An Island in the Rain

L muses on July in her love note to the sea and the sublime.

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I’ve been feeling melancholy this July—

yet also euphoric.

The anticipation of change as autumn clambers closer is invigorating me, I think, but it dulls all within the interim.

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A Letter To My Fresher Self

Dear Me

Congrats! Your 24 year old self just graduated medical school and is about to start work. As a doctor. A real one in a hospital and everything. You’ll make it. Pretty soon, you’ll figure out that it’s just beginning, and that there’s a whole minefield of a world outside medical school, but that’s future us problem.

If I recall correctly, little baby 19-year-old Sarah in her lame band t shirts and lack of lipstick (that’ll change SOON) was spending the summer of 2012 panicking; what if you don’t get the grades to get into med school *again? What if you get in and immediately flunk out? You’ll read a blog called “The Secrets of Peninsula,” and freak the fuck out – what kind of medical school makes first years sit 5th year exams four times a year?

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a letter to America, on her birthday

From guest writer Erin Ammon, musing on Independence Day about her tortured romance with the mythical dream of America the Beautiful.

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photo by Kirsten Miller

America,

You and I have known each other for a while now.

In the early days, it never ceased to amaze me how you could take any problem and solve it, bend fate to your will.

You were so beautiful, the way the sun reflected off of your rolling hills, and the way the wind blew across your body with rapture and fury.

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