poetry

atonement
cicatrix
incendiary
midnight snack

& the half life poems (in chronological order)
he was such a nice boy

party at hobart
blackout
american beauty

On my 27th birthday I gave myself the gift of a two day career test that measured my innate skills and determined what I was best suited for in the work world. Oh, just the fact that I did this reveals so much about me and makes me chuckle at myself. Gandhi said, ‘If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide.’ Thank God I can laugh at myself, there are moments when that is all that gets me through this life.

My test indicated that I was very strong at inductive reasoning and structural visualization. Apparently, this combination points towards a career in sciences. In fact, they (the career testing powers that be) say that if you possess structural visualization and don’t find an outlet for it you’ll be bored or frustrated. Ahh… frustration, sometimes it seems that banging my head against walls is the leitmotif of my life. Those that are low in structural visualization do best in the world of words and ideas. They’re more at home writing. So, of course, I would run away from pursuing med school at 27, because I was too old, and not smart enough, and like to take naps, and, instead, channel my energy towards writing and apply to MFA programs for poetry (of all godforsaken unprofitable fields).

I was accepted into a writing program but didn’t pursue it. Instead, a very long, circuitous path has led me to medicine. But… I still like to torture myself with writing. It’s where my heart lies. It’s open, yet hidden. So these pages are tucked away and not posted. If you search you can find it.

(just FYI… I write long lines that don’t break properly on an iPhone, or other small screens, unless you turn the phone on it’s side to the one or two of you out there that  might find this and attempt to read it)

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