CrossCover

Where is my mind?

2009-12-02T13:55:09Z

It has been raining since midnight, and I woke up three hours ago from dreaming of bad things. I don't like being home, and this morning reminds me of why. Everyone yells. Homeworks haven't been turned in, laptops are to be confiscated, so of course, mother is suffering from acute victim-woe-is-I-look-at-me-and-give-me-attention complex and crying to God for His injustice against her and these are my children... not hers.

She forgets that I came home before the crack of this wet dawn and just went to bed two hours prior. She forgets that I'm not on vacation. They forgot I am their mother and his wife, and it's like I don't really belong in this odd vignette of their (annoying) morning ritual. It's like it's my fault somehow. I should have gone to grad school and become a teacher or something. I'd have the summer off, and I could threaten them with home-schooling when they don't turn in their homework at regular school. They'd buy it and be perfect angels.

I'm tired. I was wrong. I AM too old for this game, and I let my pride get in the way. Now I fear my kids will turn out to be deviants who steal, cheat, shoot at road sign, and watch porn on the internet, just like she's screaming in the hallway. I know she resents that she has to watch them for me... I'm sorry, but right now I am tired and all I want to do is sleep.

What?

2009-06-04T06:58:34Z

Say, have you heard? I'm the summer's hottest gossip now. Why, you ask? well... I guess it comes with the territory of being a few years older than most of them, rich in experience, and loaded to the gills with enough empathy to nod sadly when I hear a friend say "my wife has left me." Yep, no good deed goes unpunished, apparently. So it goes, then, that because I'm sought for advice and confidence by a jilted friend, I must not be doing something proper and it's all a ruse to get me some illicit lovins?

Hey, it's not my fault I am older and have been knocked around by life enough to know what it feels like to have the world crash on my head. Is it really such a weird thing that a dejected young guy would find my advice helpful? I mean, gosh... all thirty of us spend so much time stuck together, and if we can't trust each other, who do we turn to when we're in the shithole? It's not just about study guides and lab notes, people. Where did your humanity go? Why go there, you stupid children?

And the wheel keeps spinning

2009-05-17T14:00:26Z

I wish I had something entertaining about which to post. I can't really say it's been dull, because really, it hasn't been that way. I just can't seem to settle down on a single thing to point to and say "hey, that was awful/awesome/fun/scary/creepy/whatever...let me tell you all about it."

Maybe the fact that sometimes I was so busy, I forgot to eat for the entire day. Or maybe that in the past two weeks, I have had this feeling like I am drunk from the moment I awake until my head hits the pillow at night. It's a little scary, and I think it may be that I am tired. I walk around with the world spinning in front of my eyes as if I just got off a carnival ride. I can't make it stop. I lost like 25 lbs the last semester, and I wasn't even trying. I've also been working for a research lab on my notreallydowntime. I started as a way to help myself out with some of the biochem that I was having trouble learning. I ended up liking it and was sorry I never applied for an MD/PhD degree.

I drew something- a lot of somethings- when I couldn't sleep. I haven't posted anything other than a showering Vincent, because that's all that really turned out okay. I am starting to resent myself a lot for that. And I can't keep my hands from shaking, so the lines in the drawings are all smudgy, and I can't tell if the proportions are okay on account of my spinning world view. But I feel like I've done something, even if it's just survive. I'm still hanging from the proverbial meathook, but I'm still alive, and i can hang on some more.

Breaking the Surface

2007-12-06T15:58:49Z

For a brief, tiny breather.

This is the time of year,yes, the magical time of the year, famous at this school as "cram-as-much-information-into-a-lecture-as-we-can-before-quarter's-end" time. I've been averaging 2-4 hours of sleep/week.. PER WEEK! That is so ridiculous. I knew it was supposed to be intensive, and I did get those knowing smirks from the adcomm when I said I was prepared to pull long nights to keep up my grades, kind of like them saying "Haha, you have NO idea, do you, newbie!". I didn't know it was going to be THIS insane.

In fact, I got so little sleep this week that I had my first optical migrane in seven freaking years! Worst part of it was that I started having the vision problems when I was in the middle of rush hour traffic. I couldn't see the proximal cars on the lane to my left, which freaked me out for a few minutes. It was like seeing that distortion that you make on an LCD screen if you touch your finger to it, through BOTH eyes, but only affecting the left side of my field of vision.

It sucked, and it forced me to take medication, which I despise because it leaves me groggy and dehydrated and gives me that "shrunken brain" feeling when it wears off.

I can't WAIT for winter break.. all I want to do during it is sleep, sleep, sleep until forever. So now you know where I've been. I look forward to R&R, shortlived as it may be... but I should be okay after the first two days, I think... Now, I'm off to tackle a lab practicum. MMmm... Formaldehyde... joy!

My Indentured Servitude

2007-09-09T00:02:11Z

It all began with an innocuous request:

"Hey, my friend is starting a new web-design business and he wanted to know if you could help by suggesting some names for the company".

I spent all of 30 minutes writing a bunch of silly combinations that I never thought he'd pick in a million years. Apparently, after deliberating with his brain-trust, said friend went with one of my suggestions, and again my phone rang as I dashed up the stairs to meet my study partner at the reserved library room.

"Hey, he was wondering if you had any ideas for logos?"

I grumpily told him to call me later as I was late. Still, during one of my partner's many coffee breaks, I doodled a few things on a blank paper. A couple of days later, I get another call as I sit in my cramped room trying to organize a million flashcards.

"Uhm, he's asking why you haven't emailed me the logos"

Sucka say what? Hey, guess what, I'm not sitting with my thumb up my behind, and I'm kind of busy, so chill. Still, I felt bad, because apparently his friend wanted creative input, and let's face it, I was flattered he'd asked, so I whipped up a couple of logos on the laptop and fired off the email. The next morning I got a call as I am having breakfast

"Can you make more? He kind of wants a little variety to pick from. Maybe one with a brain in it?"

No, sorry... I honestly don't think it'd be a good idea to put a brain in the logo, and uhh, pretty much the first one was the one I liked the best, since it's simple, it's quirky enough to be eye-catching, and frankly, I have other stuff to do.

That afternoon, another call:

"You know, I think he's going to go into the business by himself. He was very disappointed that you didn't want to make more logos and was like 'Is that what it's going to be like with her? I can't count on her to come through for the clients!'"

Waitasecondtheregirl'sname... Who said I was going to work for him? Uhmm... hello: med school ring a bell to either of you? I thought I was doing him a favor to begin with. Nowhere did I even directly talk to him about anything, he never communicated any specs he had about a logo, and he certainly didn't offer me a job. God knows what they were discussing amongst themselves, but I never agreed to anything more than a name and a logo.

Fine. Whatever. Moving along, because course readings tend to accumulate if you don't do it on a schedule. Came home this weekend, and he tells me that his friend decided to design a font and make an all text logo for himself. That's wonderful, really, because if he can't even come up with his own damn logo, how does he expect to do it for his clients?

And that, folks is why I never went into graphic design. People tend to take you for granted, and then they change their mind and choose something completely opposite of what you would do. I'm just not that flexible. I'd be way too tempted to punch someone in the nads over that. I call it "creative differences".

Pheew!

2007-07-27T16:42:26Z

Today marks a very important day in my life:

I have completely fulfilled my contractural obligation to XYZ(also known as Hollywood Upstairs) school of medicine. Yep... that pesky class they wanted me to finish that I didn't finish before I got my bachelor's and was accepted to their illustrious, state-school-because-it's-all-I-can-afford? Done... I've the bruises, the concussion, the scratches, gouges and scars to prove it, too!

I am officially done, done, dooone with any and all high-level, esoteric, never-to-be-used-except-to-say-that-i-took-it, fancy-schmancy mathematics courses. Never again... never! and if they come back to me and tell me that there is one last flaming hoop for me to jump through to be off the probational period, they can just... uugh! Who am I kidding? they own my soul already, dignity is just a notch below that.

But yeah, I feel like I just up-chucked the giant boulder that I was carrying around in my stomach all summer long. And tomorrow I am off to enjoy the little time that's left of my summer in a well-deserved vacation.

WORST.SUMMER.EVER... PERIOD.DAMNIT.!

2007-06-16T21:50:54Z

I can't stand it anymore. It's classes like this one which make me want to quit... what the hell is the use? Oh, I know it's not 'required' but really, I know that truly, truly... it is... It's like a parent of an ugly kid telling them that "it's the inside beauty that counts, honey"

But then again, it's not really the subject itself that's a problem. I took part I and I even enjoyed myself so much that I could see myself as a math teacher if the whole med-school thing didn't pan out. The problem this time around is the instructor.

Dr. Mumbles-a-lot doesn't bother to explain much of anything, tosses a couple of examples on the board, sends us home to wait by the computer for the homework assignment which ends up being an endless cascade of exercises that have little or nothing to do with his examples.

So what happens is that I end up going home or to the hospital to try and figure out what the hell the homework is supposed to be, teach myself how to do it, and then tackle the pile of crap exercises he assigns. I don't have time to study for tests because of this, and I am almost about to cry myself into oblivion because it's also putting a strain on my husband (who is not very patient when i don't get an esoteric concept thought up by some weird greek dude wearing a glorified blanket for a dress).

While all this is going on, my kids need attention... they've been locked up in the house all week, and rightly demand to go out and have fun. My mother is having a family crisis over the phone every two hours and my friend Bob is paranoid because I haven't sent him the list of confirmed students for his CPR course next week. I tell you, as far as sucky periods of time go, this summer just blows donkey balls.

All I seem to be able to do in the past two weeks is get up, bathe, go to class, go to work/return home, eat, re-teach myself the day's lesson and get hopelessly confused, check the homework, start it, suffer until I can get help from the husband... get frustrated when I keep making the same stupid mistake that costs me half an hour to undo, finish, go to sleep and start over. It's no wonder I tanked the first exam already. At least I had plenty of company. He had to bend the grade curve so bad that borderline C/D scores ended up with A's. Good for me, but bad for me... I miss my old professor... she would manage to teach me this crap and make me whistle and dance with joy along the way.

The point of this rant? I miss my time online, and now you know why I've been absent all this time.

Growing Pains

2007-05-18T15:07:12Z

There are some things I wish I could erase, if not from existence, then at least from memory.

I imagine everyone has those moments in their lives in which it feels like the roof is caving in on top of their heads and there is nothing to hide beneath. The worst part is that is always happens in slow motion.

I've tried to be his friend all along. I know everything about my son! I've done a great job! I get praised for how polite and kind he is. I get letters from his teachers telling me what a bright, pleasant kid he is. He's getting an award for excellence this morning at school. I'm stuck at work, and I'm depressed, but I'm proud of him, and the great job his dad and I have done with him.

Twelve years, 8 months, two weeks and two days. I've had that long to care for him, and along the way I've become complacent. I see him act, and I can more often than not read him like a book. After all, I could tell if he cried because he was hungry, lonely, or needed a diaper change not too long ago, right? I should be able to tell why he's been so moody and snippy lately, right?

Wrong. Last night I learned the hardest lesson to date. I don't know him at all. I can be his friend, but I'm still his mother, and as such, that makes me the outsider. I won't get into the particulars of it, but I'm glad it was my husband who threw himself on the proverbial grenade yesterday, and I wasn't around to see the crumbling of my little fantasy. I thank God for that, and the fact that my husband was given the serenity to not blow a gasket as he's wont to do.

My baby isn't a baby, and it's time I let go of that notion. I'm just not ready yet, and I feel very, very disappointed. I hate the world today, because I think it has changed WAY too much since the time I was 12 (and that wasn't too long ago, thankyouverymuch!) There are some things that have no place in a child's world at certain ages, but popular culture and peers are making it extremely difficult to hold up the boundaries anymore.

I made a terrible mistake thinking my son was above the norm. I regret my naivete and "it won't happen to me" attitude. Things do happen, even to the best prepared and most mature of us, heck... I, myself, fell off a tall pedestal my parents had me on, despite the fact that I knew better and should have acted accordingly. What made me think things wouldn't affect my family at this point? In a world where little girls (because that's what you are if you are 12, damnit!) wear about as much clothing as a ten-dollar hooker off Sunset Blvd? In a world where video games and music glorify violence and sexual promiscuity, there is no safety net.
--

I understand that children eventually have to assert themselves among their peers, and that yes, they will talk dirty and do stuff we parents won't be proud of. But sometimes they get ahead of themselves, of their bodies, of their emotional maturity... sometimes they go too far. And this is what scares me.

I don't want my son to grow up resentful, having hateful feelings for his father or for me. I don't want him getting involved with kids that are clearly way too far beyond what I am comfortable with him knowing/doing. I don't want him to think he can't trust me, or that I don't trust him. I still believe he is more intelligent than the majority of his peers. I still trust him to stay away from drugs and gangs. etc. I know he's a good kid, I know he loves me, and despite the abrasiveness of their relationship, I know he adores his father and brother too.

I just wish I could stop time, rewind... make it go away. Make the words disappear, take back my approval of his MySpace... keep that computer out of his bedroom... keep him safe, keep him innocent... I want the impossible.

Maybe someday I will regain my comfort, but I know it's going to be a long time from now. In the meantime, the only thing I can do is watch out for him and his brothers, make sure the lines are holding up, make sure we all are doing our parts. Try harder.

Who's the Boss?

2007-05-04T13:27:32Z

I was bemoaning my lack of extra-curriculars (ECs) last month to my husband, and as usual, he said it's my own fault. Not as usual, he was right this time. And that only made me feel really shitty because I can't make myself part with the $10k it would take me to ship my gunner-in-the-making @$$ over to Africa or India or South America to single-handedly solve the healthcare issues that plague the WHO currently.

Yeah, the reason being that I don't have the $10k just lying around for me to exercise my superior pre-med volunteering skillz, mofos! No, so that means I'm stuck with the few local options. Woe is me, that I cannot heal the suffering of the third-worlders! Instead I must turn to the local community. How boring is that? I mean, why would a medical school care that I am working to help my community, you know... the same community I will be serving if they let me into med-school down the road? pssshaaa! that's nothing to write home about, I mean... it's no DAB (a bad, politically incorrect SDN joke). Now my personal statement is ruined! How am I supposed to write myself as the next Angelina Jolie if I can't get to Africa?! *insert melodramatic sob here*
--

(Okay, in case you're missing an important driver for your humorous peripheral, you PC android, that whole thing was completely tongue-in-cheek. That means, it's sarcas-ahh, to heck with you if you don't get it!)

Anyway. I'm very happy to report I've gotten to be part of a very important and ambitious educational project that just fell into my lap on the day when I was feeling the crappiest about my lack of ECs. A paramedic friend of mine has started a program to educate 50% of the county's population on proper CPR and AED use. This will give people a greater chance of survival in case of emergency as the likelihood of someone in the vicinity being trained in first aid will ensure the victim gets CPR/defibrillated while waiting for emergency crews instead of being surrounded by onlookers and not getting oxygen for the 10-15 minutes it takes the ambulance to get there.

I was so excited by the whole thing, I even managed to forget it counted as an EC. I'm just so glad to be a part of something so important. Then last week I found out I was being named Manager of the Student Enrollment department. Woot!

once again, it was hubbers who pointed out it'd look great as an EC. What's up with that? he's right, twice in less than three weeks!

You are useless!

2007-03-26T20:19:46Z

"You are the worst mother/daughter/wife/person in the world!"
yes, mother... I know... I'm sorry you gave birth to me too...

"You do nothing, nothing around here, how dare you tell me to shut up and stop bothering you?! If it weren't for everything I do, what would become of your family?!"
the same thing that became of them before you moved in. We'd be inconvenienced, but we were doing better than most people in our situation. Two working parents aren't the end of the world, and while I am grateful that you are helping, heck, taking over everything household related, it doesn't mean you're indispensable, and it certainly doesn't mean that the world would end if you left us now

"You are such an ingrate! How can you treat me this way?"
I don't know... I guess it just comes natural for people with a lump of dog-shit-for-a-heart like me

--

All of this because I didn't send out my son's birthday invitations at a socially acceptable time according to her. Then she kept nagging me about it and not-so covertly insulting my parenting abilities or capacity for loving/caring for my kids. She can clearly see I am up to my eyeballs in textbooks and preparing for tomorrow's testing feast, so she gets offended that I yell back at her and tell her to stop fucking bothering me about irrelevant things like invitations when my grade can swing on a single quiz from an A to a B. Something, which by the way, she raised me to be unhealthily obsessed with in fear of her disapproval.

I am usually a patient person, and I will shut up and take it like a man, because I know that arguing with her is pointless, and she's just looking for the right barb to set me off. She likes it when I yell, because then she is justified for hating me and crying, and telling the world what a bad daughter I am... just like her mother does to her.

I don't know if this trait comes from her bipolar disorder, or if it's some strange coping mechanism for her fucked up life... I don't care, she's trying to do it to me, and I am starting to lose ground with every argument. I am starting to feel like I deserve a little sympathy for dealing with her, and I can't let myself fall into that "poor me" trap of hers... It's a fine line between feeling overwhelmed, to setting it up to play the victim every single time. I don't want to be that woman.

I don't want to be my mother

Aww, Hazelnuts!

2007-03-21T17:24:16Z

I was in the middle of catching up with emails this morning, when I ran into one of those messages... you know the type from the subject line that goes something like this: "Please forward this to your friends otherwise we'll know you enjoy squashing puppy dogs just for shits and giggles, you sick, heartless bastard!"

Normally, they have a one way trip to my trash folder, but since it was from my friend Joann who knows I hate chain letters, I went and opened it anyway.

I didn't know how truthful it was, or if she got duped by someone who didn't get their tenth free latte as expected. But the message is asking for a boycott of Starbucks products because they refused a request from a unit of US Marines in Iraq to have some coffee sent to them.

The original message says that some of the guys in the unit sent a letter to Starbucks HQ and told them that their brand was their favorite, and could they please have some sent over to Iraq so they could enjoy it while on tour there. The problem comes in the reply of Starbucks to the marines... I imagine it must have been a very civil, straightforward reply that nonetheless carried with it a tone as icy as a mocha frappuccino.

"Sorry, you sweaty grunts. Our liberal, protest-mongering image doesn't allow us to have sympathy for you. We hate the war and anyone taking part in it. But, thanks for liking our products!"

I looked up the boycott, and it turned out to be a huge misunderstanding, but it got me thinking about the way some people deal with their anti-war sentiments.

Now, while I, personally, believe this war is unecessary and a gaping canker in the face of foreign policy and global stability; I must say that if the snub by Starbucks had been true, then they would deserve to be boycotted.

Say what you wish about the war, about the current administration, and motivations behind the state of affairs in the world. What the hell does Billy Jones* from down the street have to do with the WHY? He's just a poor kid who enlisted to get money for college and is now overseas swallowing sand and dodging bullets for something no one understands. He just HAS to do that, he has no choice!

What about tall and skinny Guillermo, who crawled into the attic to help my husband fix our A/C on the very first day they met? All he wanted to do was do his job, watch his son win track races and maybe go to dinner with his wife. All he GOT was two months respite to hastily help her set up their new home and off he was again, in charge of some hapless young kids that may have started out the same way he did. He missed her birthday. He missed Justin's honor roll banquet. He missed Gabriel's qualifying for the international Karate tourney... Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's, and the little day-to-day that makes a home what it's meant to be.

Protest the war, protest the leaders... don't spit in the faces of the guys who would die trying to provide for their families. Most of them are there because they had no other recourse.

Crap, at least I still have Jazzman to supply me with the caffeine I need... just in case :P

*generic name for the average low-ranking enlisted soldier/marine/sailor/airman.

Spring Break, Schmring Schmreak

2007-03-20T18:32:53Z

Oh, it's been a week, alright. I didn't have to attend lectures during that week. But I still busted my ass as if I did. Maybe even more, because, apparently the faculty at that particular university get some sort of sick glee about making their students work during Spring Break.

One paper on the Romantics, an unspecified length discussion on Shelley's creationist saga and the significance of ambition as a catalyst. Personally, I find it offensive to have an assignment that is basically a verbose opinion on a subject as it is portrayed in literature, and then to have my opinion graded on its validity. Whatever happened to "All opinions count"?

One lab report on gene sequencing. A re-do, because apparently the entire class was too retarded to grasp the concept of what he wants in a lab report, despite the gigantic list of points to cover in the rubric.. what, ten paragraphs on amino-acids wasn't enough for you there, Doctor Doom?

Oh, yes... of course... Physics quiz today on the material we covered two weeks ago for about 30 minutes.

And to think, I am almost salivating at the thought of selling my soul to Sallie Mae for an additional four years after this degree is done... WOOT!

Now, I'm off to catch up with the fanfic world... I think I owe some 7 reviews or something like that...*sigh*

Mr. Muerto MacBelesprit, please stand up.

2007-03-18T12:34:31Z

I don't usually make a big deal of my dreams. While usually they are quite entertaining and memorable, they aren't exactly noteworthy enough to get me to talk about them... except maybe the one repeating natural disaster theme of '03-'05.

Last night I dreamed about Art. No, not the kind you hang on the wall, or see in a museum. Well, you probably could see him in a museum of some sort, I guess... Art Rios was my best friend in high school. I met him towards the end of my freshman year and kept on through senior year and a little past that.

I met Art through a weird double prong: He was the boyfriend of my friend Teresa's older sister, who just happened to be friends with my now sister-in-law. I though he was really weird, even though we were dressed similarly in our early 90's gothy/grunge(I think it might have been his skirt that flipped my lid). That and the fact he was 6 feet tall and skinny as a twig.

He was a big X-Men comics fan. I think the one ambition he ever expressed was to do a spin-off dedicated solely to Gambit, his favorite. He showed me the tonnes of pages he'd written and drawn. I haven't seen anyone since do something quite like he did. Every year, he just got better and better. And soon enough, he was calling me Storm, and my boyfriend became Forge. And he... well he was Gambit, of course. Teresa went from being Jubilee to being Rogue... it was really weird to see them together. He was 6'2 by now, and she was barely 5 feet tall. Plus, there was the whole thing with her sister. Icky...

He did only ONE drawing for me through high school, and I still keep it. It was on a folder divider, and it was our entire group:

He and his new girlfriend Patty in Batman-collars, my boyfriend in pinstripes and a speech bubble that reads "I love you!", and I in a 'bride-of-Frankenstein' getup with a though bubble that said "I love Robert Smith". Then there was Sal in his Ska outfit, he's screaming out "SALT!". David rocks his super-long Anthony-Kiedis hair and fends off advances from the gay sophomore whose name I can't remember now. Fat Tony in an AC/DC t-shirt, his thought bubble says "Reefers, Joints, Weed, ROACH!" and he's carrying a box of bacon. Samantha, her mother was Russian, but all she could say was "Da, Da!" and a world that sounded like "Cheeleek" so that is what she says "Da, da, Chilic!" Then there is a little gerbil with a question mark, and a salt-shaker to immortalize the time at the movies where the clerk over-salted the popcorn and caused Sal to become obsessed. Teresa is delegated to a separate panel, as she'd left our group and moved to West Covina and forced to be "normal" by her parents. She is rocking out in a peasant blouse and bell-bottoms and singing "I love Michael Jackson"

Somewhere in between, he moved from L.A. to San Francisco to be with his girlfriend Patty, and I left SGHS in a strange search for the stage at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts magnet school.

During senior year, we both came back to SGHS. We had the similar reasons... we missed the old craphole school, and we missed our friends here. It was as if we'd never left, and we still hung out in the same places, and talked the same dumb conversations, said the same dumb jokes, played the same card games, and told each other everything. That is, until Patty changed her mind again, and wanted him back.... off he ran, back to San Francisco a semester before the year was over.

I didn't see Art again until two years later, when my husband had gone off to Russia for a satellite launch, and I went to visit my family in L.A. for Holy Week. I chanced a call to Art's old home number, and his little sister answered. He was back in L.A. too, but lived on his own. I got his new number and told him to come over and meet my son. I expected him to tell me he was at least working as an independent artist or something. Instead he told me that Patty had a son, and he wasn't allowed to see the baby... because of it, he was going to leave for Peru in and work an oil-rig to raise money and maybe work it out with her.

I haven't spoken to him in eight years now. I often wonder what happened to him. Did he go to Peru? Did Patty let him see their son? Did he pursue his art, publish his comic? Is he really as buffed now as I saw him in my dream? :P

Boredom is the work of... you guessed it!

2007-02-26T19:22:10Z



'Why are you going to hell?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Where are you, McSteamy? :(

Oh, yes...please!

2007-02-26T18:24:59Z

I'd heard the whispering of the nursing staff one evening as we sat the last two minutes of the shift waiting for the clock to strike 1908 and we could officially clock out without a 15-minute dock in our pay. It's not unusual to find their attention thusly engaged. I admit even my eyes are sometimes caught in a furtive peek when the specimen is worthy... I do have an appreciation for aesthetics, after all. But that's about it.

"Hey, uhmm...can you help me find the chart for Mrs. Jane Doe?"

"Oh, I can't- I don't.. I-I-I..." I turned to explain to this newcomer in a white coat how I can't leave the area. I hadn't realized he'd crept up so close behind me until I turned fully to face him. Five inches more and we'd be toe-to-toe, and I was staring squarely into the bracing wall that passed for his shoulders.

He smiled, a mouthful of beautifully straight white teeth, a rumbly "Sorry" and a half-step back to give me some semblance of personal space. "Where do they keep the charts?"

I think I'm staring too hard. I don't know what those sounds are, coming out of my mouth... they sound suspiciously like "oh daddy, I've been a bad girl!"

Thankfully, I think that was only in my head, because he points to the desk outside and repeats "Next to that printer?"

I've never seen eyes that green before. My cheeks are on fire, I think. "Yes, if it's not on that rack, then the nurse has it"

"Thanks!" He taps the doorjamb and tips his head to me before turning and stepping out.

A couple of hours later, the nurse covering the rooms outside my little office comes in laughing. Her patient asked her what new complaint would be "good for bringing back the hot doctor please?" The patient is 75 years old. I laugh too, but secretly I am plotting a way to help old Mrs Doe in her quest.

Maybe I should just be mad at him for causing me to get flustered so easily. I've proudly resisted the charms of dozens of young residents in the past 3-4 years, and I am not about to be reduced to a drooling groupie, just because he's all hot and sexy. Damn him and his hard body!

I should have gone to Business School instead!

2007-02-21T18:21:09Z

I don't know if the online community of doctor-bloggers and forum members is truly representative of the whole medical profession. I certainly hope it isn't.

Every single blog that I have read is more or less the same: "I hate the third and fourth year of med school", "Oh for the love of God, rotations are the work of Satan!", "My attendings have about as much charm as an oozing boil in a donkey's cankerous asshole", "Everyone is so meeeeaaan", "I don't want to be a doctor anymore, because it requires too much work!" "I should have gone to Business/Law school instead!"

After 3.5 years, I can honestly say I know what I'm in for. I've been the lowest-ranked bottom feeder on the patient-care food-chain. I've been patronized by nurses, I've been looked-down upon by med-students, ignored by residents and verbally abused by both patients and attendings. Thanks to the raging winters in New England, I've pulled double back-to-back shifts, and no, I don't get a little nap in between. It's non-stop duck-jab-dodge-fake-duck-and-hook from end to end.

I've been locked into an isolation room for an entire shift, trying to breathe through my mouth and ignore the foul smell of C-diff loaded stool pouring out of contracted quadraplegic CHF'ers. I've been kicked, spit on, punched, urinated on and once, I was even sexually harrassed by a prison guard that was accompanying an inmate overnight. Sure, on some occasions I hated the alarm-clock and wanted to cry as I peeled myself off my bed to venture out into a blizzard in the middle of the night. I also didn't appreciate the chronic back-pain of hoisting obese patients into a harness for a Hoyer lift.

But you know what? I sucked it up and did my job like I was supposed to. I was smart in targetting hospitals for job opportunities instead of going the easy route with private practice offices or retirement homes. I got to see the ugly side of things, and I proved that I'm not easily deterred. I got to learn a hell of a lot more, and I was able to make lasting friendships with some of the most interesting people I'll ever know. True, being a PCT for that first couple of years isn't the same as being a medical student or a resident. We do different things, but it doesn't mean that one is exclusively more shitty than the other. They both suck the life out of you, chew you up, stretch you to ungodly limits and all of it comes with very little reward or validation from your superiors, and extremely low pay. You're there to do that job, and you gotta do it, otherwise everyone else will hate you for it.

That's why I think admission to medical school should require a limited internship to give prospective applicants a taste of what to expect before they commit to several years to an extremely demanding schedule where the learning curve is unbelievably steep and the consequences so deadly and not to mention an enormous amount of debt. It sure as hell would cut down on the inevitable disgruntlement and med-student abuse, and it certainly would cut down on the number of happy-faced applicants who have no idea what they're getting themselves into and end up burned out half-way through third year rotations. That would leave those who truly want to pursue medicine and are willing to pay the price for their vocation.

I've left my PCT days behind. I now have a more mentally-stressful position and I am isolated from patient contact, which I sometimes miss a lot. Along with the bad, there were always those beautiful moments when a simple gesture would make the difference between a horrible night or a good night for a patient. When that happened to me, I didn't care that I hadn't slept in two days, and I was living out of my locker for the foreseeable future, that I hadn't eaten a decent meal in hours, or that I had a long drive home in the snow and had to try and squeeze school and family time somewhere in between. At least I had my health, which was more than that patient had...

My friends think I'm insane for trudging on. The residents laugh and call me the future gunner. I don't care. I know what I want, and I know what to expect... All I need is my foot in the door. Everyone else can look in the direction of their nearest Business school if they want.

What's colour got to do with it?

2007-02-18T21:42:59Z

Ugly, ugly debate at SDN over the race self-ident box in the AMCAS form.

I usually try to avoid race issues on public forums because it's just a quick way to piss oneself off reading some of the drivel that both sides can dish out. But for some reason, this is the second thread at SDN that has compelled me to add my (mostly completely ignored) feelings on the matter. I think it's the whole idea of 'stealing' spots away from non-minorities that kind of makes me get that itchy defensive vibe around me. That claim implies that ALL medical school seats are the sole entitlement of the caucasian applicants and that any minority entering medical school is displacing someone with a God-given right to that spot because of political correctness.

For one thing, I still haven't decided whether I want to self-identify or not. The issue becomes moot if one is invited for an interview, anyway. What, you think that just because you didn't check the little box, when the interviewer and the adcomm catch a glimpse of your brown face and rounded features, they won't suspect you belong to a non-caucasian ethnicity? Give me a break.

I used to have this delusion that I could make it because I'm good. If it weren't for that stupid class in Quinnipiac, I'd have a perfect fucking GPA... I regret the day I wasted my money at that school. It only served to get the only B in my entire life, and for a bullshit class that I ended up NOT needing anyway.

I know I am able to maintain a near perfect GPA, and I know I will get a competitive score in the MCAT. I've faced classes that usually beat the stuffing out of other people, and I was intimidated when I went in, but I set my goal, and I set myself to task, and I aced every single time... I want medschool that much. That is why I consider not checking the box. I have the academic merit to not need the crutch of Affirmative Action.

Then I go to SDN. Everyone there is fighting dirty to get the spots available. It only makes me wonder just how many more people out there I have to beat out for a spot. Do I stand out enough? Everyone on SDN is talking about medical missions, and bleeding-heart advocacies, and DABs, and research publications, organizations, and volunteering up the ass that I just don't have the time or opportunity to do.

The ridiculous thing is that I am at a great disadvantage. My income-tax tier may say I am not, and it may declare me ineligible for most types of federal subsidy for college. But the 'fortune' that my husband earns isn't really that impressive when held against our expenses. Whatever he can't cover, I have to cover. My mother's livelihood is 100% dependent on my income, and so is my grandmother, back in the remote country of bungholekrypton. That is why I need to work. I wish I could just up and quit my job so I could overload my schedule with super difficult classes like physics and astro-molecular-neuroscience-biochemistry or some bullshit like that. I could volunteer as an EMT too! I'd ride the box and flash the lights and sirens to run red lights all night long just for shits and giggles. I bet I'd have a ton of DAB stories too. I could just go to Nicaragua and visit the family and call it a medical mission. Good times all around.

So when I think about it, I really feel tempted to check the box... give me a little boost in the lineup. Then I see the people at SDN all worked up because some "Not intelligent enough" minority is going to steal their spot in Medical School XYZ.

It really pisses me off when people presume that just because I'm a brown girl, I am not as smart as the white European girl that sits behind me in math. Is that why I have an A and she's failed every single exam to date? Oh! I know... it must be Affirmative Action at work...

Okay... done.

Open for bidness

2007-02-18T19:12:56Z

Okay, I think I am going to have to take a page from some of you guys and keep the writing journal separate from the personal life journal. I don't fool myself into thinking anyone who reads NineShadows is remotely interested in my life, they may be slightly curious as to what I am writing, or drawing and don't want to wade through posts of me hating on the cow at work. So this is where CrossCover comes in.

For those of you (lurker that I know is there) who feel the need to know how my school process is developing, or if I eventually managed to defeat the THE Test, or how love's treating me, this is your spot... brace up for a lot of complaining.

That is all...