And curse yourself forever watching it
I'm looking to have to see it to the end
'Cause the fastest rat is always gonna win
Welcome, dear reader, to my first entry of 2011! Woo! It only took me almost a month :| A dear friend of mine and I have a motto for this year: "It's two-thousand-freaking-eleven!" That is to say, this year is going to be awesome. We came up with this motto on New Years Eve over lunch where we dished about everything in our lives. The reason this motto came into being was simple: each of us had a pretty rough go of some things for the last 365 days, and we were tired of it! 2009 was cool, 2010 was less so. Frankly, we felt we had earned some awesomeness for simply putting up with 2010 So, here we are. It's two-thousand-freaking-eleven. Let's take a look at what's happened so far?
School started up again, very abruptly might I add. That being said, my classes are great. Last quarter (and a bit of my junior year) was comprised of awful awful classes -- except chicken lab; chicken lab RULED. Anyway, there is nothing exciting to say about school. I go to class, professor talks, I listen, I write, professor gives exams, I take them. Standard operating procedure.
I started looking for a J-O-B. Needless to say, my daily ice cream consumption has increased substantially. I also cry more often. And I watch a lot of Gilmore Girls as my anti-"I'm-going-to-be-unemployed-and-living-in-a-box"-depressant.
Gotta catch 'em all!
I also started looking for an apartment. I have to move out of Theta by September. Leaving this house is a bittersweet thought because I have lived here for three years. It has become my home. And then the other night, there were fraternity boys outside my window smoking and laughing and being obnoxiously loud at 2am. At that moment, the thought of moving out became much more sweet than bitter. I hope to find a place with my friend Sarah in a complex largely populated by grad students and professors. Quiet. Serious. Few to no undergrad parties. It will also be nice to have 50% control of the TV instead of 3% control. Math win.
I got sick. It started as a tickle in my throat. Just a tickle. But an exciting and hectic day at the ER turned that tickle into a sick-le... wow, terrible rhyme attempt, so sorry about that. I am the crabbiest sick person ever. I laid around for 5 days, watched hours of Sex and the City and When Harry Met Sally (so, not all bad), didn't study for my midterm because I was so fatigued and still rocked it (damn it feels good to be a gangster), ate literally nothing but soup at each meal (I'm so over non-solid food), and coughed, sneezed, and ached all weekend. Awesome doesn't even begin to describe it :(
(Confusion: Glenn Beck is for sure on Fox News Channel, not CNN, a network with actual standards)
I LOVE that this came up when I Googled "sick"...
... but it was more like this.
The medical school application process became a lot more real once the clock struck 12 on New Years. I met up with a friend of mine who is a third year MD/PhD student at UC Davis School of Medicine to pick his brain about how the process works, where I should apply, how to approach certain interview questions, and everything under the sun. I left our meeting with a wealth of information and a confidence boost, ready to tackle this whole overwhelming, complicated process. Immediately upon arriving home, I ordered the MSAR from amazon.com. For those not in the know, the Medical School Admission Requirements (MSAR) is the premier resource for the aspiring pre-med and the only resource officially endorsed by the Association of American Medical Colleges (AAMC). That is to say, it is the real deal.
And then it came in the mail. My stomach found its way up to my throat (need a map, stomach?) as I opened the box.
Map: Stomach south. Throat north.
In my hand, I held the key to start this engine. It was kind of like that moment when New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg pushes the little crystal ball to start the traditional ball drop on New Years Eve in Times Square (the little ball functions more like a button, really). He pushes the crystal button down and it lights up and locks in place, while the famous Waterford Crystal ball atop One Times Square starts descending, majestically yet pain-stakingly slowly.
Any day now!
That's is what it felt like receiving my personal copy of the MSAR. I had pushed the ball down, but I still have to wait. And naturally, that was my cue to start freaking out. Night after night I poured over it, making notes, concocting reasons, justifying my very very long list. Until last week, when I finalized the list.
This list is a work of art. It is no B-List. It contains 25 top-notch A-List medical schools who will receive my money, my essays, bits and pieces of my soul, and perhaps my first-born child. And now I feel like that Times Square ball is descending just a bit faster now. Of course, I will be taking this list and the MSAR home over President's Day Weekend, and my mom and dad are going to try and cut my list down, for money's sake. But like I told my mom over the phone, unless any of these schools burn down between now and then (please no), or unless she can give me an overwhelmingly compelling reason, the list stands. Have you ever tried narrow down 126 options to 25? It's hard!
And now I find myself in Winter Quarter Week 4: the calm before the storm after the storm? ("He needs more blankets and he needs less blankets!" Please tell me you've seen "Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story... it's only the best movie ever... but I digress). Round 1 of midterms over. Senior thesis in full "oh shoot I'm writing a thesis" mode; that is to say, I'm going to start writing it this weekend, I swear. Internships pulling me this way and that way and stretching me thinner-than-thin. But I love it :) And a presentation to give in two days in an effort to get a job (yes, a J-O-B). And I'm blogging instead?!
Well, I have been working on it for hours. And a phone call home that I hoped would be a nice break ended up stressing me out... to the point of not being able to work/study anymore tonight :/ some days are just like that. So I just decided that it was time to sit down and write a bit...
Unrelated to anything except writing, I am currently looking into a freelance writing job writing about (wait for it)... whatever I want! :) I had a fun idea for a column/article/thing and I want some feedback from the one or two people who actually read my bloggy blog! So us ladies read Cosmo like it's Gospel, which breaks down every single thing the mens do into (sometimes incorrect) analyses of "well what does _______ (behavior) mean?" so we can hope to understand them. And there's even a movie about it: He's Just Not That Into You. But pick up a copy of GQ (or in my case, check out gq.com) and the only Cosmo-esque "analysis" of women that you get is one sentence about Mila Kunis' acting career (she was a stoner chick on That 70s Show, oh and she was a dark, sexy ballet dancer in Black Swan -- extent of words about Miss Kunis) and several photographs of her with smoky makeup and skimpy, cleavage-baring fashions. And yet, the mens always claim to not understand women. That's where I come in: She's Just Not That Into You.
Us gals have more complicated strategies for ditching the guys we're not interested in than not calling. We also do silly little things (emphasis on little) when we like a guy, and we get upset when he doesn't notice! If I've learned anything from reading Cosmo, it's that the gentlemen are BIG PICTURE oriented (girl pretty), while the dames are more into the little gestures and minutiae (oh my god he said "I had a great time tonight" do you think he likes me did I totally blow it already should we honeymoon in Paris?). In a nutshell, we don't speak the same language because of the way our brains are wired and learned social roles; men bond over activities like sports, women bond over talking and sharing... let's call the whole thing off. (start listening ~0:37)
So, my pitch is She's Just Not That Into You, a breakdown of what us ladies are thinking, why we do and say the (sometimes crazy) things we do, and how to know if we are interested, unsure, or looking for the nearest exit.
Feedback about the concept is appreciated :) it's just a seed of an idea so far; I need to write up a sample column and submit it as a writing sample to potentially get the gig. This is something I would write just for fun (and a few bucks on the side). I don't claim to be an expert on relationships, love, or dating but I am in a sorority and I live with 32 other females, so I understand a thing or two about how girls behave. Nutshell: most female behavior is motivated by boys, shoes, and chocolate.
I must bid you adieu, fair reader, before my fingers fall off; I have things to do, and I imagine you do too. I love you :) Goodnight, sleep tight :)
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