Jumbled thoughts

The following is a series of thoughts that could have each been blog posts in its own regard, but because of the quantity of them, never made it out at their full weight (think Octamom).

1. Why do people have one month or two month or three month parties for their babies when the majority of the time consists of trying console a crying baby who is terrified at encountering 10 to 20x the number of people that he/she is used to seeing?

2. When Christians talk about being encouraged by someone else's testimony, is it because they believe the person who is telling it or is it because the message, regardless of whether the teller is credible, in and of itself speaks to a truth that is undeniable?

3. It seems like it's easier to get upset at the companies that continue to abuse taxpayer money for bonuses than it is to point the finger to the administration that keeps feeding money to these same companies in the first place. Perhaps, even more difficult is to point the money to the millions of Americans who decided that they needed a house when, in actuality, they were in no position to buy one in the first place. My guess is that it's not good for the party.

4. Why haven't the Bulls gotten rid of Joakim Noah, Ben Gordon, and just about everyone else on the team outside of Derrick Rose (and perhaps Brad Miller/John Salmons)? I hope that the Bulls are a lottery team this year because they would be wasting their time getting the butts swept by Lebron (and yes, I only say Lebron because he IS the team).

med school bracket

Some people in our class have a pool for March Madness, five dollar buy in. I was looking over the current standings and noticed someone had entered two brackets. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "Dude, this guy really wants to win." Then I looked at the name. Turns out this guy is a graduating MD/PhD student who is going to Brigham and Women's for Emergency Medicine. A bright guy to say the least. Having had this guy as a TA for physiology and knowing him to be a bit uptight (and that's being generous), I can't say I was terribly surprised.

And if you're curious, I had UConn winning it all.

and to think, if I hadn't worked that temp job this summer, I wouldn't have known why this is funny

Faried, the Ohio Valley Conference’s defensive player of the year, led a team that relies on balance and rebounding to get it done. Morehead State dominated the boards 50-27.

The senior center chose to go to Morehead even though he thought someone was playing a joke on him the first time he heard the school wanted to recruit him.

“I’m from northern New Jersey, and to hear about Morehead—that was amazing,” Faried said. “I thought it was a pretty funny name, that they were playing around with me. I didn’t know who they were.”

sleight of grammar

Two friends of mine enlightened me today about how they received help during anatomy dissection.

"We used to just clean everything out, get Martha (the anatomy guru/prof), and say, 'So Martha, what do I got here?"

Eventually, Martha got fed up with this display of academic laziness and told them to look in the book for themselves. Undeterred, my friends adopted a new strategy:

"So what we did was clean everything out, get Martha and say, 'So Martha, I think I found {insert anatomy part} but I'm not sure..it looks abnormal...it looks like..."

And in-between these false expressions of conjecture, Martha would eagerly jump in and say "Oh yes, this is a great example of..." and so on.

Talk about playing the system.

"they're just haters"

A friend of mine told me today that instead of telling his mom to pray for his schoolwork, he should just tell her to pray for the rapture.

"What about the other people," I ask.

"The rapture won't happen until everyone has heard the gospel," he says. "Besides, they had their chance. They're just haters."

a rarity in the lecture hall

Recently, my histology professor made a comment during class for which, if I hadn't been so startled that he made it, I would have applauded. The lecture dealt with the reproductive system (testis, vagina, etc.) and he was talking about the increasingly strange cases that he had seen over the years as a pathologist. He said that we should be more concerned about all the different chemicals and substances being used in industry (food, specifically) which are absorbed into our tissues than about global warming. And on days where temperatures are hitting in the low teens in mid-March, I think I'd have to agree.

But still, whatever was in that Italian sausage that I had today was pretty tasty.

the pianist

I recently met a fellow who graduated from a small liberal arts school in Minnesota who graduated in English Literature and Piano performance. Part of his music degree required participation in an ensemble and because the piano is one of those instruments that stands alone (especially in the classical realm), he was forced to join the choir.

It would seem natural the piano's size would relegate it to a life of solitude, but, as I think about my own experience with the ivories, I cannot help but feel the twinge of melancholy when I think about all the hours spent alone in the practice rooms knowing that I had no fellow orchestra buddies or larger ensemble to which to look forward.

What more, the sheer size of the instrument only highlights the fact the pianist is a slave to his craft. While others can carry their instruments with them, the pianist adapts his schedule to the availability of his instrument. He must go where his master calls--be it to large echoes of concert halls, the soundproof rooms of practice buildings, or the warm confines of a home. No doubt every art demands a degree of solitary confinement, a social sacrifice of sorts. As his reward, the pianist receives the undivided attention of all his listeners; he has no woodwinds or strings or percussion with which to share the stage; his fate rests only to him. Even in the occasional concerto, there he sits front in center; all glory belongs to him.

At the end of the day, the pianist is left only with the voice inside his head that evaluates and re-evaluates, and he is left to return to his place at the piano bench, alone. As he warms up with scales and drills his passages, his mind immersed in the music, other times worlds away. Yet as he plays through the wee hours of the night there still remains a hope that somewhere out there a passerby might stop and listen, and in that moment where each is aware of the other only in spirit, share an intimacy that is all too often lost in individual recognition; it is music belonging to no one but speaking into the hearts of all.