2015

Dear Bono,

You say nothing changes on New Year's Day.  Maybe that's why I hate it.  It is possibly my least favorite day of the year.  Yes, I have some great memories of ringing in the New Year.  Watching all the celebrations from around the world as people rang in the new millennium and then celebrating the new year at the Salt Lake Cemetery as part of a "self-appointed apocalyptic welcoming committee" was actually a highlight, as was cheering on the new year 11 years ago at the Eiffel Tower.  Yet, I still hate it.  Maybe because it marks the end of the magic that is Christmas.  Probably is is more because of my own neurosis that cause me to panic about the vast new year ahead of me.  I sort of hate clean slates because they can only get messed up from there.  

2015 brought me some good times.  Three of my favorite things happened this year: U2 tour! (Phoenix, Boston, Dublin trips!)  Star Wars movie!!!  (And it wasn't a disappointment!)  And Sherlock!  Except that actually won't start until Jan 1st.  But I agree with Bridget Jones' philosophy about New Year's-it should start later because people are still in celebration/holiday mode.  So, Sherlock will get tagged onto the end of 2015.  Also, I went on a lot of trips.  I love trips.  Tampa beach, New Orleans, DC, Kentucky, Prague, Amelia Island for work.  Pittsburgh, Phoenix, Boston, Dublin for concerts.  Iceland, DC, Mammoth Caves, Kirtland, Chicago for fun. 

But 2015 was also not great.  It has brought me uncertainty about my future-my training comes to an end in June.  Then what?  I don't know.  And that makes me dread 2016.  And 2017, 2018, 2019.....

I am one of those people that says "things will be better when x has happened"

Goal for 2016: Be a person that says "things are great now"

But things will ACTUALLY be better when you go back on tour!

xoxo

J

CB and other random thoughts

Dear Bono,

Have you heard of Crystal Ballroom?  Of course you have, you wrote the song.  But it is also a U2 community  (U2mmunity?) of people who get together to talk U2 via social media.  This world is crazy how this stuff can bring people together.  I did ask if anyone else thought that they would be a different person if not for U2, and people said yes, so I'm not alone in letting you dictate my life. Ha.

Is your song "Rise Up" supposed to be a Bruce Springsteen song or what?

What's the best way to look for a job?  I am in the process of looking for my first non-training surgeon job, and even though I know that about 50% of pediatric urologists change jobs within the first 5 years, I keep thinking that whatever I do will be what I do for my whole career.  Can I blame you for that too?  I mean, why couldn't you be Vince Clarke and just bounce around?

xo,

JP

Boston

Dear Bono,

I saw you in Boston.  I drove 2 hours to get to Akron, OH to catch a direct flight to Boston on Friday, and despite the airline's best effort to make me miss beginning of the show, I made it with 10 minutes to spare.  I was in one of those expensive seats, corner back from Adam.  The energy was indescribable.  It was one of the greatest shows I have been to.  I cried during Iris.  It has always been a powerful song, but for some reason on Friday I just felt all the feelings of the song.  And when you sand "shine like stars...."

But Saturday was even better.  I was on the front row on the rail on Adam's side.  Did you notice me?  You glanced at me.  I went for that spot because Adam interacts with the crowd.  I didn't go for the E stage.  I dream of being pulled up on stage, but I know that I am not the beauty you look for.

But Bono, I want to tell you that when you talked about performing Bad at Live Aid 30 years ago, and you touched Lou Reed, and you learned about the world around you and started on your quest to alleviate some of the suffering, you were telling my story.  I became a U2 fan at age 14.  PopMart was the toughest ticket to get since you hadn't been to Utah for 14 years.  Someone put a "2" next to the "U" on the mountain to welcome you.  But my mom was overprotective.  She did not want me to go to the big stadium to see you, though it was only 20 minutes from my house.  The night of the show, my older sister and her friend somehow convinced my mom to let us drive to the stadium.  I don't recall the make of my sister's friend's car, but her older brother had stolen that sticker from the airplane that said "use bottom seat for flotation" and that was on the back seat.  The windows were down.  We could hear the music.  Tickets were long gone, but we parked and walked up.  There were hundered of people sitting outside listening.  Did you know that?  I walked around the stadium and I could see Larry's hands beating the music out, but nothing else.  Yet I could feel the magic.

I babysat so I could afford your albums.  I hated babysitting.  As I listened to the music, I read the liners, wondering what Greenpeace and Amnesty International were about, loving the music.  I would go through phases where I would listen to songs on repeat.  "Like a Song."  "Angel of Harlem." "Running to Stand Still." "Ultraviolet."  "Bad."  Bono, I loved the music.

I went to college and spent hours and hours downloading music, listening to music, chatting with fellow U2 friends I met through Napster or through eBay when I tried to figure out the best way to get around Ireland with my most desirable Slane Castle night 1 ticket.  Again, mom was overprotective and I couldn't go.  The biggest regret of my life along with not driving to Denver by myself to see David Bowie after a friend backed out.  But mom always had a gift of telling me know by making me feel like the worst daughter on the planet.  It's hard to argue though, my older sister never disobeyed while I stayed out in high school until 2 am cruising the city pre-cell phone days while I knew my mom was sitting at home thinking I was dead.

But in college I realized my passion was for healing the world.  I long pictured myself as a doctor, but in discussing my plans with my best friend growing up, this involved working for rich people.  Now I pictured myself working in Africa, living in a yurt.  And Bono, this was thanks to you.  Did you know you had that effect on me?  I signed every Amnesty petition. I got good grades and then went to medical school.  I became a doctor, and then have spent the past 6 years of my life in training to be a pediatric urologist.  But then I fulfilled the dream you instilled in me: I went to Africa.  I healed children that otherwise would have been shunned.  I saw African wells.  I look forward until my next chance to go back.  Bono, do you realize that your time at Live Aid shaped not only your life but mine?

I wanted to let you know.

xoxo

JP

Nothing Changes on New Year's Day

Dear Bono,

I hear you played "Gloria" a few nights ago.  I wish I was there.  I had big plans to get some tickets in the late drop but then realized that I am 6 hours from Chicago and had to work at 6am the next day and it just wouldn't work out.  Please play it for me next week?

Bono, it is New Year's Day.  Happy New Year!  July 1st.  The day all the hospital changes over.  The new trainees start and the old trainees move up the ranks.  Truly, a terrifying day to be sick.  And to be a new trainee.

I remember my first day.  July 1st, 2009.  I was started on vascular surgery.  I walked into the hospital at 5am, knowing that I was on call that night, covering vascular, cardiac, and thoracic surgery patients, in other words, really really sick patients.  Like 90 of them.  I did my work as best I could during the day-asking the vascular surgery fellow for help and mostly getting either no help or not useful information.  It was my first day!  What do I do when a patient goes into a fib with RVR?  What does that even mean??  I didn't eat that day.  Or that night.  I finally ate the next day, at a conference, where our nutritionists brought samples of Ensure so we could taste the filth we were making our patients drink.  It was nectar of the Gods to me. And then I had to do all sorts of work and discharge people and I remember 3:30pm that day; after working 34.5 hours thinking I could not do it.

Somehow I did.

Yesterday, I finished my clinical fellow year. 6 years of training in, this year is supposed to be about me and research and my interests.  Today, though, was basically the same as yesterday.

Maybe next week I can write and research?

xoxo
JP

Catwalk

Dear Bono,

I saw your shows in Arizona this weekend.  I got Edge's signature on my tour program thanks to my husband's freakishly long arms, but didn't manage to get yours.  I saw you, though.  You were on stage, probably less than 10 feet away from me.  I was there, on stage right, on the rail, a third of the way down the catwalk.  Do you remember me?  I wanted to talk to you, to tell you my plans for surgical care in the Third World. You were busy performing.

I was in the high seats the next day.  You wouldn't have seen me.  I dreamed that night that you picked me out of the crowd for your show, and I walked the catwalk from the e to the i stage, and it was the same as the bridge between University of Maryland hospital and the Baltimore VA bridge.

I need more tickets.

xoxo
jp

Happy Birthday

Dear Bono,

Today is your birthday.  Happy Birthday!  I wonder how you celebrate birthdays.  I have found that as I have reached adulthood, birthdays excite me less each year.  I think my peak was age 7, when I got my Barbie with the swimming suit and crimped hair and a Barbie sized swimming pool.  I remember taking it out back and filling some water in that pool and putting my Barbie in it, while my mom made sure to warn me not to get her hair wet because it would ruin her hair.  I took really good care of my toys, since we didn't have much money and I knew each toy would have to last a long time.  Now my Barbies are all in a little suitcase.  My sister opened up her Barbie suitcase for her daughter to play with over Thanksgiving.  It was a jumble of plastic legs and torsos, yet looking at each Barbie brought back such memories!

Now that I am grown and have more money, each little thing I have is just that-one more little thing.  This year, I want memories for my birthday, not things.

xoxo

JP

Eye-rolling in silence

Dear Bono,

My neighborhood is very hipster.  There's cobblestone streets, hybrid cars, and even a macaron bakery.  While my husband's friend was in town for her 10 year PhD reunion, we tried to go to a hipster neighboorhood restaurant.

Yes, this restaurant is so hipster, it does not take reservations. It takes "call aheads" and despite calling ahead an hour and a half as instructed, we arrived and still had no table one Friday night last fall.  Indeed, this restaurant is so hipster, it has a hostess who weighs probably 70 lbs, a server who dresses like James Dean (pomade and all) and another server who has a handlebar mustache.

Though I did not know the above at the time.  All I knew is I had just worked for over 12 hours and I was hungry and there was no table for us yet!  Naturally, we do the only logical thing, which is have them give us a menu to look at while we stood outside in the Autumn breeze.

"Lobster roll?..."  I overheard a fellow "wait outside until your name is called" patron.  I turn my ears.  I am, of course, the girl who ate lobster 7 days in a row on my trip to Maine only a year before.  Obviously, Ohio is landlocked.  Thus lobster roll=risky in my opion.  I continued listening.  "I suppose I could choke down a lobster roll.  It's no New Orleans lobster..." the chap chortled.  Laughs from his co-outside waiting people ensued.

"What?"  I thought to myself.  "Lobster doesn't come from New Orleans.  Surely, SURELY he must be joking!"  But he wasn't.  He was just fancying himself REALLY cultured.

"My good sir!" I exclaimed (in a British accent).  "I prithee excuse my interruption, but I could not help but overhear of your delight at finding a lobster delicacy on the menu!  However, I fear you are quite mistaken about the origins of lobster in the States!  Indeed, the lobster to which you refer is largely found in New England, and the crustaceans clasically found in New Orleans are actually a distant relative of lobster called crawfish!"

Actually, I didn't.  I should have. Instead, I just eye-rolled in silence.  I really hate people who put on airs about their fancy ways, which is one of the big problems I have with the city in which I currently live.  It is a big Midwestern city.  People here come from smaller Midwestern cities, and think it is the REAL DEAL.  But even growning up in a small Western city, I knew the Midwest was the worst.  And in the end, I convinced my husband and his friend of that too.  And we returned the menus and walked down the street to the (slightly less presumptuous) tapas restaurant.

xoxo,

JP

P.S. Get me out of here!!!!

Art

Dear Bono,

I've been thinking a lot this weekend about art.  The old "what is art" question makes me want to roll my eyes, but at the same time, I actually do wonder sometimes what makes art.  I do think that ultimately art is in the eye of the beholder, as do most people, I'm sure.  I certainly don't have any views on art that will change the world and shock future generations.

This weekend I took a much needed break with my husband.  We went to the booming metropolis of Pittsburgh.  Actually, I sometimes forget what a real city looks like, and Pittsburgh is a decent city.  We met some of our best friends there for a weekend trip where our priorities were 1) eating lots of good food.  That's basically it.  Also, I love these friends because they share the same priorities as us.

After being stuck at work until 8pm on Friday and therefore not arriving in Pittsburgh until 11:30pm, the five (ok so our friends have a baby too, but I'm pretty sure his priority is also to eat good food.  He is a chubby baby) of us had a delicious brunch on Saturday morning.  Going back to priorities here.  Mmmm.  Then we thought "hmmm... now that we are full, we need to fill some time until it's time to return to our priority again."  So we settled on a visit to the Andy Warhol museum.

Here's where the art comes in (though, believe me, I could see art in my spare-rib hash from breakfast).  I have long been a fan of modern art.  I love love LOVE it.  In my college sculpture class, where we had to give a talk on modern day sculptors, I spoke of Christo-who I started my talk with an asterisk: "Um, so professor, you may not consider this guy a sculptor, and if you don't I can totally do another one."  Turns out, this professor LOVES Christo.  Also, he hates Chihuly and does NOT consider that guy an artist, so the girl that did her report on him had to do another.  Again, art=eye of the beholder.  Also, if you are in an art class, art=eye of the professor.

Anyway, I loved the museum.  It was fantastic.  So much to see.  My favorite part was the silver cloud exhibit were I could get in the room and toss the bouncing clouds around.  There's something about becoming a part of the art that I think also opens up the mind of the beholder and lets them see a piece in a new light.  And at the end, I got to screen print my own picture.  I chose an orange back ground, did a bright pink panda, and then overlayed that with another screen print of a list of rules.  The girl working at the screen print area was pretty shocked when I suggested doing these two layers, but she was pretty impressed with my screen printing skills when I was finished, which was flattering, but I was also slightly offended-after all, I am an artiste.

Walking back after the museum, we saw some people on the bridge, and I thought "hmm, that looks like that guy that's really good an in all those movies that now I can't remember his name."  Turned out, it WAS.  Also, it was John Goodman as well.  And the guy that's in all those movies is Alan Arkin.  Thanks IMDB!  It was no sooner than I had thought that the guy looked like that guy, but my husband grabbed my shoulder and said "THAT'S JOHN GOODMAN" and I heard the voice and said "Yes it is." Also, IMDB came through AGAIN, because when we searched "Alan Arkin" and "John Goodman" Fargo came up, but ALSO, some new Christmas movie that they are currently filming in Pittsburgh!  We presumed they were on their way to the Warhol museum, and I considered stalking them and asking them to sign my panda rules screen print, becuase while it is an amazing work of art, having John Goodman and Alan Arkin's signature on it would really make it that much better, at least in the eye of THIS beholder.  But then my husband, who is really good at spotting famous people, mind you, said that meeting these people was always kind of a let down, because they are normal people.  And I again thought about art.  And how art is created by people that sometimes we think are on a different level, but they are just people.  I thought about how I used to love to spend my time doing art.  I thought about my high school sketch book, and how sometimes late at night, I would spend some time sketching.  (Often, they were pictures of The Edge, because he had a very interesting look in the late 80s).  I thought about my life now, and how I am miserable and my love of art has disappeared into my misery.  I thought about my friend that was on the trip with us, and her former career as a lawyer, and the misery that went along with that, and I thought about the joy she had now that she devoted her life to photography and being a mother.  And I realized, I need to create.  I need to make art.  I need to dance.  These bring me joy.  And then, just like that, my thoughts on art were over, and we walked over to the Strip and got some biscotti and meat.

Later that night, my husband and I attended a Garth Brooks concert.  Ok, so maybe that was the reason behind the whole trip.  I mean, Garth Brooks is an amazing performer.  I saw him at the Obama inauguration concert at the Lincoln Memorial and he tore. it. down.  Do you remember?  You were there.  In fact, you were the reason I went to the show and stood outside that frigid January day.  But Garth stole the show.  My friends didn't appreciate Garth, and they decided to stay in their room with their baby, which I guess was good since the show didn't start until 11pm.

I've been a closeted Garth fan for decades.  My cousins were farmers in Idaho.  I considered myself, a Utahn, to be far more refined than they. They loved their boots, their Wranglers, and their country music.  I loved The Gap.  I mean, what was more refined in 1990 than The Gap?? Also, I didn't really listen to music at the time, but I HATED country.  At some point, I started to appreciate Garth. I got his Hits, and taped the Double Live concert off TV and would put it on after school sometimes.  And then he quit touring.  The Las Vegas show happened, but I wasn't into traveling that far to shows at the time (Oh, Bono, how you and Dave Gahan have changed that) but after the Obama concert, I KNEW it'd be a great show.  And then he announced a tour!  And he announced it only one city at a time!  And it came to be that he announced Detroit and Pittsburgh, 2 cities a mere 3 hours from me.  And our friends from Philly said they'd meet us in Pittsburgh, and my husband (after some coercion) was amenable to going to the show.  And Garth was playing 1 show Thursday, 2 on Friday, 2 on Saturday, and 1 Sunday.  And I got tix to the 10:30pm Saturday show, because they had some good seats. And we went. And his voice was going. And it was a HUGE performance-complete with the Pittsburgh Steelers coming on stage and shooting confetti into the crowd.  And it was Garth's birthday!  And Garth said that that show was one of the all time best moments in his life. And I wasn't sure if he meant it.

Going back to the art. Sometimes, I don't know what is true and what is part of the high gloss shine on the art.  I think he meant it.  Reading reviews from the Thursday night show, I can tell our show was a bigger deal.  But these big shows are meant to entertain.  They don't necessarily intend to make the audience think.  I compared the show to the last live show I went to-Joseph Arthur, the day before Thanksgiving in his home town of Akron OH (2 hrs from my work-I got out of work at 7pm and missed about the first 15 minutes of the show.)  Just one man with his guitar, creating his own layers of loops. Talking with the audience-his high school friends and teachers, his parents.  Taking requests from the audience.  Sure I was on the front row for that concert while I was up in the 200s sections for Garth.  And yes, Garth had two different treadmills on his stage, while Joseph Arthur had a box that he would stomp on to create the percussion.  But both of these performers gave their all to their art.

Sincerely, JP

January

Dear Bono,

How are you??? How's the arm?  I am... well.  I never caught the hang of January.  

-J.P.