while being away

I guess that I've been away, or really that New Haven has been away from me. In either context, things are happening, which is the nice thing about doing things in compact spaces of time/place. Like on trips, when so much seems to happen in a week, by nature of changing routine and scenery. While in California, there have been blocks of things contributing to an intense, fragile balance of being fulfilled and seeking out.

In the morning before work, I get up to do the p90x workout of the day. Before this I've never considered exercise to simply strengthen. I like activities, and liked them a lot when young, but early in life, learning overshadowed playing games, and so now, when I feel a bit too old to be learning anew, throwing myself into activities seems more of a priority than developing strength and flexibility and balance. But not only do those contribute to being active, they also feel good on their own. My brother said to me, why does a girl need to be strong? It was said with slight real sexism; and it's true in a way. A girl doesn't usually need to be strong to attract a guy, or to beat up another girl. I've discovered that I really like feeling strong, for no real reason other than to know you're capable. It is also a little odd to see your activities make concrete changes in your body, and like all physical things I enjoy, it strengthens a lot of mental processes and approaches.

I take the bus to my rotation at the San Francisco Free Clinic. Walking to the bus stop, riding it, and walking to clinic takes about an hour. It goes by pretty fast, and doesn't bother me in terms of time since clinic hours are usually 10-5. I like navigating the city this way; I also use the bus to meet up with friends, go to the rock gym, go shopping and run errands. I often don't know from which side of the street I should be waiting for the bus. But I have more time to figure it out than I would in a car. And I'm by myself so only I have to deal with my spectacularly awful sense of direction, and only I can feel how rarely this can feel less of a confusing burden and more of a freeing confusion. A lot of old people ride the bus, and there are so many Asians in this city; I alway forget this. I'm not sure yet how the difference in population has affected me, but it's something that made me take notice. On the bus I read books, and I've gotten into Agatha Christie, as there are several of her books at my brother's. I was never into genre novels--fantasy, sci-fi, mystery. But I've gotten into Christie because the books are fun and easy to read, and because over time I've organically gotten better at paying attention to details, which makes both the book and life outside of the book more enjoyable.

The patients at the clinic, which provides primary care to the uninsured, have made for an amazing experience. Each one has subtly strange qualities, strange in that they are rare, not always that they are extreme. Because of that, I have a much stronger sense of each one after a day of several patients, than I have in other primary care settings I've experienced. Each one makes me think, or cling onto a characteristic or word or facial expression, or share our conversation with someone else. More on this as it goes on, can't fully describe the gratitude for such exposure and absorption of things outside of how I am/what I know.

In the evening, I eat dinner with my brother in his beautiful apartment lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that open up to the ocean. The water can be blue, green, gray, or mixes of those, and colors the rest of the house with its lighting. During the ab exercises from p90x, we sit up from painful crunches to see the sun setting diamonds on the water. The dinner is often something my mom has packed up for us. I'm glad to be in easy comfort with my brother in the same apartment, my parents across a bridge, not a day-long flight away. If I have an early day or extra time, I take the bus to the rock gym to boulder, since I can't climb by myself...I miss the style afforded by being attached to a rope, but bouldering is pretty mentally challenging. It requires a lot of initial strength that I don't have, and also a lot of overcoming fear (since there is no rope), which I've found very hard, especially alone. But it feels really, really good when at one moment it happens, especially after a lot of stalemate and frustration. On some evenings I spend time with friends in the Bay Area; it is a place containing people from different phases of my life. I'm lucky to have so many people with whom I want to share the mixed-up self I bring back to home, a person away.

At night I share the bed with Mikey the cat, whose personality has been branded dog-like. He follows you everywhere, showers you with affection, licks and bites you lovingly, stares at you with huge green eyes of neediness. I've pretty much fallen in love with him, and his strangely perfect combination of cat and dog.

It's also at night that I think of being away. Immediately before coming here, M and I went on a fantastic week-long road trip through parts of the East Coast. Coming straight from that to another experience, I might find it easy to forget the smell of fires, fresh early summer mornings, new sun emerging from weeks of rain, long drives of lush green, five kinds of rain in five minutes, a beautiful rest stop and unassuming cove of space and lucky discovery on the search for a bathroom, a beach wrapped in fog, revisiting a home in perfect weather--but I haven't. The sensations resurge in small moments and strong waves, and I feel incredibly lucky to have so much here, and so much away.