A little frustration with the "he's going to be a doctor" statement

This may be silly, but a few days ago, while at a volunteer event, another volunteer with a different organization had offered to do some "gravity demos." But while my frustration doesn't stem from him, it revolves around him and his slightly egoistical personality.

The story goes like this: one of the teachers asked him to say what his major was and he said "pre-med." She kindly translated that meant he was going to be a doctor. 

Stop right there. Pre-med means he is on the right track to be a doctor, sure. But does it mean that he's going to be one? No. All rationality aside (like this can be encouraging to the students, blah blah blah), it doesn't put him anywhere near the level of doctor. Not even in the "going to be" track. After seeing what my husband had to do just to get into med school to get to learn and have to prove himself worthy of the grades and ability to retain vast volumes of material; to be where he is today, middle of third year showing that he does have the ability to provide empathy and patient care, working (unpaid, and actually paying thousands of dollars) 12 hour shifts at the local teaching hospital just to get through the next set of tests at the end of each rotation. He's still a year and a half from having an MD and at least 4.5 years from getting to find a job as a practicing doctor. I remember when he was pre-med...those were the days we could travel and get into adventures together on a whim. Where he didn't have to worry about someone's life in his hands or the stress of financial burdens associated with the path to becoming a doctor. The stresses were still there, the push to get good grades, to study, to stand out, sure. But it was like lifting a two pound weight compared to the dumbbell now. But that's whatever, again, the pre-med volunteer didn't say it. 

Then later that evening, he, the volunteer, proceeded to pass on the knowledge that you have to do the experiment such and such way to get the right results, which I disagreed with, getting the results using another method (patience, actually). And then another incident where a teacher said that volunteer had said something that our experiment contradicted. And she, the teacher, took his word over science's. Ha. Worded like that, it actually sounds much more ironic. But anyway, I proceeded to combat the "fact" with logic (not having any prior knowledge to the experiment) and was able to convince her that the reverse could in fact be true. 

I guess my conclusion here is that a major doesn't dictate everything about a person. Because I majored in music, that doesn't mean I'm not logically or mathematically intelligent. Actually, I was torn between music ed and architecture. Would society see me as more of a success if I had opted for the architecture path as opposed to being a teacher? I think the answer is yes, sadly. And that right there is why teaching needs a better rap. Teachers should be the best in every field possible. They should be seen as successful and not pointing to future doctors as being higher members of society. Granted, an accomplished doctor (one who actually practices good patient care and works ethically) should be highly regarded, but so should those who excell at whatever career they've chosen. Teachers, waitresses, construction workers, sales people, etc. Priority should be on mastering what we do, not belittling one profession over another, or conversely, grandizing others. 

Well, that was a tangent of a ride. :)

Mixing Business with Pleasure


I recently acquired this fantastic business card holder from Y&R, an advertising agency super force, at the networking day I went to. It was full of tasty mints (not the crappy kind you usually get in freebies) which I decided I needed to eat so I had a place to put my business cards finally!

The supplies

While crafting for something else yesterday, I decided that the new mini-stamps I got (for $1 at AC Moore--the craft store of the Northeast!) were the perfect size for personalization. I started stamping several things until I realized that I could make the cuteness factor carry over into my professional brand. So I did! I stamped the case, coated it in the embossing powder, softly blew off the excess and used the heating tool to work my magic (alright, the chemical reaction isn't really magic). 

The finished product! (It's very sparkly)

And now my business cards have a traveling home!


Inspired by shoes, legos and the origins of Hallmark

Mark was nearing the end of his "independent study" and we just really wanted to have one last fabulous outing before he had to return to the grueling schedule a third year med student faces. So, we played the lottery for a Wednesday matinee showing of Kinky Boots. 

Winning the Lottery
For those who don't know, playing the lottery for a Broadway show slightly differs at each theatre, but in the case of Kinky Boots, you show up 2.5 to less than 2 hours before showtime (so for a 2pm show, the lottery starts at 11:30). When you show up, you find the table with the slips where you write your name. Each person present can win up to 2 tickets, and by "win," I mean "gets the chance to buy" certain tickets. Because Mark was there, we both got to put our name in the drawing, each aiming to win two tickets. If both of us would have won, we would have just declined the second pair. Kinky Boots typically gives out around 20 tickets, only 10 names, designated "partial view" priced at $37 each, which is a great deal considering the original tony-winning cast doesn't have any regular tickets priced under $75. But, for whatever reason (probably weekday matinee), they were giving out 40 lottery tickets! They close all lottery entries at 2 hours prior to showtime (so noon), and you must be present with a valid, matching ID to win. They mean business. 10 seconds to say you're here or they'll call the next name. So the people who were playing the lottery at Matilda's matinee and at Kinky Boots were being really optimistic. Anyway, the whole lottery drawing process really only takes about 15 minutes and can be quite entertaining! Kinky Boots gives out pins to wear announcing your victory. 

<tangent: We had previously played the lottery at Book of Mormon and were unsuccessful at winning tickets on a Saturday night. We played against over 200 other people for 22 tickets, most of which were front row orchestra seats!)>

We were really lucky to have my name called fourth, meaning we got to buy ticket numbers 7 & 8 (but really 3 & 4 because there was a larger group trying to see if they could win more tickets and get seated together!). So, we were sitting in the right box, second row! The couple behind me said not to spit on the cast; that's how close we were!

Me. And the stage. 😄

The Show
The show was fabulous! I love catchy books. And Cyndi Lauper knows catchy! I also love shows that make you reevaluate everything you know, while teaching valuable life lessons. In this case, I really opened my eyes to cross-dressing and accepting people for who they are. (Not as life changing as Wicked which asks my favorite question: is good vs. evil really so black and white? And it makes you question everything you ever knew including the clearly obvious good vs. bad witches in The Wizard of Oz.)

The costumes were outstanding. The characters were easy to catch on to but still very deep. And my favorite was Don because he reminded me of everything I hate about close-minded Texans and still grew to be a very decent human being. Oh, and the plot being centered around shoes was totally relatable! Good humor, not too cheesy, yadah, yadah. I loved it. Really I just want to highlight how I felt at the end. I'm a sapper. I cry when I see others cry and/or when cheesy music tells me to (among other motivators). Kinky Boots has a happy ending and I just couldn't stop crying. I'm pretty sure I made eye contact with several of the cast and they were probably like, "why the heck is that person bawling?" Uhg. But it was SO good. I just felt a flood of emotion. I told my husband I was crying because I didn't want it to end. But honestly, I just wasn't able to process so much emotional awesomeness that my body was like "must eject emotion somehow" and thought tears were better than standing up and shimmying. I approve of crying if torn between those two choices I guess... But they were definitely tears of happiness. Tears of fulfillment. Tears of "thank god other people want this world to be a more tolerable, loving, cheesy, fun, full of life place, too." And they were slightly embarrassing outward emotional neon-sign tears, but my heart was too full of joy to keep it all in. So. Good. 

At the end of the already tearfully amazing show, some of the cast members stayed on stage to let us know they were collecting donations for an even greater cause--we just had to look for the cast wearing the boots. Simply incredible, selfless acts. Why aren't these guys making the money of NFL players? 8 shows a week, man. And they work hard. 
Really annoying "awww" that accompanies really adorable couple pics. 

After the Show
My senses and emotions already spilling over the brim, we walked the half a block to the Art of the Brick at the Discovery Times Square. My MIL had bought us a Living Social deal so we could see the temporary exhibit. I went from one amazing expression of creativity to another. The Art of the Brick was fabulous also. Artist Nathan Sawaya seems like a cool dude. I loved his explanations on the pieces (why he created what he did, what it means, how he hopes to inspire young artists, etc.). We definitely had a great time in awe of his work. No more tears but one totally happy camper. Oh and did I mention I was reading a book called "Orbiting the Giant Hairball" written by a former Creative Director (and Creative Paradox) at Hallmark, Gordon MacKenzie, the whole subway ride home and back? Since the basis of Myramark originally started with greeting cards and wanting a "logo" like Hallmark, it was pretty awesome. And the author had such a cool life in such a wacky corporate world. Yeah. Life is bliss when in a constant state of inspired. 







Real life pixels! 


Paradise

I lived on a tropical island--most would say I've lived in Paradise. Well, Grenada was great, but I've had better.

I'm feel a little nostalgic for the warm weather as today heats up to 72 degrees in NY for presumably the last time for months, but also for the great family vacation I was so happy to enjoy in May. Just check out these photos and you'll wish you were right there with us, too!

We hopped on a little 8-seater plane and flew right above the main island of Grenada to a smaller sister island: Carriacou. 

We boarded a boat and set sail for Union Island.

We arrived to untouched, unparalleled beauty that surpassed any and all expectations. 

We spent our first night in Chatham Bay, flying a kite, picking up sea glass and just being in awe of our surroundings.

The next day, we headed up to Tobago Cays, a bit more touristy than the previous day but still a world apart from anywhere else we've been.

Our shaded part of the boat.

Family picture (minus my husband, who stayed home to study)

On shore...my sister chasing away the seagulls

View from on top of the tiny island. 

Beautiful little quirks everywhere. Here's a cute little shell affixed to an otherwise ordinary rock.

Random moments of fun at every turn. 

My parents making a splash! (with the help of some splashers)

Underwater cameras come in handy when you're snorkeling with turtles!!

Snorkels are hot.

I would love to recommend the Timshel and Footloose company! I meal planned for the trip (they have other options), and we ate on shore on one of the islands, so it came out to be quite a cost effective trip!

Introducing you to my favorite place on planet Earth. I hope to see the rest of the world, but I'd still be content if this remained my favorite. Introducing Mayreau (pronounced Myroo, or by me, Myra Island), and this is Salt Whistle Bay. Beyond the strip of island is the fierce (exaggerated) waves of the Atlantic Ocean, and inside the bay is a calm and peaceful oasis. The perfect place to dock for the night, to hike up the main part of the island and to set up my hammock forever.

My gorgeous sister!

From atop of Mayreau with my mom and sister. 

Our seemingly private island proved to be not quite so as evidenced by these four-legged footprints!

And this, my friends, is Paradise. 

...especially when you get to share it with the greatest people!

I wasn't kidding about my hammock. Also, check out my sister climbing a tree and my dad about to just sit in the shallow bay.

Bliss. Although, I do wish my husband was able to join. And even without that, bliss.
Even storm clouds are pretty! Unobstructed views make everything look incredible.

My family trying to be normal as we come ashore to Petite Martinique, the third named and smallest island of Grenada. It is our captain's home island and a perfect place to spend our last night to complete the ultimate Grenada and Grenadine adventure. 

My family, a little more realistically.

While we all looked great in the gorgeous golden-hour glow, my sister looked particularly amazing with her blue eyes and bright pink headband she purchased across the bay on Petite St. Vincent. 

The sunset did not disappoint. We sailed all the way home the next day. As we disembarked, and for the next several days, the ground seemed to have some extra motion underneath us, like our minds subconsciously wished we were still rocking at sea.

Back on the mainland--err, main island of Grenada, rejoined with my husband. 

Ready for the next family vacation, wherever that may be! 
...and one day, I will return to Myra Island with my husband and my hammock and bask yet again in Paradise. 

Yes, I do have a budget for my nails!

And those of you who know me know I'm not a girly girl.

While I really enjoy the pampered feeling I get along with getting a manicure and pedicure, I have found four greater reasons for including a nail category in my monthly budget!

1. BREAK A HABIT. My name is Myra and I'm a recovering nail-biter. I'd like to blame the awful habit on my dad, who is even worse than I am about picking and biting his nails, but let's be honest: that's just an excuse. And habits are hard to break. Even with my husband constantly bugging me to stop. It's a habit. And I'm almost free from it! Since moving to New York, I have managed to keep my hands out of my mouth! Getting a weekly manicure significantly helps me to not bite my nails. Biting typically stems from seeing a hanging nail or imperfection in the cuticle and working to "fix" it by biting off the loose epidermis. (I feel a lot more grossed out about nail biting when I talk about the actual act rather than just obliviously doing it.) So, when my nails are properly manicured, I lose the excuse to "fix" them! My manicures started out with really short nails but have eventually grown to be a very comfortable length that looks natural; no longer stubby! I keep them short compared to most people while I get used to the couple of extra centimeters I have on the end of my fingers. Sadly, I have scratched myself in the eye and some other weird "I forgot my fingers were longer" things when they've been a little too long. But I just laugh and smile because I have finger nails again!

2. CHEAP. For some reason, manicures are INSANELY cheap in my neighborhood. Within a ten minute walk, there are approximately thirteen nail salons. I go back and forth between the two that are less than two minutes from my place. Almost every one of them runs the same special: Mon-Wed, Mani and Pedi for FOURTEEN DOLLARS!! Yes, $14US dollars. Regularly, it's $16. That's still cheaper than just a pedicure near the place I lived in Fort Worth. But, that's a little out of budget, and my toes don't need a weekly pedicure. I just throw some crackle polish on top and they're good for several weeks. So, I instead opt for the any-day-of-the-week $6 manicure. Yeah, that could be an order of Chinese food or a drink during happy hour, but it could mean that my nails stay out of my mouth and looking pretty for a week. When manicures are $6/week, I'll find room in the budget for that!

3. HEALTH. When I taught elementary school, I had the best immune system out of all first year teachers, people who most notoriously get sick from exposure to all the new germs that come from your students. I like to think I've got such a great immune system because I'm so good at sharing! Germaphobes aside, anyone who wanted a taste of my smoothie or to double dip their fries never bothered me. I'm guessing I just built up a pretty good tolerance. But my medical minded husband is very quick to remind me just how dirty New York City is. How many times you come into contact with something that thousands of other people have touched, like the subway poles. And I know he's right. Subway germs are not something I want to be putting into my mouth. So sitting for a long period of time, when I'd normally be biting my nails unknowingly, I am now able to consciously keep my nails free from the grip of my teeth and trapped on my hands (or sleeves--I'm learning!) until I get home and wash them first thing!

4. SELF-CONFIDENCE. The last reason I'm willing to allot money for such a luxury is because it makes a tremendous difference on my self-confidence. Think about it. My hands are something I see all the time. And when I see ugly, stubby fingers that I'm constantly chewing on, I feel grossly unattractive. But now, I look down when I'm typing and see nails! I type on my phone and feel the tap from my short, squared and painted tip. I play my trumpet and look at how beautiful my fast moving fingers flow through the scale patterns. I love it. I love feeling pretty. It's amazing, and maybe a little sad, how my confidence relies so much on the beauty of my hands. But it is what it is. And my self-confidence is much closer to where it should be thanks to getting to look at some lovely hands all day long! Even my wedding ring looks prettier! :D

And speaking of my husband, he is 110% in favor of this. He sees the improvement in my confidence, knows I'm healthier, loves looking at my beautiful hands and no longer has to constantly pester me to stop biting. He will actually remind me to go get a manicure when my polish starts chipping. He's more than ok skipping out on Starbucks and Chinese to have a happier wife! He's pretty special.

What does that mean for my budget? Well, if I budget a pedicure a month, plus four manicures (and a little extra incase the month happens to fall with 5 weeks on the day I get manicures), then I would need to set aside about $40. The unused money rolls

These are NOT my nails; they're a friend of mine's! I loved them so much, I took a picture and left it as the lock screen on my phone for motivation.

These are not how my nails look after a manicure! This is after my husband and I volunteered at a community center. The white is primer splatter from a roller. It just goes to show how pretty I think my hands are that I'd take a picture  with my husband's hand even with them covered in paint splatter and unpainted <well, sort of> nails! 

And here's how my nails look after a mani/pedi! I'd say I'm spoiled, but we're making the necessary sacrifices to reap the rewards! 

Fall Roses

Using leaves from a beautiful tree on our block, I made a bouquet to 'fall' up our place. I used the leaves soon after they fell off the tree so they were still pliable enough to fold yet not too brittle to crackle. Each rose is about 7 leaves wrapped around each other. About a week later, after the moisture all dried up, I sprayed a gloss coat and sprinkled some glitter to give them a wet sparkle. They turned out absolutely lovely. We never see leaves this red in Texas! Definitely keeping these as a souvenir of the Northeast! 

Before glitter
With shine and glitter
In the vase that we got from the Museum of Art and Design gift shop!


Posted from my iPhone. 

Big, Big World. Meet Little Ol' Me



Originally posted 26 Oct 2012 18:50 by Myra Mills Tschirhart on a previous blog from living in Grenada.


I often get frustrated by others' unwillingness to believe they can in fact change the world.  Because if they write off that they can do it, they probably have little faith that I can.  I do not come from wealth, I do not have famous parents (though my dad had VP Dick Chaney's hard drive lurking in his office shortly after he was elected...that's almost famous), I don't have a law degree from Harvard <yet>, but I do believe that somehow, I will make a difference.  Yes, it would be wonderful if it was as the first woman President.  But if not, as long as I am affecting the masses with positive change, I will call it a win.  My hope is that I can achieve this big, lofty fulfillment through legislation writing or lobbying for change in public education, its perceptions and the inclusiveness and importance placed on Fine Arts.  And that, though very far off, could happen.

Yesterday, I took part in a lovely excursion to the neighboring Glover Island.  And when I say neighboring, I mean almost a stone's throw.  It's not really much.  More than a comfortable swim, but not big enough to qualify as a separate island.  However, I see this beautiful piece of land from campus quite often; I have longed to take the short hop to get to it.  When the opportunity came up with the orientation staff, I was super excited!  We I arrived at 9am (Grenadian time...), and it took four trips to get our team there.  I was in the pioneering group (the first four of us to go), and when we left "the jetty" from the safety and familiarity of campus, I was amazed at how much further away that island was!  A relatively unexciting 5 minutes later (thank God--that boat was small and fragile as it was) we were close enough to dock on the island, assuming we could find a place where the waves weren't going to destroy the boat against the rocks.  10 minutes later, when we found that spot, then the real test began.  Getting off the boat.   Luckily, there are no horror stories to tell from this trip, so I won't build up the anticipation.  But what I had always seen as the tiny island of Glover's took me 45+ minutes to circumnavigate (would have probably taken less had I been able to put the camera away!).  And you know what, it was bigger than I ever thought possible.  I left my comfort zone as one of the brave pioneers, I flung myself from a shabby boat on to the opposite shore full of rocks, and I conquered an island that I had stared at so many times before.  For some reason, this little island, overshadowed by much larger little islands, has given me hope.  

Little 'ol me, we're gonna be alright.  How do I know this?  Because every person and every place is special once you truly discover it.  Never forget this.  Once discovered, the little appearance you may have had carries so much more impact--and suddenly, being little means so much less because being uniquely you is so much grander.  

You can often measure a person by the size of his dream.  -Robert H. Schuller

The Caribbean

Grenada and her sister isles

The south part of Grenada and a little speck called Glover Island

The Jetty

The view of campus along the ride

Our driver and a close-up of the boat