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Silence... - Nobody wears a white coat any more...
...a tribute to becoming a doctor.
ayradyss
ayradyss
Silence...
So many things have happened since I posted last.  And so many of them - I keep thinking "I need to write about that." 

And I don't know why I haven't.

Mom got me a book for Christmas.  It's a book of stories by an Internal Medicine resident.  I started it and then I put it down.  I like reading the stories.  But I wish I could put together something like that of my own.  It would mean something to me, to know someone cared enough to buy it. 

Doing some LJ-rearranging; I may be moving the meat of this journal elsewhere - somewhere that doesn't have quite the networked identity that this one has, somewhere where I'm not bombarded by service status changes every few weeks.  I don't quite know yet.  I made a new journal on blogspot with a pretty new name that I liked; I'm in the process of copying all 1200+ LJ entries over to a backup on blogspot (just a journal duplication, for now).  I stared at the blank new journal with its pretty new name, and I thought.
I should write something.

And I can't.  Instead, I've been reading journal entries from years back, and I'm amazed at how this has evolved.  Go back to the early-medical-school entries - in 2002 - and then come back to 2008 and read them.  It's a different voice.  Somewhere along the line I stopped talking to myself and started talking to someone else. 

I like it better that way.  It's certainly more interesting for me to read.  But I've hit a wall, suddenly, staring at the pretty new blank journal.  It reminds me of when everything was in notebooks, and I filled an old one, and I got out a new one (I have an extensive collection of blank notebooks) and stared at it, afraid that I would write something that wasn't worthy of being written down.
I have an extensive collection of notebooks which I have filled with things and probably many of them didn't need to be written down, but in the end it didn't matter, did it?

For New Years, O Best Beloved, I resolve to stop asking for someone else's approval for everything I do.
9 whispers echo . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word
Comments
buggrit_1979 From: buggrit_1979 Date: January 8th, 2009 05:55 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
I approve. ;)

Don't entirely leave LJ tho... I mean, if you move over to this other site, link us to your entries at least. Someof us deal badly with change and the likelihood of moving off eljay is somewhere between slim and none, unless and until the buyout forces it. And I don't want to miss your infrequent entries. <3 I miss you guys.
ayradyss From: ayradyss Date: January 8th, 2009 06:10 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
And I miss you too, darlin'.
From: (Anonymous) Date: January 8th, 2009 10:20 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
I think you should also resolve to be proud of the beautiful, talented, intelligent woman you are, and to recognize that others (including me) look up to you and are amazed by the integrity, compassion, and capability with which you do everything you do. I think you should resolve to see how amazing you are when you're looking at yourself through someone else's eyes.

I love you. Chelle

I also give you permission for anything you need permission for. :)
ayradyss From: ayradyss Date: January 8th, 2009 10:26 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
Little sister makes me cry FTW :)
shoebucket From: shoebucket Date: January 9th, 2009 02:02 am (UTC) (etched in stone)
[I] stared at it, afraid that I would write something that wasn't worthy of being written down.

You have so clearly and concisely stated what I have been feeling for a LONG time. My journal used to be a "social gathering" sort of situation for me. I had a group of friends who were always active on LJ (many of us had traversed from a Facebook predecessor, CollegeClub) and we were always reading about each other's lives and commenting and laughing and having a good time. It really kind of jaded my journaling habits, as I used my journal less and less for actually posting my own inner thoughts as a means of documenting them; instead just posting what I wanted people to read and respond to. I want to reclaim it for myself, but am unsure if I can continue in such a manner here, in this community. Mayhap I can set up an RSS feed or somesuch that will post entries of my choosing in both the new and this old familiar place.

I concur with the whole "please don't leave us!" sentiments; your entries have always captivated me, even though I usually remain one of the silent lurkers on the outskirts. If you would be so kind, please keep us in the loop. :-)
winktwice From: winktwice Date: January 9th, 2009 04:11 am (UTC) (etched in stone)
I know I'm a new (audience member? friend?) but I fall in with the "don't leave us" sentiment... I've found that I keep two journals...one I literally only have five or so friends on--only two of whom I think actually read it--that one I say all the stuff I wouldn't want to deal with other people's comments about. The other is my regular journal. I don't feel like I'm hiding by doing this, or dividing myself because in real life I only bleed on select people, and it makes sense to have the same on journals... Although, I write in the ultra small-group (the ka-tet journal ;) ) journal pretty rarely nowadays...
ayradyss From: ayradyss Date: January 9th, 2009 03:54 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
It's interesting, isn't it, the public and private selves?
winktwice From: winktwice Date: January 9th, 2009 06:27 pm (UTC) (etched in stone)
they are mostly the same selves that make up the one person...and that person tends to be offensive...I guess I feel like if I'm going to be offensive and misunderstood, I'd rather save that for in-person encounters rather than what I write on the internet...
pwwka From: pwwka Date: January 11th, 2009 12:31 am (UTC) (etched in stone)
I have a private diary -- there are many things I can't say in so public a place as LiveJournal. Things that probably shouldn't be said, or things which wouldn't get the response I would like from my lovely, combative readers. The response, or imagined response, can kill my hands and mind -- and yet it is that response I crave. When I was writing my diary for myself alone, I wrote very few entries. When I imagined I was writing to an audience of one sort of other, the pages filled. Perhaps that need to have a reader is also a need for approval. At the very least, it is something of a conscience -- I can't just say a thing without explaining it. Which makes the writing better, admittedly.

Ah, for those many empty notebooks.
9 whispers echo . o O ( ... ) O o . whisper a word