So I'm in Miami for the second time this month. I have an exam on Friday, and I really shouldn't have come down. But I did, because my friends got married this weekend.

The drive down was pretty long but very peaceful (minus almost dying while driving through a brief hurricane), as I had 5 hours to myself. I tried to convince myself to stop caring about school as much. I fooled myself into thinking that I would be okay with just passing. I don't need to get exceptional grades, because I don't want to be a dermatologist or plastic surgeon. Chances are I'll go into family medicine (not competitive at all). So why not enjoy life? Why be miserable in med school?

This morning I woke up hating myself for not studying more. I guess I have a lot more convincing of myself to do.

The other endless amount of self reflection time bestowed upon me this weekend happened before and during the wedding. A whole boatload of stuff to think about:

-Marriage
-The horror that is planning a wedding
-Proper attire for weddings
-The Spanglishness of the mass
-Whether or not there would be an open bar later
-Religion (because it was, of course, in a Catholic church)

I was there extra early, because I was the best man's date. I didn't know anyone else besides the groom's family, and so, naturally, I sat alone. Alone and lonely. In a church. As I looked around, I saw how wound up and stressed out everyone was. The wedding coordinator people were the worst. I couldn't bear to look as they barked out orders at anyone who was involved in the wedding.

It got me thinking about how I do NOT want a big wedding. I don't even want a conventional one. Big white dress? No thanks. Subjecting my best friends in the world to don some pastel-colored chiffon or satin dress that they'll never wear again? Um, no. Trying to figure out who to invite and who not to... oh dear God. Finding a venue, finding a pastor, picking the food, choosing the flowers, ugh. It's all so... horrible.

My ideal wedding will be a huge ass party with all the people I love. It will be outdoors and there will be barbecue and an amazing bartender and DJ. My dress will be something classy but sassy, no poofiness, no extra miles of fabric that will drag behind me endlessly. Then, with all the money I didn't spend on a big poofy dress and souvenirs, I will go on a honeymoon every year for the first 5 of marriage.

Don't get me wrong, the big white dress, the beautiful decorations, it's all nice. It makes me feel like a girl. But I don't want it.

After I decided that I would never have a traditional wedding, the organ played and there came the bride, all dressed in white. I got a little misty eyed (I'm a loser) and remembered meeting this girl when my friend first started dating her. They are a very cute couple. *sigh*

Then, they started exchanging vows and all that jazz. Then I realized that I probably would prefer to never get married. All that pressure. Is it really necessary to make it official? I love you, you love me, let's start a family and live together. Screw the bells and whistles. Also, I know my dad will cry like a baby. That makes me never want to get married.

During the rest of the mass, I couldn't help but think about all these things, while simultaneously noticing the revealing clothing of most of the girls there. My mother gave me a shawl to cover up with before I left the house. Most girls there were tramping around like it was Club Church, and, quite frankly, I didn't think it was a big deal. But what was Jesus thinking? I'd like to know.

As mass droned on and on, I started to feel semi-guilty for being in my own la-la land and not paying attention. But I don't know how many people actually DO pay attention during mass. Even when I was the holiest of holy kids, singing songs of praise and proudly responding to every prompt given by the priest, my mind used to wander. I can't imagine how adults could do it, or IF they do it.

Mass should have less ritual, less words, and more meaningful exercises. Moments of reflection to give thanks for all Jesus did... that's great. But praise be the Lord 15 times gets a little old, and I don't think people mean it every time they say it. Not because they don't believe it, but because they go into automatic pilot mode, while they think about whatever they are thinking about that probably has absolutely nothing to do with the Father, the Son, or the Hoy Spirit.

I also noticed how ornate the church was. This is more common in Catholic churches than other denominations of Christianity. I wonder how much it cost to build the church, how much maintenance is, etc. I realize the money is going to a "good cause," but there are better causes, and shouldn't a place of worship be humble and simple anyway?

I decided that if I had a religion, mass would be outdoors. It wouldn't be mass. It would be like, hey, let's get together and meditate, and feel grateful for what we have. Let's pray for those in need. Let's work toward the betterment of mankind, and let's start with ourselves. Let's plant a tree.

Yeah. And there would be music, too. And yoga.

Hmmm... the Church of Marianatology. Or Marianaism, Or Marianity.

Anyway, soon enough the mass was over, after about 7 different weird rituals, like a noose-rosary (ironic, no?) around both their necks and the lighting of a candle. The reception was awesome, and yes, there WAS an open bar. Vodka + dancing the night away helped me forget that I'll probably never get married, and that I'll probably fail Friday's test.

Today in lab, I sawed a man's face in half. Right through the middle of his forehead, in between his eyes, splitting his nose in half... down to the jaw bone.

It was brutal, and most people felt pretty weird about it. I'm shocked that I am so desensitized.

School is sucking a little lately. Oh well.

What will they think of next?

So I log onto MySpace for no good reason at all, and I find that people who I haven't spoken to in a while have posted comments on my page with links/pictures/videos. I assumed one of them was just a funny you tube video or something, so I click, and what happens? I get redirected to the MySpace log in page. Just as I was about to re-enter my username and password, Firefox popped up with a message, as seen below:


It's kind of tough to make out what the message balloon says. "Suspected forgery" and some long explanation that this site is wack and trying to steal my info.

It's really tough to feel safe on the internet these days. We had an entire one hour lecture during the beginning of orientation about "internet safety" and how our passwords should be insanely complex like, "h4y7U909!$k009" and how we should NEVER store passwords on the computer, bla bla bla.

Damn Phishing scams.

I tested it out on Internet Explorer and it also gave a warning about forgery.

Maybe blogging is just a huge scam used to steal people's opinions, rants, and bad writing. OMG. Maybe scientologists are behind it.

I don't know why I said that. Apparently a lecture was given on campus by the Psychiatry interest group about how Scientologists think they have the right to hurt psychiatrists for some reason. Religion is ridiculous. Why should we live our lives according to what someone else/an institution deems as correct. Bah. Ridiculous.

What if I wanted to be a psychiatrist? I don't want some placenta-eating, multi-alien composed guy coming at me with a chainsaw. Sheesh. Oh. Woah there. Totally politically incorrect of me.

Since Scientologists are running this blogging phishing scam, I'd like all of Scientology to know something important: I do not want to be a Pyschiatrist. I'm going to be an Obstetrician, and I will provide you with more placenta than you can sink your teeth into. Please do not steal my identity, or my thoughts on life as a med school student. KTHXBYE!

See that diagram? It's a cross section of the thorax. I *loathe* cross sections.

So, tomorrow there's a quiz. I studied every day last week in anticipation of this quiz. I put in the hours, made the sacrifices. It was grand. I felt so on top of my shit. Part of my motivation: I wanted to go to Miami for the weekend. So I did. It was an amazing break, much needed, well deserved. I studied a bit while there, but not nearly enough. I got back to the swampland, donned my neatly folded (thanks mom) scrubs, and boldly walked into the anatomy lab. Ten minutes later I bolted out of there, with an overwhelming fear that I had bitten off more than I could chew. Or is it bit off? No time for grammar! I should be studying or sleeping. But first, I must throw a small blog pity party about how much more I should have studied this weekend.

I sacrificed study time for fun time, and I'm kind of tempted to say it was well worth it. I mean, I can't let med school be EVERYTHING. As the med schoolers say, P=MD. What that means is PASS = MD, as in, all you need to do is pass to become a doctor.

If you happen to want to be, oh, let's say, a plastic surgeon, then this law doesn't apply. But I most definitely don't want to be a plastic surgeon, or a dermatologist, or an orthopedic surgeon, so I don't have to worry too much.

But I still have my pride! And, who knows? I might change my mind 8 million times and end up choosing a mega-competitive specialty. My crappy GPA will cause me to be rejected or force me to live somewhere awful... and why? Not because I couldn't do it, but because I chose to go to Miami and hang out at the beach and see my friends and eat delicious food and...

Oh f*** it. It was totally worth it!

Things have been going unusually well lately. I am happy to say, I got a new car, I got a FREE ticket to the Florida vs Auburn game, I've been on top of my schoolwork (kind of), and, finally:

THE OFFICE IS BACK!

Yes...

The first episode aired yesterday. It was one hour long. It was funny but not as amazing as I'd hoped. My favorite line (by none other than Michael Scott):

"I'm not superstitious... I'm only slightly stitious." (paraphrased)

HA!

My new car is pretty nice. It's a 2008 dark blue Pontiac G6. Thank goodness for a father who is kind enough to wire me money and arrange it all. Yay Dad!

It felt pretty weird to have my dad do all that for me. I'm usually more independent, but school is insanely time consuming and I asked my dad to iron out the details for me. Again, yay Dad!

I'm freaking independent. FINALLY. Relying on people for rides sucks. Not having a car in Gainesville sucks sucks sucks. But now, that's allll over.

The other awesomeness: I'm going to the motherlovin' game! This game is the second to last home game. I missed Tennessee because of the stupid exam. I can't wait to tailgate. The game's at eight.

Something else that's pretty cool... I went to power yoga twice this week. I used to take yoga for credit in undergrad (how sweet is that?) and I've been in love with it ever since. Unfortunately,
power yoga is like yoga on crack. Fortunately, it's a great workout and it leaves you feeling wonderful.

What's not so awesome is the fact that I've completely succumbed to the fact that I will spend a lot of time studying. Somewhere along the way, I lost my "I will not let school interfere with my social life" attitude. I have always done above average, while never really setting high standards for myself. Suddenly, I find myself unable to settle for anything less than outstanding. Twice this week I could've gone out and partied, and both times I found myself wanting to stay in and study. Not forcing myself to stay in, but *wanting* it. This is so strange. Could I possibly be growing up???

NEVER!

At any rate, I hope it persists and that it pays off, because I'd better not be both lame and mediocre!

Tonight, I will not be lame. I am going out. I want to celebrate the end of the week. On that note, I should go study for a couple of hours.

See? WTF?!

Exam, partying, and Gainesville rant

We took our first exam on Friday. Our Anatomy professor calls exams "exercises" and he says that we have to keep swimming, and each exam is like a buoy.

It's really an annoying metaphor, because it is a feeble attempt to make the whole ordeal seem like a fun game. It should be something like: You are in a torture chamber, and the exam is like when your torturer comes in to check on how miserable you are and inflict an extra amount of pain/suffering.

As usual, I exaggerate.

But 3 computer exams and a 2.5 hour practical with both cadavers and microscopes is really really tiring. Not to mention the fact that everything was tough, minus one exam, Radiology. That professor's got an amazing sense of humor, and the class is pass/fail. This is the recipe for a ridiculously easy exam.

I didn't suffer too much throughout the whole experience, though. It's just a test. I did well enough to pass it all, and even if I hadn't, we've got 2 more "exercises" then shelf exams, which are some sort of standardized exams to assess our learnin'.

The absolute BEST part about taking an exam, however, is the unanimous desire to go have a ridiculously awesome time afterward. That we did. We threw a house party, and more than half of our classmates showed up. It was a grand old time. I woke up on Saturday morning feeling less than ideal, but I got online and had my good friend Papa John make me a pineapple and ham pizza and have it delivered. Best hangover cure EVER.

The weird thing about the first couple of days after an exam is the readjustment to being normal again. I got used to spending 80-90% of each day studying or in the lab. It's so strange to wake up and have the option to sit around and watch TV all day (which is PRECISELY what I did yesterday).

Last night we went to the mediocrity that is downtown Gainesville. The assholes at the bar charged an extra 4 drinks on my tab. It is Gainesville, so those drinks only cost about 3-4 bucks each, but that is still bull-crap! I argued with them and they treated me as though I was some crazy drunk bitch. I was not really drunk, but I was definitely being a bitch after 5 minutes of their crap. Screw them for overcharging me. They erased the charges, but it was like pulling teeth and their customer service was pathetic. I suppose dumbass drunk Gainesville kids try to pull this all the time, perhaps because they were so drunk that they forgot that they had ordered all those drinks. This was most certainly not the case for me.

Ok that's enough ranting. I'm trying to love this town but it's getting harder. Whatever, it's only the second month of many, and I am sure there are some better bars around here. Sigh.

Why couldn't UF be in Miami?! Oh, I know why, I'd NEVER study.

Fickle Girrrl

Guys say "Girls are so fickle."

While I cannot speak on behalf of my entire gender, I can most certainly admit that I'm as fickle as a pickle.

A pickle that once was a cucumber, to be chopped up and used as an ingredient in a freshly tossed Mediterranean salad, but decided to jump into a vat of brine instead, only to later realize that it wants to be a cucumber again.

For the most part, being fickle has not been a totally terrible thing. I've gained exposure to a handful of possible career paths, tried lots of beer, learned about lots of different belief systems, etc. The value of this for me: a broader perspective, a greater understanding. The only time it really bugs me is when it is at the expense of another person.

My official apology: I am really truly very sorry for being so fickle.

This weekend presented with one decision was extremely tough to make: Go out and party on Friday night and/or go to the UF vs Tennessee game today, or stay in and study, study, study instead. I am pretty shocked that I chose the latter.

In the words of a once great punk band: "Well I guess this is growing up."

Uh, don't get me wrong, I definitely will watch the game. But no tailgating. OH MY GOD IT BURNS. Must.... drink... beer.

Being responsible sucks ass. Getting bad grades sucks significantly more ass, though.

Chronicles of the Spazziest (sp?) Med Student of Them All

Two things:

1: Yesterday in class, I opened up my laptop so I could take notes on the wonderful world of diagnostic imaging. I generally hit "Hibernate" instead of "Shut Down" so that I can open up the computer and have everything I was doing before still there. Little did I know, Firefox was open with Pandora radio up and running. It takes a while for the laptop to show me Windows and let me move around and do stuff. It does not, however, take more than one second for the music to come on FULL BLAST in the middle of the lecture. The song that was playing? Christina Aguilera, Dirty. She's just YELLING in the song. It is definitely on the list of the top ten songs you wouldn't want to be playing full blast in the middle of lecture. I scrambled to shut the sound off, but the volume controls were completely unresponsive. I held down the off button for a very long time before it shut down. Everyone had a grand old time laughing it up. Luckily the professor thought everyone was laughing at some joke he had put up on the powerpoint presentation.

2: Yesterday in lab, while returning from the tissue disposal bin, where I was dumping out the 6th container-full of thigh fat, I noticed a breeze. My pants fell down.

Yeah, no lie. At my ankles.

Luckily, my lab coat is really long, and I was covered down to my knee.

Still hilarious, tho. Again, laughter ensued and everyone else in the room was wondering what could possibly be so damn funny about shoveling fat out of a cadaver's thigh in a desperate attempt to clean out the femoral nerve. (Worst lab EVER, by the way).

Neither of these can top the time I yelled "I HATE YOU" while walking into a lecture hall last year. That was a classic.

The morals of the stories:
1: Pandora radio is not all it's chopped up to be if it actually thinks I'd like that awful song.
2: They need to make better fitting scrubs. How 'bout an elastic band? Would that kill them?

Britney Spears disappointed me tonight.

The VMA's seem to get worse every year. I shouldn't have sacrificed this past hour of study time...

"Sacrificed" pfft.

I heart Justin Timberlake though. And yeah, Britney has GUTS to come out and sing after all she's done.

Oh, back to why the VMA's are an insult to me. It's always poorly planned, people always read their cue cards incorrectly, and the technical difficulties are overwhelming.

Who am I to criticize this annual meeting of celebrities in a celebration of music? A formaldehyde drenched, very stressed out medical school student, who should have studied today, but for some odd reason couldn't find the motivation. Nearly failing last Thursday's quiz and an impending major exam in less than two weeks just don't cut it.

Oh, but I studied all weekend, so it's okay. NO NO WAIT, I DIDN'T STUDY ALL WEEKEND!

It was a fun weekend tho. I spent a couple of hours at school on Saturday kind of glossing over some Anatomy stuff, but I was too excited to get to tailgating (which was awesome). The game was cool too, but I was too tired to really care. Go Gators!

Tomorrow we have to interview a fake patient and we're getting videotaped. Later in the week, we will get into our small groups and watch ourselves. The stupid camera adds 10 lbs, and I am nervous as hell.

Bah! I suppose I should get to bed early. No use staying up and watching this garbage any longer.

QUIZ TOMORROW!

It is the first of many evaluations of my ability to take in new information, understand it, and be able to demonstrate that understanding by correctly answering a series of questions written by people who haven't been in medical school since before the discovery of electricity. It will define me as a medical school student.

No it won't. Hopefully it'll go okay enough that I don't fail, but not so well that I don't get the swift kick in the booty I need to get into high gear.

Before I know it, I'm going to have to choose a specialty.

I went to a Psychiatry Interest Group talk today. "Talks" by interest groups on campus are generally given during lunch time, and lunch is generally provided. But I seriously went to the talk with genuine interest.

Genuine interest in getting some pizza.

Oh, and also a slight interest in Psychiatry as a potential career.

I left with more than a slight interest. Psychiatry is one of the more humanistic medical career paths, and a lot more options exist beyond what most people think a psychiatrist is. I actually found the talk interesting, as well as very informational.

When one lady was talking, I got some really intense deja vu. Like, real deja vu. As in, I totally was here before, listening to these words, feeling this way.

Maybe it's a sign... In a past life I may have been a psychiatrist. Or a hungry medical student listening to a psychiatry interest group talk.

The speakers did/are currently doing residencies in psychiatry, and all of them said "I never thought I wanted to do Psychiatry." With my history of indecisiveness (switched career paths thrice), I most definitely have no clue about what I'll be doing in 4 years. But if I do end up choosing Psychiatry, I'll always remember this lunch talk, and perhaps when I'm a guest speaker for the Psychiatry Interest Group Talk for a bunch of new stinky first year med students, I'll tell them the story of what sparked my interest in Psychiatry. Maybe not.

On a totally unrelated, unnecessarily whiny note: I took a long shower and still smell like formaldehyde. There's a quiz on Thursday. I don't know what innervates the supraspinatus muscle, let alone what the hell it does. I don't know what mitochondria look like under a light microscope, or which proteins are involved in the zonula adherens of epethelial cells.

Perhaps I shouldn't think about residency when it's quite possible I won't even make it through year one...

Ok, that's an exaggeration, I hope. I'm just tired/cranky/stinky.

Gainesville is just plain WEIRD to me.

So, today I got a ride to school from my good ol' pal Horacio, who came up here for the game (which I *did* attend... damn it feels good to be a Gator). Anyway, I don't have a car, but I live a little less than 2 miles away from campus. Last year, in DC, I used to walk 3.5 miles to and from school (uphill, both ways, in the snow). It was great because it let me get a bit of exercise, some nice quiet alone time, and the chance to be outdoors after hours of being cooped up in horrendous classrooms.

After printing a google map, just in case I needed it, I started what I thought would be a regular walk home. Campus was strangely quiet and desolate, and as I approached the normally full commuter lot, I kind of felt a little scared. There was only one car in the parking lot. Campus security. As I walked through the lot, I heard the driver of the car turn on the ignition and start driving. Three seconds later the car was next to me and I heard a woman's voice: "do you need a ride to your car?" When I explained that I was just walking home, and that home was a good 2 miles away, she damn near slapped me upside the head. She called for a police officer to come drive me home, and had me sit in her car with her. I felt like a 5 year old who had just stuck a bobby pin in an electric socket and was being scolded by the proper adult authorities.

Sidenote: I actually did stick a bobby pin in an electric socket when I was younger. I got a nice big jolt, and I vaguely remember that my mom went all kinds of crazy on me.

Moving right along, this woman let me know that I should NEVER EVER walk alone at night. Sounds like common sense, I suppose. But again, I used to walk in DC, one of the biggest cities with the most crime. I used to walk home at 10 pm, without a care in the world. It wasn't even totally dark out tonight.

Back to her lecture: "There are crazy people out there, you never know. Not to mention alligators. You are new around here, you're not used to the alligators. If one of those things gets near you, you're gonna panic, not know what to do. You might run into traffic. There are snakes around here too. And very little lighting. And also, think about the fact that there are lots of heavily medicated people walkin' around comin' out of the hospital."

She straight up scared the shit out of me. I don't even want to walk around Gainesville in broad daylight anymore.

So the cop showed up, and he was less than pleased. I thanked the maternally inclined security guard, and almost wanted to hug her. She cared, and it showed. The transition from sweet lady to pissed cop was an awkward one. He had to clear out all the stuff from the front seat, while I just stood there wondering if I should sit in the back. That would've been cool. I would've been like "damn it feels good to be a gangsta". But I didn't want him to think I was used to sitting in the back of a cop car or something weird like that. So I got in the front. He asked me "what happened" and I explained the situation. He kind of just nodded. I wanted to break the silence, and even contemplated making a joke, like "I hope this is the ONLY time I'm ever riding in a cop car" but I was so embarrassed that I didn't dare speak (me, quiet?!?! hard to imagine, I know). He made some small talk and I got home, safe and sound, without a gator bite in sight.

I was pretty annoyed at the situation, because I really like walking, and it's too hot to do it before dark. I'm annoyed because Gainesville had given me a false sense of safety. I mean, coming from Miami and having lived in DC, how could I be afraid of lil' old G-ville? Damn this town, and its lack of public transportation and adequate lighting.

The only good thing that came out of this is that I met my security guard savior. She showed that she really cared and that UF is all about taking care of its students. I would never *ever* expect half of that from the University of Miami or Georgetown, ever.

So hooray for UF, hooray for kindness.

This place is going to take some getting used to. And by some, I mean a lot.

Weird place, this Gainesville. It's only been 3 weeks, perhaps I'll grow to love it eventually.

Oh yeah, and med school sucks.

Gross Anatomy is not really as fun and cool as I thought it would be. Formaldehyde burns the eyes, removing fat from a cadaver is time-consuming and quite disgusting, and trying to find nerves is nerve wracking.

But, it's still awesome in its own way.

I feel as though we all became unexpectedly desensitized to the fact that we are cutting away at a body which was once occupied by a soul. A mind, a heart. A person with real feelings, a life, maybe some kids? A person who had a favorite color and a favorite movie, fell in love, maybe did some drugs? Yeah, all those feelings *poof* disappeared as I made large incisions across the cadaver's back, pulled the skin away from the muscles, and scraped away the fat and tissue.

I try to stay conscious of the human side of it all, but I don't want that to deter me from learning. I also don't want to have nightmares. I do, however, want to always appreciate the individuals who graciously donated their bodies so that we stressed out twenty-somethings can get our hands dirty (literally) and do some learnin'.

Today, as the formaldehyde burned my eyes, I looked away from the dissection table to try to catch some clean breaths of air. I looked around the room, and saw the faces of my classmates, concentrating, slicing, searching, learning. It was like a scene out of a movie. What kind of movie, I don't really know. But it was like a movie, damnit. It made me feel very lucky to be in medical school.

I know, I know, once the 7 hour exam blocks and sleepless nights come rolling in, I'm going to be bitchin' like the rest of 'em. But for now, in between brief episodes of panic and stress, I'm still able to appreciate some things.

Speaking of appreciation, I have a new found appreciation for anyone who has ever put together furniture. I built my own desk yesterday. It was a relaxing activity in the sense that it had *nothing* to do with science, but it was frustrating in the sense that it had everything to do with incompetent instruction manual writers and poorly designed furniture. It is a sexy desk, very plain, very big. It felt good to build it myself, and I suppose I will never take that desk for granted. It would be cool if everyone could spend just one day in the shoes of the people who make things possible (ie the farmer who grows our food). Maybe not. Whatever.

That's all there is to say, I suppose.

A couple of posts ago I wrote about how while tearing apart my calendar from 2005, I remembered what a tough year it was. Check out my horoscope for today:

Leo (Jul 23 - Aug 22)

Reality has an obstacle or two to place in your way now, as Saturn is in its final week of visiting your sign. Consider the extraordinary pressures you have faced since August, 2005, to see what you can learn from the past two years. Remember, awareness is crucial; if you can understand your role in what's happening, then you can push through to the other side.

Crazy!

On a totally unrelated note: today I have my first dissection. I pre-read the lab manual, went to bed early, ate a good breakfast, packed a healthy lunch, and even got some annoying forms done that I had been putting off for a while. Being a responsible student felt great. I had such a smug sense of having everything under control. I said to myself, "Ha, world! You can't trip me today!" And then...


I realized that I forgot to bring my lab coat. Damn it.

Gaaaaaawd. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Anyway, enough of that. I just wanted to reflect on my horoscope. Some weeks the readings are so on the money it's scary.

First day of Class....

Was great. Despite being called out by the teacher for walking in late with two other people (and later being the only one that people made fun of for it), it was a great day.

We got stethoscopes which were donated by the Alumni Association. That was kind of emotional and it felt like a rite of passage. I'm still having lapses of "holy crap I'm here."

Then we got our first lecture in Histology. Boringest subject EVER.

Later in the day, we went into the anatomy lab and met our cadavers. It was intense, and a bit eerie. Their faces were covered up, which made it a bit easier to deal with.

The day ended with 2 hours of boredom in Histology lab. *yawn*

And now, it's almost 11 pm, my new bed time. At least that's what I'm shooting for.

Tomorrow we have our first dissection. I'm a bit nervous but mega-excited. Hopefully I won't botch anything up!

My MSN tarot reading: (yes, I realize it seems like BS but I do it for fun)

Today is a day where you want company, new acquaintances, friends, a new love, Mariana. The World puts you in a frame of mind that’s open to the world. You are likely to get plenty of invitations – and will certainly accept them, as you are keen to establish new friendships. Strength, on the other hand, makes sure that you use discrimination and do not waste your time with people who are not worth it. So make the best of this day and enjoy! You are going to have a very pleasant working day today. Your projects are coming along, your efforts are being recognized, your social skills help you be friendly with the people you are dealing with. Jointly, the Star and the World are opening up your horizons and are increasing your chances of success in every sphere. If you are working on a project involving a foreign country, you will get all the support you need. Look at the bigger picture!

Yuh. Making new friends is fun. It's been happening all week. I've gotten to know a good bunch of my classmates. It's still orientation, so for the most part, everyone seems real nice and cool. But who know what lurks beneath their first-impression cloaks. We'll find out come anatomy lab, exam time, and of course, when we're outside of school as more and more opportunities to get inebriated present themselves.

But I've gotta say, I'm so *STOKED* to be here. I pinch myself every once in a while to make sure this isn't an elaborate dream.

Today I dismembered a 2005 Salvador Dali calendar so that I could use the pictures to un-boringify the walls of my room. I saw all the stuff I had written on there, like "MCAT scores come out" and "recommendation letter deadline" from when I was applying to med school the first time. I got this little tingly "holy crap I did it" feeling as I flipped through the calendar. 2005, what a year. It was the year I graduated from college. It was also the year ridden with the most self-doubt. "What am I doing with my life?" nagged me frequently, along with "what do I want?" and "why the hell do I have so much trouble making up my mind?!"

I'm glad those days are over and that I know where I'll be for the next 4 years. Choosing a residency, however, may present a similar situation. But I'll cross that bridge when I get to it....

Ok, it's party time!

Oh Em Gee

(Spelling letters of the alphabet has become second nature to me thanks to Scrabble...)

ANYWAY...

OH EM GEE, I'm leaving to Gainesville today. Gator country. The Swamp. Ironically, I actually live pretty close to the Everglades here in Miami. Now THAT'S a swamp.

Tuesday marks the beginning of orientation, a week-long, 8-5 ordeal that will undoubtedly be exciting and tiring. I can't friggin' believe I'm going to medical school. I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried.

Worried about meeting new people? No. Worried about the workload? A bit. Worried that I will be miserable, never get married, and hate my career? You bet your sweet ass I am!

Ok, I'm exaggerating. I'm sure I'll trick someone into marrying me. I'm sure I won't be miserable, or at least I won't know I'm miserable until it's too late. But the career thing. Holy guacamole, this is a huge investment. Four years of school, several more years doing a residency, 200K in debt, studying my arse off, etc. Imagine doing all that then realizing... "I shoulda gone to law school."

Maybe I'll do it all then be a housewife. That would be cool.

For now, I need to get through orientation and force myself to pay attention. I always miss something, like a deadline or details about a requirement. It's because I have ADD. No not really. I hate when people say that. EVERYONE has ADD, apparently. I think it's just a case of "when something is boring, I don't want to pay attention to it." Freaking people just want to make excuses. "I have a disorder."

Damn it all.

Speaking of ADD, what the hell was I saying?! Ah well, I should go finish up for the big move.

You Make Me Better...

I'm partially obsessed with this song. Why?

-The words "You Make Me Better" are powerful. You should always be with someone who makes you better. But throughout the song, and I'm paraphrasing here, he says "I'm awesome, but you make me better" in several different ways: I'm a star, she's the sky, I'm a cake, she's the frosting. It's actually quite cute in a simple, cheesy way. And I feel the emphasis on the idea that he's just fine and dandy by himself ensures that people don't misinterpret the song to be a proclamation of codependence/low self estem. You know, he's not saying "I suck without you." Gosh it's great. Anyway, I should point out that a lot of the lyrics suck, but the concept is still great.

-The line: "I'm a movement by myself/but I'm a force when we're together." It makes me think of Physics. If movement is in terms of meters per second (m/s) and force is in terms of Newtons (kg*m/s^2), then that implies that his girlfriend is kg/s^2. Adorable, no? But wait. Somewhere earlier in the song he says "you plus me." So that means they're adding to each other. How can you add to a velocity to create force? I'm confused. I guess hip-hop stars are allowed to get away with fuzzy mathematics.

Ok, that was terrible. But I *always* think about that when I hear that line. I had to share. Back to normal reasons for loving a song:

-The beat is awesome.

-The video... is okay. I like the actress (Roselyn Sanchez) in it, which gives it a few extra points. She is very pretty and exotic looking. Again, it's not the most riveting video.

So yeah that's how I feel about this song. While popular music and hip hop has taken a turn for the worse lately, I am still finding some enjoyable stuff coming around, such as:

Stronger - Kanye West

(OMG AMAAAAAAZING SONG!)

The Way I Are - Timbaland & someone

(yes, blatant grammar error, but it's still a great song)

Delilah - Plain White Tees

(makes me sad)

And anything by Justin Timberlake or Nelly Furtado

OK, gotta run.

Miami, Foreign Country

The lovely city of Miami from a cruise ship

So today I was entering my house address in online some financial aid form and when I hit "F" for state, "Foreign Country" came up. I laughed to myself, because Miami really is like a foreign country.

Later on in the day, I had a "Miami is a foreign country" experience when I dragged myself to the gym. I'm not gonna lie, I was not in a good mood. When you arrive at the gym, you give your membership number and the employee has to enter it and make sure it's you based on a photo they take when you sign up.

Fun fact: The name of the gym is Porky's. Just charming, isn't it?

Anyway, I got to the front counter and there was a middle aged woman at the computer. I smiled at her and barely got the first number out when she rudely barked: "En Espanol, por favor." Yes, "por favor" means please. I don't remember if she actually said please but I will try to keep the demonization of this foul woman to a minimum, since I admit I was in a shitty mood. So I slowly, clearly dished out my membership number in Spanish, digit by digit, with a smidgen of attitude, I'll admit. I will also admit that while speaking slowly added a dramatic effect, part of my reason for doing so was because it took me a while to process it all in Spanish. How VERY inconvenient for the customer! Anyway, instead of just opening the gate and letting me get to sweatin', she decided to ask (rudely) where I opened my membership, because my number was weird, I assume. Honestly, my picture was up on the screen and she was just being a pain in my un-worked out gluteus maximus. There was another guy behind the counter who witnessed all of this; he saw that I was already irritated at this wench's attitude, and he saw me give her the number in a very annoyed way. He said "don't worry about it, just go in" and I knew he knew that his coworker was just being a pain in the ass and that it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. She didn't like my attitude, but she started it.

What bugs me is that it's definitely not the first time I've been faced with being treated rudely for speaking English in Miami. As an immigrant myself, I would like to put it out there that I have NO PROBLEM with immigrants. It's great that people from other countries can come here and have a real life and live the so-called "American Dream." I do, however, have a problem with the attitude of many Hispanics in Miami. There is a sense of entitlement. They take it for granted that they've got a huge community of their own kind, that they don't have to feel like strangers in a strange land, because a giant part of the population is just like them. "Learn English", I'd like to say. But, I know that it is not easy to learn a new language, especially when you are older, especially when 90% of the people around you are not helping you practice because they're all speaking to you in Spanish. That's fine. It is a matter of circumstance, and the truth is, if my parents lived somewhere where 90% of the people around them were Lebanese, they probably wouldn't speak as much English (and Spanish) as they do now.

But this lady didn't even make the effort. Her job is to listen to people give me their membership numbers. All she needs to do is learn the ten possible digits that could make up a membership number. WTF. I can count to ten in half a dozen languages. It's not that hard. But FINE, maybe that's too difficult for her. I'd respect that too. But for her to sass me up and demand I tell her my number in Spanish. Harumph! She's got some nerve!

And she's not THAT new to the country, because she has been working at the gym for at least a year (I remember seeing her there last year). So PSSHHH.

Ok, now I'm done ranting. I wish I had pulled the "No habla Espanol" card on her. Because what business does a Lebanese chick have speaking Spanish? Of course, I look like any other Cuban girl so people automatically assume that I speak it.

I grew up this way. Everywhere I turned there was someone who didn't speak English, or who didn't even care to try. Welcome to Miami, bienvenido a Miami. Damn Will Smith and his catchy tunes.

As much as I may complain about it (in case you couldn't tell, I complain about it a lot), I must say growing up here gave me the chance to learn and practice Spanish as though living in a Spanish-speaking country. I can say that I (sadly) speak Spanish better than Arabic. I also know a lot about Latin culture, particularly the food. Holy yum. It still sucks sometimes. Especially since everyone just expects me to bust some salsa moves because they assume I'm Cuban, then they see the spasticity that is my attempt to dance. The fancy footwork, the spinning, it's just way too much for me. Hand me a pastelito and call it a night.

Sigh... wonderful Miami, land of beautiful beaches and fake knockers, home of terrible drivers and rude non-English speakers. I've only been here a month and I'm already sick of it. Luckily, I haven't been caught in any traffic jams or terrible thunderstorms. It's days like these that make me miss DC in all its glory.

But it has been a great summer here. Hanging out with buddies, going to the beach/pool, bowling at a place that we used to go to in high school (except now we can get the great beer specials), partying it up on South Beach, etc... I can't deny it's a fun place to be, as long as you speak Spanish and have a high tolerance for rude, loud people.

In other news... on my way to the gym, I was stopped at a light and, much to my surprise, a group of ducks walked by. A herd of ducks? A school? I don't know what the proper name for a collection of ducks is, but a gang of ducks was totally just walking by in front of my car, in a straight line, the way ducks do. It took them a minute to cross the intersection, and they veered toward the right and were on the street, in the way of oncoming traffic! I was so scared of seeing one of them get run over. But, amazingly, cars avoided the duckies and all was right in the world.

I've neglected this blog, but with good reason. I'd say I've been partying like a rock star. Rock stars don't have time to blog.


But even in the beginning of my summer, when I would wake up at 1 pm and lounge around all day, I didn't write anything. I'm a slacker turned rock star and about to become stressed out medical student.


As a stressed out wannabe med student at good ol' Georgetown, I blogged a lot, so I guess that means come August 14, I'll be all up in this sheezy once again.


But for now, I want to brag about how awesome the past 10 days have been (pictures coming soon):


THE CRUISE... was tons of fun. Is there anything more relazing than being in the middle of the ocean, without a care in the world? The second we set foot on the deck of the ship, a waiter threw drinks in our hand.


Saturday at the Bahamas was pretty sweet. The place is kind of sad because you can see that the inhabitants of the island don't really have great lives, but they're stuck seeing tourists come in and spend wads of cash and litter their beaches and then get up and leave to their cushy homes with their nice cars and all that jazz. Sigh.


Anyway, we got to see Atlantis, a giant resort/hotel/casino/waterpark/aquarium/other stuff. Super nice. Again, kind of sad, because not even a mile away there are crappy roads and houses. We then rented jet skis. Tons of fun, and the highlight of the Bahamas for me.


We partied at Senor Frogs at night. We spent Sunday on the ship again, played some blackjack, and pulled an all nighter to watch the ship pull into the port of Miami at about 6 am. What a great city. I never thought I'd say that.


I spent the rest of the week at the beach when the weather permit it.



For the weekend, we had not one, but two nights at South Beach. Normally I'd cringe the thought of driving 30 minutes to South Beach, parking for 20 bucks, waiting in line, fighting the crowds, and paying for ridiculously overpriced drinks. But my relatively uneventful first 2 weeks here gave me an itch to party it up. Yes, I partied on the cruise. But I felt the urge to do the whole Miami/South Beach thing, considering my one month stay. So Friday night we went to Cameo, which is a ginormous club. It was crowded and we had to wait in line and pay to get in despite our "hook up." I bought a drink and, much to my dismay, the bartender let me know that there was a FIFTY DOLLAR credit card minimum. Welcome to Miami, I suppose. I got home at 6 am and slept the morning and early afternoon away.

Saturday night was significantly better. We went to a more upscale place called Karu & Y. No wait in line, no cover charge, no credit card minimum. Our evening began at midnight and ended with the usual really really late night munchies. Got home at 7.

Needless to say I partied it up and I'm partied out. For now. I feel like a tourist in my home town. It's great.

Moving to DC was such a good experience and it really let me appreciate Miami. And now it's off to Gainesville, which I'm sure will make me feel bad for ever taking Miami for granted.

In two weeks and one day, I'll be sitting at orientation. As excited as I was about all this UF med school stuff last week, I'm starting to get more and more anxious about the monstrous amounts of studying I will be facing. But I'm still excited.