GID

something is testing my limits.

pushing me to the edges.

yesterday.

another meeting.

board room.

"Gender Identity Disorder."

something is testing me.

but showing me.

the other side.

the way "they" operate.

and it makes my voice louder.

i stand taller.

something is happening

here.

tensions.

an interesting day.

i attended a medical research day conference.

swanky.

a room. covered in medical students, "professionals"...

and me.

it started with a type of speech or presentation.

something along the lines of "Qualitative research can carry a lot of useful information, i think"

and my attention was caught.

questions. with answers.

and language.

no one's doing anything about language.

a common ground?

how are we supposed to understand one another?

work collaboratively?

and my research meant nothing today.

quantitative. graphs. medication. and so it started.

i carried myself with a smile.

but had little to share.

because my interests were not interesting today.

at medical research day.

and then something.

another presentation. 

a whole slot of presentations allocated to interprofessional education and collaboration.

something brilliant.

the notion of power.

an interest in power/knowledge - Foucault.

the medical gaze.

i watched as the doctor's squirmed in their seats.

tension.

tension.

tension.

i am learning about education.

about the way health care professionals are educated.

about the way they could be educated...to work collaboratively.

to decrease or eliminate stereotypes and hierarchy. the tensions that separate them from one another.

but mostly..an education design that could possibly improve the quality of health care...

and it's interesting.

fascinating at times.

but today was something else...

in those rooms.

with those people.

today was observation and tension.

i could spend all night rewriting what today was.

but instead i'll take a bath and wash it off.

search(ing).

something new to wake up to.

with people. and voices on paper.

silence.

this is education.

and i'm learning. or absorbing.

interprofessional education and collaboration.

the collaboration piece intrigues me.

and language.

finding a common language. 

or something to communicate with.

so that we could collaborate.

full. and filling.

with thought.

and pages.

..

this weekend marked an official end and beginning.

paper in hand.

proud and tall.

tears and sweat.

this isn't over yet.

..

i feel so close to something.

but not really there yet...

together.

a group. or people.

in collaboration.

an installation.

a piece of art.

your heart.

with words.

and silence.

so much.

and people.

filling.

with drums.

and smoke.

ideas.

or thoughts.

something to share.

or speak for.

and it's good.

.

the cat sleeps.

and the sky is cold.

this is turning.

changing.

.

i'm slowly reading a book. about love.

and mixed up.

with revelations.

.

autumn. 

and art. is keeping me

awake at night.

.

i dreamt of you.

.

and i'm learning

how to speak 

louder

these days..

awake.

the night was mixed with dreams.

streets and liquid.

people.

fast paced.

and i woke up.

with power launching out.

of my heart. or chest plate.

an opportunity. with growth.

and connections.

my life. 

is here.

and there's a research project.

waiting.

for my mind.

leaving to the woods for 4 days.

and i woke up 

aligned. again.

this is..

exciting.

opening.

we did find home. or something like it.

and last night. with the fullness of the moon.

i broke-down.

i miss school so much.

truly.

the university environment.

the unlearning. relearning. learning.

reading. writing.

an interview and a half.

and a PhD program...

i could do this.

i could.

my passion is overwhelming.

a door has opened.

we found a house.

i know home.

the moon is full.

and there's something i need.

to do. with this. feeling.

written.

a writing exercise.

a written exercise.

or something that might be taken along.

and later remembered. in the years. to come.

a familiar face.

or a gesture.

something that makes sense.

or feels like something else once did.

autumn begins.

and everything becomes relative.

relatively complicated.

a truth in memory.

a decade.

and he remembers the sound 

of pen to paper.

a shy girl. a young girl.

complex.

he remembers the "irony" in my written work.

or storytelling.

stories told long ago.

4-7pm.

and everyday of the week.

i wake up early.

because sleep doesn't come easy in the autumn.

and i am fierce with love.

the book store makes me weak in the knees.

i fall to the ground.

and try to absorb knowledge.

my mind is a corn field.

and i have a deal with detail.

every line eventually bleeds into the next.

but still i notice.

sometimes we rest on the surface.

but home is deep underneath.

and perhaps someday we could sit

with a bottle of wine 

and have a full fledge conversation

about meaning.

or start with

something to talk about.

like 365 days ago..