What is the proper number of kisses

For a man to leave this world?

The average depth of melancholy?

The approximate wetness of hope?

- Max Garland

(from Catfish and Mandala by Andrew X. Pham)

I made it through my intern year without shedding a single tear at work. There was this one drive home after another hard day at the VA when my face was a bit wet and the exit off the highway a bit blurry... At the end of most days, and definitely the end of every month when I leave a rotation, I can say without a doubt - I like my job. Not "love" with all its passion and thrill, but a quiet contentment and the feeling of "no regrets". With second year halfway over, I have to make some serious decisions about "life". It seems that I am at a crossroads. Here I find myself uncertain of who I am and what I want.

It is easy to say - be yourself... "Myself" has been a shifting concept, an unstable image based mostly on the refection I see through the eyes of others. How I feel about myself depends entirely too much on which direction I look and whose eyes I look into. Is this why I choose to surround myself with people who love me, and avoid those with fleeting glances that say - you're not important? The truth is when I opened this neglected blog and read some earlier entries, it was the first time in a long time that I felt a sense of "me". I suppose that's why I decided to stamp 2011 into my blog. After alllll these years, "Expecting Flight" is still such a fitting title.