Wednesday, April 14, 2010
1. I can be pretty sensitive to sound and perceived sound, especially my own heartbeat, so my first attempts at taking a blood pressure weren’t helped by being in a noisy environment or by having the sphygmomanometer tubes bumping all up against the stethoscope.
2. I need to retrain myself to pay more attention to my senses. Engineers need to make accurate, precise measurements that are repeatable, which we do using various tools (multimeters, oscilloscopes, network analyzers, software debuggers). Nowhere do the five senses factor in as collectors of primary data. On the other hand, medical workers, first responders especially, have to rely on their senses to assess a situation.
3. I’ve become too…left-brained. Back in undergrad, I kept my engineer-side balanced with a healthy dose of acting (some of my fonder memories are of late nights/early mornings during tech week). And after hanging out last week with a couple of high school friends who are also drama babies, I started to miss it. Not to mention, some of those skills would help ease this career transition I’m slowly working through.
The unique perspective that being an alum provides for serving on the admissions review committee cuts both ways. The first-hand experience is an asset, as it allows for a particular insight on the type of student who would thrive in this setting. However, it’s also a burden once you realize that same privilege you were afforded could have just as easily been denied, and presumably, since you’re serving on the committee, you know what a Big Frakking Deal that would have been. When I think about that–and not only that, but that this had to happen for Every Single Person There–when, try as I might to avoid it, my mind attempts to ponder a life not having become friends with these Wonderful People… I can’t.
Ever since Scott moved out of the city in 2000-2001 or thereabouts, I had kept in touch with him mostly through the Internet. In so doing, he became less of a “real” inhabitant of my life and more someone who I knew through the virtual reality of ones and zeros. It’s easy for me, then, to chalk up his absence to simply having moved onto the Next Big Internet Thing, as he has done many times before; that, when I saw his Facebook profile on today, his birthday, it felt like I can still give him a ring the next time I’m in town and meet up for a drink and cheesy comestibles at NoMi, in a sort of blissful ignorance, a tacit denial of the reality of it all.
But with a blink of my eyes, I remember again.
I may run myself ragged during Jessup week, but the net effects aren’t unlike going on vacation: I get to forget about my normal life for a few days and, when it’s over, I’m loath to go back to it. This year felt a little different.
Though at the end of this year’s rounds I wanted nothing more than to be reunited with my own bed and to go motoring through some scenic, twisty roads, realizing the amount of work waiting for me in that whole “normal life” thing–the tasks at work I have decreasing patience for, the preparations for applying to medical school that I have decreasing confidence in as to my success–killed any happiness I had when I did make it back home.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to stay with the Jessup crowd, either. I dare say I was more removed than usual from the people (which is what normally makes the week worthwhile). This year’s rounds seemed to take its toll more than previous years have: added to the now-usual exhaustion that comes with helping to keep the competition running was a certain sadness, somewhat from this being Amity’s last competition as executive director, that I just couldn’t shake.
So, if I couldn’t stay in DC or be with my friends there, or go home… that left very little in the way of options. And I continue in my steadfast desire to be anywhere but here.