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1tinerant -

Last Build Date: Thu, 09 Sep 2004 14:46:16 GMT



Thu, 09 Sep 2004 14:46:16 GMT

In case you didn't already know, my main blog is (image) all2swift. I've added all of you to that blog; I'm hoping to be able to continue reading protected entries.


Go Girl

Tue, 17 Aug 2004 03:44:25 GMT

It's late. I should be sleeping, work or no. Unfinished studying or no. Yet here I am, typing with a single hand, cajoling (pleading to) my daughter to sleep. Hoping she might. Knowing she won't.

My little girl has grown. I don't know how she did it, but today she was suddenly that much bigger. She has more coordinated movements, too. Rather than simply slapping my glasses, she actually grabs and rips them off now.

Ah, there. She's asleep, finally - which means I can, too.

I think I'll just sit with her a little while longer.


Sat, 07 Aug 2004 04:34:47 GMT

I'm on call. This means I'm sitting in the hospital at one of the approximately 1,694 computers generally looking annoyed. Vague annoyance goes well with being in the hospital setting, because this increases the activation energy required for others to bother a fellow sitting at computer 728 of 1694.

Anyways, what I'm really doing is looking through my online picture albums, trying to look annoyed. Because I'm really not. I'm actually just slightly wistful, wishing I could see my wife and daughter, lifesize and in analog, without pixels and mouse clicks. Can't beat the real thing. Oh, what a feeling.

You're as old as I if you recognize the allusions I just made.

Therefore. Goals for the next four hours:
1. Avoid pages.
2. Avoid nurses.
3. Avoid patients (who should be sleeping, but for the beeping, the blood draws, the uninvited interruptions through the night).
4. Sleep.
5. Survive.
6. Get home.
7. Don't worry.
8. Be happy.

There is no spoon.

10 days

Sat, 17 Jul 2004 18:45:25 GMT

It's like I've joined some sort of club. Not one of those exclusive clubs, but rather a massive international conglomerate. You're in or you're out. Parenthood is something no one can read or hear about and know. It's just that impossible.

But, anyways, this club. A nurse I don't know particularly well stopped by and asked me how my wife and daughter were. His son was born 12 days ago. We talked for ten minutes, the best of friends. He asked me about my sleep schedule, and I asked him about his. All the things we worried about. And the amazing facial expressions our kids could do. Things I could only guess about eleven days ago. I left him with a broad smile that matched my own.

I've never been so happy to be so tired.(image)

Tue, 06 Jul 2004 13:29:20 GMT

We saw the obstetrician today. We're told within the next week.(image)

Catch 22Let's Get Retarded-Black Eyed Peas

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 03:47:05 GMT

You know what sucks? This does. Sitting up, thinking I should sleep, but knowing what's about to happen when I do. Should I even bother? I'm so groggy when I sleep for a half hour and get paged to the emergency room. I hate that feeling. For the most part, I'd rather just stay up until the patient gets here from the outside hospital. Do my job, call one of my attending (read: bossman, guy up there, hire and fire type power) surgeons, let him know the deal, and then do my flap check (make of it what you will) before turning in. Probably around four. Which is why this sucks. Because I'm getting up at 5:30, damn it all. Actually, tomorrow, I'd best be up by 5. So what to do? Sleep twenty minutes, try for forty winks? Or stay up, and work on my laptop to finish a bit more of the second presentation? I'm undecided, which makes things worse. Screw it. I'm making the bed, since the janitors never do, and trying for sleep.

This guarantees that I'll be paged the moment I lie down.(image)

Last Hurrah (Before the Good Part)Virgin Radio UK

Mon, 21 Jun 2004 00:50:51 GMT

We spent the day together, being lazy and productive in turns. Just the two of us. One of the last days we’ll have to care only about ourselves. Soon, everything will change. I’d be sad if I weren’t so happy. Saving for college, using the computer for photo and video editing. Our time alone is about to end. The era arrived and is rapidly receding. Any moment now, we’re off, only to return with a new family. I’m thrilled; I can’t wait.

And yet, still, I’d like today to last just a while longer.(image)


Wed, 16 Jun 2004 14:57:51 GMT

Many thanks to (image) peterhuang and (image) dilly. I've discovered a rare talent for generating text ads, which is the new thing among my admittedly small circle of gmail friends - as though it were a game of checkers. We email one another to see who can get the most, and best, text ads. Heh. Thus far, WEDDING, SPAM, EMAIL, and STOCKS seem to be the best words. And OOOH!

Even OTOLARYNGOLOGIST generates a text message. King me.(image)

Best BellyStuck in a Moment (Acoustic)-U2

Sat, 12 Jun 2004 16:52:53 GMT

I like to put my cheek up against mom's belly and talk. Just jabber about anything: the weather, the dirty dishes, our plans for the night or the future. The bigger the belly, the more I talk. It's as though someone I've never met has suddenly become a best friend. Want to know what I did today? I'll ask. She'll kick a reply, or wiggle her butt. Then I'll begin, making no sense and speaking without a plan. Just like that. She'll be born in a matter of weeks, and I'll be ecstatic when she arrives.

Still, I'll miss the belly talks.(image)

Ronald ReaganThe Scientist-Coldplay-A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Tue, 08 Jun 2004 22:06:47 GMT

He's the Republican JFK. I don't know why, but he is. Sad but sweet but strange but true.(image)

The Big ScreenVirgin Radio UK

Thu, 03 Jun 2004 19:27:58 GMT

I got up and looked around today. Realized the blockbusters are out, and that I want to see some. As in all.

Man. I miss summer vacation.(image)

On Blogs, BrieflyBreakfast at Tiffany's-Deep Blue Something

Sat, 22 May 2004 03:24:38 GMT

I think I've posted this on someone else's blog, once. It's still true, though.

There’s something truly remarkable about the blog phenomenon. These days, anyone can write anything for an international audience at once ready and willing. The opportunities are boundless.

Many have taken advantage, typing their thoughts for all to read. Yet the substance of these entries is sometimes less interesting than the style of presentation. After all, most of what we read has been said before - and better, besides. Particularly with respect to the contents of this entry, which boasts little to no originality whatsoever.

But I digress. Presentation is key. The insight may be belabored, so long as the telling is unique. The various and sundry backgrounds of those who choose to blog (some rather well, others distinctive in their own right) serve to make web logs at once addictive and compelling.

Of course, stale, redundant online journals exist in large numbers. They simply make the clever ones scintillate. That said, I require a savvy approach which will cajole me into the depth of an entry. My absent attention span simply won’t tolerate dry, chalky discourse. The experience must be at once entertaining and engaging. Hence blogs improve over time as their writers discover style and finesse. Practice makes perfect.

And I need practice.


Say "Uncle"

Thu, 13 May 2004 16:52:24 GMT

So I went to New York last Sunday. I left the hospital after a twenty-five hour shift and drove my wife and her cousin down a state. I like the city, though it's really not THE City, as its residents would have everyone believe. I prefer London. A bit more history, more quixotic, and arguably more cosmopolitan. But also more expensive, unfortunately.

That said, my brother likes NYC. I went to visit with him, but he was stuck at the office. He came downstairs to the Au Bon Pain, and the two of us had tea together. He also snuck me up to see the offices of his law firm. A half hour with my only brother. He was planning to work until midnight. It was three in the afternoon.

Neither of us has ever enjoyed a forty-hour work week.

I think we spend so much time clawing our way up in the world that we forget to do the little things. The ones that matter. Too bad we can't all be independently wealthy. But then we'd all be poor again.

Anyways, if you're reading this, I'm holding you to that promised visit in a couple weeks. And when your 'bestest' niece is born, she had better have her favorite uncle around to play with. You know, the one who will spoil her rotten.

Heck, I'll even let you change diapers.(image)

Just a Look, ActuallyBabyface-U2

Sun, 02 May 2004 18:04:55 GMT

Ever see Love, Actually? We saw it last night. I rather liked it, really. I mean Keira Knightley was fantastic, as she always is, being made for looking at, especially when she smiles. But she wasn’t the reason the movie was a good one. Surprising, I know, but true. I just liked, well, the Natalie character. And the story between Colin Firth’s character, an author, and the Portuguese girl for whom he falls. Deeply, too. Heels over head over heels.

As deeply as might be expected from a fairly light-hearted comedy, of course. I just like the idea that the two couldn’t speak, yet came together all the same. And that the director coupled an actor just past his prime with an actress who wasn’t picture perfect. Not quite the usual odd couple in possession of movie star good looks. As though they each fell in love looking at what the other did. Love of motion, the grace in little things.

I’m delving too far into a superficial film, of course. But probably only because I fell for her that way. Ten years ago, legs crossed, casting an occasional glance my way. Pursing her lips in a secret smile when our eyes met. Couldn’t hold her gaze that night. And not six months later, either, when we played volleyball. She even fell asleep, curling into a half moon on the couch, when we watched our first movie together. Much Ado About Nothing. And so it wasn’t.

It was love, actually, at first look.(image)


Tue, 27 Apr 2004 03:05:37 GMT

It's reassuring to see the world is, in fact, round when one looks out the window during a forty-hour day.

One Ring to Rule Them All

Fri, 09 Apr 2004 15:59:51 GMT

I'm (un)wired. Don't say you can't reach me.

PrivatizationVirgin Radio UK

Wed, 07 Apr 2004 00:22:30 GMT

Yah. I think I'm going to follow the lead of several peers, and go friends only on most entries. Such is life.

A Little Something

Mon, 05 Apr 2004 00:17:38 GMT

My hospital call schedule has been brutal lately. I’ve lived the last eight days as four long ones. I’m so drained I can’t seem to hold a phone conversation. What I should do is sleep. I want to. But I can’t.

Insomnia sucks. Now more than ever.(image)

Squatter's RightsEine Kleine - THE Mozart

Mon, 29 Mar 2004 03:45:03 GMT

Man. I just looked up our baby’s, and the domain’s available. Maybe I had better reserve it now.

I still can't believe my name's been taken.(image)

WhiplashDoctor Robert-The Beatles

Fri, 26 Mar 2004 22:12:13 GMT

I was driving to work on I-95 when it happened. The oil tanker ahead of me turned on its side, skidded onto the bridge, and burst into a fireball. The flames seemed to just miss the hood of my car, and I could feel the heat. My ears screamed with the concussive wave of the explosion. Cars behind me were screeching to a stop. I could just make out a figure struggling to escape from the upturned cab of the oil tanker. I scrambled out of my car, breaking into a dead run. I don’t know what I was thinking. I headed straight towards him. I evaded the spreading lake of fire, leapt onto the cab, and tried to pull the driver out. By then, two others had come to help, and we were able to carry him away before the bridge collapsed.

Actually, that didn’t happen. There was a burning tanker, it was I-95, and everyone did escape with their lives. I just wasn’t there.

Trust me, though. That’s how my day was.(image)

Wed, 24 Mar 2004 16:58:48 GMT

I can't decide if this is terribly sad or kinda cool.

Hip Hop(You Drive Me) Crazy-Britney Spears

Wed, 24 Mar 2004 04:46:22 GMT

I’ve got a dry run for a presentation at the New England Otolaryngology Society to give, so I should probably be sleeping right now. Actually, I should be rehearsing the talk. After all, my program director and the department chair will be in attendance tomorrow morning. Instead, I’m listening to Britney Spears oldies and wondering if, fifteen years from now, my daughter will tell me I’m embarrassing her and to please go away so she can hang out with her friends.

I’ll mope, worrying about “boys.” She’ll be worrying about boys, too, but of course we’ll have opposite ideas about the subject. I don’t know what’s so great about boys, really. Honest. I guess I’ll have to leave, trying to be cool in front of her friends (cause it’d be awesome to hear “wow, your dad is really cool” as I go). Man, I really hope I can be cool.

It’s like high school all over again.(image)

Oh yeah, babyGirl All The Bad Guys Want-Bowling For Soup

Tue, 23 Mar 2004 01:55:46 GMT

As seen on MTV Cribs.

Who Invited You-The Donnas

Thu, 18 Mar 2004 23:23:32 GMT

Wanna know what I was thinking today? Wanna know? I thought to myself, oh god, what if she wants a cell phone? She's in utero, and I want to know if she's going to want a cell phone. Um, yeah. That's clever.



Thu, 18 Mar 2004 04:48:22 GMT

So I'm sitting in the surgical ICU at the edge of life. I think I'm trying to have an early midlife crisis the day before I turn 29. The thirty-one minutes before I turn twenty-nine. I don't know why I'm even awake right now. I should be sleeping. Or reading.

I should be home. Or drive a really fast car. One of those red fiberglass ones with the gills on the side and tinted windows that can readily go from zero to sixty in first gear. Stupid Ferrari family. Gas costs $3 now. Bow to my Honda and be humble.

I should really get off this computer. I don't even know why I'm here. I wandered in to check on a few patients, but that's done. Time to tuck in. Tomorrow's just another day. A day where I get to be almost thirty. There were three things I wanted to do before thirty. Just three. Each one leading to the next. The last is about to happen.

I'm at the edge of life. Can't wait to hold her in my arms.(image)