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two years late

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Tragedy, I think, tends to whitewash the canvas of our memories, leaving only itself in its wake. The fun times I had in New York are hard to remember through the filter of September 11. My memories of a dear friend of mine from those days are discolored by the time I spent in earnest with him during his final days in the hospital. I promised myself I would write a remembrance of him, as so many did when he passed, but I was never sure what to write. Two years later, motivated by an excellent memorial penned by another good friend of his, despite the piles of studying awaiting me once I finish this post, I figured I should just sit down and recover what was lost before another year goes by.

(Continued)

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2012: project 366 kickoff

Monday, January 2, 2012

(1/366)

So many days have gone by since starting school and it’s all a blur to me. I think this is what happens when something–in this case, studying–is so consuming as to nullify any awareness of the world around you. On one level, this perception of the passage of time is a good thing, as I want nothing more than to be out of the classroom and in my clinical rotations, learning how to do the stuff I actually want to do; but on another, every day that goes by without so much as registering in my consciousness feels like a waste of a day. And days aren’t exactly an infinite commodity.

There were ways to slow things down that I used to do a lot of. Write. Take pictures. Only nowadays it seems like I don’t have time for that because of school. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I could make the time, but I need to improve my studying discipline: it presently sucks.

I think I’m going to try to write more in addition to this (and I’m definitely going to have to make sure I’m on the ball with my studies), but because my earlier Project 365 seemed to work brilliantly, here goes one for 2012. And because 2012 is a leap year, it’s actually a Project 366. The aim is the same, though.

So. Let’s begin.

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first quarter review

Thursday, December 22, 2011

One quarter down, five exams completed, five passing grades. So far, so good. P=MD. That doesn’t mean that it was easy (not that I was expecting it to be), but I could definitely do without that sense of uneasiness over the question of “did I pass?” after each exam, the likes of which haven’t been seen since organic chemistry (for which, in those days, the prescription was this drink). I don’t recall noticing it back in undergrad, but I suspect that’s because studying engineering exercises a completely different part of one’s brain (mmm…math). As a practicing engineer, life consisted of analysis and problem-solving (and let’s not forget the metric tons of documentation generated) instead of memorizing and regurgitating. And so, there’s a bit of an adjustment period. Eventually, I’ll get to use more of those brain muscles, but first I have to learn the language. And it is basically just that–you have to learn the alphabet, then simple words, then simple sentences, before you can start to begin to think critically.

(On the other hand, if I want to be really cynical, I could say that learning about the human body is like trying to reverse-engineer a system for which no one from the original design team is still employed and zero requirements or design documents exist and you’re like “who the hell designed this shit” and you have a gazillion customers with broken systems all demanding they be fixed and you can’t just tell them to buy the upgrade.)

But the mechanics of studying and doing well on exams are fairly straightforward. It’s simple enough to analyze what I’m doing wrong and devise a corrected plan of action. (Following through on that plan is another story.) I’d much rather deconstruct the psychological aspects of being a med student who went the non-traditional route. First, some words of wisdom (from an Internet board that shall go unidentified):

…I actually had a board member pause the interview just so he could advise me not to lose the identity I’ve developed (as a non-trad with a career) because apparently many non-trads “regress” (as he put it) once they’re in med school surrounded by much younger students.

For non-trads, the difficulty is that you’re not just developing your adult identity, you’re taking on a new adult identity on top of the one(s) that you already have.

I read these quotes at the start of the quarter, but it’s not until now that they’ve started to ring true. It’s all too easy (especially for someone who doesn’t look all that different from his new peers) to assimilate into the culture and thus feel like one’s identity is being lost. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to assert myself as that old fogey of an engineer every so often; but doing so may also have the detrimental effect of creating too much of a separation between my classmates and me, or perhaps coming off as having airs when that couldn’t be further from the truth. And sometimes it’s hard to contribute the perspective of someone who’s had a bit more time to percolate and has a bit more experience without sounding preachy or condescending. So, there’s a balance that must be struck.

I don’t even have a clue as of yet what this new adult identity is that I’m crafting.

But in the end, it’s just an interesting thought exercise that I won’t get any credit for. For now, the order of business is to relax, rest, and recharge, ready to hit the ground running when the next quarter begins. (And given that it’s the cardiovascular/pulmonary block, if I don’t ace it, I should just quit right then.) Here is one more quote I found hilarious:

But the life arc is undeniable. I couldn’t stay in a night club with 18 to 25 y/o’s with sh!tty music pumping unless I was seven different kinds of loaded. And I’m not into that anymore. So.

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ten

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Some things you don’t forget.

“Did you have classes on September 11?”

“Yup.”

“When were you supposed to be in at school?”

“I wanted to be there at 12:00.”

“What day was September 11?”

“Tuesday.”

“Did they cancel classes?”

“Eventually.”

 

Some things you can’t remember.

I can’t remember if I tried to call any of my friends to see if they were okay.

I can’t remember if I tried to call anyone, for that matter.

I can’t remember who called me or tried to call me.

I can’t remember whether anyone who tried to call would have been able to reach me, anyway.

I can’t remember when I finally turned off the TV.

I can’t remember when they let us back below 14th Street.

I can’t remember when I finally let myself go below Houston Street.

 

Some things you wish were not even a dream.

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i can’t remember why she asked

Saturday, August 6, 2011

“What are you going to do when a patient dies?” Vicky, the M4 I was pseudo-shadowing, asked me. Wasting no time in lobbing the hard questions at the not-quite-a-first-year, I see. And one who hasn’t yet fully wrapped his head around the fact that he’s no longer an engineer, but a doctor-to-be…

It’s not that I’m naive about the sadder aspects of my new profession, nor that I’m a stranger to death. I just think it’s one of those things that you can’t fully anticipate nor fully prepare for. And her question certainly wasn’t something I was expecting at a health fair for school kids.

I stood in silent contemplation for a few moments; but I dare say I wouldn’t actually be able to answer her until I’m actually faced with it.

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first day in

Monday, August 1, 2011

I’ve made the 100-mile trek to Chicago so often to visit my parents and old friends that this doesn’t feel like a move…only a really, really long weekend trip.

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with only thirty days to go

Saturday, July 2, 2011

I never made much of an express effort to get to know Wisconsin. I didn’t want to waste time dating it if I didn’t think I was in it for the long haul, didn’t want to get attached. I’m only passing through, I thought to myself. Then, at some point in these last almost-eight years, these surroundings became so familiar, these people I have met have become such fixtures in my life, as to tinge this long-anticipated departure with a hint of sadness.

I’m moving back home, but in a way, I’m also leaving home.

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what’s our equivalent of quidditch, then?

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Seen on a forum I read, in a side discussion of whether private schools always trump public schools: “Have you ever heard of the ‘Illinois Math and Science Academy (IMSA).’ I got to college and like 13 people in my class went there. It sounds amazing and it’s a public school.”

I messaged her later. “I chuckled at your use of quotes. Makes it seem like IMSA’s this fictitious place.” Her response: “Until I see it, I think it’s Hogwarts of the Midwest.”

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project 365: epilogue

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

(365/365)

On my last day of being a twentysomething, I thought perhaps I should try to make the 365th photograph somehow meaningful. I drove through the neighborhoods in which I spent my childhood, thinking the familiar might spur my imagination, trying to picture in my mind that last image…eventually coming to the conclusion that I was trying too hard. This wasn’t what I had set out to do one year ago. A photograph I took on that day of an El station seemed to connect nicely with the first photograph I took for the project; but after some thought I figured that I already had enough images of public transportation. In the end, this is what I chose to represent this day, ordinary on one level but with some serendipitous significance, hints of a tangential nature to an as-yet unwritten future. That this project concluded in the same city where it began is no accident; it is the city of my birth, the city I think will always be home.

In between, it was not altogether uninteresting; though there were times where the decidedly uninspired photographs reflected the ordinary, mundane days underlying them, quite a bit happened on both ends of the emotional spectrum. 29 was not without its moments of sorrow and grief, losing an old friend to cancer and having another friend go through a tragedy of his own, but in the realm of things I can control, I can say that 29 was the year I finally, successfully, made my ultimate career move. I think that this year, straddling two chapters of my life as it were, catalyzed a fair amount of introspection that no doubt informed many of the photographs that made it into the project.

On a personal level, I like to think I’ve managed to improve my skills a little along the way and also inject some narrative into the imagery. Having a decent camera on the iPhone helped immensely in keeping up with the demand of generating a photograph each day; using something with considerably fewer controls than what I’m used to certainly forced a different dimension of creativity.

When I began, I said that if I could say I lived and experienced each moment of every day, then I will have been successful. I dare say this to be true. To those who followed this project to its end and offered your comments and support, you have my thanks.

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not quite nyc traffic, no.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

During the fifteen minutes it took to make it through the Fullerton Ave. exit on Lake Shore Drive, I figured at least it wasn’t as bad as trying to make it through one of the Hudson crossings during rush hour.

Passing a carload of girls in a left lane immobilized by a few people ahead turning into the zoo parking lot (who knew that so many people were trying to go to the zoo?), one of whom was, I assume, desperately trying to get the attention of anyone in the right lane to let them in so they could get out, I thought to myself she’d do better by rolling down the window and sticking out her arm while the driver simultaneously merged right.

The trip down memory lane was complete when a brash cab driver used the flimsiest excuse of space in front of me to nose in, prompting a protest by horn sadly weakened by years of suburban driving.

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