The Hunger Games

I have added another series of books to my all time favorite reads. The Hunger Games. While this may be jumping on the popular bandwagon, I don't care. Sometimes (just sometimes) things are popular for a reason (except for skinny jeans. Those will always be a bad idea.)

I've already expressed my love for dystopian novels. Combine that with a ease of reading that come with young adult writing, the complete page-turner adventure, and beautiful character development of Suzanne Collin's novels, and these novels are just about perfect.
















I've already confessed that I have a hard time putting down a book once I've started it. But with these two books, it was almost a physical effort for me to close the book, put it down, and walk away. I was nearly late for work twice while reading these, because I became completely engrossed in the story while eating my cereal, only to look up at the clock in a panic.

The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, the first two books in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games Trilogy, take place in the not-too-far future, in the remains of what used to be North America. Now, The Capitol, a large prosperous city, rules the surrounding 12 Districts with a combination of a heavy hand and emotional suppression. Each year, The Capitol reminds the Districts of their complete domination by requiring each District to send two children, a boy and a girl, to The Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games, televised gladiator-esque survivor games, where the only way to win and get the chance to go home is to be the last one standing. The games are quite literally, a battle to the death.

Katniss Everdeen is a 16 year old girl who finds herself headed to the Hunger Games through an sacrificial act of love.

Beyond that, I don't want to reveal any more of the storyline. Because you absolutely must read these books yourself. And then let me know what you think, because I'm dying to talk to people about these books!

It is rare to get a novel with a strong female as a main character and have the novel still be appealing to male and female readers. But given the fact that Hubster read these books even faster as I did (lucky guy, staying home all day), I would say Collins succeeded in that regard.

Every page is suspenseful, each chapter ending left me hanging in such a way that I had to keep reading. Although, be warned, while young adult, the story lives up to it's theme and is violent and often jarring. It's probably not appropriate for readers under the age of 13.

But more than the suspense and captivating story, are the characters. Collins makes her characters so multi-layered, so full of subtleties, they are completely believable.

Katniss has been in survival mode nearly her whole life, being the primary means of support for her family since the death of her father. While this mind-set prepares her for the emotional and physical onslaught of the Games, it has not made her aware of people. While completely devoted to her little sister, she has an inability to read other people, to empathize, and to relate. This, combined with her nearly subconscious sense of superiority makes her a flawed, thus likable heroine.

The Hunger Games delve into the destructive decadency of modern society, the inequalities created by complete power, the hopeless acceptance of the oppressed, and the effects of exposure to violence. Ultimately, it asks what will you give, and what will you take, to maintain one's humanity?

The third and final book of the trilogy, Mockingbird, comes out in August. I plan on having it in my hands the day it is released and not letting go for the rest of the ride.

Another Foot Shot

Happiness is...

Sun, sand, and pink toenails!


Even better if they are all together!

(And yes, it is the same pink as in my profile picture. I love that color. At least it's a different beach. Although I'm pretty sure I prefer being at the one in my profile picture. But honestly, I'm not picky.)

Go visit Leigh at Leigh vs. Laundry for The Happiness Project and post a picture of what makes you happy.

Acquired

One year ago today, we finished loading a U-Haul truck and pulled out of our apartment in Utah to begin our new life in Iowa.

It's been difficult, it's been demanding, it's been occasionally lonely. New beginnings always are. But there has not been a single day that I've regretted it.

I was told over and over that I would miss the mountains. That I would miss Utah. But I don't. I miss my family. Almost more than I can say. But I'm not "homesick" in anyway.

This is my home.

In some ways, I feel that this is where I was always supposed to be.

I had no intention of every ending up in the Midwest. I knew that eventually, I would leave Utah, but I was sure I would end up somewhere along the West Coast. Most of the residency interviews I did were in places less than a day's drive from a coast of some sort. The only place I interviewed in the Midwest was Iowa. And that I did on a last second recommendation from my residency director.

As the interview process went on, I became more and more frustrated with the programs. Nothing was quite what I wanted. Either the program was lacking, or the area was one I could not picture living with my family.

There was one interview in particular, that was in a place Hubster and I had always dreamed of living. The interview was a complete disaster. Throughout the course of the interview, I got left behind by the group, lost in the hospital, yelled at by one interviewer, and mocked regarding my political views by another. There could not have been a worse interview. I called Hubster in tears, saying that there was no way we could do residency at this place. My interview at Iowa could not have gone differently. People were friendly, I instantly connected with many of the other residents.

Looking back, it feels that this was always the place we were supposed to be.

Yes, we left behind scenic mountains, milder winters, Costco, Ikea, familiarity, and family.

We also left behind a small apartment, inversions (if you're from Salt Lake you know about this), crowded interstates, endless commutes, road rage, snow in May, snow in September, lawns that will never stay green, poor air qualify, underfunded schools, and horrid neighbors.

Here in Iowa, we've acquired tornado warnings, humid summers, subzero winters, and more bugs.

We've also acquired a slower pace of life, our own home, fantastic schools, quiet, Panera, plenty of space, ground that grows anything, beautiful springs, amazing autumns, fireflies, and cardinals.

We've acquired home.

Taking Up The Slack

Hubster submitted his application for dental school today.

We celebrated all of his hard work by going out to one of our favorite local restaurants, which blessedly is a loud one, so no one could hear the wailings of nap-deprived children.

I don't have a doubt in my mind that he is going to get in. He's had 15 years of work experience, rare in a field where many go from high school to college to graduate school. He's done everything from manual labor to technical research. He has test scores and grades well above average. And he's just simply amazing.

All we have to do is sit back and wait for interview season in the fall.

I know he'll get in.

And it scares me just a little.

Over the years, our lives have been very complicated. We've juggled multiple schedules and responsibilities. And one of the only reasons we've been able to make this work is because of Hubster. He's been there for me. He's the one who took time off work when my schedule was too crazy. He's the one who's been responsible for shuttling kids to school and activities. He's taken up the slack that I've left for years.

But soon, he'll have something that demands just as much of him as my profession does of me. He'll be the one with all night study session before exams and unexpected evening labs. He'll be the one with unpredictable clinical rotation schedules.

It's absolutely his turn. He's earned it. I feel privileged that I'll have the opportunity to support him as he has supported me.

But it means there will be two of us, working as hard as we can. Not that hard work scares us. We're used to it.

But there will still be our precious boys to take care of, a house to tend to, meals to be made and clothes to be cleaned. And I wonder, who will be left to take up the slack?

The Start of Summer

Is it really June already? That just snuck up on me out of no where.

Oh, summer, how happy I am that you are here. I've missed you so. It will take several months of hot, humid days to thaw out the parts of me that froze during the harsh Midwestern winter. So, bring it on. Bring on the sun, the heat, the lazy days. We are ready.

Need proof?

Here's some of what we've already been doing...

Al fresco dining.


Feeding the ducks.


Renaissance Festival.



Playing at the park.



Enjoying the lake.


This is absolutely my favorite season. I plan on enjoying every single moment I can.

Likable

I like to think of myself as a likable person. A nice, friendly, easy to get along with person.

(I'm sure if you cornered Hubster, he could tell all sorts of tales about my strong opinions and meltdowns and other things that can make me not-so-nice of a person. But I'm talking about generalities here.)

I'm pretty easy going, non-confrontational, and like I said before, nice. At least that's what I want to think.

Several months ago, I had a very difficult time during residency. I vaguely mentioned it here. Most of that difficulty was because of one person. A single person that did all they could to make my life miserable. At first, I thought this person was just a rude, unhappy person. After all, I had seen them belittle nursing staff, condescend pharmacists, humiliate medical students. But as the month progressed, the meanness, while still generalized, was more vindictive when directed towards me. And it hurt. Initially, I tried apologizing for whatever I may have done to frustrate them...not work hard enough, not study enough, whatever. But no matter how hard I worked, this person only became more difficult to work with. It got to the point they were sabotaging not only my professional appearance, but my ability to safely take care of patients. I talked to senior members of the team, without any success. By the time it came to attention of administration, I had gone off service.

Here's the point where I have to be honest. I've talked about my horrid experience with this person to my colleagues. I've mentioned their name. I did nothing to repair any of the damage that was done.

For months, I've known that someone in the hospital hated me. Luckily, being in different specialties, we haven't seen each other.

Until now. We ended up on the same service for (thankfully) a brief time. I had been dreading this for weeks. And the first day, it was every bit as awkward and painful as I thought it was going to be. This person didn't even acknowledge that I was part of the team, or even in the room.

Every instinct I had wanted to go and apologize for the terrible interaction we had so many months ago.

But I didn't. Although I may have been wrong in sharing the treatment I received with so many people, I know for a fact I did not deserve that treatment. But it is obvious that this person still can not stand me.

And this is what makes me wonder.

I've had some unpleasant interactions throughout residency. Where people just don't like me.

So, I like to think that I'm nice, likable, and friendly. But maybe I'm not as likable as I think I am. Maybe I'm not as sweet as I try to be.

I just can't stand the thought there is someone out there who doesn't like me. I know that person will never like me. I doubt there is anything I can do to change their opinion. And maybe, in this case, I'll be okay with being unlikable. Because here, the alternative doesn't feel good either.

Should I Be Worried?

There are times when I think I should either put the book down or get up from the computer. Times when I hear things like this from the boys room...

"And now! It's time for human versus gravity."

No good can come from that statement.

Or when I hear Monkey start crying, followed by Bug saying, "Shh. What percent are you hurt?"

I'm pretty sure if they need me, they'll let me know.

Monkey comes and grabs me, leading me to the bathroom. "Look at my friend," he says, pointing in the mirror.

Surely, we can come up with some better friends than that.

Last week, Monkey underwent (for the 358,932 time) a meltdown at the dinner table. When we could get him calmed down enough to understand him, we asked what was wrong.

"I don't want to turn into a frog on Monday!" he blubbered and melted in a pool of tears again.

No amount of reassurance seems to persuade him this would not happen. What are we doing as parents to instill this fear into him?

The conversation that sums up my kids' feelings about shopping.

Me: You kids were really good in the store.
Bug: Good enough to not go to another one?

Nothing like your own children to make you wonder what kind of parent you are.