The Metaphor of the Menu

My friend and I was really hungry after 1.5 hrs of being stuck in our Molec Cell Bio lecture. Time was very deceptive. What really was ninety minutes of class time seemed to be an epoch of cognitive torment. It was very horrific that it took a toll on our physiological mechanisms- much more significantly, our hunger.

So we went to grab something to eat. My mind was in a really screwed-up state. Being sleepy, hungry, and saturated with science made me shift from a practical thinker to a philosophical bullshitter. How did I know? I came up with the metaphor of the menu.

Imagine yourself in a packed dining hall. You have to get something to eat. This should satisfy not only your physiological hunger but your satiety as well. So you select a fastfood chain that will cater your craving. You WANTED pizza. Sbarro is packed and a bit far from where I was at. There are other options- Carl's, Taco Bell, and Pollo Loco. Would you just settle for the latter options when you actually want pizza?

I wanted pizza so bad. So I decided to stick with it and go through all that hassle- walking to the weird location away from where all the food stores are at, waiting in line with my stomach growling (borborygmi sounds), ordering in a voice louder than normal since I am too soft-spoken (the server couldn't hear me say "pepperoni"), waiting for your pizza to heat up, and paying a bit above my budget.

But guess what, after all that bullcrap, I was finally enjoying my pizza. Worth it!

Had I settled for a taco, a burger, or a chicken meal, my hunger would have subsided anyway. But I'll tell you this: the pizza slice did that plus a lot more. I wanted pizza, I went for it, and I didn't regret going through the bullshit.

Why am I writing this? Heck I don't know. I just got out of my biochem class right now, equally hungry but broke. Oh well.

Tired

This is the third time I've taken a nap in the student union on my textbooks in the middle of studying...What felt like an hour nap (which made me freak out momentarily upon waking up thinking that I'd be late for my next class) was actually just TEN MINUTES.

Wow. I must be that tired. Right now, I feel like I am gonna get sick (viral?) and I am barely experiencing delayed onset muscle soreness from my monday and wednesday workout and from yesterday's jianshu (chinese swordsmanship) class.

I have another class in half an hour til 2pm...then I'll be tutoring til 4...and I'm working tonight in the ER from 6pm-6am. Good luck with that.

Berkeley

I was walking around Berkeley's campus and I was awestruck. The buildings were awesome and the area is just enticing. It's also fun to know that bums- tons of them- live among Berkeley students. There's a lot of them everywhere. Carlisle recounts how he always walks to class- from the Bart station to his building- and how his OChem class is- about 400 students, huge screens, huge boards, and a single omnipotent lecturer. I've painted my own picture of me at Berkeley. I felt that I belong here. I felt at home.

And it really sucks looking back.

Tracy Ukita, my transfer counselor, and Marco Angulo, one of my revered med student-mentor have always encouraged me to go to UCLA or Berkeley. They knew I'd flourish. They knew I'd be able to more than survive. They knew I'd thrive. With those things in mind, they gave me a homework- visit those schools, get a feel for it, and apply.

I didn't do my homework.

Why? I've always downplayed myself. I thought I'd be crushed by the competition. I assumed I wouldn't get enough financial aid. I assumed I wouldn't like the campuses because they're too far from home. I was afraid. I held myself back. And again, I have successfully dug my own pothole of regret.

And now, I am beating myself up over it. A lot of should have, would have, and could have. A lot of wondering. A lot of daydreaming.

If it's any consolation, this person I hold close to me gave me her take on it. I'm where I'm at for a reason. I just don't know what yet. And I still hold on to that thought amidst the deep regret I feel.

Stanford

At this point in my undergraduate education I've been to a lot of premedical conferences. The ones that I've been to have addressed recurrent themes that have been instilled deep down in my brain already (admissions, MCAT prep, study strategies, research opportunities, etc.) alongside current healthcare issues (minorities in medical school, insurance, underrepresented/underserved communities, etc.). This does not exclude the one that I just got back from- Stanford School of Medicine SUMMA (Stanford University Minority Medical Alliance)- but I consider this latest conference to be the most twisted and unique experience I've had so far.

How unique was it? It wasn't necessarily different because it was Stanford SUMMA. It's my response to the things that happened there that made it stand out.

Background info: My physical state was, as usual, at its worst. The week leading to that conference morning was an equation for imminent disaster: Work friday and saturday nights (jacked-up circadian rhythm)+ in school the following monday to thursday from around 7:45am to 6-7ish at night+ homeworks+ studying + Hooters wednesday+ drunk wednesday night + hung over thursday morning+ class friday til 2+ errands + drive to San Jose via the 405 to the 101 under baaaaaad weather conditions and traffic from 7pm to 2am= chesus crust am I gonna make it through the day?

My buddy Tyson and I sneaked out after registering early in the morning to buy dress shoes (He left his shoes in LA. 6.5 hours driving back to SoCal is not a good idea). The weird part- I didn't feel bad sneaking out and missing out on the really great keynote speech in the morning. I don't know why. Normally I'd be disappointed. To this moment, I thought driving around Palo Alto and waiting at a Burger King in Mountain View 2 hours before Ross opened seemed more exciting than sitting inside the ever-packed and stuffy Packard Hall at Stanford.

By lunch I was a zombie already. We decided to sneak out and walk around campus and get intravenous coffee through a central line- femoral site- at the Tressider Student Union. We walked around the magnificent Memorial Church. I stopped in front of the intricately designed vestibule and just stood there in awe. "I'm gonna get married here at this church...Oh shit. It's almost 2pm- time to get back to the Alway Building for more sessions".

None of the sessions that I went to seemed to strike me. It's like listening to your old recorded lectures. I heard the same things. Not that they weren't useful anymore- I thought it was all mere reinforcement. Which is actually good. I thought I was gonna be like this throughout the entire conference. I hated it. I just wanted to sleep in my car until the raffle at the end of the event. It was a good thing Tyson pulled me to the lecture hall for the closing talks. Another keynote speaker. If not for him, I wouldn't have heard Dr. Ian Tong, MD's story on how an aimless Cal Berkeley freshman with a 1.9 GPA turned into a U of Chicago Pritzker School of Medicine success story. I don't want to disclose details because I am lazy right now. But yeah, that was indeed the best part of the day. I'm glad I stayed for that talk.

Done with Stanford. Time to go visit Carlisle at UC Berkeley.

What was really going on in my mind the entire time besides the keen longing for a shut-eye? I felt like I have infiltrated a brilliant society of future doctors, medical students, and Stanford elites. I felt like an outcast. Do I really have what it takes to compete with all these bastards and get into medical school? And in the event that admissions people make that horrible mistake of sending me an acceptance letter, am I going to make it? I honestly feel like I'm lacking something important. I couldn't figure out what. I don't know if med schools would be comfortable enough to take me, a fraud, into their class.

Shit I don't know. I thought this day was supposed to empower me, or at least to hype me up. Turns out this conference felt like a "put in my place" day.

Beer, Buddies, and a Biology Quiz

It feels great hanging out with friends that you haven't seen in a long time, especially if it involves alcohol. I feel guilty for having indulged when I shouldn't have- I have a molecular cell bio quiz in the morning. But actually, I don't feel that guilty because I took care of business first.

Before Indulging:

School from 7:30am to 5pm. I had class only from 9-10 and from 1-2. What I did in between? I'm not gonna lie: took naps in the student union and the science center, small snacks, physics studying + voluntary homework repeat (self-inflicted torture), biochemistry notes review, and molec cell bio quiz review. Good boy.

During:

I promised myself I'll never drink more than two beers because I was intent on leaving before 8:30 so I could sneak in some study time when I get home.

Thing is, we went to Hooters Burbank. Pretty waitresses, TV screens with various basketball games (I followed the Lakers/Losers game and the UCLA/USC and Duke/Clemson games), lots of things to talk about. These are myriad reasons I forgot my promise. Ended up drinking more than two (I couldn't recall how many) Hefeweizen.

Shit.

After:

Starbucks for a grande coffee (although caffeine doesn't address the tipsy issue, it does alleviate the sleepiness that has been present since I was in school) and about 4 trips to the urinal. I said goodbye to my buddies despite their insistence on getting me to go someplace else. Preferably a strip club. Haha. Nice.

Honestly, I took off right away, realizing the dire consequences that it may yield had I gone with them. I need to study. I need to sleep. I need to get a 100 on the quiz. I need to go to medical school.

9:29- I'm in my car already. Sobering up a bit...a bit.


10:00- Burbank to Cerritos.

10:59- Just finished typing this. Good night everyone. See you in lecture tomorrow.

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