an asshole orthopedic surgeon that makes me proudest (although, if i could have scripted my eloquence and self possession, as well as my watermelon sized balls at the time, it couldn't have gone better: If I could be perfectly honest with you Dr. Gonzales, I pray to God every day that I never get to a point in my career where I think it is okay to treat another human being the way you just treated that patient), although that moment made me truly believe that I belong in this field, i think the stuff that makes you proudest is the stuff that you are not supposed to be good at, because that is not what your strong suit is. So more and more I am realizing it is moments I keep my mouth shut that make me happiest with myself, because calling shit out is like the bread and butter of my existence, so it is that holding shit in part that needs to be honed and refined, that takes the bread and toasts it and maybe puts a layer of homemade orange marmalade on top of the toast, and I offer no apologies for the extension of the metaphor, in fact, I am most cheshire-cat please with meself, thank you verrrr much......I am most satisfied when I keep in check my snide remark, although my finger is on the trigger of it, itching to fire, when my bro is being less than considerate of me, and i swallow it, suppress it....that is the hardest for me, and thus, when successful, it is the stuff that allows me to chart my progess as a human being....the evolution of me into who I want to be.
My cousin Paffbhai, pronounced Puffbhai as in Puff the magic dragon, and I will always think of ben stiller and the meet the parents scence cuz of that song, so anyway, Paffbhai, whose real name is Priyavrat, so now you understand why he has a nickname....so anyway, dammit, I do really write how I think, and this is a jumbled, disorganized fiasco of an entry....lovin every minute of it, I wont lie......so ANYWAY, Paffbhai said a long time ago, and I had never heard it before....mental constipation causes verbal diarrhea.
I always liked that.
So maybe this journal entry is my metamucil ( i prefer the orange flavor....you think I am making this up....actually I am not because when I was really sick, like sickety sick sick,the meds would jack with the old GI, and I made bhai make me a wheat grass orange-metamucil shake every morning, and would get manically upset if I didn't have it, so there), and you certainly don't have to stick around for the inevitable, plop plop flush, but I do so hope you will, as it is so much more fun that way. For me, at least.
Verbal diarrhea. Let me mix it up and try and find that beautiful part of the Gita that I love oh so much---

"Arjuna, your right is to work only, but never to the fruit thereof. Let not the fruit of action be your object (aim), nor let your attachment lead to inaction." 2/47
Further the Lord adds, "Arjuna, perform your duties dwelling in Yoga, relinquishing attachment, and indifferent to success and failure; equanimity is called Yoga." 2/48.

Anyway, this is a quickie 5 min google journey to find one translation that I like. I memorized these 18 verses in Gujarati with my Dada, and he explained them to me so wonderfully, so maybe I will take the time to do that for you one of these days. I think it is eighteen. maybe nineteen. Dada was always like, the mahabharata is like the meat of hinduism, and the gita is the meat of the mahabharata, and these 18 verses are the meat of the gita....to which I was like, cliff notes, coo!
i need to sleep. it is 3 am. why are you still reading, crazy? You don't have time for this. You need to cook and make a lot so you have leftovers for lunch, and then there are those phone calls that you are behind on, and that book you wanted to read...jeeez, why are you spending so much time reading this??? I just watched this movie, Singles, which is this old 80s movie which amy owns, and I LOVED IT....and maybe it is the whole being 27 and single ( I would be a 27 yo SHF....single hindu female?? SBF....brown....SKF...kickass...who knows? but saying I am 27 and single on this screen, and seeing those letters in black and white make me think of a personal ad....)..so the point being, that this movie felt so real, in the way that the portrayed the toughness of these male-female looking for love relationships....i thoroughly enjoyed it and could relate.
oh, and you know the best book ever? I read it after Amy raved about it.....please read it. It is called Truth and Beauty and it is by Ann Patchett....it is non-fiction and it is about....well, just trust me. Let me know what you think. It reminded me so so much of my friendship with Amy. It was weird.
I feel like rereading all these blatherings.
thanks a lot. that felt really good. Like the literary equivalent of the delicious stretch when you wake up in the morning that allows you to simultaneously feel your tiredness and feel re-energized.
i have a lovely apt. I can't wait for you to visit. I feel grown up. Not in an botox-party throwing way,(and trust me, I was on ENT, and those parties do exist, especially amongst the ENT docs) but in a calm sort of way. Like I have taken my first real definitive steps into this place called adulthood, and they were shaky and I was uncertain, but not only do I think I can do it, I think I can do it well. I am obsessed with the idea of being able to respect myself at the end of the day. Sometimes I think I won't get my MD because of it, but then I feel like, I would rather be MD-less Dipti who respects herself at the end of the day, than not.
to bed, to bed, it is now 3am.
love

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next