apparently i am a horrible person

I want to go to medical school. We all know that. For the past several years I have been steadily prepping myself for medical school and all the horrors that accompany it--sleeplessness, humiliation, feelings of inadequacy, unfathomable debt--because I genuinely want to do it.

My concern is this--am I doing all this for the wrong reasons? When I ask myself honestly "do you want to go to school and become a doctor," the answer is always yes. I know that I would be good at it. I know that it would give me a feeling of substance and accomplishment. And I know that I will enjoy it. But I also know that the prestige, respect, and money that come along with the job are HUGE motivators. The problem is, no one wants to read honesty on a med school application essay. They want the Patch Adams version--"I want to be a doctor because one time when I was a little kid I saw a baby squirrel fall out of a tree and I picked it up and nursed it back to health in a shoebox and ever since all I ever wanted to do is help people"

Can I get a bullshit? Anyone?

I'm not saying that I don't want to help people. Of course I do. I would end up a shitty-ass doctor if I didn't. I don't view people as a paycheck, and am insulted by doctors that do. But I also refuse to delude myself into thinking that I would be willing to throw away the best years of my life in a fit of academic turmoil and pain if I didn't know for damn certain that there was going to be adequate compensation at the other end.

I mean, is there anything wrong with what I'm saying? Is everyone else just too uncomfortable with the truth to come clean, or am I genuinely lacking sensitivity and humanity? I'm tired of people making me feel like a shitty human being for saying "yes, in some ways i AM in it for the money."

crush.

This is the boy I like.



It's a little confusing right now, and for that I accept complete responsibility. But despite all that, I think you guys would really like him.

i guess treadmills can be fun

I am in awe right now. Every particle of my being wants to believe that this is all one take, but it just doesn't seem possible.

i am a brat

My Mom just delivered the shocker of the year...she and my dad are looking at real estate in Charleston. My first reaction to this news was sheer horror. I thought she meant for herself and my dad. I thought she meant they were moving from TR. I thought she meant that they were leaving the house that I grew up in and coming down to this coke-palace of a city to settle on a beach somewhere and begin retirement/old age. I was destroyed.

However, all of these emotions not only happened in around five tenths of a second, they were also slightly premature. As soon as she saw the look on my face, she backpedaled, exclaiming "NOT FOR US! For you guys!"

This should be great news, right? I should be really excited, right? In a way I sort of am. I mean, its a cool idea and all. But something about it really depresses me as well. I am 23 years old, with a stable job. I have been paying rent and all other expenses on my own for a little over a year now with no trouble. I would continue to pay the same amount of rent and take care of the same expenses if I were to move into this hypothetical house. But something about having my parents as my landlord makes me feel like I am right back in college, with them footing the bill. It would almost be like having them next door, even though in reality they are a comfortable four hours away.

That being said, their reasoning for wanting to buy property is completely sound. My mom explained that since a) I am going to be here for god knows how long, b) Emily is here for at least 2 more years, and c) Randall will be in the city for another three years, it only makes sense to be pouring my rent money into a mortgage, rather than into my slumlord's pocket. Not to mention the whole "ultimate buyer's market" thing. So it is completely logical that they would want to do this.

I can't decide which is more spoiled--living in a house that my parents bought for their kids or complaining that I might have to live in a house that my parents bought for their kids.

i accidentally just ate one

A quick question...where the HELL did they cook up the flavor cherry? Like in Jolly Ranchers and various and sundry other hard candies and kiddie medications? We think it tastes like cherry because we have been conditioned to think "cherry" when that particular flavor hits our tongue since childhood. But the next time you taste it, reallllly taste it and then compare it to the taste of an actual cherry fruit. I think they should just change the name of the flavor to "juvenile diabetes". At least it would be more accurate than "cherry".

now its time to say goodbye...to all our company

I have to sacrifice the mice that we have been working on Wednesday so that I can strip-mine their organs and send them to a lab to tell us how much cancer they have. It leaves me feeling vaguely guilty, but I can't really put my finger on why...

killer tat, brah

I'm pretty sure this is the image I am going to ask them to turn into my tattoo design. I'm thinking exactly this style, but with pink/red tinge on the ends of the petals where the color normally is.

I think after its done my biggest issue won't be stigma, inability to find gainful employment, or regret over its permanence. It will be finding ways to hide it from my parents for as long as humanly possible.

The problem with Charleston is that during the summertime, most people wear shorts or a short skirt. These people can get away with wearing a t-shirt that provides adequate coverage of the shoulders because their bare legs even out the heat distribution on their bodies. Unfortunately for me, however, I refuse to wear shorts ever, and short skirts make me feel like an alien version of myself--I know I look weird in them. So I wear jeans. This means that I have to wear a tank top or I will most certainly die of heatstroke.

My only hope is that my parents never ever come to visit me during the summer. Ever. It's not so much that I am scared of what they will say--I mean at this point what can they do to me? I am just worried that they will think its some sort of late-blooming form of rebellion--which is just embarrassing. What am I, fifteen? If I were going to get a tattoo to rebel I would have done it long ago. This is strictly because I want to do it, to sort of commemorate this time in my life. I can't imagine ever regretting something that I want so much. I would rather get the tattoo, keep it under wraps, and then show it to them a couple of months (maybe years) later, when I am in medical school, so that at least I am on the road to becoming a respected professional.

All this being said, I am beyond stoked about getting this thing. I hope my artist is hot.