Six impossible things, but I can’t decide what these are, exactly.

Lover of God, Idealist, Realist, Romantic, Friend, Foodie, ad infinitum.

I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, because I’m not myself, you see.

I’m on my journey towards being a doctor with 4 years of medical school to go, and here I hope to share some thoughts on this journey, and thoughts as a Christian in (but not of) a world without faith in the Unseen, as well as a lover of Literature facing a lifetime of Science.

My tiny thoughts can be seen at: http://twitter.com/kitscheartache

My collection of random things viewed at: http://perchance.tumblr.com

My raw, unprocessed thoughts read at: http://rejazz.tumblr.com

So was I once myself a swinger of birches.

And so I dream of going back to be.

It’s when I’m weary of considerations,

And life is too much like a pathless wood

Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs

Broken across it, and one eye is weeping

From a twig’s having lashed across it open.

I’d like to get away from earth awhile

And then come back to it and begin over.

May no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:

I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.

I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,

And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk

Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,

But dipped its top and set me down again.

That would be good both going and coming back.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

(excerpt from Birches by Robert Frost)



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