When did I become an old man?

I've noticed the trend that I actually have to plan ahead in order to hang out with friends for a while now, which seems absurd enough. However, today, as I'm waiting for the appointed meeting time to celebrate the end of a clerkship, I found myself watching This Old House or New Yankee Workshop or the ever popular Ask This Old House. The sad (or awesome) part is that I find myself having this show on the background pretty much 60% of the time my television is on. Today, just before I decided to write this, I caught myself wondering: "I wonder if they do all day marathons of this show . . . that would be aweseome." I immediately felt like a sell-out to the seven year old version of myself who despised nothing more than to find I couldn't convince my dad to change the channel from a bunch of old dudes in flannel discussing the intricacies of selectinve proper plumbing fixtures.

Running Diary: The Boards

Yesterday I finished my United States Medical Liscensure Examination Step One Examination. Which, as uninteresting as it sounds, was actually a mildly enjoyable day. If only because I allow my test day taking quirks full reign on big days. Anyways, here's what transpired starting the on the eve of the exam.

12 noon: My former roommate and classmate and I travelled to Detroit's best pizzeria in the Eastern Market area of Detroit. Despite the state of general disrepair the city usually finds itself, there are still pockets of thriving city life. Needless to say, the pizza was delicious and this was the first step in my relaxation strategy.

4 pm: Step two was a jaunt to the driving range on Belle Isle. Again, this driving range is another reminder that there are sweet things going on in Detroit. Belle Isle is an island in the Detroit River, which seperates Detroit from Windsor, Ontario. It's a massive park, and quite enjoyable to drive through and the driving range is actually one of the nicer ranges I've teed off on. Which can make my lack of game all the more embarrasing. Although, I am now consistently able to make solid contact with the golf ball, whcih is immensely satisfying.

8 pm: The initial supplies run. I have a fondness for having ample sustenance in my employ during test days. So, I went to the local Rite-Aid and commandeered the following essential items: One and a half liters of Citrus Green tea (for the anti-oxidants), two 32-ounce gatorades (including a bottle of the new Gatorade Focus for obvious reasons . . . and because Tiger Woods is on it), two bags of trail mix (the ultimate sustenance source), and a Snickers Dark (beacuse if I'm paying 88 cents for a Snickers bar, it needs to be special in some way.

8:30: I begin preparations by packing my breakfast/lunch/dinner for the day (the exam is eight-hours long, and in case I forgot to mention, I like a solid quantity of food). Bonnie Blair (the olympic speed-skater) said she ate PB & J for lunch daily for most of her life. I think that is a fine idea and pack myslef a couple of those. However, because I cannot predict my sandwhich desires in 16-hours, I throw in a ham and cheese because its both nearly as classic and delicious as the peanut butter standby.

9:00: The office. If there is a better show on telivision I defy you to name it. And that's even counting my new favorite The Big Bang Theory. The episode was the one where Michael, Oscar, and Andy go to Winnepeg for business. Classic. Adding Andy to the cast might have been one of the great all time additions to the cast (because I know so much about television show cast chanes).

10:00: I prepare for bed by unwinding with American Lion, a pulitzer prize winning book on Andrew Jackson. And if you think this is a poor choice, read the first part of the previous sentence again.

11:00-5:50 am: Note, I can never remember having as vivid dreams as I did that night. And they were all somehow medically related, the sense that I Am Legend, was medically related.

Test day

5:50 am : Setting my alarm ten minutes early seems even sillier than when I did it last night.

6:00 am: Shower and shave. Nothing makes you feel ready for a day than these two events. I even got back on the after-shave train recently and it is fantastic. Feel my cheeks, seriously, they don't make cotton balls that soft. I don't care what that says about my manhood, at least they smell like alcohol (the rubbing kind, not the other, come-on, its test day).

6:45 am: How the heck did it get to be 6:45 already? I was supposed to leave at 6:30 and I still don't have my egg sandwhich, thermos of coffee, or cup-o-oatmeal ready yet?

6:57 am: Aforementioned items are ready and I am officially running late. I have to be there by 7:30 and am supposed to be there by 7:00. It's half an hour away.

7:13 am: Seriously, it's raining? How the heck did I let myself be put in danger of being late? They make it pretty clear on the form if you show up late they don't have to seat you for the test. And besides the academic ramifications, the test cost 500 bucks.

7:24 am: I make it to the testing center on time. Even after using the restroom. I didn't have time to eat my egg sandwhich in the car, however, which gives me something to look forward to.

7:29 am: There are 20 spots to srart the exam at 7:30 and since each person takes it individually on their own computer, the staff has to set people up one by one. This takes a few minutes for each person. I am number twenty of twenty.

7:45 am: because I don't want to risk it, I used the restroom again.

8:00 am: I get my book out of the little cubby/locker they give you to put your stuff in while I wait.

8:14 am: It's almost my turn, and I have to pee again. Seriously, I don't know how coffee does what it does to your system, but its impressive. So I went to the restroom for the third time since arriving at the test center.

8:23 am: I begin the test. I can't tell you how many times the following sentiments occured in my mind in response to test questions: (1) seriously? I thought there would be no way this would be on the test. (2) seriously? I knew this would be on the test, how don't I know it. And just (3) Seriously?

9:07 am: I finish up the first of seven sections. Now, this exam is structured so that you have eight total hours to complete the test with seven-hour long sections and one fifteen minute tutorial. I had previously decided on a strategy for the exam to avoid burn-out because every time I practiced doing blocks of questions my scores followed a clear downward trend due to fatigue. That strategy was to take a break after every exam and because I changed more answers from correct to incorrect than vice versa, I would only cursorarily look over my exam before moving on.

9:08 am: I use the restroom again before travelling back to my car to partake in the delicious egg and cheese sang-which I had waiting for me. Delicious. I was also able to wash it down with some mildly warmed coffee left in my travel mug. It was surprisingly relaxing to set in my car in an office parking lot during the biggest test of my life and enjoy this delightful farm fresh breakfast (that had been sitting in my car for over an hour now). Look out Jimmy Dean.

9:15 am: I frequent the washroom once more just for kicks

9:17 am: Round 2. If you are keeping track on your scorecard I'd give the first one to the exam, but I think I scored enough jabs on the second to even it up at 1-1 after two rounds of play. Seriously though, my mentality was to kind of treat the day as a light-hearted game, and I believe I succeeded.

10:03 am: Break two. Seriously, the breaks were getting fun. This time, I didn't want to risk getting hungry so I threw down most of my Fancy Mojo Mix trail mix. And I did feel fancy. And full of mojo. I also threw down an fuiji apple because they are delicious. I ran into another medical student taking the exam (most of the 20 people there in the morning were taking this exam) in the hallway at the end of my break. The interesting dynamic during the breaks is there is always this knowledge in the back of your head that the computer is timing your breaks and it is slowly dwindling. So, after I exchanged cordial greetings and "how's the test going?" I was attempting to end the conversation and get my test going. Unfortunately, this student was not in the same mindset and began playing the "I know person x who goes to your school, do you know them?" game. As much as I usually enjoy this game (and her performance was exceptional, she went 2-2) now was not the time nor the place, so I excused myself and went back into the den of pain (read: testing center). Also, to note, I continued the trend of using the restroom twice per break (for a total of 7 times on the day).

10:47 am: Round 3 ends. I'm going to give this round to the challenger. I'm starting to get into a groove. I only have one more block to go before I allow myself a lunch break so I eat a lighter break snack of a bannanna paired with piping coffee from my thermos. I remained sitting in my car at this point because it is still gloomy out and if ever I felt like I was on a stake out, now was the time. I sat watching people enter and leave the building while pouring myself cup upon cup of coffee. Delicious. Bathroom tally at 9 now.

11:30 am: In the midst of round 4 I am starting to feel tired. I fight the internal urge to just click an answer and move on and try and actually think through each question. Good thing I have a lunch break coming. I'll probably have to give this round to the exam. We're all tied up at two now.

11:47 am: Sweet, sweet lunch break. I'm giving myself fifty minutes of freedom here. I set up camp at a picnic table under a large tree. I'm officially feeling fried as well so I decide not to read as I anticipated during the break. I pull a game time decision and trade out my expected PB&J for the ham and cheese. I had a hunch last night and it paid off. I also throw down most of my Tiger Woods focus gatorade and some of the iced green tea. Delicious. I also made a few phone calls just because I wanted to get my mind of the test.

1:07 pm: Okay, taking this test is seriously getting old. Is there any way to avoid the post lunch lull? I mean seriously, how can you not be tired after eating? And short of integrating the siesta into our culture what can a person do? Especially when I am taking a test that is timed? This run of question marks is really making my upward intonation fatigued? Round 5 goes to the exam 3-2, uh-oh, things are looking bad. I may want to reconsider a career in the promising field of semi-shady drug endorsements.

12:31 pm: I have banked a significant amount of break time now, so I decide to take a walk around the office complex. Granted, its about as full of character as a cardboard box, but the walk is still pleasant. And I stumbled upon a park of sorts with tennis courts that turned out to be some sort of private club. The park was next to a school so I kind of wandered around the schoolyard until I got some strange looks from some other people and realized I probably looked like a creeper. Time to get back after the test.

1:47 pm: Whew, another tough round, but I felt like I battle back strong. 3-3 after six rounds with one round to go. As if we didn't see this coming. I still have a good twenty minutes of break time and here is when the strategy gets interesting. I can conceivably go over my break time and suffer the consequence that it will be taken out from my last block. And generally I finish the blocks with 15-20 minutes to spare. I make the decision to take all my break time and not worry about getting a few minutes shaved off the exam. I saved a pear and had a bit of gatorade left so I finished those off and sauntered around some more.

2:17 pm: As I walk back into the testing room the proctor plays Final Countdown in the background. Okay, at least they should have. I show up to my computer with a giant warning message saying "Warning! You have exceeded your alotted break time and any additional break time is being taken out of your final section." Okay, seriously, that freaked me out a little bit. I had a general tension run through me. Then to compound things, A windows error message popped up. Son-of-a. I envisioned my entire test disapearing into cyper space and having to do this all over again.

2:19 pm: The error message is corrected and am back in the saddle. The test decides to further extend its competetive advantage by placing a giant "!" mark next to my timer on the bottom of the screen to let me know that because I took a longer break, my time was reduced. I still feel kind of panicked and consider doign a rapid run through just to get answers down. I close my eyes and take five deep breaths. And then another five. Allright, I'm back.

2:49: Almost done, I peruse the answers one final time and then click submit. I am done. I feel good about it. And I'm giving myself the "W" in the final round. 4-3, I think I beat the boards in a close match.

2:52: Seriously, I cannot imagine thinking long about any of these survey questions because I feel just cashed.

3:22: I finally finish all the required junk and stop by to see my old friend the restroom one more time before leaving. Ah, a good day. I look at my phone and discover that my former roommate and classmate mentioned above has sent me a text. He is already at Buffallo Wild Wings awaiting my arrival.

4:26: After an eternal drive in traffic I show up at B-dubs (has their ever been a more universally accepted nickname for an institution) and meet two of my other friends who have finished their exam.

5:43: The fourth member of our crew taking the exam today arrives and the day is complete. The general sense of relief is intense. We make wisecracks about the test and trade stories about ridiculous questions and our likely ridiculous mistakes. There is a strange feeling like we've just tackled something huge and conquered it. We did it all individually, but in some sense it feels like we all just accomplished together. Unless of course, I didn't pass.

Well, anyways, so that is what I did this Friday. And although it may not have seemed like it once I got it down on paper (or the white screen at least) it was a rather entertaining day for me. Now, onto year III.

Fool me once, shame on . . . Wait, is that a cookie?

I paid $1.50 for a single cookie about an hour and a half ago. I'm not proud of it. I'm still in a bit of shock and it wasn't a good cookie. And as I was buying it I knew it wasn't a good cookie. Call me a sucker.

One of my other more recent kicks is studying in coffee shops. After 20 some months of gettin 'er done in the redsidence, I finally got stir crazy. The problem is that at home, I am not surrounded by a bounty of food, but at least some sort of sustenance, in the coffee shop I place myself in a sort of meal purgatory. That is, I always make sure I eat right before I leave and I always end up eating the second I get home, but coffee house time is sort of like a miniature fast for me.

But today, a chink in my armor was exposed as I reached the four hour mark in the artsy oasis. I'd like to consider my subconscious forcing me to pay for my rented study space for the day, but I sauntered up to the cashier, picked out an oatmeal cookie and plunked down four something for the combination of afforementioned treat and an iced tea. 

Now, it may not seem like a large amount of money, but it broke a historical precedent for me. Since I was in high school and realized I had just boughten and consumed (ravenously, I may add) a six dollar beverage at Starbucks, I had resolved not to support institutions that would fleece me. And yet, I did.

I think I learned another important lesson today. I'm not in undergrad anymore. At my undergraduate institution, if I found myself in a caloric vaccuum I merely sauntered over to the to-go food line and either (a) looked for a friend who would kindly donate a meal to a good cause or (b) ponied up anywhere between a quarter and four quarters (or a dollar as some like to call it) for anywhere between 1 and 4 delicious, sustaining, and cheap granola bars (which were really more like bars of vegetable oil with specs of cereal, so you can imagine their satiating power).

Alas, Mr. Bigby and your co-hourt Mr. Starbuck you have won this round. And for that, I say kudos (which, would not be a bad idea to stock in your storefronts, as long as they went from anywhere from the 24 to 26 cent per bar range).

Kicks (not the sneakers . . . or the delicious and alternately spelled breakfast cereal)

   I have a penchant for going on kicks where I do something consistently for a few days (see the last week of multiple postings). Lately, my latest streak is listening to Amy Winehouse. And, its not like I just discovered her music or something. I mean, I always knew she didn't want to go to rehab and a pair of special high heels or something, but now I can't get enough of any of her music. It's gotten to the point that after I run out of skips on other pandora stations, I make a new one up just so I can skip to her songs. This of course is after my other most recent music kicks of Bob Seger, Johnny Cash, and the fantastic nineties band Live (side note: I can't believe its getting to the point where I can actually classify a band as nineties and it doesn't seem like they are still in their prime).

Dotting the "i"s with circles

In one of the many reply to all e-mail forums that I am lucky enough to take part in (school, friends, building I live in . . . etc) a few people periodically distinguish themselves from the rest. That is, they complete the e-mail equivalent of loopy handwriting, and dotting the letter "i" with a big rotund sphere which is another way of saying "you couldn't take me seriously if you tried." Admittedly, via e-mail, this impression is even tougher to exude. However, I have discovered that certain individuals with a heightened sense of self-awareness are able to meticulously chisel there public image through the use of normally sterile electronic lettering.

    Through some intense research and a few controlled studies I have discovered there secret: The use of multiple punction marks at inopportune times ?!. And the calculated missuse of the oft-neglected capital letter. These are e-mistakes that are completely acceptable in the context of a person to person e-mail, or in the language cess pool I like to call text messaging, however, when you are addressing a group of people via e-mail, more than twenty or so in number, and a majority of which really don't know you, the only impression we have is your e-mail.

and So !? Today, as I was reading one of these laboriously crafted e-mails, I stumbed upon the antecedent form of their work. That is, I got the same impression reading these e-mails as I did when I used to see the bubbly handwriting of a third grade girl (which I don't remember happening all that often, but lets be honest, pre-pubescent I was probably a stud). 

An Anology

I feel about the mute button what other people may feel about drugs: that is, while using it, things that seemed normal before now seem absolutely ridiculous.

Case in point: I would have never noticed that while muted, about 50% of the time, Wheel of Fortune is just people standing at a podium clapping awkwardly. And when I say 50%, I mean it seriously. Like the contestants clap at everything. They clap while the wheel spins, they clap when a letter is anounced, heck, I'm pretty sure they clap while they interview the other contestants.

I guess that's why I'll never be on wheel of fortune, I don't clap near consistently enough. It's something to work on (note: I am currently applauding while concluding this post).

Ode to PB

   I found myself at the grocers again last night and as usual I had my standard line-up of goods: a 5-lb jar of peanut butter, some tuna fish, a few gallons of milk and three loaves of bread. The woman behind me in line yelled out "is that peanut butter?" when I hulked the massive jar onto the conveyor belt. I smiled and nodded as I imagined a week or two of sustenance in paste form.

    I love peanut butter. And that's not to say that I enjoy a PB & J every now and again. In fact, I try and refrain from adding jelly to the mix. For that matter, its not to often that I combine bread with my mound of molten peanut nectar: I'm kind of a food purist, I don't like my carbs mixing with my protein/fat.

    And its not just that I eat a lot of peanut butter, or eat it frequently (both of which are undeniably true). The fact is that the jar of peanut butter in my closet says "Hey . . . look at me . . . you don't have to worry about running out of food, I can sustain you for days with my legume-delicious-nutritiousness.

    I learned part of my peanut butter affinity from my mother, who was a stickler about serving sizes, and used to scoop exactly one tablespoon of peanut butter into her mouth for a quick meal if we were heading out the door. I do the same thing. Except, well I don't let myself be limited by the social constraint system known as the "serving size" nor the "2,000 calorie diet" (seriously, have you ever tried to eat less than 2,000 calories in a day? I'm pretty sure there are days when I come close to passing that benchmark before the 9-5 workday starts. Oh, and the other reason I don't eat spoonfuls of peanut butter is because spoons are a relative scarcity in my household these days. I've found you can wrap up a delicious nesting of the salted goo by spinning a fork in the vat a few times.

    There are days (like today as a matter of fact) that I consume nearly nothing but peanut butter. Okay, well, lets make that essentially nothing relative to the amount of peanut butter I consumed (I admit, I did have a pork chop sandwich at some point during the day, but all that protein hardly sticks to me).

   The reason I find peanut butter so irresistible is the same reason I drink a lot of water: it's readily available (at least at my home), relatively cheap, requires zero preparation, and has an awesome caloric density for when I know I need something but can't decide what (obviously that last tenant applies only to the peanut butter).

Anything you can do . . .

One of the more annoying tendencies I've noticed in myself is the defensiveness whenever someone makes a disparaging comment towards me. For example, whenever someone asks me, when does your summer break start? I explain, that it starts in late May, but its not really a break because I have to study for a board exam in July the whole time. Inevitably, my response is ignored by the nostalgic mental break in my partner in dialogue. Followed by, "man, I wish I was in school." and the inevitable, "yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, because the real world doesn't give breaks."

Generally I am pretty good at ignoring the urge to backhand the other person, but I always embarrassingly try to one up them with something like "yeah, but I'm not going to miss seven hours of lecture a day," or "yeah, but you know I'm going to have to put in those crazy 100 hour resident shifts" or something otherwise ridiculous. Because honestly, I am in still a student, and all of my stress is pretty much self induced as of right now. And I have no idea whether or not my experiences are more difficult than anyone else's and the truth is that it is completely irrelevant (or should be).

And even if my experience in school is way harder or easier than someone else gives me credit for, trying to prove it during a five minute conversation simply won't work. And what would be so bad if either a) my life was easier than the other person's or b) that other person held a misconceived belief about my, as Darryl from the office put it to Michael, "Nerf" life. All I know is I'm not going to start throwing watermelon's onto trampolines about it.

Grilled Cheese

I don't think there is a better sandwhich than extra sharp cheddar on Aunt Millie's Hearth Crunchy Oat with Honey Wheat bread. And I finally fingured out how to make it without burning the bread (yeah, I've been doing this for years, and I'm finally able to do it without running around the apartment opening windows and turning on fans to avoid setting off teh smoke detectors). 

Hard Day's Night

I spent a day out in what those of us who reside in the bookish purgatory like to call "the real world." I spent my morning at a health fair and an afternoon at another site in Detroit doing "hands-on"-ish activities. I studied for a bit before I left but since then haven't so much as looked at a lecture. And it feels glorious. I feel as if I have done --well nothing but -- something. I came home tired. I can't remember the last time I was tired from actually doing something.

Admittedly I was probably more of a hindrance than a help at the health clinic. I pricked two fingers and then squeezed for like ten minutes just to get enough blood for the test. Then I proceeded to put the sphygnognomometer (aka sphygnometer or blood pressure cuff) on backwards (not my fault, I'm used to doing it by hand, not these autonomic jobs). Side note on medical school: the funny thing is with my knowledge base right now, if I were in some sort of life threatening crisis, I would take someone with six weeks of hands-on training over someone like me with 2 years (after a 4 year degree) of book knowledge. But back to the story at hand, I had fun and actually got to interact with people in the morning.

In the afternoon I did a sort of activity that may loosely be able to be described as manual labor. And sometimes, there is a satisfaction in seeing a visual representation of work accomplished that cannot be reached by reading a test score on blackboard (unless, maybe, I actually did well on a test or something, but still).

All this to say, I can't wait for July when I actually start waking up and going to work (kinda, at least going somewhere). I'm kind of dreading August, however, when I start waking up and wishing I didn't have to go anywhere and curse myself for not enjoying April more.

Now I suppose I'll have to go take in a few lectures before the Office comes on tonight. Whew, Hard day's night.