(127/365)
First of seven Summerfest shifts completed last night. It was not without its quiet moments, but the night was still busy enough for me to get some practice in–some minor traumas (blisters, cuts, nosebleeds), a couple of medical situations that were most likely just anxiety/panic attacks, but nothing catastrophic. The flow went something like this–long periods of downtime alternating with short bursts of multiple persons to tend to. I like to think that Fate or whoever was screwing with me, because the night was pretty slow up until I took the first bite of my dinner (a brat from Mader’s). It must have been at least 30 minutes until I was able to get a second bite. Not that I minded–it felt good actually doing something useful.
If my next shift is at least as busy as this one was, I might regret thinking I’d be up for six consecutive nights. oy.
In the days following clicking “Submit” on my primary med school application, that initial sense of accomplishment has been increasingly replaced by a sense of dread, realizing that, by having done so, I am subjecting myself to critique and judgment orders of magnitude beyond the yearly employee performance review. I suspect this may not be so bad for the more typical med school applicant, who hasn’t had time enough to develop not only a significant body of experience but a sense of…well, I guess it’s entitlement. Not so much the “I’ve had everything spoon-fed to me and I expect it to continue” unjustified sense so much as the “I’ve paid my dues and then some–to reject me is an injustice” unjustified sense of entitlement. But, in line with not self-identifying with the “entitlement generation,” any feelings of indignation I might feel are subsumed by worry–worry that I didn’t market myself well enough on my application, that I might be judged unqualified or unprepared; and then where would that leave me? (“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m gonna build my own med school. With blackjack. And hookers. In fact…forget the school.”)
Humility. I should keep that in mind.
And there’s so much waiting. Waiting for my transcripts to be verified, waiting for secondaries, waiting for interviews… one foot is moving towards the future, but the other foot has to stay in the present and take care of present responsibilities, despite all desire to continue moving forward, making the wait more intolerable. Oh, and the uncertainty. None of what I’ve done so far is guaranteed to result in the outcome I want. (Amusing thought: does the uncertainty principle imply that if I knew that I made it into med school, I would have no idea what I did to get there?)
Maybe I need an actual vacation…especially before the secondary applications start to kick my ass.
old enough to feel ways about stuff
What lengths would you go to for something like grabbing a drummer’s sticks tossed into the crowd after the set was done or getting the band to autograph your copy of their latest album? Would you think that leaping into the air from the bleachers to grab the sticks was too much, even though the drummer’s “hot as hell”? Would you ditch your friend, who had just broken his ankle leaping for said sticks, to go harass the band for an autograph?
My FAST teammates couldn’t really understand it. I just thought to myself, man, I remember when I was that age and felt that way about stuff.