All the f-ing time in the world

Today is Sunday. Next Thursday is Thanksgiving. I would kill and eat the turkey with my bare hands if I could just hear SOMETHING by thanksgiving. Like, honestly, at this point, a rejection would be better than just waiting and waiting and waiting... It's inhuman is what it is. When I have my own med school, we will meet right after we've interviewed the applicants, decide within 24 hours (because it's not like you are waiting on new information at that point!), and then send notification within 4-5 days of the interview. I mean, really, why does it have to be 6-to-8-to-26 weeks? rrrgls. UVA actually notifies applicants within like a week of their interview. How reasonable - if only some of the schools I interviewed at had as much humanity!

It's just driving me nuts - either my life will be set on a really cool and rewarding course, or else I have to start from square one and figure out wtf I will do with my time on this little rock hurtling through space.

Ugh... yup pretty much going crazy. Creative/enlightening/hilarious blog posts will resume when my mind is not in a constant state of suspended torment.

Wait (More) Like a Boss

My apologies for the long absence. Things have been very much in limbo since I completed my last med school interview. I am, in essence, working and waiting. But I am determined to wait like a boss! So far, I have not heard anything, good or bad, from any of the schools. I suppose that, as they say, no news is good news, but it is frustrating to have to wait for decisions (having waited to GET interviews) (having waited to GET secondaries) (having waited to GET MCAT scores) (etc)...

But I suppose this is as good a chance as any to recap what has gone on up to this point:

1) I f-ed up my college transcript with shitty grades, due to a lack of effort (or at least, a lack of effort in class. I put plenty of effort in to my guitar skills!). That was circa 2007.

2) I went out in to the real world (NYC) and got reamed by life/ my terrible job/ being poor/ trying to be a musician.

3) I rebooted my life. Left NYC and moved to Philly where I got a master's degree in biotechnology (and got reamed by student loans). Applied to med school unsuccessfully (sort of). Met my woman in Philly, and we moved to...

4) The Desert Southwest. Had a great year working in a lab. Retook the MCAT and pwned it. Reapplied to med school.

5) Got 6 interviews. Moved to New England.

Which brings us to today. The interviews occurred between 1 and 8 weeks ago. And now, we wait...

Also, I have been playing a lot of guitar again. Listening to lots of music, including:

Alter Bridge: AB III
Protest the Hero: Scurrilous
Winger: Karma
Mr. Big: What If?

So yeah... I haven't gotten in to med school yet, but I am close...so close.

Interviews done...Hammerzeit

Today I completed my last med school interview - and I am quite relieved. It has been a crazy month, and now I have 6 interviews behind me. Did I nail the interviews? Will I get an offer of admission? Should I have offered my body to the interviewers? (and if not, oops)

I have no effing idea, but now there is nothing more I can do - and that's a good thing. Pressure is off. I might possibly get a couple more interviews later this year, but for now, the die is cast. I sit, and I get really really good at waiting.

Although I am somewhat exhausted from all the travel/working full time/working my other job, I will share one quick story from my interview today.

I was at the school in Boston(ish...), and the interview was in the dreaded Massively Multiplayer Interview format where you have like 10 interviews, each of them 10 minutes long, and each involving some role-playing or ethical dilemma or philosophical question etc.

So one of the interviewers was this guy who was pretending to be a patient telling me his history, and every 2 minutes, he'd pause and ask me to recount as many details from the story as I could. I rocked the first two minutes, and did pretty good in the next couple minutes, and then basically deteriorated from there. By the end I was totally information-overloaded, and couldn't retain anything he told me.

Him: "OK, go ahead and tell me what you remember from that last section of my patient history."

Me: "Ummmm... pretty sure you said something about...words...and there was a...um...you had some coughing and pain in your...balls? And/or face."

The following comic perfectly expresses how I felt that interview ended perfectly. Enjoyez-vouz. (P.S. @HeavyMetalVixen, don't worry, this is almost entirely a dramatization for entertainment purposes only, and actually I think the interview went very well overall).

NYC, DUMBO-ass trust-babies, and shots! shots! shots!

Off to NYC today, another one of my old stomping grounds. NYC is my favorite city, hands down. It's got everything. However, unless you are rich, it's a tough city too. I lived out in the slums across the East River from Manhattan (not that all of Brooklyn and Queens are slums, just most of it. F U trustfund babies in DUMBO and Williamsburg...bitter much? Yes.) And even in the slums, the rent was so high that I shared a room with a friend of mine. Not an apartment, or a studio apartment, a room. And let me tell you, you don't know a man until you have lived on top of him... wait... You don't know a man until you've smelled his post-workout... hmm... is there any way to make this sound more gay? Apparently not....

Anyway, when I lived there, I worked in... I don't even know how to describe it. Is "hellish ass-dungeon" too kind a word? I mean, it was literally a windowless room in downtown manhattan. I must have been the only chode working in a skyscraper in Manhattan who didn't see a sliver of sunlight throughout the day... If I had had a cubicle, at least I would have had some privacy / my own space. In said windowless room, I answered the phones for 40 hours a week, and did "market research" at my computer for a further 20 hours a week. That blew, not because of the hours (which DID blow), but because I was doing jack shit with my life. It was so depressing to leave work everyday knowing that you had done literally NOTHING important all day. Not a single thing I did improved or even changed anyone's life in the slightest.

THAT is the point at which I decided to become a doctor. That was almost 4 years ago. Since then, everything I have done has been to get to where I want to be: med school. It has been a crazy journey, and tomorrow, I have my 5th interview, at which point I technically should be well ahead of the odds in terms of ONE of these schools offering me a place in the class of '16. But until I get to that point, it's all up in the air. And I know better than to count eggs. Fuck eggs, count chickens!

Some of the schools that I interviewed at a month ago are starting to send word out, and I haven't heard jack yet... I'm starting to feel a knot in my stomach. If it doesn't work out again this year, well, it'll be another epic journey to wherever my ass lands next. If I DO get in, well, it'll be a fucking party up in Metalton!

P.S. Last night I went out a-drinkin with friends from work. I have to say that, while my work at the Filthy Gunslinger is a little boring, the people that I work with make the job fun, and make me look forward to going in to work every day. Crazy kids... shots! shots! shots! shot-shot-shots!

Until Jesus Enters You

So my interview in Boston was sweet. I LOVED the school (in downtown beantown), and I could totally see myself there. 100%. It was a good feeling. They accept 1 out of 3 interviewees, so the odds are kind of against me, but, you know, its a crapshoot.

The interview itself was very chill and conversational, except for one part, where I was asked to role-play an ethical situation about religion. It was rough, but it turns out the dude was a total atheist, which was cool. Good times.

She's What!?

Headed to Beantown tomorrow for an interview on Friday. It's going to be... an interview. Haha - at this point, I really just want an acceptance. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. Ugh.

I cook all the time because my girlfriend is in med school. I long for the good old days... [sigh] Back in the kitchen female!

iiiin West Philadelphia born n' raised

So I am in an airport again, this time headed to West Philadelphia, my old home. I lived in Philly for a couple of years, and I am actually kind of excited to visit. I'll try to get to some of my old stomping grounds, and some of the awesome restaurants. I'll be hanging out with a couple of friends today, and tomorrow I'll be hitting up my 3rd interview.

It has come to my attention that I cannot remember the last time I had a true day off from life, and that I have no idea when the next one will be. I get 2 days a week off from work, and for the last...4 weeks? I have had shit to do. All of October is booked with travel (interviews and visiting family), and so my current hope is that November will bring a day where I can sleep in till 2pm, crawl to the couch in my superman pajamas, and watch TV till I get hungry, at which point I will slither to the kitchen and grab some Doritos with hot sauce... yesss....

Not that I am complaining! Interviews are going well, and I am excited to do these last 3 interviews in October, and I am super excited that I might get in to med school before xmas. Having said that, I need to plan for 2 scenarios:

Scenario 1: I Get Accepted to Med School

Should this scenario come to pass, there will be revelry. Said revelry will begin with me running balls-naked down Main st. in Metalton screaming like a madman and waving my Golden Ticket high in the air. In the unlikely event that my acceptance arrives in a form other than a golden ticket in the mail, I will print a golden ticket on my printer with the word "Accepted" on it). I will then arrive at Metalton Town Hall and burst spontaneously in to a big Broadway rendition of "I Got the World on a String" backed up by a cast of 200 chorus girls and men in tuxedos. In the unlikely event that my spontaneous cast of 200 is completely unprepared and/or non-existent, I will do the number alone. And then find some clothes and get dressed.

Scenario 2: I Do Not Get Accepted to Med School

Should this scenario come to pass, a sobbing, despaired, enraged, lunatical rampage will most likely ensue. Said rampage will begin with me running balls-naked down Main st. in Metalton screaming like a madman and crying like a fat kid whose last slice of cake was just smashed by Gordon Ramsay. I shall then...oh hell, I shall then pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again!