21 February 2017 § 1 Comment
21 February 2017
I have been composing in my head a lot and then deleting or forgetting it all, which is surely a sign of failing to stop once and a while and write with my physical hands and a physical pen. Studying for boards is an absurd, unnecessarily grueling process that perhaps deserves its own post—or rather, it deserves nothing, but this one thing represents so many things that are perverse about medical education, and an intelligent exploration of that is better than complaining.
In the meantime, I will focus on a fulfilling source of choice for me, which is getting dressed. Especially when considering that the limitations on what I wear take effect in a few months, I enjoy putting together things that I usually reserve for completely separate ensembles. Although I dress by intuition, and reasoning usually ruins the process (which isn’t necessarily art, but it’s a process that often stretches me, because I like thinking about what physical things say about abstract things), recently I have found that setting my intention for the day, or focusing on one emotion, or wondering what the sartorial equivalent of a cup of bancha hojicha is (more on that in future), has expanded that feeling of intuition and led me to find new ways of putting together old things. This idea has given me a sense of being grounded, of the creativity that comes of the recombination of what is already comfortably in my life. Native elements, rearranged, promise near-infinite variety and newness, in a comforting and somehow fresh way that actual new things cannot give.
In my physical body, fatigue is growing, and so when my homemade espresso—2 tablespoons of coffee and 2-3 ounces of water, made in a French press and sipped with a sleepy eyed gaze—was brewing at 7 o’clock this morning, I pulled out my Willy Wonka sweater and put on the sweetness I lacked.