Relationships in med school pt 9: So you think you know Amulya Iyer

"Rules of being best friends: 

No two people are better than us.  We fucking rock.  No one can beat us." 

          - Mindy Kaling

from our wedding
(Katie and I's)

If you read sidenote you may have noticed me obsessively referring to a mysterious character: Amulya Iyer. He's my best friend (other than best friend Katie) from back home in Needham, MA. Since then we've gone to all parts of the world. I went off to college in the middle of nowhere Ohio to Kenyon, and he in the middle of nowhere Western Mass to Williams. We started out as math majors, but switched to pre-med/biology. Since college we ventured off to the great unknown. He went to Houston, TX and I went to Portland, OR. We love analyzing everything that's wrong with med school, and I still have dreams of riding his coat tails when he's a Dean of Medicine. My plan is to be the Dave Jacoby to his Bill Simmons. 

Which brings me to the core of our relationship. If there's anything I love, it's randomly speculating on ideas. We did a lot of that in the summer of 2008, I was waiting tables at a ranch in Wyoming, and he was living in Cape Cod. Since we were so far apart, and I didn't have cell phone reception, we resorted to emails. We had an email chain that went back and forth for the summer, with the challenge that each email had to be longer than the last. We analyzed our girlfriends, introspected our deepest qualities, and discussed our dreams.

The ideas developed in that email chain have/do serve as the core of sidenote. For that, I give thanks. 

We have a similar endless email chain today, it's not quite as epic but I swear we rack up the 100 mark on gmail at record breaking pace. Anytime I have anything even remotely interesting to say, I'm shooting an email to amulya.m.iyer.

sidenote - three random fun things we do: 

1) We constantly throw out bold predictions on just about anything. Most recent - OKC over Bulls in the finals.

2) Over unders on random things. Best recent one: years until Amulya marriage. +/- 5 in case anyone's interested. 

3) Back in high school we would do fantasy drafts of our classmates based on who we thought would have the most success. Literally, everyone else was working on some calc problems and we were in the corner making a hierarchy of our classmates. I have no idea how we got away with this. 

this might be illegal

We've also done a series of bold fun things together including getting tattoos of David Foster Wallace's commencement speech This is Water.

Another awesome thing we did - last year he came to Portland so we could run the Eugene Marathon together. And when I say together, I mean side-by-side for four hours. I can't quite remember which one of us came up with it, but it stemmed from some of our high school running adventures. Here's the transcript of the story Amulya told at Katie and I's wedding:

--

It was the fall of 2005, our senior year of high school, and our cross-country team had one of its final meets of the season at Elm Bank Reservation. Ken was one of the faster runners on the team, and I was one of the slowest, but on this fateful day that was going to change. 

During warm-ups, for whatever reason, Ken approached me and he told me - he didn’t ask - but told me that he was going to run with me, and more specifically let me draft off him for the entire race – breaking the wind for me and allowing me to run faster. 

At first I thought Ken was kidding, actually. As the race began, I started off in my usual position at the back of the pack. But with Ken leading the way I felt myself getting stronger, mentally and physically, with every stride. Together, we continued passing runner after runner until the finish line, and when it was all over I had surpassed my personal best by more than two minutes. As euphoric as I was in that moment, nobody there was happier than Ken. 

Never before, and not since, have I felt that same exhilaration of exceeding all of my own expectations. My best friend helped me realize something I never thought was possible and more importantly, reminded me of the incredible power of relationships. 

like a boss

--

Years later, running side-by-side again, we miraculously pulled off being at the same fitness level, even though we were training 3000 miles away from each other. This cannot be understated, we barely talked about how much/little we had trained, the last time we had ran together was probably six or seven years ago, and we ended up being almost the exact same fitness level. Must be a sign.

Next up for us: ultramarathon, separately qualify for the Boston Marathon then run it together, co-dean the next big med school. I don't know his birthday - I think it's in August or September but he's too cool to put it on facebook, so this will have to do. To the best friend I could imagine:  

No two people are better than us. We fucking rock. No one can beat us.

Happy birthday.

See you on the other side,

from ken

taking requests for future blog posts. please comment or email.

Repost: there is no finish line

I'm editing/reposting this post (my favorite post) which will be my submission to "Humanitas" - MUSC's annual Art and Literature publication.  There's a cash prize, so if I win all proceedings will go towards my search for the finish line.

See you on the other side,

from ken

--

there is no finish line

I’ve been running for longer than I can remember doing anything else in my life. 

I ran cross country and track in college and high school.  I was elected captain, not because I ran fast but because I cared.  I spent one summer running 1000 miles, putting in week after week of ninety miles, just to prove to myself that if I was going to be a nothing at running, it wasn’t because I didn’t try.  At one time in my life, I owned more track spikes than my girlfriend owned shoes.  I once ran a hundred mile week, finishing the last run with a Turkish soccer player who could barely speak English and had never ran more than four miles, but as we finished the seven mile run he was sprinting and yelling, “NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER GIVE UP.” 

But over the past few months, I’ve come to see running as a relic of my past. 

a great season

After that 1000 mile summer, I had the best running season of my life.  For those few months, I was a far greater athlete than I ever imagined I could be.

At the end of that season, I ended up as the alternate on our regionals squad.  The alternate travels with the team and hangs out as everyone else broods over the race before them.  It feels helpless because there’s nothing you can do, except supporting your teammates. 

It was at this point that I realized, this is the final lesson running has to teach me.  My role in this life is to be a cheerleader.  My contribution to the world was not going to be about my race, but rather my teammates’ races. 

After that season, my running was never the same.  I lost the heart for it, but I still ran to support my friends and teammates, I wanted to see them succeed more than they could’ve ever imagined.

In the cult classic running novel Once A Runner the protagonist refers to demons that haunt his running.  I remember feeling these demons in my own life.

just another day in the life

The demons would come on in those few minutes just before a race, when you’re waiting on the track, having stripped off your warmups, spikes on, your race is about to start, and feeling like you have to pee for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes.  I remember telling my friend, if I ever stopped feeling like this, I would stop running.

Perhaps the demons in your life are where your heart is.  And wherever your heart is, that’s where your life should be.

Well, the demons in my life don’t haunt my running anymore, and I have left behind the life of a runner. 

For those of you still running, I really really wish you the best of luck.  There is nothing else like it. 

And of course, to my old teammates, those of you from Kenyon and those from Needham, I hope to enjoy a leisurely run with you again some day.  Or maybe just a leisurely beer.

What I believe: post-Portland-sabbath

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” 

- Gandhi 

In college this was one of my top three favorite quotes. Of course, then I got to thinking, what do I want to see in the world? I self-righteously decided the world needed more selflessness, so I threw myself into a world of activism. It was great, and I’d love to go work in Haiti someday, but most days the politics of activism is too much for me to handle. But then.. what is the change I wish to see in the world? 

Post-college I spent two years in Portland – where young people go to retire. After the intensity of undergrad – studying non-stop, gunning through experiments to finish a research thesis, interval after interval of track workouts, long nights spent causing havoc – working 40 hours a week left me uninspired and lazy. That said, Portland gave me tons of time to reflect, and develop my core philosophies. 

Sidenote - I imagined Portland being a stage of life similar to when Jesus went to the Mount of Olives to get the hell away from everyone, meditate, and contemplate life. Maybe he was going through a quarter life crisis too – “What do all these people want from me? What should I do with my life?” 

Anyways, in this time I read a book Katie owned called This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women. It’s what it sounds like – a compilation of personal credos written by a wide range of people from bartenders to Helen Keller. It has a slew of great ones like “There’s No Such Thing as Too Much Barbeque.” 

Sidenote – my favorite personal credo? David Foster Wallace’s This is Water. It’s actually a commencement speech he gave at Kenyon College. I would say he believes in the struggle of life, it's extremely close to how I experience life. 

So this bring me back to my own core philosophies - what do I believe? Well, I believe life is a gray scale, and it can’t really be boiled down to simple maxims. I believe there are many roads to the truth. Some days I believe in fate, but most days I believe an individual determines their own fate. I believe in God and a higher power than myself. I believe in Kobe Bryant more than Chris Paul (this is definitely a future post, Kobe is the best player of the 21st century). Each of these could be its own post, but underneath all the complexity I believe in one important thing. 

I believe in friends. 

I’ve learned a lot of things in my 23 years of life, but the main thing I’ve learned is that life is about the same for most people. Rich or poor, drug addict or professional athlete, Harvard or UMass, stay-at-home mom or trophy husband, people aren’t that different. Life is hard for everyone, nobody's struggles are "not a big deal", and no one should be expected to survive by themselves. 

There’s nothing like going to a bar with a good friend and breaking down the latest struggles of life. Or going for a long run without saying a single word and just getting away from life. I could ramble on, but I’ll stop here since I’m already getting too long.

See you on the other side, 

from ken 

Ken Noguchi has made friends in Maryland, Massachusetts, Ohio, Wyoming, Oregon, and currently makes friends in South Carolina. He is attending school in hopes of producing the second and third coming of Gleevac. When he grows up, he hopes to be his daughter’s favorite comedian.  

Feel free to comment! I would love to hear your thoughts.

Irrational Confidence Guys

 I have this tendency to go through slumps in life, it’s usually when I get busy and I don’t have time to process life. It’ll take something to knock me off course, force me to step out of my life, and appreciate it.  

This time, two friends knocked some sense back into me. 

First, my friend Jason sent me an uplifting email. After graduating, Jason moved out to Chicago where he was mugged at gunpoint, but that was only the beginning. He found himself in an ugly work situation where he hated his job as a technician in a high-powered microbiology lab, so he chose to move back home to the east coast in an attempt to switch careers.  

Despite struggles that would leave me in a one man pity party, Jason capitalized on the positive. After leaving college, Jason wanted to spend time in a research lab, to see what was out there besides the medical school track he’d been on for years. After his lab experience, he was at an all-time high confidence in his medical school path. He explained his confidence: 

“Take my health, take my job, but you may never take my confidence.” 

He struggled through a job he hated, knowing it would ultimately maintain his confidence. I love that about Jason, he walks with that swagger – an obnoxious combination of self-confidence, self-deception, and a heck of a lot of talent. I wish I had that swagger. 

My second friend, Kara, moved out to Portland, OR on a whim. She found herself frustrated with the world, and had this burning desire to shake up her life. After she graduated from Kenyon, she worked in her home of Connecticut, but soon after she committed to move out to Portland. She had no job prospects, no friends, no home, but she still moved, because of this confidence. She believed life was something to be taken seriously.  

After about six months, Kara found that Portland wasn’t the right fit. She didn’t meet the same daring people she was hoping to find, and the culture didn’t quite fit her, so she was packing, again. 

On her last day in Portland, I asked what she was thinking. Surprisingly, or maybe not if you know Kara, she was still confident. I sensed the hurt on her heart, but she still held that familiar poise. She told me of her vision as she moved back to the east coast. I wished her luck, and she left me with this Steve Jobs quote: 

“Stay hungry, stay foolish.” 

After all the struggles that Kara had endured in Portland, she still had that swagger. I have tremendous respect for Jason and Kara. It’s sure as hell not easy to move, nor is it easy to shake up your life, yet they both kept their head up. 

That attitude urged me to reflect on my life. 

About three weeks ago, I opened my email to see this: Invitation to interview at Duke Medical School. A couple years ago going to Duke med was the dream of my dreams. I don’t know where it falls on my wish list today, but I was almost giddy when I saw that email, and I am not the giddy type.

It reminded me that I might be drained – but I’m living the life I’ve wanted for myself for years. Really, at 23, I’m exactly where I want to be. 

See you on the other side, 

from ken 

Feel free to comment! I would love to hear your thoughts.

See you on the other side, friend.

--

May the road rise to meet you 

May the wind be always at your back 

May the sun shine warm upon your face 

May the good Lord hold you in the palm of His hand 

May the rains fall soft upon your fields, until the day we meet again 

- Irish funeral blessing 

-- 

I’m into a lot of things, but my obsession is relationships. 

I was reading an old letter I sent to some of my friends, my college cross country team. I concluded it with this sentence: 

“For the time that was college, without all of your friendships, I would never have survived the pile of shit that is life. So, thanks. I appreciate every one of you more than I could ever say.” 

And it’s true, I would never have survived college without my running buddies. People weren’t meant to survive on their own. Allow me to break off on a sidenote: 

I’ve been trying to come up with a signature closing to my posts. “from ken” is memorable, but I’ve been wanting something more. One sign off I like is, “may the force be with you.” 

One of my college mentors told me that as I walked into the room to defend my undergrad thesis, and it’s stuck with me since. It implies that there’s something greater than your own powers that could help you, which is comforting. 

But the sign off I’ve been trying for now is, “see you on the other side.” It means several different things to me, but I like it because if you’re reading this blog, you are my friend. And whether or not I will actually see you again, I like to think that I will. 

I learned this phrase from Donald Miller, a Christian author who used it to sign off his book, Searching for God Knows What. This is a book explaining what it means to be Christian, but I’d guess he saw the other side as a place where we’ll be after earth, heaven. 

I’m not exactly sure what I see on the other side. I think it’s a bit like this. 

--

You and I are on one side. There are other people on the other side, but we can’t quite make them out. And for some reason, we’re trying to get to the other side. 

We'll probably have to part ways to get to the other side of the river, and maybe we've already parted.

But my hope is that one day, we would meet again on the other side. 

--

It’s hard to remember the important people that have come and gone through your life. 

Go ahead, imagine an old friend that’s not in your life anymore. 

What I’m saying is, the other side of the river is a place where, at least in your imagination, you could be with that person again. 

You’ll laugh about old times, catch up on your lives, and of course, enjoy the other side. I imagine it like a wedding, there will be goofy dancing, bottles of local Portland beers, and it will be a celebration. 

See you on the other side, 

from ken

Why I love Wyoming pt 2: A well earned celebratory hand gesture

One of the big running mile markers, pun intended, is the one hundred mile week. It doesn’t really mean anything, but at the same time, it means everything. I had several consistent 90 mile weeks, but the 100 mile week just felt like a higher level. 

One week I had unknowingly racked up the miles, including a 20 mile long run. Near the end of that week, it was Saturday afternoon, the last day of my running week, and I was sitting at 93 miles. I had scheduled a six miler. 

Was it worth it to go seven miles to reach one hundred? 

Would I just be caving into looking good rather than being good, and wanting that three digit week? 

The answer to both those questions, was yes. But I didn’t know that when I departed. 

I set out the door that afternoon settled on a six mile run, and I saw one of my buddies, Samet, a Turkish soccer player. He was about to leave for a short twenty minute jog to stay in shape, but when he saw me running I could sense his competitive side awakening. He casually asked to run with me. 

We set out jogging easy, and I told him I was planning to run six miles. He told me he’d turn back when he felt tired. We checked past the two mile marker, and the three mile marker. Eventually, we passed the tree that signaled three and a half miles. 

We would be running back on the same road, so at that point I knew. I had one hundred miles this week, in the bank. It felt a bit surreal, but it was hard to take in at the moment because Samet and I were in the midst of a heated discussion about the philosophical aspects of our sports. 

We talked about what made us train at grueling levels and why we fell in love with our sports. We had lots of aimless tangents, but ultimately settled on one point. These sports, these challenges, they tested our character. They tested the amount of soul we had in our fragile human bodies. Maybe we were just too proud to give up. 

As we went on, I realized I was doing most of the talking. A rare thing when I'm with a new friend.  Samet was breathing hard, real hard. I paused my ranting for a second to check if he was ok. He told me, inbetween breaths, that he had never ran more than four miles. At that exact moment we were approaching six miles. 

I tried to encourage him, but I knew this was out of my hands. He kept telling me he had to walk it in, he had to give up. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I just kept running. 

Before I knew it, the employee dorms were just a short 100 yards away. When we turned that last corner something in Samet’s dead tired body just clicked. The way it clicks in a toddler’s head when he first walks on his own two legs - Whoa, I can do this. 

At that moment Samet muttered, “Thanks,” and with that he took off in a dead sprint. Samet was screaming at the top of his dried out lungs, in broken English, “NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER GIVE UP.” I get chills just putting those words down on paper. 

Samet had gained noticeable ground on me as I got back to our starting point, the employee rec hall. When I stopped, I made eye contact with him and silently acknowledged that we had helped each other reach a higher level of ourselves. He had ran a longer distance than he ever thought possible, and not only that, he had proven to himself the exact reason why he got into soccer in the first place. He never wanted to give up. He wanted to give his best, every moment he was alive. 

And for me, I had reached the seemingly impossible. When I started running in high school, I was a below average runner at best, struggling to break 20 minutes in the 5k. I never thought I would attain the level of running and strength it took to run a one hundred mile week. But here I was, standing with Samet, 100 miles logged on my legs over the past week. 

I will always remember that moment. Seeing the look on Samet’s face, I knew we had attained a connection only possible for those working together, shooting for levels of life higher than the normal person would dare to imagine. We had achieved, together, what life was like when you stick to the grind. 

I stuck out my hand, and he slapped me five. A good day.

See you on the other side, 

from ken  

Feel free to comment! I would love to hear your thoughts.

Elm Bank

“There are two ways of exerting strength: one is pushing down, the other is pulling up.” 

     - Booker T. Washington 

-- 

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to write this week, and I can’t think of anything good, so instead I’m going to share a story my friend Amulya wrote about me. 

-- 

It was the fall of 2005, our senior year of high school, and our cross-country team had one of its final meets of the season at Elm Bank Reservation. Ken was one of the faster runners on the team, and I was one of the slowest, but on this fateful day that was going to change. 

During warm-ups, for whatever reason, Ken approached me and he told me - he didn’t ask - but told me that he was going to run with me, and more specifically let me draft off him for the entire race – breaking the wind for me and allowing me to run faster. 

At first I thought Ken was kidding, actually. Why would he slow down and sacrifice his race just so I could shave a few meaningless seconds off of mine? In the answer to that question, as many of you know, lies the essence of Ken. 

As the race began, I started off in my usual position at the back of the pack. But with Ken leading the way I felt myself getting stronger, mentally and physically, with every stride. Together, we continued passing runner after runner until the finish line, and when it was all over I had surpassed my personal best by more than two minutes. As euphoric as I was in that moment, nobody there was happier than Ken. 

Never before, and not since, have I felt that same exhilaration of exceeding all of my own expectations. My best friend helped me realize something I never thought was possible and more importantly, reminded me of the incredible power of relationships. 

-- 

I loved where Amulya wrote, “Why would he slow down and sacrifice his race just so I could shave a few meaningless seconds off of mine? In the answer to that question, as many of you know, lies the essence of Ken.” Sidenote is really just an attempt to understand the essence of Ken, so I figured this would be a good story to overanalyze. 

I had thought about pacing Amulya through a race all season, but I wasn’t sure if it would just be embarrassing for him or if it would even help at all.  But I remember something about that day feeling right, and about a mile into the race I realized how epic this day would be. 

We were going around a sharp turn in the woods, and he told me to pick it up. I remember at that moment having one thought going through my head, “That’s what I’m talking about.” From there we picked off runner after runner, all guys that Amulya never races with, and he was flowing past them effortlessly. 

There was this indescribable energy flowing between us with every step we took. An energy greater than either of us could experience individually.

Sidenote - I’ve been sitting at this coffee shop for a couple hours trying to articulate exactly what this energy, flow, or spirit is, but I can’t explain it. I know that it’s the sort of energy that makes life worth living, and that it’s the sort of energy that can only come through supporting the dreams and lives of others. I know that it’s that energy that makes me believe life is about relationships. Maybe you can describe or articulate this energy for me? If so, please comment! For now, I’ll have to think about it more. 

See you on the other side. 

from ken

The Study of Early Christians

About a year ago, I hosted a bible study at my old home, and I figured this fall I would host another one. Here's the blurb for it: 

One of the common conversations I’ve had with other Christians is about doubting the state of the church. These words really stuck with me: I still put my faith in Jesus, but I don’t know if the church is the right place for me. Maybe you’ve had these conversations too. 

I wanted to have a home community that would provide a safe place to discuss these doubts. I imagined a place with a loving husband and wife, a potluck dinner, and supportive friends. And specifically, I wanted to study the book of Acts. 

From what I just learned on Wikipedia, Acts is about the first Christians, and what they did after Jesus. They were followers of Jesus before Christianity existed. They didn’t have anyone else telling them what it was like to be a Christian. They had to learn from Jesus himself, and figure out how to be a Christian without Donald Miller or Sunday morning sermons. 

So this is the question I wanted to raise: If you could imagine being in their shoes, with Jesus as the only model, how would you be a Christian? 

from katie and ken  

Feel free to comment! I would love to hear your thoughts.

Some of my friends

I wrote this piece to introduce the groomsmen at my wedding. I think the friends you have are a good representative of your values. I think it’s good to have friends because otherwise you are just by yourself, and being lonely is not as fun. I have been lucky to have some good friends, and here are some of them in alphabetical order:

Amulya Iyer – Everyone loves Mooks. I think he is uncontestably the most likeable person I will ever know. But I think I love him a little bit more than everyone else. What I love about him more than everyone else is how comfortable our relationship is. I feel like I can be myself with him: tell stupid jokes, talk about how awesome we are, and discuss our most serious dreams. I hope one day he finds someone that feels the same way I feel about him.

Eric Morris – Probably my biggest influence in high school. I was blown away by his leadership and attitude towards running, but what I love most about Eric is his intentionality in our relationship. Despite being friends solely through running, our relationship blossomed after I stopped running with him. He has always been intentional about calling, visiting me at Kenyon, and we’ve both succesfully put a lot of work into supporting each other through some tough years.

Geoff Anderson – My first friend in college. I lived with Geoff my sophomore and senior year of college, but I probably saw him a total of six times in those two years. I think we’ve talked maybe once or twice in the past year, but what I love about Geoff is that even when we never see each other, we can pick up our relationship from any point and be in perfect stride. I know Geoff and I will be friends forever whether he lives in Texas or Italy.

Heath Newton – My first friend in Portland. What I admire most about Heath is, simply, what a caring friend he is. He has always been thoughtful towards our relationship and has been willing to go out of his way to develop our relationship. Heath and I lead a hiking group at our church, and it has been an inspiration for me to see how much he values relationships. I hope to continue to be inspired by him.

Kaleb Keyserling – Keyser and I became friends in college because we were both cross country teammates and biology majors. We spent many nights in the biology reading room bonding over studying for orgo, and then leaving to put in a good hard 15 mile long run. I feel like Keyser and I have been through a lot, and he’s put up with me through a lot. In my dreams I would go to med school with Keyser.

Tom Herer – More than any friend I’ve ever had, I always associate Tom with love. He is a thoughtful man, and one that I have seen transform more than anyone else over these past few years. My favorite thing about Tom is that I feel like I could count on him to love me regardless of what I do or who I am, and there isn’t much more to life than having friends like that.

Will Kessenich – Will was my cross country teammate and senior year roommate. We put in a lot of hard hard miles together, but the thing I will always remember about Will were our late night chats over beers and giant bags of Kettle chips. We talked late into the night about classes, girls, just generally about how silly life is, all the while consuming 1000 calories per night. Plus I was the first person Will ever met at Kenyon, so that counts for something.

from ken

Feel free to comment! I would love to hear your thoughts.

Pantheon Kenyon Commencement Speeches

I’m going to make a bold prediction. The last time you asked someone how they were doing, they told you one of these three things:

A) I’ve been busy.
B) I’m tired.
C) Both.

Thanks to the industrial revolution and the advent of iPhones, the modern world is dominated by multi-tasking and efficiency, which is great for mass producing TV’s and hot dogs, but it makes for a bunch of tired people. I figured the solution, of course, must be rest. So I posted a couple months back on wanting to get better at taking rest… and as you might expect, I’m still terrible at it.

The last few weeks, I’ve been super tired. The days in the lab have been longer, and nothing’s been working, so it leaves me drained and demoralized. The med school applications are piling up in my gmail inbox as I procrastinate further by writing this post instead. I also recently moved, so the packing and unpacking has been stressing me out. I know, I know, cry me a river, but really between all of it, I’ve been feeling like I have no time to myself.

When I’m tired like this, I just want to be lazy. I want to completely shut off and do nothing. But I think shutting off like that is a little bit like dying.

That’s what Jonathan Franzen and David Foster Wallace argued. These are two men who became powerhouse novelists through their attempt to make sense of the word by writing. They philosophized about life on a pantheon level. And on top of that, they both gave commencement speeches at my alma matter, Kenyon College.

Franzen gave a commencement speech called, “Liking is for cowards. Go for what hurts.” He argues that modern technology makes people passive. People would rather sit on facebook and follow their digital friends or watch porn than go out and form messy but real relationships. It's a hell of a lot easier to have virtual friends that never ask anything of you, ruin your plans, or make you look stupid.

Wallace spoke five years ago on a similar topic, explained via parable:

Two young fish are chatting along and swimming through the water, when an older fish swims past them, and asks them, “Howdy boys, how’s the water?” and continues on. Later, one of the two young fish asks the other, “What’s water?”

He was asking everybody in that Kenyon audience to turn their heads away from their iPads and pay attention to the world. He knew that the more you pay attention to the world, the more apparent it is that the world isn’t about serving your own personal needs.

I had a friend ask what he thought was the greatest problem facing the world. I think the world got confused about the meaning of the world. Everyone is convinced that the world revolves around them, but actually, when we die, the world goes on.

Franzen and Wallace both came to a similar conclusion: good things take work. Technology might have deceived us into thinking that we don't have to put work into relationships, but how satisfying is it to watch a funny TV show or a friend's blog post? I know I've never sat on my porch at the end of the day and thought to myself, "Damn, I watched some hilarious TV shows today."

I don’t mean we aren’t “working” enough, as in we aren’t filling out our days with impressive to do lists. I mean that society as a whole is not paying enough attention to the water around us. We’ve stopped appreciating our best friends, making small talk with our Trader Joe’s cashier, or looking out for that beautifully optimistic dandelion sprouting out between sidewalks.

It takes a hell of a lot of work to always pay attention, sometimes it hurts. I know when I when I’m having a bad day, I’d rather ignore everybody else and sulk away in my rotten mood.

But why turn inward?

Is it really easier to get through life if you turn off the surrounding sounds?

When did life become about comfort?

from ken

Are you thinking about something? Write about it and post it here! Email me! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

Better Together

"Happiness is only real, when shared."

So for those of you that haven’t heard I recently got engaged to be married. Someone asked me the other day, “Do you mind if I ask why you chose to get married?”

I thought that was a good question, so here are some thoughts I had on relationships.

I have to admit, I am still a skeptic on marriage. That said, I am a full on believer on relationships.

For those friends who have been here for thick and thin, I assume you already know this, but I like friends. If I had to define myself as any one thing, I would say this about myself: I am just a person, who at one time, wanted to have some friends and tried to go out and make some. The rest of my life is just little details.

Sidenote: Friends is my most common label on my blog. And here are some posts I had on friends:

I'm gonna soak up the sun
Same as it ever was
New writers
All my friends (probably my favorite)

Thinking back on my friends from Needham, my friends from Kenyon, my friends from Wyoming. I miss them, and I love them, but the frustrating thing is that none of those friends are a part of my life now. Sure I talk to them every once in a while, but I don’t get to engage with them on the day-to-day scale. Basically, I don't get to sit with them, drink some coffee or Guiness, or eat an entire can of Pringles in fiftenn minutes, and talk shit about life, which is really all I ever want to do.

Here in Portland, I’ve been working on building relationships, and it’s been great, but even here in grown up life, inevitably, people move, people take new jobs, people attend new schools, some people just want to uproot their lives. On top of that, in about a year, I’ll probably be setting up a whole new life somewhere else.

And after that, I’ll probably move again two or three more times. And every time, I’ll have to uproot my entire friend support system, say good bye to another batch of friends, and struggle to meet more people that I can become friends with. I’m assuming this doesn’t get easier with time.

So I guess I think of marriage as a kind of agreement. It’s like making a friend, but with the agreement that you’ll be friends forever.

You’ll have the courage to be honest and confront problems you have, forever.

You’ll get on each other’s nerves over little things like the way the towels are folded, forever.

You’ll have fun playing together, forever.

You’ll just enjoy sitting together talking about the minutia of life, forever.

And I guess that’s what I wanted. I just wanted a friend that would be willing to put up with me, and spend time with me, forever.

from ken

Are you thinking about something? Write about it and post it here! Email me! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

"I'm gonna soak up the sun" - Sheryl Crow

Like much of the country, we’re in a cold spell, but it’s worse in Portland, I swear. Not just because I live here. What? It snowed in Michigan?

Anyways, I’ve spent the last couple months hating Portland’s constant and mind-numbing rain. I bike commute, and it’s been getting real old, real fast. Couple that with getting out of shape over the rainy season, and it’s been a dreary couple of months.

Sidenote: some optimistic people will tell me, “Living in the rain for six months will make you appreciate the sun WAY more!” Whenever I hear that, my first thought is, “Fuck that. I’m moving to San Diego and living on the beach like Jack Johnson. I’ll learn to play the guitar and surf all day.”

This of course, would never happen. My head would explode if I spent more than two weeks doing something “not productive.”

All that to say, today was probably the first real summer-like day we’ve had since we’ve been here, and it was amazing. It felt like I was in a whole different world. A part of it was definitely being cured of the seasonal depression, but I loved the energy of Portlanders as the season turns to summer. The contagious good mood was like herpes on a small secluded college campus. Or wildfire. Let’s stick with wildfire.

Pretty much everything that could have been good about the day was even better. A cancelled AM meeting left me time to take a peaceful morning bike ride through town and read by the sunlight. I rocked my dog shorts and flip-flops all day. I had a great morning at church catching up with some friends. Then, I went for a picnic with some friends, played some ultimate frisbee and bocce ball. It will be unmentioned that I went 0-4 in the games. Er. And now, I get a few hours to myself to soak in the awesome weekend.

Thinking back to my post last week on intentionally taking rest, I guess the most crucial part of the Sabbath is something I neglected to touch on. I had myself convinced that rest is a solitary thing. I needed to remove myself from the world of people, plug in the headphones and hit the 24 hour fitness, then sit and write by myself.

But as they say in the hilarious Hugh Grant flick, About a Boy, no man is an island.

One of the striking qualities of post-college life is definitely the loneliness. Taking out a year lease on a studio was maybe not good for my sanity. It’s definitely taught me important things, and given me plenty of time to think about the crap that goes into this blog, but it’s also been lonely. I think after a year of it, I’m definitely ready to find a house to live in, and add some roommates.

I guess, for whatever reason, relationships have to be a part of rest. Maybe it takes experiencing the sun with some friends to fully appreciate it. Maybe it’s like the final secret of Into the Wild:

“Happiness is only real, when shared.”

from ken

Are you thinking about something? Write about it and post it here! Email me! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

Nostalgic, much? Always.

On the tram this morning I overheard a conversation between two young women discussing their long weekend. One had gone snowshoeing in the glorious Oregon snow. The other had gone to her best friend’s funeral.

For whatever reason, my mind went to: what is good about this? and I remembered a passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet:

“When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

My friend from Kenyon College, Keyser, was in town visiting me this past weekend. On the way to the airport to pick him up, I couldn’t help but think about the opening scene from “Love Actually.” The scene takes place at the arrivals gate of Heathrow Airport, where couples, old friends, all combinations of loved ones are meeting each other. A narrator ponders, “In an ugly world, this sort of scene reminds me that love actually is all around.”

Anyways, Keyser and I saw each other for the first time in forever, in the bathroom. I was peeing. This speaks volumes about our relationship. Anyways, we had a great visit hanging around my new home of Portland, Oregon.

My favorite part was that nothing had changed. We chatted and had a back and forth just like the old days: running through the rain, drunkenly singing stupid rap songs, discussing the challenges of upcoming med school steps, and complaining about girlfriends. Er, only speaking the highest praises of girlfriends. All in all, it was relieving to know, we would be friends forever.

For the final hours of the visit, I accompanied Keyser to the airport, and eventually we had to say goodbye. As I watched him walk away with the same old dark blue jacket, dark blue JanSport backpack, and purple Kenyon track bag, I realized, even his appearance hadn’t changed.

As if on cue, that realization rushed me with sentimental memories of the past. After that, I sat at the airport for a little bit.

I feel like I’ve been in a semi-daze the last month since my friend from home, Mooks, came to visit. Both Mooks and Keyser visiting were a blast, to live even briefly in that old give and take was something I cherished. But both times, it’s been hard to deal with the sorrow in accepting their departing flight. It’s been hard to leave the metaphorical waiting room at the Portland airport.

This brings me back to my original story. It must suck to go to your best friend’s funeral. I can’t even imagine. But if I had to, from my small-minded 22-year-old perspective, I’d probably imagine it like an airport goodbye:

It would be hard.

I would wish I had spent our time better and not gotten impatient about some stupid little thing.

I would pray for the clock to turn back, for another chance.

I would remember the first days of our friendship, the highlights, and the tough days.

It would feel near impossible to get up and engage back in life.

It would be hard.

But then, I might remember a passage from Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet.

“When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

And in that, I would breathe easier. Well, maybe just a little. And maybe one day I will finally gather the strength to leave the Portland Airport departure gate.

from ken

Are you thinking about something? Write about it and post it here! Email me! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

same as it ever was

I touched ground in PDX on May 27th. That means I’ve officially been living in Portland for six whole months. From my 21-year old perspective, that’s a damn long time. Since then, I’ve gone through about 40 containers of plain nonfat yogurt. I figured if I ate enough of it the flavor would grow on me. I still don’t like it; it’s tangy and, well, plain. On the other hand, I’m still going on the same bottle of hand soap, which either means I’m frugal with my resources, or I don’t always wash my hands after I pee.

Anyways, thinking back on my time in the Pacific Northwest, I realized that I'm torn by two sides. On one hand, I love adventure. For me to fully have life, it’s all about new experiences, places, people. I want to be somewhere long enough not to be touristy and learn some of the ins and outs of a new world, but also short enough to challenge my mind and soul from getting stale.

I grew up a Boston kid, but I applied to colleges everywhere except New England. I only got into one, so I shipped off to Ohio for school. I never went abroad, so I spent a full four years there, and even though I was ready to get out after year four, I loved it.

At Kenyon, I was a molecular biology major, but I’ve already forgotten just about everything I knew about the Ni-Fe catalytic subunit of hydrogenase-3. What did stick with me is my friends. I loved all those early Sunday mornings suffering on hungover 15 mile long runs when someone feels the need to drop it to 6 minute pace when we're still 5 miles out from campus, and also all those late-night-caffeine-driven working sprees spent on senior projects.

At another stage of life I spent a summer in Wyoming waiting tables. Before that summer my conception of the west was Kansas, which I later learned is the center of the country. I didn’t know anybody out there, but I jumped on the opportunity to have more story-worthy experiences. It turned out to be that and more: I climbed Middle Teton, recited Robert Frost's poetry to drunk Turks, ran a 100 mile week, experienced alone time with God for the first time. Wyoming will always be a part of my heart.

As I reached the end of college I applied to jobs everywhere but New England and the Midwest, but I knew I wanted to see the west coast, and the Northwest in particular. Again, I didn’t know anybody out here, but a lab from Oregon contacted me, and within days I had committed to a two-year stay. When I told my friends about my sudden move to Portland, I was told on multiple occasions, “Such a Ken thing.” I was proud to be associated with such a bold decision.

I loved the thrill of these adventures. I love going to sleep at night thinking, “Wow, I can’t believe my life is real. This is so much cooler than I expected.”

But at the same time, at every stop, I feel like I’ve struggled with the same thing.

When I first got to college, it was hard to swallow seeing my high school friends sprout new lives. In Wyoming, I spent hours on the rec hall payphone isolating myself and talking to my then girlfriend while my friends would stroll in and play some pool. Now in Portland, some of my biggest highlights are waiting for my old friends to visit and experience my new world with me. (Sidenote: two of said old friends, Amulya and Keyser, are visiting me in the next two months!)

This struggle is my second side, one that asks, “Why make new and different friends? I already love the ones I have!”

So maybe, the more the circumstances in your life change, the more it reveals how your core character stays the same. Going from farmland Ohio to picturesque Wyoming to urban Portland, it's made me realize that at every step of my life, my core has revolved around missing my old friends and seeking out new friends.

Kind of a sidenote, but if you’ve ever read the news, you’ve probably realized the world is fucked. Earthquakes regularly target the most vulnerable, the Middle East will always be at the end stages of war, and sex will always dominate everything else. I guess, in such a world, relationship is the one glimmer of hope of what I think life was meant to be. People were meant to have friends, to love and be loved.

But I guess adventure forces me to branch out and find new and different friends. I just need to remember different doesn’t mean worse, it just means, different.

So after six months in Portland, this is what I know: white guys really knew how to dance in the 80's, I’m excited for the new relationships I’m finding, and I count myself as incredibly lucky to have old friends that will put up with me even when I’m miles and miles away.

from ken

Are you trying to change your life? I'd love to hear about it! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

People Helping People

I’ve been excited to write a post reflecting back on my first six months out of college/in Portland (not this post), and one of the things it’s made me realize is that my biggest struggle is the same as it was in college.

I tend to throw myself into too many things, a sort of, my eyes being bigger than my stomach mentality:

Oh yeah, of course I can take on that additional responsibility at church. Learn a new mouse surgery technique? No problem. Dinner on Wednesday night? Sure! Activism group? Sign me up!

I had this exact problem in college, and I still haven’t struck a good balance of giving myself a break.

The other night, I had a few of my friends over. One of them was my friend Maureen, who is a real southern smily girl that says y’all, a novelty in the northwest. As we were chatting she explained her struggles in her job search. She was especially frustrated because she had such amazing work experiences before moving to the young-people-mecca of Portland, aka job-hell.

My other friend Lee, who is the kind of guy that covers his face in makeup and wears a diaper to be a baby for Halloween, chimed in with a similar situation. His first job as a chef was amazingly rewarding, but when his second job didn’t match up to that same level of meaningfulness, he could barely handle it.

I had similar experiences. In my undergrad lab, a bacterial physiology lab, my experiments worked so beautifully that I had myself thinking I had a god-given scientist’s touch. I had ample data to put together a publication within an academic year of working part-time, an impressive feat. However, it wasn’t easy because of my unreal talent as a scientist, which after seeing the hyper-competitive world of biomedical research is admittedly average, but because bacteria are used to growing in weird places like your fridge. That makes them easier to grow and a lot easier for me to churn out good results.

On the other hand, I work with mammalian liver cells now. Have you ever seen mammalian cells popping up in your old milk? No? Well that’s because they’re needy and aren’t engineered to grow outside of your skin. Basically, that just means it’s a lot tougher to handle them. My experimental success rate has plummeted lower than I ever imagined. Seeing wave after wave of failure and troubleshooting is exhausting.

But that night the simple act of sharing reminded me that everyone struggles. I’m not unique in having stress in my life! Of course, that’s intuitive but to share those burdens is a beautiful thing. It not only lightens the load of the sharer, but it was a great reminder for me as the selfish listener that the world doesn’t stop when I’m stressed and that other people have anxiety too.

Maybe chicken little was right when he said the sky was falling, and maybe all we can do is to accept that life is stressful, be nice to each other, keep each other company, share, and laugh a little along the way.

from ken

Are you trying to change your life? I'd love to hear about it! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

What is Social Justice? Again.

This past spring I organized an event at Kenyon College called Social Justice Week. The week ended with an event in which several campus activists answered the question, what is social justice?

I didn’t have an answer then, and I don’t have an answer now. However, I heard that a maturing painter has to paint and paint, and then every once in a while, take some white paint, and cover his whole canvas to start over. Each time he figures out the artist that he isn’t, he gets closer to the artist he is.

I see these next few years of my life as crucial, I feel like my vision is slowly revealing itself, stroke by stroke.

A few years ago I came across a book called Everything Must Change. The contents of the book were mediocre, or at least, I feel that way because I can never remember anything from books, but the title has stuck with me. I believe in innovation, and being a radical, and that everything must change.

Martin Luther King Jr. said,

“After you lift so many people out of the ditch you start to ask, maybe the whole road to Jericho needs to be repaved.”

I learned much through my work with social justice at Kenyon College. I did a lot of flag-waving and getting in people’s faces about poor people that needed our help. It was a lot of pointing out that people should care about something, without any real reason why. Kind of run of the mill social justice work.

This sort of guilt trip can work for the short-term. I was able to raise a ton of attention for Haiti and a lot of money to send down there. I learned that people will gladly pay to rid themselves of their guilt.

I know I’m stealing this idea from some book, but I can’t remember who I’m stealing it from. The problem with guilt is that when that bill is paid off, whether by a literal check or a couple nice gestures, people can clear their conscience and move on. I know this because after spending so much effort raising money for Haiti and being given a Humanitarian Award for my work, I couldn’t care less about the people of Haiti.

This protest method of achieving social justice has carried the tide of social justice to where it is today, and for that I praise it. However, I just don’t know that it is my answer. I see myself as the painter who finally built up the courage to pick up the white paintbrush.

With that white canvas, I want to find another way. A way from which I can’t just clear my conscience. A way that makes me care.

So what is my answer to, “What is social justice?”

I’ve heard this sort of lingo in activism culture, that the word “radical” and the word “radish” come from the same latin word meaning “root”. And so, a radical, like a radish, must always be concerned with its roots. To fight any issues of social justice, HIV epidemic in the Ukraine, gender inequality in the church, lack of strong education in predominantly non-white neighborhoods, I believe it always has to come back to the root causes of inequalities.

So what is the root of the problem, at the most basic microscaled level?

I’m not willing to think outside of myself. I’m not willing to sacrifice my own well-being for the community.

To change, like a radish, I want to operate from the underground. A subversive, much slower form of progress, but also hopefully, a real form of progress. I want to throw myself into a community, and learn its struggles, to really understand the human condition, and through that understanding figure out what I can do to help.

So, what do I envision as my painting of social justice? I guess I see it as trying my hardest to slowly let go of the luxuries in my life and making friends everywhere I go, but also being intentional about seeking out the right friendships.

I want to end with a Cesar Chavez quote that I love. It was taught to me by an activist I admire greatly, “It was never about the grapes or the lettuce, it was always about the people.” Any social justice movement always has to be rooted in the people, and I think right now I am trying to develop my roots.

from ken

Are you trying to change your life? I'd love to hear about it! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com

photo by Wesley Oostvogels