Wow. 2 weeks since I last posted? It felt like only a couple days.
Briefly...
Do you ever find that you really like a song but that you feel silly liking it? Listen to Stacie Orrico's "(There's Gotta Be) More To Life" sometime. I'm sorry to admit it, but I just can't get enough of this song. As I told a good friend tonight, at least people can't blackmail you about something if you make it public knowledge. :-)
Mood: Optimistic. (completed 6 in the last 3 days, if you know what I spend my time on)
Song: Take a guess...
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Late-Night Reflections
Late-Night Reflections
It has been a very long day. Up at 7, at work by 8:30, out of work by 7:30, home by 8:30, working on applications until now, around 2:30 am. Wonderful.
The application-writing environment reminds me a lot of being a student. As I often did during late-night studying binges at Stanford, I immerse myself in music to make it through the early morning hours. A single small lamp lights my desk, revealing the piles of half-finished drafts, crumpled papers, application instructions from one of three dozen schools, and, in the back, a nearly-finished container of chocolate-covered coffee beans.
But it is the music that reminds me of college more than anything else. Music puts me back in the environment, which reminds me of the people, which reminds me of the entire experience. I tie music closely to the work I'm doing, or at least it brings me back to the month and year when it first became one of my favorites. (Aside: I'm usually terrible at remembering a specific month from years prior. Do I remeber what I was doing in August 1999? Not unless I sit down and figure out what year in school it was. Then I might have a shot. But music? I can usually place the month, year, and location when I first heard the song, or when it became a staple of my all-nighters.) And, for some reason, the music tonight sparked a serious case of college nostalgia.
I'm all honesty, I don't have too many powerful regrets about college. Maybe the whole "not getting into medical school" thing, but I'd like to think that I've had good, educational experiences in the years since I graduated. (I'm certainly a different person in many ways.) And, sure, I have a few minor regrets, but I feel like I took advantage of the time I had.
That being said, I still long for it. Or, perhaps more accurately, I long for it now that I remember it. After being immersed in Stanford for six years (school and employment combined), the move to Baltimore was exactly what I needed. I forgot about Stanford. Not the people, not my friends, but the place and its institutional anchors, sure. At least for a while. In the last few months, I've started to re-discover memories from college that had been hiding in the back recesses of my brain for the last 12 months. (And now that I'm trying to remember the experience, it's frustrating that I don't have more photos from junior or senior year. Or, for that matter, that I didn't sleep enough during those two years to retain even the slightest idea of what happened. Just kidding. Sort of.)
The election marks the passage of time, for sure. I remember sitting in Barristers and watching the returns come in, then running back up to my room to work on a paper. When the Florida debacle began, though, I pretty much gave up on the paper so I could see all the drama unfold.
But I don't really associate the 2000 election with Stanford. Again, it's the music that draws me. Reminds me of parties roaming throughout the Toyon Halls, reminds me of Fridays at TGIF, reminds me of days and nights of revelry. (Sorry for any non-Stanford people reading this. I usually try to avoid specific contextual references, but in this case it's unavoidable.) And sometimes I'm sure that the memories of simple times -- talking with people in the hallway late into the night, making fun of the drunk people coming back from various parties, walking across the Quad on a moonlit night -- are the ones I miss most.
At the same time, I look at where I am now. It's not a bad situation, but I certainly never expected to be here. (Yeah, I know, nobody knows where they'll end up, etc., etc.) I'm in a new city, new apartment, new job, and yet I'm still applying to medical school. It's funny that the only near-constant thing in my life over the last few years (other than my friends and family) is the weight of applications on my shoulders. And yet I press on. I think I have a pretty good chance this year.
I continue to make steady progress on the secondaries. Finished two more tonight, will mail them tomorrow. I really could use a few days off from work to complete applications, but that's not likely to happen.
Many schools ask you to include a photo with your application. I found a good picture of me with some friends earlier this summer, zoomed in on myself, and printed a dozen shots. Not bad. I cut them out and put a little 2"x3" photo of me, smiling, in almost every envelope. Right next to the check with the application fee. It's an odd contrast. See me? Smiling and happy? I'm a great guy who would do great at your school! And here's a bunch of money that I can't really afford to give to you, and I'm giving it to you! Just so you'll take a look at my application. (Seriously, some schools charge $100 for the secondary application to be "processed." Don't get me started.)
I wonder what the admissions people see when they open the envelope. Me, smiling? Some schools process thousands of applications. Do any of the admissions people stop and look at the photo? Do they think, "Hey, that's a good picture of that guy" or "Nice guy, too bad he probably won't get in" or just "Another applicant, another photo".....?
Then, of course, I wonder about the realities of throwing one's self at something with such frequency and such force. At what point do I cede to reality and say, fine, I move on with my life. I tell myself that I'll do exactly that if I don't get in this year, but I'm not entirely sure I belive myself. After 3 years and several thousand dollars, you'd think that I would learn to cut my losses. Maybe I just really wasn't meant to be a doctor. But for now I maintain hope.
Hope. I have plenty of songs for hope. And for now, that's all I need. That and the rest of those chocolate-covered coffee beans.
Mood: You figure it out. "Tired yet optimistic" is the closest I can come.
Songs: Dozens. Right now, a classical piece to put me to sleep.
It has been a very long day. Up at 7, at work by 8:30, out of work by 7:30, home by 8:30, working on applications until now, around 2:30 am. Wonderful.
The application-writing environment reminds me a lot of being a student. As I often did during late-night studying binges at Stanford, I immerse myself in music to make it through the early morning hours. A single small lamp lights my desk, revealing the piles of half-finished drafts, crumpled papers, application instructions from one of three dozen schools, and, in the back, a nearly-finished container of chocolate-covered coffee beans.
But it is the music that reminds me of college more than anything else. Music puts me back in the environment, which reminds me of the people, which reminds me of the entire experience. I tie music closely to the work I'm doing, or at least it brings me back to the month and year when it first became one of my favorites. (Aside: I'm usually terrible at remembering a specific month from years prior. Do I remeber what I was doing in August 1999? Not unless I sit down and figure out what year in school it was. Then I might have a shot. But music? I can usually place the month, year, and location when I first heard the song, or when it became a staple of my all-nighters.) And, for some reason, the music tonight sparked a serious case of college nostalgia.
I'm all honesty, I don't have too many powerful regrets about college. Maybe the whole "not getting into medical school" thing, but I'd like to think that I've had good, educational experiences in the years since I graduated. (I'm certainly a different person in many ways.) And, sure, I have a few minor regrets, but I feel like I took advantage of the time I had.
That being said, I still long for it. Or, perhaps more accurately, I long for it now that I remember it. After being immersed in Stanford for six years (school and employment combined), the move to Baltimore was exactly what I needed. I forgot about Stanford. Not the people, not my friends, but the place and its institutional anchors, sure. At least for a while. In the last few months, I've started to re-discover memories from college that had been hiding in the back recesses of my brain for the last 12 months. (And now that I'm trying to remember the experience, it's frustrating that I don't have more photos from junior or senior year. Or, for that matter, that I didn't sleep enough during those two years to retain even the slightest idea of what happened. Just kidding. Sort of.)
The election marks the passage of time, for sure. I remember sitting in Barristers and watching the returns come in, then running back up to my room to work on a paper. When the Florida debacle began, though, I pretty much gave up on the paper so I could see all the drama unfold.
But I don't really associate the 2000 election with Stanford. Again, it's the music that draws me. Reminds me of parties roaming throughout the Toyon Halls, reminds me of Fridays at TGIF, reminds me of days and nights of revelry. (Sorry for any non-Stanford people reading this. I usually try to avoid specific contextual references, but in this case it's unavoidable.) And sometimes I'm sure that the memories of simple times -- talking with people in the hallway late into the night, making fun of the drunk people coming back from various parties, walking across the Quad on a moonlit night -- are the ones I miss most.
At the same time, I look at where I am now. It's not a bad situation, but I certainly never expected to be here. (Yeah, I know, nobody knows where they'll end up, etc., etc.) I'm in a new city, new apartment, new job, and yet I'm still applying to medical school. It's funny that the only near-constant thing in my life over the last few years (other than my friends and family) is the weight of applications on my shoulders. And yet I press on. I think I have a pretty good chance this year.
I continue to make steady progress on the secondaries. Finished two more tonight, will mail them tomorrow. I really could use a few days off from work to complete applications, but that's not likely to happen.
Many schools ask you to include a photo with your application. I found a good picture of me with some friends earlier this summer, zoomed in on myself, and printed a dozen shots. Not bad. I cut them out and put a little 2"x3" photo of me, smiling, in almost every envelope. Right next to the check with the application fee. It's an odd contrast. See me? Smiling and happy? I'm a great guy who would do great at your school! And here's a bunch of money that I can't really afford to give to you, and I'm giving it to you! Just so you'll take a look at my application. (Seriously, some schools charge $100 for the secondary application to be "processed." Don't get me started.)
I wonder what the admissions people see when they open the envelope. Me, smiling? Some schools process thousands of applications. Do any of the admissions people stop and look at the photo? Do they think, "Hey, that's a good picture of that guy" or "Nice guy, too bad he probably won't get in" or just "Another applicant, another photo".....?
Then, of course, I wonder about the realities of throwing one's self at something with such frequency and such force. At what point do I cede to reality and say, fine, I move on with my life. I tell myself that I'll do exactly that if I don't get in this year, but I'm not entirely sure I belive myself. After 3 years and several thousand dollars, you'd think that I would learn to cut my losses. Maybe I just really wasn't meant to be a doctor. But for now I maintain hope.
Hope. I have plenty of songs for hope. And for now, that's all I need. That and the rest of those chocolate-covered coffee beans.
Mood: You figure it out. "Tired yet optimistic" is the closest I can come.
Songs: Dozens. Right now, a classical piece to put me to sleep.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Weekend Update
I had a friend from Stanford visit me in DC this weekend. Fun times.
Unfortunately, I also had some apartment problems. To make a long story short, my landlord thinks that a cold water distribution line under my floor has a small crack in it. Whatever the cause, a large section of the carpet is now consistently damp (raising the possibility of mildew) and the floorboards in my living area have begun to warp and buckle. Wonderful. So my landlord instructed me to move my nearby furniture -- namely, my desk and queen bed -- to "some other location." Uh huh. Piece of cake. I followed those intstructions, though, and now the apartment complex maintenance crew is currently ripping up the carpet to see what's wrong.
Unfortunately, I also had some apartment problems. To make a long story short, my landlord thinks that a cold water distribution line under my floor has a small crack in it. Whatever the cause, a large section of the carpet is now consistently damp (raising the possibility of mildew) and the floorboards in my living area have begun to warp and buckle. Wonderful. So my landlord instructed me to move my nearby furniture -- namely, my desk and queen bed -- to "some other location." Uh huh. Piece of cake. I followed those intstructions, though, and now the apartment complex maintenance crew is currently ripping up the carpet to see what's wrong.
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