1-2-3-4, I declare a thumb war

So, it's been about a year since that pivotal day in my life.  The day my lack of experience on two wheels in the dirt back fired.  The day I gave that rock in the Tucson desert a flying high five.  The so called 'crisis' leading to my 1/4 life crisis.

Is my thumb all better? - No.

My range of motion with my right thumb is still far less than that of the left.  When approaching the limits of that motion it I still have quite a bit of pain.  If I were a professional thumb wrestler, my career would be over.  Out of alllll the scars on my body, this one is most meaningful.  

With a few pins, the fragments of my trapezium fused leading to a pretty normal looking/functioning thumb.  For that, I thank Dr. Siegel.

It's hard to say whether or not this whole 1/4 life crisis thing would have happened if it weren't for the 'crisis.'  I'm not talking about this stupid blog but simply a slight change in perspective of life.  Perception is reality.  Reality is your path in life.  Your path depends on your desired destination.  Everyone's desire is different.  The only constant variable in this equation is the fact that things change.

Though its all crystal clear now, who knows where my mind would be if I didn't fly over my handlebars that afternoon.

BA-out

The gift

I recently received a gift.  A gift that changed the world as I know it.  A gift so meaningful that its the first thing on my mind every morning when I wake up.  Its' essence is somehow incorporated into my life daily after 2 months of nothingness.  This gift, however, must be treated carefully.  It possesses a sort of magical energy.  An energy quantified around 100 kcal/tbsp, that if abused, could have adverse effects on my life.  I could be talking of none other than...

6 jars... creamy, crunchy, cinnamon raisin, almond, sunflower, and one which I have not messed around with until recently... the chocolate hazelnut butter.

This gift was welcomed back into my life with open arms... and a spoon.  Although I wish its existence in the cupboard were eternal, I fear the sad day when my spoon desperately scrapes the inside of the last jar.  Leaving unobtainable smears.  Smears that my tongue would easily clean, if only it were long and flexible.

For now, I must avoid thoughts of such a day and simply savor it.

BA-out

P.S. Thank you, Suter family.

Don't ask me why

Time lapse videos excite me.


3 Years At The Same Place (english version) from Ramon on Vimeo.



Time Lapse Tour of Yosemite National Park from Henry Jun Wah Lee on Vimeo.


I'm glad my life ticks away just one second at a time.  Sometimes even that seems too fast.

BA-out

Ahhh yea.

COOOOL! I wanna go!

Happy 10-10-10 ya'll.

BA-out

passion deficiency syndrome

He had locked himself in a room in the hospital, placed a large needle in his vein and injected himself with a drug that so effectively paralyzed his muscles he was unable to breathe.

Or call for help.

This was from a NYT article about Medical student distress, burnout, and risk of suicide.  In my opinion, it is the people that embark down the long road of practicing medicine for the wrong reasons who will find themselves in this position.

In Hungary, a first year medical student was asking me about doctor salaries in the U.S.  His dream is to come to America after medical school to practice since doctors in the U.S. are well paid and highly respected compared to other parts of the world.  I told him that the U.S. is a great place to live and to work, but if he was planning on becoming a doctor purely to gain money and respect, he should reevaluate his choices... especially being that he was only a few weeks into 10+ yrs of school and training before a life filled with practicing medicine.

I am not a doctor. I am not a resident. I am not a medical student. But, I want to be. I told this young first year student that I don't want to pursue this path in order to seek wealth or respect.  I told him that I wanted to be a doctor because I learned through trial and error in university that the one thing that I am most passionate about in this world is the human body.  Being a doctor will let me continuously learn and work with my passion while providing two positive outcomes: my self fulfillment as a byproduct of bettering a patient's health.

This young student looked at me as if he had never heard such nonsense in his life. Then he said, "You will be a good doctor."  It made me happy to hear, even if it was only the endorsement of an 18 year old Korean kid that I had gotten.

The above article tries to figure out the problem that is leading to medical professionals having unstable mental states.  To me its quite evident that these 'burner outers' who become distressed and depressed in life have chosen to pursue a career for the wrong reasons. Whether its medicine or being an astronaut, there has to be passion. DUH.

BA-out

Revolution

Chapters in my life were once defined by what my life seemed to be revolving around during any given moment.  From a young age, I tightly grasped hobbies and ideas, making them a big part of my life, often becoming obsessions.

• In elementary school it was math.  I loved math homework.  I attended math camp during the summer.  I did math for fun.
• Then, skateboarding.  Day and night.  Rain or shine.  I sacrificed a lot of time and energy to get hurt, break some bones, and do some stupid stuff.  I thought it was the cool thing to do of course.
• Come high school, it was baseball.  I played every season, even during 120 degree summer days in Phx.  I sacrificed other sports such as soccer and swimming to focus on baseball.  I worked at a baseball training facility.  I had baseballs on my bed frame (still do).  I even gave baseballs with my face on them out as 'party favors' at my bar mitzvah (that was before high school, of course).
• In the beginning of college, after settling down a bit, I guess you could say that I became obsessed with school.  I over studied and over stressed myself during the first couple years.  I thought good marks were all that mattered.
• Desperate for some balance, I found triathlon.  Swimming, biking, and running was all I cared about for a solid year of my life.  I knew I wasn't particularly fast, but that didn't matter.  Life often revolved around training.
• I had a realization, asked myself why I cared so much to be competitive, and became obsessed with riding bikes for fun.  Mountain bikes, road bikes, fixies, beach cruisers.  If it had two wheels, I wanted it between my legs.
• When injured and unable to ride a bike, I quickly embraced art and started painting just about every day.

Now, what? - Yea, I have a bike. I still enjoy running.  I like academics, and baseball is still cool, I guess.  I have started lifting some weights again, like back in the baseball days. I have even forced myself to enjoy reading, and learned to like cooking.  My point is, for the first time in my life, I don't have an 'obsession.'  There is not one thing that dominates, and it feels pretty good.

1/4 of my life was driven by my passion for things rather than for life itself.  I know it may sound like an odd realization, but to me it seems important.  Though it may have been simply brought about by being deprived of my 'real' bikes (my latest 'obsessions'), I am glad nonetheless.

BA-out

Adriatic Fanatic

I consider myself a fortunate young man. I think that in the first quarter of my life I have been to some pretty awesome places and have had a number of very inspiring experiences, a few of which I have shared with the world through this blog. I have been contemplating all day whether or not my experiences during the last few days belong at the top of this growing list, and have decided that they indeed do. I will try and gather my thoughts, organize my photos, and explain why this past long weekend getaway was so moving.

It starts with Anuska (...my sister's... fiance's.... parents'.... neighbor.... HA!) - and an amazing woman, who I now consider my closest friend over the age of my parents. Anuska is from Gradac, a small town between Split and Dubrovnik on the Dalmatian coast in what is now Croatia, formally Yugoslavia. Though I would consider Gradac to be one of the farthest points from a tourist destination that I have personally been, it has transformed significantly in that direction since the 1940s, when Anuska lived here. She was born in a lovely room of a lovely house (where I slept my first 2 nights in Dalmatia) and grew up with two younger sisters, both of whom I had the pleasure of getting to know. I could go on for about 294 pages (the length of her recently finished book filled of stories of her youth which I have begun to read) about Anuska and her wonderful family, but I will instead now get into what I was up to while visiting the coast of this beautiful segment of land along the crystal blue Adriatic sea.

I usually like to tell highlights of vacations and avoid boring mush, but every bite of fresh caught fish, every step along the pebbled beaches, every drop of fresh red wine, every site of pristine land, every swim in the crystal clear water, and every minute spent with new amazing friends was a highlight. I will let the pictures do most of the talking.

I was humbled by Anuska's sister and her 73 old husband who hiked up the 750 meter mountain with me (Hans, the husband, had just finished swimming to the next village and back... a couple km... no big deal) Older people who are active and in shape inspire me.

The following day, left Gradac bright and early to depart from Ploce, cross the Peljesac peninsula, depart from Orebic, arrive at Korcula, and zig zag through the island to Poplat, near Vela Luka... as seen on the handy dandy map.

Arriving at the peninsula

Departing from Orebic

Marco Polo's hometown

View in the direction of Italy from island of Korcula

Friends of Anuska seem to have somethings in common; they are all extremely generous and welcoming, and they all have amazing artistic talent.

The afternoon was spent indulging in fresh and delicious local cuisine and liter after liter of wine while enjoying pristine views and fresh air, perched hill side in a secluded cove at the most amazing, handbuilt home. Ante Marinovic has spent the last 40+ years of his life working on every slight detail of this work of art. He has put thought into literally every stone used, making up everything from the pillars to the detailed mosaics and now lives here with his lovely Ella, who is also an incredible artist.

Room with a view

Anuska's famous massage

Eros and Psyche mosaic

40+ years in progress

Sunset swim

Where in the world is this paradise?

This was just a 'pre-game' for later festivities. We cruised around Vela Luka checking out friends' homes and artwork as we continued to indulge. These were not your typical 'starving artists.'

The pre-game gang - in the latest piece of work by Milly (mustache man). Milly, inspired by his friend Ante, constructed (and made the furniture in) this beautiful cottage... no big deal...

After sleeping to the rhythm of the waves crashing, we woke up to travel back to mainland. From Vela Luka, passed Hvar, and to Split we arrived. Just in time for more deliciousness and some high speed site seeing - Anuska/Ben style - so I could catch my flight 'home.'

Anuska rubbing her lucky big toe

I miss my tall, white haired, hospitable friend. She and her Dalmatian friends and family showed me that growing old doesn't have to suck. I learned that it is important to figure out what you want and work for it. No one can stand in your way of having some fun on your journey. Every grape, bite of fresh fish, and sip of wine was sweeter this weekend and for that I thank Anuska.

BA-out