Friday, June 15, 2012

don't look ahead, there's stormy weather

This month has been one of the infrequent ones where I have to drive to work daily. Usually I walk. The good thing about walking is that it gives me a few truly calm moments to collect myself before I go into work, a chance to glimpse the sun or the moon or the stars. My walk, however, is quite short. The drives are usually long enough, and my attention span issues emerge, and I get to listen to music- good music, trashy music, new music.

Santigold's latest song is not even new anymore. I've come to the sad realization that, just as with movies, the intensity of my current work environment makes it so that I rarely have the proper mind frame to pursue cerebral music or films. I've become an earworm junkie. I actually threw a fit last year when my friend AP made me see The Descendants, which I quickly discovered was a heavy film with a little too much medicine for me to stomach.

Nice thing about Santigold or someone like MIA, for that matter, is that their earworms have some kernels of genius in them if you listen for long enough. Or in the case of this latest song, Disparate Youth, you don't even need to listen for very long. I had just finished a long day in the ICU, and was scrambling out to get out to make a 10pm movie (I'm not even going to admit what I rushed out to see, but let's say, if it weren't for the company, I probably would have been better off hanging out with the intubated patients instead). Not only was I feeling frustrated about working another 16 hour day, but furthermore, lately I have been feeling increasingly anxious about finishing internship.

Internship is hard, don't get me wrong, but it's a known quantity now. But in less than two weeks, I'll be in charge of a brand spanking-new crop of interns. In charge! That seems like such a bad idea that I have minor to major anxiety attacks about it every time I think about this.

On the other hand, there's one thing that has come to annoy me during internship, and that's full-blown whiners. We all signed up for this. It sucks sometimes, sure. But we fought hard to get to this point and we went into it willingly, so it seems somewhat ungrateful to full-on whine about it. So, as terrified as a part of me is about this new level of responsibility and the soul-crushing hours that await me next month, well, the other part of me high-fives Santigold, and sings along with we said our dreams would carry us, and if they won't fly we will run, and gets ready to steer into the skid.

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