Curious romantic

curious (adj): 

1. eager to know or learn something.

2. strange; unusual.

I am a curious child. And my curiosity is curious too. I am keen about everything. This curiosity usually translates into a series of non-sequitur questions. I piece together this theoretically unrelated information into a wholesome thought and come up with bizarre insights for myself.

I am a romantic. I quote love songs reflexively to describe my relationship. However, said relationship is one that I have with my career. They say you've met your soul-mate when spending time with them is an amalgam of fun, challenge and intrigue. You continually cross paths and fate is emphasizing the inevitability of being together. So yes, BME is my soul-mate. 

There have been times, I'm so confused. 

All my roads, they lead to you. 

I just can't turn and walk away.

-All for you, Sister Hazel

My first encounter with BME was serendipitous. It was a cold January morning about a decade ago. Weeks away from turning 17, my naivete met my mother's wisdom. Few hours before my Camras interview, she convinced me to switch my major from Aerospace Engineering to Biomedical Engineering. (So much for wanting to be a neurosurgeon in space!) Thus began an epic love affair.

Sifting through hundreds of lines of code and waking up to nightmares about cortex surfaces and magnets, I sometimes wonder about my sanity and my willingness to submit to this non-being. Am I really in love with something that doesn't breathe? How could this intangible entity have a soul? 

BME takes me on incomparable adventures. We're dancing through this never ending quest. We laugh at our missteps and turn the music on louder. We whisper to each other about scientific revelations and declare our love in high impact journals. Sometimes it keeps me up all night, and I face the morning tired, but happy.

I am a curious romantic. I question my lovely soul-mate. In the process of unearthing the great mysteries of the brain, I'm sometimes teased and sometimes surprised. After weeks of mulling over a question, when the answer is finally revealed, for a few moments I'm both amazed and contented. And then a new question is formed. While I'm interested in the answers to most questions in this world, the ones that truly make me happy are the ones to questions that keep me up at night, that make me forget the lyrics to my morning-shower song, that I'm obsessed with, that I know I can solve. 

Engineers love to solve problems. It is the core of our being. Perhaps that is what pulls me back to this whimsical field. My curiosity and my romanticism are intertwined in BME. And once again, I stand at the crossroads, curious if the road less traveled will still lead me to my fate.

 (I accept. I'll never be able to answer any of these!)

Montreal Diaries

Day 1: Sunday, Feb 17th

I never thought I would chronicle my Montreal adventures. Visiting a new city has become routine for me and usually the pictures speak for themselves. However, being in Montreal is like being in a foreign country. Oh wait, it is a foreign country. While I've considered Canada to be an extension of the United States with people that use the metric system and pronounce their z's as zed, Montreal has been evidence of how different this country really is. Also, my hands would rather stay in the warmth of my mittens than take photos of this picturesque city. It's really cold. The temperatures aren't unfamiliar for a Chicagoan, but something about the air makes the cold wind pierce through your skin like tiny daggers.

Now that I've established my rationale, (Damn PhD, what are you doing to me?) I can report the happenings of my first day here. I landed in Montreal around 3:30 pm local time. Immediately, I was greeted  by this amusing fixture (see below) in the ladies washroom at the airport.

Next, I tried to decipher the broken English+French directions to take the 747 express to my B&B. The lady said it was a 10-minute walk. She couldn't be more wrong. With my backpack+laptop+carry-on, it took me about 25 minutes uphill to get to my temporary abode. All my anger for the inaccurate airport lady and the numerous rude strangers who refused to give me directions vanished when I saw the cozy little place I am staying at. Yes folks, it is a castle. And my room has a balcony. If I still had long hair, I'd totally play Rapunzel.

I dropped off my stuff and changed out of my travel clothes for a quick walk around the neighborhood. I must admit, the McGill campus is beautiful. When I returned, I got some more information from the concierge on nearby attractions and Montreal must-sees. Apparently, public transit is a fairly convenient way to explore the city. I boarded the 24 to meet up with a friend for dinner at 3 amigos on St. Catherine. The bus driver, Fablese, spoke only French. However, he was extremely helpful and patiently waited as I sabotaged the street names to describe exactly where I wanted to go. Lucky for me, while returning later in the night, he was making his rounds back!

At 3 amigos, there was a huge line. When our food and drinks came, we knew exactly why. The strawberry-mango margarita was amazing (and ginormous). After an hour of binge eating and gossiping, we called it a night.

Thus ended Day 1. But the adventures are just beginning. Stay tuned for Day 2...

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Just Desserts

It's been a while. Today I'll be talking about cake. And not just any cake, but the one that you get on your birthday. See, birthday cakes are just slightly more special than regular cakes. Each layer of this cake represents a unique quality of yours and with each bite, you embrace the blessing of a friend. The cake is even more delicious because someone else ordered it for you. Someone else went through the trouble to make this day special. Yes, birthday cakes are the best.

In the dark room, there is nothing but the flames of your years, glowing brightly and illuminating the surrounding. It's symbolic of the radiance that you create in others' lives. Beneath those candles is your name, carved in beautiful calligraphy atop a frosting that one can only crave for. You close your eyes and make a wish. A pause is necessary in case you want to change it. But you go ahead with your initial wish. I want the largest piece of cake today.

Now the knife makes its way through the layers. For the first time, you catch a glimpse at the inside of the cake. Each layer so beautifully structured. You stop to wonder why your life isn't an accurate reflection of this cake? Why aren't all the layers so perfect? And it suddenly dawns on you, perhaps the knife needs to cut farther to reveal the perfection of those layers in your life.

You feed the first slice to your best friend in the room. She takes a giant bite and poses for the camera. But you're not done here. She offers to feed you. SMACK. The delicious frosting is now sporting a Santa-like beard on your face. Oh those perfect layers are now smeared in utter randomness. And you, the birthday celebrity, look just a tad ridiculous.

You smile and pose for the camera. So what if these layers are mixed and mashed and smothered upon your face? You stick your tongue out and reach for the corner of your mouth. Mmm.. A hint of chocolate ganache mixed with coconut and butter-cream. The deliciousness is retained. You return for another piece and repeat the ritual with every special person in the room. More layers reduced to art on your face. The cake is now getting smaller. There are only so many pieces left. In an effort to feed others, you have forgotten to save a giant piece for yourself.

And the night comes to an end. All that remain are the remains of your birthday cake. So, in your empty living room you ponder.

Did I get the largest piece of cake?

Glorious Game

It's been a while. The new year has begun. I am now 24. And I have lost a very dear person in the last few weeks. I will try to keep my thoughts organized, but I can't guarantee that I won't turn this into a giant rant. Because after all, that is what you are here to read anyway.

I have written about my grandfather before. However, it saddens me to refer to him in the past tense. He might not be here physically, but I am sure his principles and teachings are continuing his legacy by inspiring the lives of his wonderful children and grandchildren. He liked to engage in discussion and learn about new phenomena. He enjoyed traveling and playing the flute. But my dearest memories of him bring forth a very child-like character. He would play games with me, learn with me and also indulge in mischief. But that is what he considered life. A child's game. Not one to be taken seriously, but instead an experience to enjoy and cherish. Like any game, you win some and you lose some, but at the end of it, you wrap up the board, boil a pot of tea and just open up another game.

And so I have. I closed a few boards in my life and opened up new ones. I am making my moves carefully, but those damn dice have a mind of their own. So what do I do? I just play. Other players can join or leave as they please, but this time I'm playing to win. Here I am faced with another old problem. What about cheating? Is that okay as long as I win in the end? Ah, but in the game of life, you only live by the rules that you define. :)

So then it's okay to tweak those moves a little and make amends, say a little prayer before rolling the dice, and conveniently collaborating with another player. These forms of modulation are in fact necessary to succeed in the ever glorious game. Here I am, creating smaller games in this mega-tournament. Every task is a puzzle and every action is a move. If my calculation is correct, this time around, I've started off strong. Other players are already collaborating with me. Some just don't know it yet. My faith has found a permanent place. And perhaps my ego has enhanced this quality.

Playing these mini-games is almost an addiction now. Sometimes I play them unconsciously. On other occasions, I ponder retrospectively, analyzing every move made by me and by my opponent. I assign points, perhaps in a biased manner, because I always win. And the wins make the game even more enjoyable ( a positive feedback loop?).

As a conclusion to this ridiculous rant, I will pay some tribute to my latest game. Its key players are undeniably the most important people in my life. This game is strange, because the winner doesn't have to defeat the opponent, he just has to bring the opponent to his side. It's a tug of war. It's an intellectual debate. It's an adventure. It's the best game I've ever started!

I'll end with a very dear line from my favorite book, Catcher in the Rye, "Life is a game, boy."

ps: While I engage in my own exaggerated matches, I wish the Indian Cricket team the very best on the upcoming World-Cup! :)