tomorrow.

A wise teacher in high school once told my class that "No one ever promised us tomorrow." This has stuck with me through the years, because it is something so simple, it seems instinctive, but it is something we all tend to forget, or ignore, or don't believe. But it's true. Tomorrow is not a given for any of us, which is why we should live in the moment and pursue our happiness (as long as it does not hurt others). This isn't always easy to follow - believe me, I know. Daily I am consumed with anxiety, wondering if I made the right decision in following my heart to writing, wondering whether I will be able to make a different with my writing or teaching, and wondering how the heck my finances will turn out. Deep in my heart, I know I have made the right decision and am happier than I've been in a while, but in my head, I don't always remember that.

A friend of mine passed away on Friday night from cancer. He was first diagnosed in 2003, and suffered multiple recurrences, and each time, they amputated further up on the arm, until January, when he had no more arm to amputate and the cancer metastasized to his spine. Despite radiation and chemo, the cancer spread to his liver and lungs, and he and his wife decided to opt for pain management rather than treatment. It was a good choice. They went on trips together, had professional photographs taken of the two of them, and lived life out in the world, instead of in a hospital or chemo waiting room. They have memories of trips and togetherness and laughter. He was 33.

Despite the fact that we all knew he would die from the disease, I don't think any of us were prepared. You can never be "prepared" for that. I remember thinking the same thing about my grandfather. When he died from lung cancer, we knew it was coming; his death was painfully protracted and I had just visited him the previous week and knew death was imminent. But it was still shocking in its own strange way, because how do we prepare for death? Are we ever fully "prepared", those of us still alive? I'm not sure we are.

Death reminds us that it's true, no one did promise us tomorrow. There is no guarantee for any of us. The best we can do is try and be in the moment, love and appreciate those in our lives, and pursue our passions and happiness. When I find myself doubting every decision I have been making, I think to myself, if you were to die tomorrow, would you be happy? And I would be, I think. Would you? Do you make decisions out of fear (which we all do at numerous points in our lives)? Are you willing to make decisions from your heart, despite the anxiety that might cause? Because this is your life. This is it. At the (almost) age of 30, I am tired of thinking "oh, I've always wanted to..." or "I wish I could..." Because none of us know what will happen. None of us know our fates.

It's scary. It's scary as hell, living the lives we want to lead. But what is the alternative?

books and books and books

It's hard to believe that it's mid-November (almost). The days here in Chapel Hill are, for the most part, temperate, with only a fleece vest needed. Today is a beautiful, cloudless day, high of about 65 degrees. If I leave NC I will miss this.

I took the GRE on Wednesday....I did not do as well as I would have hoped, and this was my only chance to take it in time so that the schools would receive the scores by the application deadline. Really, the only school that needed it was UNC's PhD in journalism....I am hoping I didn't shoot myself in the foot with my scores. After all, it's pretty established that standardized test scores like the GRE and SAT don't predict success. I'm hoping my Master's thesis wows them. *fingers crossed*. Other than that, I've been writing for work a lot, trying to find time to work on personal statements and my nonfiction portfolio, and read more books. Every program wants a list of recent books you've read, and again, I'm consumed with the fear of not reading books that are "literary" enough. So now I'm reading Edith Wharton's "The House of Mirth", and working my way through some classics that I haven't read yet, like more of Virginia Woolf's books and maybe some James Joyce thrown in there. And I love, love, love Carson McCullers. And Joan Didion. And Jerome Groopman. And Jhumpa Lahiri (whom I got to see in person at Barnard!). So....maybe I can convince them I am literary after all.

I never thought I was creative before. I don't see myself as an "artist", I see myself as a writer. But I was told writers are artists, in their own ways. I don't see myself that way at all. Looking back, I guess the signs were really there all along....in high school, I would write poems during Biology and Chemistry classes. While registering for freshman year classes for college, I actually asked for permission to register for a senior seminar on the writings of Sylvia Plath. I was denied, but the professor met with me that semester to discuss Plath's writings. That was an awesome thing for a busy professor to do. My "Literary Marketplace" class with Dr.Coppa...that was maybe the one class I REALLY looked forward to. She was a hyper-caffeinated, hyper-intelligent version of Janeane Garofalo, from NYC, dressed all in black and super hip. She wore these kick ass black leather boots, her hair was always disheveled, she talked a mile a minute and it was wonderful. I still can't walk through a Barnes & Noble without remembering learning about what makes some books get featured, or placed with their covers facing outward (yeah, it's not random). I also loved my "American Writers" class, in which my professor, who, in his flannel shirts, Wranglers and scruffy beard looked more like the janitor than a PhD, taught us how to be kids again when he took us on the college's front lawn and had us make and fly paper airplanes. My "African-American Literature" class introduced me to Alice Walker, bell hooks and Toni Morrison. For one of my psychology classes, we had to pick someone famous to evaluate....and I chose the poet Anne Sexton.

I do wish I had sat down with someone back then and learned about all the different career options in writing and English. Part of me does wish I had listened to my heart about majoring in English and being a writer, but I don't regret going the way I did. I've learned a lot and had great experiences along the way. And everything I've done has brought me to this moment, right here. How could I regret that?

free at last....thank God, free at last

I got my boot off on Monday! Yay!! This year, in 2010, I have been in a boot/air cast for nearly half the year, thanks to my 2 foot surgeries. This means half a year of figuring out how to tuck my pants into the boot, limping and walking funny, and only wearing one shoe. Needless to say, it gets old. Fast. So I got x-rays on Monday and my foot looks great. The x-ray tech actually came out from the little lair they stay in, and goes, "Wow, you certainly have quite the hardware assortment in your foot!" I explained that yup, I had foot surgery. She asked if I broke my foot and I explained the whole bunion and failed surgery thing, and she just kept talking about the 6 screws and plate in my foot. Yup, that's me. Bionic foot girl. I guess it's fitting, since I WAS named after Jaime Sommers, the Bionic Woman.

One thing I wasn't prepared for, however, was the pain/discomfort when putting on and taking off shoes. Think about it - when you put your shoes on, your big toe flexes and bends. Mine doesn't. That was the whole point of the surgery, to fuse it so it won't bend. I literally started crying in the doctor's office because I could not figure out how to put my sneakers on. Even now, I dread putting my shoes on and taking them off. I grit my teeth and do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-aid. I walk slowly, and my foot does hurt, but that is to be expected, I'm told. I'm not allowed to swim or run yet, but I can bike.

So yeah, that was my big excitement this week. Other than that, I've been writing articles, working on personal statements and my writing portfolio, and studying for my GREs, which I take next Tuesday. I hate the GREs.

Saturn return.

So, as mentioned before, I turn 30 in December. I don't know how many of you are familiar with the phenomenon known as the Saturn Return? I'm not usually one for astrology, but hear me out. Approximately every 30 years (29.5, actually), Saturn returns to the spot where it was when you were born. It is said that between the ages of 27 and 30, individuals usually start experiencing life upheavals, especially as they get closer to 30. The Saturn Return is about finding out your true life path - it typically turns worlds upside down. Major life changes, etc. So let's think about this. When did I decide to focus on writing? June? hmmm. 29.5 years old. All the upheaval the past few years....yup, 27-30. I don't know. There may be something to this.

I've heard many women say they really came into their own in their 30s, and I think they're right. I think I am looking forward to this next decade; I think it will be a good one, with lots of promise ahead.

it's anything but a fairytale, girls.

I will be 30 in December. I am single. Normally, this does not bother me. But I do feel some pressure to find someone and "settle down" and start having kids. After all, my brother already had a kid. Although I'm not sure the family could take another child out of wedlock. I would rather be single than settle, and I would definitely rather be single than be with a bum, a loser, or someone who really doesn't love me. I am a headstrong, independent fireball who likes to challenge and be challenged, and the man I end up with will complement this. I want an intellectual equal and a homebody. I want to marry someone who is not only the love of my life, but my best friend. And I haven't found him yet. My friend Lauren found her girlfriend on a certain dating website, and I was like, hey, okay, maybe I can find a guy here. So I joined. Yes, I've met some NJB's (nice Jewish boys); in fact, one asked me out for coffee (although I'd like to email a bit more first). But I've also been met with a whole host of...umm...interesting candidates. I am telling you, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

There was the guy last week, even though my preferred age range is 27-37 (and 27 is even pushing it; ideally I'd like an older guy), this 22 year old emailed me, telling me he's "attracted to older women." I'm sorry, was that supposed to attract me? No woman likes to be told she's the "older woman", especially at the age of (almost)30. Delete. Then there was the guy who had the numbers "69" in his screen name, and his profile picture was his pale white, hairless, not-so-toned chest. I'm sorry, but first, get a tan. Second, don't put naked shots of ANYTHING on your profile picture. Lastly, if you do put naked pics up, at least have the body to back it up. And, really? Are we in high school? Drop the "69" from your screen name. NOT cute. Delete. Then, there was the Jewish guy who seemed smart and funny. His profile was him and a little kid, and I'm a sucker for boys with babies. Although I'd prefer a potential boyfriend not have any kids or ex-wives, I'm open. So I'm reading his profile - his email was nice - and it turns out that he is, in fact, in a committed relationship but they are "polyamorous" and it's an open relationship. I kid you not. First of all, this is not Utah. Second, I'm not doing the Sister Wives thing. I was like, really? REALLY??

This week alone has brought guys to remember. There was Buttfister. Yes, I swear on a stack of Bibles (preferably Old Testament) that his screen name was Buttfister. And he was straight, looking for women. He is studying pharmacy. Ah, the future of medicine and science, right there. I'm sorry, but a mature woman - or any woman, for that matter - isn't interested in a guy whose screen name was Buttfister. And yet this is who I attract, apparently. Then - ah, yes - THEN there was a guy whose email promised me a "night to remember" because of his "huge....personality", and how he promised to make me "laugh, scream, and enjoy myself". And he promised not to "ask to video cam". And he closed it by saying if, for some "unknown reason", I'm not attracted to him, to let him know. There was more, I just can't think of all of the obnoxiousness. I nicely wrote back and said that mature women usually are looking for more than a "night to remember", and I'm sure his "personality" only looked huge from his vantage point. And then I blocked him.

And I can't even tell you how many guys email with horrible spelling, incorrect grammar - not a minor mistake or two, I mean, hello, did you go to grade school types of bad grammar. Not a good sign for me if you can't spell basic words. Or how many guys send a one-line email like, hey sexy, what up? or hey cutie. First, even IN a relationship, I don't want to be called "babe", "cutie", hon, or anything like that. I just don't go for it. And if I don't even KNOW you, I kind of take offense to that. How many women really go around emailing guys with, "hey sexy" or "hey stud". Not many, I'm sure.

Where are the guys who see my book and music list and appreciate the books I read? Or the music that's on my iPod? Where are the guys who have the decency to say, hey, I think you're really pretty AND I saw you're a writer, tell me more about that? Or even just a hi, how are you?

It's really discouraging. And in the South, it's especially hard to find a Jewish guy. I'm amazed with how many agnostic and athiest guys are out there. But I'm putting myself out there, and hoping for the best.

At the very least, I'm being entertained in the process.

the journey.

My brother and I are very different. Always have been, always will be - even from the womb. I was the first kid, so anxious and overeager and competitive to get out that I arrived preterm, stubborn as a whip from the get-go. Brad was over a week late, which suits his easy-going, relaxed, never in a hurry nature. I've always followed the rules and done what was expected of me. Brad has never followed social convention, has struggled with problems along the way, and ended up having a child while not married. And now he owns a house, has a great job and has a kid. I don't know if he ever looks back and wonders how things might have been. I don't think he does. He lives in the moment, something I admire about him and try to emulate.

I am one of those people who always looks back at life, and sometimes wonders how things would be different if I'd chosen a different path. And believe me, I've had PLENTY of opportunities to do so. But lately, when I think about it, I really do believe that the choices I have made and the places where I've found myself are the perfect ones for my journey, because each one has taught me something about myself or life, or enabled me to meet wonderful people, or simply taught me what I DIDN'T want to do with my life. Don't get me wrong - if I'd followed a straight line I could have saved myself thousands in student loans and heartache, but I wouldn't be the person I am today, for better or worse.

My senior year of undergrad, I was poised for doctoral programs in clinical pychology, notoriously the most competitive field of psych. I was terrified of making the wrong decision about where to go. I was accepted to an MA program at NYU and a doctoral program at Nova Southeastern. I chose Nova. I'd been set on psychology since freshman year, and it was the only thing to which I'd given any thought. Well.....except for English. I had toyed with majoring in English to be a writer, and was told it wasn't "practical". (No comment). So at 21, I moved to Ft.Lauderdale to start a doctoral program. Looking back, I was too young and should have thought about it. It was way too "clinical" and focused mostly on cognitive-behavioral therapies, and I was more holistic, Rogerian and Jungian. But do I regret it? I don't, not now. I met a great group of girls with whom I am still in touch - Carrie, Kay and Christy - and lived with my roommate Erica and was a bridesmaid in her wedding to Brian.

I then moved to New York to go for social work at Columbia - which, if you ask the 2 people I'm still friends with from there - was probably a mistake for all of us. Both of them aren't doing anything related to their Ivy League degree. Although it's a top-ranked program, it has, um, some issues. It was so NOT clinical that I found myself back in psychology, for clinical health psychology. But from NY I gained two wonderful friends - Olivia and Jessi - and found one of my adoptive homes, Manhattan.

I had to choose between University of Miami and the Philadelphia College of Osteopathic Medicine. Here's where it gets a little sticky. I actually made myself physically sick over this decision - I had to get muscle relaxers from Student Health because my neck got a crick in it and was stuck for hours, in intense pain. I made my decision - UM - and sent the email. Then I panicked and called them and told them to hold my acceptance. I then chose PCOM, went to the post office across from my apartment, and mailed the letter. Ten minutes later, I realized I had made a HUGE mistake, ran to the post office and had the mail person dig through a huge bin to find my letter to PCOM and give it back to me. That should have been my first clue......but I ended up going to PCOM anyway. Did I learn a lot? Well....sort of. I have to admit, A LOT was review from undergrad. But I got my MS and knew I wanted to be in the health field.

I worked full-time for a year at the ob/gyn office I'd been previously working at part-time, and knew I wanted to be in health/medicine, but didn't know how. I found public health, and applied to a variety of programs. I actually applied to UNC on a total whim, because I knew it was a top program and didn't think I had a chance in hell. I ended up getting into GW and UNC, and without a doubt chose UNC. I don't regret that at all. I love it here, and public health is a HUGE field. I consider my health writing part of public health. I found wonderful friends, wonderful families for whom I babysit who have adopted me into their homes, and found a neighborhood I adore. I found peace, my soul has calmed down here in Chapel Hill.

We all know what happened with PhD applications in 2009....if you don't, just read last year's blogs from March - June. That should explain it.

Throughout this whole time, I wrote. I wrote poetry, I journaled, I wrote essays, I blogged. But I didn't think it could actually BE anything. Then I started writing for health websites and thought, hmmm......

And because I still didn't think it was "practical", took some classes in nursing and failed miserably. My brain just doesn't work that way. And you know, that's okay. I would have always wondered if I never tried. And while some people may think I'm flaky or indecisive, let me ask you this: how do you know if something's not for you, unless you try it? How do you know you'll be bad or good at something, or if something's the right choice, unless you jump off that ledge and do it? So I do not apologize for all my detours, my wild ideas, my false starts and my crash landings. I used to. I used to beat myself up and compare myself to others' smooth rides, their straight paths that never wavered. And maybe that works for them, which is great. But you know, that's just not me.

So here I am. Writing in Chapel Hill, looking at my next journey. I am trying not to regret paths I've taken to get here, because when I think about it, I've gained so much from each twist and turn. I've learned perseverance and how to brush myself off when I find myself on the ground. I've become intimate with disappointment, but also grown close to happiness, laughter and joy. We're all on our own journey, and for some of us, it takes longer to get to some destinations than others. But you know, I don't think I'd change a thing right now.

they don't call MFA programs MaFiA programs for nothing....

So.....I assume for those of you who read this regularly, most people know that I have been concentrating on writing, more specifically, health and medical writing. I write regularly for livestrong.com and just had the opportunity to write some articles on breast cancer for the website sheknows.com. I really love it, and I get to use my education and talent (see, family - it's not for nothing!). But, like all talents, my writing needs practice and nurturing. Some people say writing "can't be taught". I have mixed feelings about that. Do I think some people have an innate talent and ease with writing? Yes.....but someone also once said that a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for everyone else, which is also true to an extent, because writers are always so critical of their writing - there is always a more perfect word, or more beautiful way to say things. Nonetheless, talents can be refined and nurtured and benefit from instruction. After all, people take dance lessons and music lessons. THAT can be taught....so why can't writing?

So I have decided to apply to various programs in order to enable me to pursue more careers in this field. You'd be surprised how many jobs want a PhD, or more education in writing. I am looking at journalism, medical-science writing, and MFA programs. I'm nervous about the MFA programs, because so many of the students I read about on MFA-application blogs are super-literary, super well-read and incredibly creative. I don't think I'm that creative - I mean, I've spent the past how many years trying to tamper that down and focus on the practical, science side. And though I'm fairly well-read and always reading, I feel like I'm not reading the "right" books. I'm not reading the "literary" books. I have no idea who many of these authors are that many applicants are mentioning. It's intimidating. Super intimidating. Every program wants its applicants to write about the books they are currently reading.....and I want to sound smart, so I doubt that "the latest issue of Vogue" and "True Prep" are the kind of books they want to hear about.

But when I read about the classes and writing workshops and literary seminars students have to take, I am so jealous that students HAVE to take these classes, because I would love to have to go to them! I would love to have my days filled with reading and writing and rewriting and such. I don't know if any of this will work out. I am cautiously hopeful. I still love science and oncology, obviously, but this finally lets me use my talent to be involved in that field. I still get a thrill when I think to myself, I'm a writer. (Sort of). It's scary, though. Reading and writing have always come fairly easy to me. I tear through books like there's no tomorrow. I'm constantly reading one or more books at any given time. But I'm applying with hundreds of other students who will put my reading lists to shame. Who majored in English or Comparative Literature or Poetry. Who read literary works instead of what's on the "new in paperback" table of Barnes & Noble. Don't get me wrong; I've read ZZ Packer and Zadie Smith and Joan Didion. But I also love me some brainless reading.

What is my end goal? I'd love to write for a science, health or cancer magazine, or a hospital or health center or website. I'd love to do research and disseminate the findings to the public via journalism. It's not so different from public health and health education, when you think about it. I know it's been a circuitous journey. I'm slowly finding my way and finding my strengths. I just hope I'm not wrong about this path.

Previvors

Do you know what a previvor is? It is someone who does not have cancer, but who is at higher risk of cancer because of a strong family history or because of a genetic mutation. Dina Roth Port has writen a book about five women who are previvors and have a patchwork of breast and/or ovarian cancer running through their families. When I found out about this book, I was lucky enough to have a copy sent to me, and wanted to review it on my blog.

In this book, each woman tells her story of how the different cancers affected their decisions to get tested and their subsequent decisions. More importantly, the book describes options previvors have, what each option entails, and what an individual can expect, with surgical decisions, genetic testing, disease surveillance, breast reconstruction, body image and sexuality issues post-cancer, fertility, and how to tell your children. The book is a comprehensive how-to guide with personal journeys woven into the narrative, which makes it feel like you are talking with girlfriends about their personal decisions and concerns.

Personally, as someone with now breast and ovarian cancer in my family, but no known mutation, I found this book incredibly helpful. When the time comes, if need be, I will think about my options and what each path would mean for me. Right now, at the age of almost-30, this book helped dissipate some of the fear that I have of getting breast or ovarian cancer, and provided an informative, personal and empowering book to read and learn from.

Go to the book's website to learn more about the author and the previvors, and to learn how to order your copy.

think before you pink, PLEASE.

It's October. Breast Cancer Awareness Month....in case you missed it, despite the commercials, pink ribbons adorning everything from potato chips to wine (ironic, since even one drink a day raises your risk of breast cancer), and the senseless Facebook status updates. I am all for raising awareness. But we are aware of breast cancer. Ask women what the symptoms of ovarian cancer are, and a lot less women will know that. Or colon cancer. Or thyroid. Or pancreatic. Or, hell, the number one killer of women - heart disease. A lot less women will know all of those symptoms.

We still don't have screening tools for many cancers. Our treatments are extremely toxic, no matter what cancer we're talking about. A lot of misinformation is still out there.

And don't even get me started on those "I heart boobies" bracelets and "Save the ta-tas". It's similar to the infantilizing Barbara Ehrenreich talks about in her "Welcome to Cancerland" essay, with the stuffed animals with pink ribbons on them. The "boobies" and "ta-tas" breast cancer stuff objectifies women's bodies, and once again, places our bodies as something for others to look at. What, did these kids who wear them not care about breast cancer before, but because it says "boobies", it's cool? Women are more than breasts; the focus should be on women's health, and not "saving the ta-tas". It sexualizes an issue, and in the end, has a degrading tone (in my opinion).

Breast Cancer Action put together the Think Before You Pink campaign, and it's worth a look. Find out how much money is actually being given to the cause, and to what organizations and programs. Komen may be the bully of breast cancer, but many other organizations are out there - Bright Pink, FORCE, and others. Find out just how much these organizations are doing for breast cancer, and for which population - does most money go to younger women, or older? High risk women or metastatic?

Don't get me wrong - pink is one of my favorite colors, and I am guilty of having pink ribboned things. But if you want to make a difference, donate to the organization directly. Do BSE. Make sure you and other women in your life get clinical breast exams and mammograms, if necessary. Let's talk about triple-negative breast cancer and inflammatory breast cancer; cancers that don't respond to hormones or have lumps. Talk openly about reconstruction and even the choice NOT to have breast reconstruction. Let's destigmatize prophylactic mastectomies and refuse to live in fear. All of this will do much more for breast cancer than buying a bag of chips with a pink ribbon on it.

sweater weather and such

This time of year is the kind I love - sweater weather (I have a better fall/winter wardrobe), scarf weather, crunching through burnt vermillion and butternut squash yelloworange leaves, and drinking hot apple cider.

My foot is healing well. Next week I go for x-rays, but it is coming along, says the surgeon. I have no pain now, which is great....of course, if I walk a lot I have pain, but for the most part, I am pain-free, which is something relatively new for me. Even after the other surgery, I still had pain. I don't know what my gait (both walking and running) will be once I am out of the boot, but the surgeon said that people can still run after a joint fusion, and I am choosing to believe him. I am just anxious to get back to the gym and work out. :)

This Saturday is the most celebrated triathlon in the tri-world - the Kona Ironman World Championship. I am so so SO excited to watch it on television. And if my foot were better, I'd be competing Sunday in my triathlon. As it happens, I STILL have not withdrawn officially. I will be there saturday to pick up the damn race packet, because a tiny piece of my brain is still like, welllllll....even though I know full well I am not swimming, biking or running anywhere any time soon. Oh well. A girl can dream, right?