If we are what we do repeatedly, then I am a mover, a writer, and a student.
Tag: long form
On cut hair (or a meditation on identity)
For a while, I told myself that I would cut my hair to express mourning. I liked the idea of physically showing inner turmoil after the death of a family member, an outside change to reflect the inside like the ancient Greeks or Prince Zuko. Removing choice from the equation felt simpler: if someone dies, then I cut my hair. No decision to be made and no discussion or feedback to elicit.
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On getting my groove back (or returning to my practices)
On Thursday, I experienced my first arm-bar: a submission technique where the elbow is cranked open into hyper-extension with the power of an opponent’s hips. While sparring earlier in the week with a different partner, I had been put into the position, but they did not apply pressure, did not force me to tap out of discomfort and panic. This partner did and I am truly grateful for that experience.
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On the road, in CO (or summer travels: Part Eight)
What follows is a lightly edited and mostly stream-of-consciousness travel log of my journey from Florida to California and back again.
20160612 – Sunday
We woke up around 9a, making some jasmine tea in Ian’s quonset with his electric kettle to avoid the big morning rush of bodies to the COBS common kitchen. We talked and planned our day, as I’d be leaving the following morning since he had to leave for an overnight photography assignment around 8a.
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On the road, from CA to CO (or summer travels: Part Seven)
What follows is a lightly edited and mostly stream-of-consciousness travel log of my journey from Florida to California and back again.
20160610 – Friday
Right now, I’m technically writing this on Saturday, at about 3a. I’m settling in and can’t quite wind down yet, still very jacked up on mountain dew from the sprint/marathon to Colorado, from LA and through Utah.
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On positive and negative alarms (or a meditation on hourglasses and tattoos)
Back in undergrad, a friend told me a story about nuclear power plants.
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On ‘hell yes’ or ‘no’ (or the guilt of declining plans and dealing with the inevitable FOMO)
All throughout Tampa and St. Petersburg this weekend, the streets are filled with pirates.
On setting goals and the practice of goal-setting
I see dead resolutions.
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On a cut foot (or an interview with my dad)
My father spent about a year in an orphanage while growing up in post-war Korea. Continue reading “On a cut foot (or an interview with my dad)”
On 2015 (as told through facebook posts)
Interviewing in January for USF
1/26/15
Looking good because of Alyssa and her cutting skills, feeling loose because of Brianne’s magic touch, and feeling great because my mom is looking out for me!
First interview, best interview!
On meta-learning, sharp axes, and flashcards (or Course Two: a post-mortem)
With some time behind me, I can now look back on neuro block and feel an honest bit of job-well-done, despite barely passing.
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On being a patient (as told in three health care interactions)
25-year old male presents to orthopedic sports specialist to image and diagnose a three-year history of R wrist pain upon flexion. No pathological findings upon MRI scan and review. Continue reading “On being a patient (as told in three health care interactions)”
On ‘gunners’ and gunners
I heard the term during orientation, but didn’t stop to ask what it meant until the second week of classes.
On my writing process (or why reflections help me survive and thrive)
It starts with a small idea: these posts begin with a title.
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On having negative money (or why you should embrace student loans and invest in yourself)
It’s an odd thing to know I am worth less than zero dollars.
On tweaked necks and meat-suits (or a meditation on the physical body)
Most of the time, my meat-suit is pretty happy with me.
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On love in the time of medical school
Navigating love, relationships, and dating requires presence, honesty, time, and optimism– rare commodities for an MS1.
On the plasticity of personality (or the magnifying effects of stress)
Looking back, I have met my peers twice.
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On social network guilt (or swarms, nodes, and helping each other through med school)
I find myself feeling guilty for utilizing the resources of others. I feel like a leecher.
On the death of goals and mourning dreams
I had a dream. Now, that dream is dead.
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On deloading during fall break (or vacations from discipline)
Fall break broke a lot. A 10mo routine of posting M&MWOD posts, half a year of following a specific weightlifting program, and my meditation habit.
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On finals, boot camp, and hindsight (or Course One: a post-mortem)
On death and study breaks (or keeping perspective through the grind)
I want to die deep in the woods. Alone, naked, and calm.
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On Shame and data points (or treating failure as an act, not an identity)
I failed the second exam of medical school.
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On finding your tribe (or being ‘that guy’ and accepting dislike)
Without intending to, I’ve attained “that guy” status in med school. It’s hard to contain my love for float tanks, yoga, and mindfulness. I’ve spent so much of my life repressing my weirdness that now it blooms with excess vigor. Some folks dig it, some folks don’t; once I accept that I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, then I can start to build my tribe.
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On sober Eugene (or embracing the minimum effective dose and test anxiety)
Three days before my first medical school exam, I spiraled into a whirlwind of doubt and anxiety while leaving a movie theater. “You are bad at this, why are you studying material that you don’t care about? You know this is only the first test, right? If you are losing your cool now, how can you survive the next year, let alone residency?” The negative self-talk grew in volume and in strength: seeing a movie, a simple study break, turned into a near melt-down as the credits rolled and test anxiety sunk in around me.
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On white coats and black belts (or the importance of becoming a student of failure)
A white coat should not stay white and a black belt should not stay black. For a physician and a martial artist, the ceremonial receipt of one’s white coat or black belt represents the crossing of a threshold. Within both traditions, the status symbol marks a beginning, not an end. Things will be forever different on the other side of that doorway, but rarely in the ways expected.
On it (and distancing language from death and the dead)
His name is Harold. Not Harry. Harold.
In some ways, I will know him better than anyone else knew him. In other ways, in the most meaningful ways, I will know nothing about him.
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On my first anatomy lab (or the importance of getting caught with your pants down)
Experientially, no substitute exists for getting caught with your pants (or in my case, shorts) down. Being singled out, especially while underprepared and running late, is a perfect recipe for anxiety and late night ruminations. It can also provide much needed perspective and clarity if dosed appropriately. This is my most recent experience with that bitter pill.
Eugene H Kim 