Break time

It is 9:45pm on a Saturday night. What is your beloved drc doing? The answer of course, studying Anatomy. What else?
It is two weeks into the semester and already we are moving at break neck speed. I have an embryology exam on Tuesday (thanks to Martin Luther King for giving me an extra study day) and my first Anatomy exam the Monday after. Yikes. Just thinking about it is making my heart race. I have not dared to take a look at the material for next week - to see it all at once, all million white stapled sheets, is to cause heart failure. Instead, I will look at it one day at a time. This way, I hope to preserve my sanity and make it out of Med school alive.
This time last semester it would be bedtime for me. I would have studied all that I had planned for the day, with time to spare. Alas. It is not so this semester. I set my glutes down at the library about 10am this morning, got up at 3pm to eat lunch and was later kicked out when it closed (it really should close later on the weekend, not earlier) at 8pm. Right now I am in the anatomy study room and I am not done with what I had intended. The debate in my mind right now is.....should I sleep late in order to accomplish my study goal for the day, or should I just set my study goal lower?
Break is over.

Anatomy 101: How to be a gunner

1. As soon as you walk into lab, begin dissection on the cadaver as though it was meant exclusively for your learning purposes. Group members not there? That's okay - they can just learn by osmosis from you.

2. Ensure that you hog the scalpel. Other student's hands were not destined for glory as yours were. Besides, they can only hope and dream of the academic heights you will attain.

3. When a faculty member comes around to see if you need help, dazzle them with your intellectual prowess. Act as though this is the exam, right then and there. This way, you are sure to be placed on their teacher's pet list.

4. If the faculty member likes to show you structures by asking questions, be sure to scream out as many responses as you possibly can in the shortest time frame. Never mind if s/he asked for a muscle - throw in a few blood vessels and nerves for good measure. Don't worry if you mention a few structures that aren't in the part of the body you are dissecting...your faculty member will understand that you are merely being didactic.

5. Insist that you correct everyone in your group when they do not know or give the wrong answer to the questions. Be patient - not everyone is at the level you are, and they may misunderstand your altruism. However, you are doing this for them. Always remember that.

6. If you can, tuck the anatomy atlases and dissection books under the cadaver where they cannot be seen. As in 5 above, you are only doing your group members a favor - how can they learn if they have the answers right in front of them? (Be sure to take a peak at the book yourself when they are not looking. This is only so you can better serve in your capacity as anatomy group coordinator).

7. Elaborate on your study techniques, how and why they work for you - preferably to the whole class. Explain that this is the tried and tested study manual for them. You will soon be publishing it and you are doing them a favor by letting them have it free.

8. Always leave the lab last. In order to be a leader, you must first be a servant. (Remember to make sure the faculty observe this).

May you continue to gun as you have always gunned.

November 8th, 2007

So I turned 23. Big whoop. Now back to studying...

Notes to self

Next week I will...

1. Go to the gym every single morning. No more snooze button. That extra half hour is just not worth it.
2. Sleep no less than 7hrs a night.
3. Not drink any coffee. No matter what.
4. Understand how to calculate volume/osmolarity/electrochemical equilibrium problems. Even if it kills me. (Possible conflict with points 2 and 3)
5. NOT spend all afternoon munching on skittles, so as to stave off hunger and keep myself studying.
6. Spend time with friends that is not study group, class, small group or PBL related.
7. Drink plenty of water. (Not so much as to change the osmolarity of my cells).
8. Organize the leaning tower of class notes and handouts placed hither thither on my floor.
9. Learn how to take vital signs properly. This "I'll do it better next time" attitude is not working.
10. Did I mention go to the gym every single morning?

The lack of sleep/caffeine dependence cycle of pain

Consider the simple medical student. He or she must strive to keep a balance between the positive and negative factors that are plentiful in his or her day to day life. These factors in the most loose sense can be defined as such:
Positive factors: Any such thing which ensures the health of the medical student. (Sleep, free food, free books - free anything, really, time at the gym etc).
Negative factors: Any such thing which may be detrimental to the health of the medical student. (Lack of sleep, stress, ultra-competitive cut throat classmates etc).
It started out innocently enough - happenings that in themselves did not pose any serious obstacle to the health of this medical student. A desire to attend Neurosurgery grand rounds the next morning; a shocking amount of material covered in lecture that day and the next; a dramatic increase in the amount of work to be accomplished in lab that night, a presentation in the next morning's class....in fact, a total of 6 negative factors combined to be the straw that broke the life-balance camel's back. A series of unfortunate events, if you will.
I worked late into the night, hoping to get both my studying for the day's lectures AND my reading for tomorrow done while working in lab. A free dinner would have been a bonus but I didn't plan on spending an hour at a meeting, no matter how good their food.
By 12am I was done studying, had completed my work, but hadn't read for class the next day nor practiced my presentation (which, by the way, is only for an informal PBL small group presentation, but if I don't practice I tend to suck at it. A lot).
Of course I had to get up early the next morning (5am instead of 6:40am) in order to avoid the slippery slope that is Falling Behind In Medical School. (A catastrophe of cataclysmic proportions) I did my reading for that day's lectures and practiced my presentation with time to go to the gym. In order to stay awake during lecture, however, the smoky brew of coffee was necessary. With even more lectures gushing forth material surely to be covered in the next test, lab work, studying and reading to be done, the allure of the brew became too strong to resist.
Now, one week later, I am slowly weaning myself off the brew and enduring many a gaping yawn. I'll see how next week goes...

Cells are awesome

In doing my reading for tomorrow's classes, I stumbled upon this delicious fact and I just had to post. Generally speaking, the more complex an organism tends to be, the larger its genome (the total amount of DNA in its cells). Yet, while the human genome is 200 times larger than a certain species of yeast, it is 200 times smaller than a certain species of amoeba. Yes, amoeba. Those amorphous jello like creatures with water for brains.
How amazing is that??
One more thing....each human cell contains an extraordinary amount of DNA. If stretched end to end, this DNA would be 2m long. But, deadrocketcow, you say. The cell is so small, how does all that DNA fit in there? The nucleus of the cell with a diameter of about 6x1o^(-6) - 6 millionths of a meter - achieves this remarkable feat by creating a series of supercoils and loops of DNA, all bunched up tight. This, according to 'Molecular Biology of The Cell' by Alberts, is 'geometrically equivalent to packing 40km (24 miles) of extremely fine thread into a tennis ball!'
If that doesn't make you almost vomit with excitement....I dunno, you're missing out on the fun.
And since I am posting even though I should be dilligently reading....we had our first Histology lab on Wednesday. It was cool to see sections of duodenum and liver and trachea and actually get a visual of all the stuff I read about in text books. When I realised that those pink stained dots in the cytoplasm of the liver cell were actually pink because of a stain for carbohydrates and connected that with learning 'the liver stores glycogen' in the text book, I had this huge burst of excitement. Glycogen! I almost yelled. It has to be glycogen!
And then....we looked at electron microscopy pictures of the very same liver slides, and we could actually see the rough endoplasmic reticulum with the *gasp* ribosomes sitting right on it. It felt like I had been given private access to a secret world, one that I could only have imagined. Awesome-ness, I tell ya.
Back to reading late into the night, with possible over-sleeping rammifications for tomorrow.

Random thoughts

I had my first test today. It was short - (12 questions) - more of a quiz than a test, but still. I studied hard and I am glad I did. It required quite a bit of thinking what with the pKa's of amino acids and different pH environments. I had immediate gratification too (or not), because we went over the answers together in class, as this was only our first test.
I was angry with myself, of course, because I missed a question I ought to have gotten correct. If only I had.......but of course 'if only' doesn't count. A wrong answer is a wrong answer. How many times must I tell myself not to obsess over having made a mistake, but rather focus on learning from that mistake and moving on? And when will I truly believe that I am learning material so I can better understand the basic science behind disease (hopefully to be a great physician) and not just to ace an exam? Give me strength!

In other news....I work in a lab at night in the hospital affiliated with my school and I often have to pick up samples from the nurses. Last night, I was standing at the nurse's station waiting for one of the nurses to come back from seeing a patient. I was looking around at all the neatly labelled files and cubbyholes wondering what 'patient request form' and 'meal agreement' meant, when I happened to see 'report of death'. For a moment I was stunned. How could such an appalling proclamation be so casually placed next to 'meal agreement'? How could one line mean so much? I wondered how many families had been affected by the filling of that report. Was there someone right at that very moment heading towards being another name on a piece of hospital stationary? Of course I know that many people die every day in hospitals, and yet, seeing a visible and tangible reminder of that fact was somewhat of a shock.

I have three more allosteric enzyme inhibitor drugs to understand, *cough* memorise *cough* before I sleep.

On traffic lights and making it to class on time

So far, every morning for a week and a half, I have woken up at 6:40am so I can squeeze in a half hour at the gym, eat breakfast and make it on time for my 8am class. On each of these days, I have left the building where I live at 7:50am (give or take 5 mins - mostly give) and turned right to walk down the block toward the traffic lights. Every single time this happens, I am forced into stress mode. Why is this? you might inquire, with raised brow. Let me tell you.
The light is always red. The little stick man in white is on, telling me it's okay to cross the road. He's giving me the right of way. No mind that I am halfway up the block at this point. Who cares that I am right at that awkward distance where I can't really give up on making the light but I am just a little too far to make it without breaking into a run? Not you little stick man!
There I am, thinking furiously in a panic, 'Should I walk faster? Can I make it in time?'
I break into a stride, with my eyes fixed on the road. I am picking up speed, navigating my way around parking attendants, innocent bystanders and incoming people traffic. In my head, a mantra is being repeated 'Please don't change, please don't change, please don't change'. Will I make it?
When I am a few feet away from the curb, when I am almost certain that I will, in fact, make The Light this morning, the orange hand flashes.
Yes...this happens every single morning. I falter, all my fears confounded. What now? This is too much to bear! If I cross, the lights will surely change mid-peregrination, putting me in the direct path of 50 raging yellow city taxis. And yet...do I dare...?
I tell you, I die every morning.

Disturbing

I hope this (or something similar) doesn't happen to me.

I make this vow freely and upon my honor

Some of my favorite moments during Orientation (which ends tomorrow) thus far have been little, seemingly insignificant things.
Monday night I saw the statue of liberty up close for the first time. It was an awe inspiring few minutes. Looking upwards from the boat, with my mouth slightly agape, I couldn't help but feel inspired. The hand held aloft, the many folds of her robe, the seven pointed crown and the sheer enormity of the statue combined to reduce me to a revered silence. There was no way to capture that moment, nor would a picture have done it justice.
My white coat ceremony was a small affair, with parents, friends and significant others invited. We were seated alphabetically and after a short speech, were called down to the front in fours where faculty helped us into our coats.
Right before we walked down, the dean of the College read to us the WCMC version of the Hippocratic Oath. I found myself thinking about how sacrificing the calling of medicine is and how, right at the very beginning, we are expected to lay aside our personal differences, in order to learn to serve patients with selflessness and humilty.
Especially thought provoking was the last line of the oath, 'I make this vow freely and upon my honor.' I was not coerced, or sweet talked into applying to medical school. I decided on this career because of my interest in learning about the body and a desire to be of service to others in need. Every action I make during the next four years of medical school must be done with this goal in mind. And in order to keep this in mind, I must not forget people.
I have hope that learning to be my best, whether it be from my classmates or admitting my mistakes, rather than ignoring everything save my grades or position in class will be my main strength.

New time, new direction.

I was on the phone with my Mom a day or so ago, excitedly telling her about the short white coat I recently aquired at the Student Affairs office. With the coat came free medical advice/inspiration in the form of a book titled 'On Doctoring' and information on Orientation week which starts on the 25th. She suggested that I remember these few days before the start of medical school. I think this is excellent advice.
In a few weeks, when I am bogged down with how much studying I have to do, how there is so much minute detail to be committed to memory and when I am questioning why I would subject myself to such torment, I can read this post.
Yes, I am a lowly MS0 (a term recently gleaned from many odd-hours spent reading through Student Doctor Network medicine forums and medical blogs) but I can't help it. I am incredibly excited. I cannot wait until the first day of class. I cannot wait to meet my new classmates. I am psyched and I am pumped - just writing about it has caused a huge grin to appear on my face. I can't help but feel I have been waiting and preparing a long time for this moment.
That said, I know medical school will be tons of work and discipline. I know that I will often be stressed and impatient with myself. This is part of the reason I chose WCMC, because it has a reputation for being laid back and less stressful than the average medical school. (Cross your fingers).
So...in the interim, I will continue to be delighted when I find a new medical student/resident blog. Although I have restrained myself from reading through my Undergrad biology text books, I am severely tempted. I am relaxing as though there is no tomorrow.

Christ brings me sunshine in winter

In Grade 11, a few weeks after prefects were selected, my classmate died. We had been friends on and off when we were younger, and sometimes studied for the Grade 7 exams together, but as we got older, we drifted apart into different circles of friends and became acquaintances at best.
She got sick and I, like the other people in my class, thought nothing of it when she did not come to prep that night. She was just one more person who had the misfortune to get malaria. We all assumed she would get better. And she did get better, at least - for a short while.
I passed her in the corridors, a Friday, as I made my way to supper. She had just taken a shower and was walking to her room where she was a prefect in charge of 10 girls. She was wrapped in the brown towel she always used. I glanced at her, wondering if I should offer to get her supper. Instead, I asked if she was feeling better. I can't remember what she said, but I know she smiled. I smiled back and that was that.
I wonder now, if something extraordinary inspired me with that moment of altruism. I wonder now, if it would have made a difference had I offered what I intended. What parallel universe would I be in now? Would I, in just three short weeks be starting medical school? Would she be dead?
She swam in the school swimming team, was cute, bubbly, short. A popular girl with popular friends. She was light skinned, paid attention in class and got good grades. My mother knew her mother.
I was sitting on my bed one night, when a day scholar spoke into the window, giving all of us in the room a fright. "[B.....] is dead, you guys". I stared stupidly at the window. She had just gone home that weekend. I had seen her, smiled at her two days ago. But it was true.
That week we had a memorial service for her. I sat in the hall, thinking about the nature of death, the fragility of life for the first time. Just like that. She was dead. I kept thinking, I saw her on Friday, smiled at her. I saw her.
I thought of her parents, having lost their only daughter. I thought of her brothers, having lost their only sister. She was only 15. Yet, her life was over. In days, she would be buried and there would be no more [B.....]. In a few years, she would be reduced to bones in an uncaring earth. I couldn't get over the finality, the suddeness of what had happened. Even now, it makes my heat skip a beat.
At the funeral, I saw her in her coffin and for the first time I cried. She was laying there, in her makeup, in her church dress with her eyes closed. She could have been sleeping. Her mother was there, crying. I wanted to say something, but could not find the right words. It was so unfair. So unforseen. Whenever I remember the song we sang on the bus there, I grow cold.
I think of her mother now, 6 years later. Does she grieve? How could she possibly have gotten through such a time?
I think of [B....]. What would she be doing right now? Where would she be?
I remember singing on the bus. I can only remember that one line, "Christ brings me sunshine in winter".
I remember her.

Yes, I'll have the Terry Pratchett with a side of Tolkien, please.

I just got done reading Stone of Tears (again), the second book of what is now an eleven part series called the Sword of Truth by Terry Goodkind. For those of you who are ignorant in these matters, I urge you - proceed to your nearest bookstore and purchase Wizard's First Rule. If you are unsatistfied with the contents, I will refund you the full price of the book, no questions asked.*
This renewed desire to read all things fantastical and magic was born after July 21st, (which I am sure you know to be Harry Potter Day) when I consumed Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. What should I read next? I am left with a lingering desire to immerse myself in lands filled with mythical beasts and the continued battle of good versus evil (may the good spirits protect us). Perhaps I will go ahead and buy Blood of the Fold (again) after having left most of the books half way across the world.
Or should I venture forth into unknown territory in order to feed the beast within? I do not wish to be disappointed...the buying of an atrocious book is a grave error that cannot be undone.
Perhaps a little science fiction (can you say Asimov?) to whet the palate. Maybe a short foray into the Dark Tower series for a little comfort-read. Then a sweet treat of a Discworld novel. So many books, so little time...

I need something to read. Something new.


*Let it be known that the above mentioned statement is null and void. deadrocketcow will not be responsible for any claim or request of refund be it in money, store credit, or objects of equivalent or lesser value. Sucker!

No more music

He was sitting there, as he had always sat there, stooped and grey, in his faded yellow armchair, with his hands folded neatly in his lap. The light from the faux chandelier turned his carefully combed strands of hair into gleaming wires of hair gel. With his meticulously pressed shirt, trousers and spit shined shoes, he could have been a walking ad for personal cleaniness.
Softly, in the background, a record was playing. The same record that had been playing for the past 7 years since Maggie had been taken away pressed on and delivered its soothing melodies. In the dimly lit room, with the chairs around the table arranged just so and the framed pictures on the mantlepiece lovingly positioned, the record could have played forever in an endless loop. Time, it seemed, within these four walls, had stood still.
What had become of those people whose pictures were so lovingly polished every night without fail under the dining room light? Who were they, these ghosts that carried within their every cell half a copy of their lost father's dna? And where were they now? Where were they?
She sighed. He must have fallen asleep after his evening meal. She reached forward to clear the table. The bowl of soup in front of him, however, was cold and untouched.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice told her what she already knew, but she had to confirm. With two fingers on the side of his neck she was sure.
In the sparse and scrupulously cleaned room where he had played his records all those years, she lifted the stylus off the spinning record and silence filled the air. There would be no more music.

Classes? Yesterday's headlines

Yesterday, at 10:45am, I put down my pen, got my stuff together, handed in my exam and walked out the door and into freedom.
Well...it was really two doors and two floors, but who's counting?
Ladies and gentlemen. In as official a tone as I possibly can manage of an un-official matter (it's not official till I am clad in cap and gown) I do declare that my undergraduate education is over.
Now don't be jealous. You'll have your moment. In time. Smirk.
And yet, although it has barely been 24hrs since the discovery of this freedom, I find I am already bored. I guess studying for class does have its uses.
So...what to do? Should I go invade the library of all its books for one last time? Take up residence at the Omac and bid a slow farewell to the cybex weight machines? Or discover my inner party whore?
I think I'll flip a coin. Or a rubik's cube, on account of having more than two options.

Can you flip a rubik's cube?

I kill with my heart

I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.

I do not shoot with my gun; he who shoots with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.

I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart.

-Gunslinger's Creed

Bring it

I want to go to Medical School. As in, right now. I want to take all those juicy biology related classes and pour that sweet information right into my head.
Spring break is over and I have about three more weeks of classes before reading period and then finals. When my last exam is taken, I will then have two and a half weeks of waiting to graduate. During this time, I will probably rip my hair from the roots in fits of boredom or go slowly mad. Or both. It will suck big time.
On a lighter note, next week I have a chance to visit two of the Medical Schools I am interested in. Hopefully this will help me make up my mind, seeing as how I can't go to three Medical Schools.
I am a little sad about leaving Brown. After all, I have been here for 4 years and have come to know this place well. It will be strange not to wake up in the morning and head to the OMAC. Or, not be able to sneak food into the Sci Li anymore. And what about that Ratty food? I always talked badly about those veggie burgers, but who's going to make them like they do?
In the mean time, I will write my philosophy paper and revise my English essay. The theme in my English class for the rest of the semester is Literary Journalism. I have been writing about women in Neurosurgery (of course) and how Neurosurgery is such a male dominated field. Browsing through all the negative and sometimes frightening literature on the choices women have to make in an effort to pursue this as a career only made me more excited. I have been waiting all my life for this stage in my education. I say, bring it.

Ambulance rides and hospitals

The week before last was an awful week, mainly because I got sick on Sunday and missed about a week of classes, as well as work - that's half a pay check for me this week, boo hoo. It was super cool, though, to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance and as I lay there answering the same questions over and over again (are you on any medication, do you have any allergies, when did you last eat?) I couldn't help but think to myself....I will be asking questions like those some day, and on top of that....those sirens sound like they're awfully far away - I wonder if ambulances are sound proofed?
I was wheeled into the hospital and was struck by how much equipment there was everywhere. Tubes and flashing-red-light-things on wheels and contraptions on the walls that beeped every few seconds. It was awesome. I stared hard at them in an attempt to fathom their wonders. Reveal your secrets! I yelled, but in my head, careful not to add delerium to my list of ailments.
I was examined by a 4th year Med student and missed a fat opportunity to attack her with questions because I was so out of it. After a chest x-ray, a life-scarring immersion to bring my fever down, more proding and being force fed medicines and cold water (to lower my heart rate - the doctor kept asking me if I was nervous), it was time to leave. I smiled and said thankya big big, that bed was positioned in such a way as to give me the worst lower back discomfort ever in the least possible amount of time.
I got better towards the end of the week, after taking medicine every four hours and sleeping all day, so that I went to class on Friday. Of course, life would have it that I had a mid-term the next Tuesday with just enough time to get better but not enough time to study much.
And even worse, I couldn't go to the gym for a week, and when I did venture back, I was weaker than your 97 yr old grandpa. I couldn't even do half an hour of cardio, for crying out loud.
Now that Spring break has begun, I can catch up on all the work I need to do. Life is good, yes?

At the Gym: That man in red

He saunters in, geared in his fiery traffic light red ensemble that only seems to accentuate his inner all systems go attitude. With his matching headband, sneakers and towel he makes his way to the fitness corner, goal in mind.
Months of hours spent sweating it out at the Olney-Margolies Athletic Center has given him a self assurance mere mortals can only dream of. With the practiced ease that can come only from hard earned experience, he adjusts the seat on the stationary bicycle to his desired height. Nonchalantly, he places his cd player on the surface designed for such personal effects and hoists himself up on the seat. It's time to get down to business.
He selects his program, his legs positioned and at the ready. A final check with his cd player ensures the correct playlist is selected, so he eases his way into a 5 minute warm up.
With his arms pumping purposefuly at his sides, and a sweet rhythm in the making, he could cycle his way to the moon and back.
His receding hair line and slightly paunchy midsection might be a testament to his age, but boy, does he work that bicycle! After a half hour, it seems the playlist on his cd player has come to an end. Without a break in stride, cool as a cucumber, he whips out a fresh cd from the pouch slung on the handlebars and does the old switcheroo.
45 minutes later, it is time for the next phase of his workout. With complete indifference, he makes his way through sets of seated leg curls, 100 pound bench presses and lat pull-downs. It is only the determined set to his jaw that exposes the intensity of his workout.
Home stretch and it's cool down time. Unconcerned with the stares he is receiving from the ellipticals (one of which is mine), he half walks, half jogs his way around the track. He then strolls over to the exercise mat where he proceeds to twist himself into pretzel like stretches. Feel that burn baby, and stretch yourself flexible.
Coat in hand, and one last swig from the monstrosity of a jug that is his water bottle means he is done, thankyou very much.
Until tomorrow.

I entreat you - justice must be served

Last night calamity befell. I am speaking, of course, of being unable (after a long and tortuous week-long wait) to watch House.
Yes. I agree. This was indeed a dire situation. Before you rush out with your hacksaw in a furious bid to dispense justice on the Computing and Information Services at Brown that delivers tv to my computer, let me explain.
After a busy and productive day of class, library and work, this noble and efficient Brown student came back to her apartment at around 7pm. With two hours to spare before House was to begin, she dilligently began work at her computer. Of course, there are innumerable practical definitions for the word 'work'. Browsing through facebook, for instance - the proper alingment of thumb and forefinger upon the mouse must be achieved to ensure accurate and efficient perusal. Let us not forget that mind stimulating endeavour that is the instant messenger conversation. To what level of simple-minded thinking would we stoop without such intellectual pursuits?
As such, I was working at my computer, carefully noting the time as it crept forward to the anticipated hour. With incredible foresight and responsiblity I opened the appropriate web-page at precisely 8:15pm and lauched the program.
Imagine my surprise and horror when I beheld such an atrocity as no human should be made to suffer. The screen was frozen! A single image of a popular day-time court judge was etched on the screen like a chewed wad of juicy fruit gum caught in your little sister's hair.
Even more diabolical - to my utmost dismay, it was only Fox that was afflicted this way.
I closed and re-opened the program. I switched channels. I opened a new web-page. Alas, my efforts were in vain. The universe was against me and I would not win.
So you see; my day, my week - my peace of mind was utterly ruined. How long the week that stretches before me until the next House. How cruel, how unusual the punishment I must endure.
Yes. Go forth and dispense that justice.

The Way Things Are

I have had an epiphany.
This epiphany was born out of a gradual realization about The Way Things Are. For one thing, clothes are meant to fit people. Not the other way around. To say that my body is un-proportional is ludicrous. To what standard am I comparing myself? And who set that standard? People come in a myriad of shapes. No one shape is 'the one'.
My lower body may be as much two sizes larger than my upper body, but this does not mean I do not fit clothes. Clothes do not fit me. So what if I have to buy low rise jeans because a 'normal' pair will be too big at the waist? So I bought my first suit with the pants a larger size than the jacket - big deal. No tears will be shed here.
And who says that all females must wear heels? To be sure, they look nice on many people, but come on now. Since when did heels become the epitome of all that is feminine? Don't get me wrong, I like the way heels look - even on myself. I just won't wear them. And I won't feel bad about it, because I will wear what I like to wear. Sneakers and more sneakers until I am old and gray.
This includes little clutch bags and purses. Perhaps I ought to add excessive make-up and certain types of jewellery; diamonds and other such precious stones. What is this madness that has possessed so many women everywhere? Could there be some deep unfathomable value to a diamond (besides its price) that I just don't get? Do diamonds have souls?
Because some women go nuts over diamonds. A whole industry worth of Valentine's (speak of the devil) and Christmas gifts is dependent on the ecstasy that grips a woman's heart when she receives one. How can one love diamonds? They're just expensive shiny stones, equally as good as any other piece of jewellery.
I'd rather have a Stephen King book.

Last Semester

Compared to junior year, being a senior is a breeze. Even the flurry of Medical School Interviews last semester was filled with happy moments thinking about myself as a Med student. I enjoyed the interviews; they were chances to prove to the schools why I would make a fantastic Neurosurgeon.
I remember how it was to think constantly, fervently, from the moment I woke up in the morning to the moment I lay my head on my pillow at night about The Mcat. Every single event that semester was based around it. It was either 'before the Mcat' or 'after the Mcat'.
I thought it would never end. It was an insurmountable roadblock towards entry into Medical School that kept on going. I remember being anxious, feeling exhilarated when my practice exam score would go up, depressed and angry when I plateaued. Every hour was spent calculating how best to study the physical sciences, how I could read through a set of passages and have time left over to check my work.
I spent days agonizing over what the perfect schedule would be and how I could utilise time spent eating looking over flash cards and learning formulae. I amassed huge amounts of test papers, questions and full length exams. Every inch of my floor was covered in test material. Nothing else mattered. My dreams were Mcat. My goal was the Mcat. I lived and breathed it.
And now, just like that, it is over. Test day came and went before I could take a preparing breath and all that is left of the Mcat is a memory.
When I hear people talking about getting ready for the Mcat, about how worried they are, about how they just have to get that fantastic score. I smile. And I remember.
(Class list, fellas.)

EL18: Introduction to Creative Nonfiction
BI30: Endocrinology
PL50: Moral Philosophy
BN196: Independent Study (Fragile X Syndrome research)

Food on your table

When I was in Zambia, I worked at a clinic in the laboratory. I helped the lab technician enter all his results onto the computer (because they were going paperless donchya know) and what took him through the afternoon when the going was slow, I did over my lunch break. He said the cold weather made his fingers stiff. I believed that like my name is Gertrude. And it's not. Anyway, every so often we had to do tests on people's stool and such. You know - samples of urine, blood and other bodily fluids, basically robbing the already embarassed patient of his/her remaining shred of dignity. It's like that. If you wonder why six meals a day (not counting snacks) isn't doing you justice, chances are, your intestines have company, and unlike good guests, they do not want to leave.
What was really interesting though, was seeing how the reminder that no matter how rich and important you thought you were, no matter how fancy a car your drove and how loud your heels clacked when you sauntered into the clinic, even you were unfortunate enough to have a digestive tract with two openings. The patients would come into the clinic, stride nonchalantly to the window to deposit their unthinkables and act like they hadn't a care in the world, but I knew it. They knew it, the whole world knew it. In a minute, his/her most private of substances, most intimate of materials would be exposed for the entire lab to see, and his/her decency would be stripped away to nothingness. You could see it in the slight curl at the end of their smile, in the way they clutched at the plastic and paper wrapped, foil ensheathed bottle as though willing themselves into oblivion. In the panic lurking at the corner of their eyes that screamed "Yes, yes - it's true! Even I have a rectum! Oh, the horror..."
And when they came back for their results, amid the polite handshakes, the carefully worded greetings, the mortification lingered. "Oh yes...what is it I am here for? My crap? The bottle of fecal matter I deposited at your window? Quite forgot, really. Slipped my mind. Yes, smile at me and tell me I have Giardia. Make idle chit chat with me as though you didn't smell just how putrid my excrement stank, you sick, sick lab technician. Yeah, grin at me as you prescribe a course of deworming. Just remember, buddy, my anal discharge puts food on your table.

Grrr

I want to be asleep right now. Instead I am wide awake and I keep getting out of bed to check my mail. This time I logged into Blogger and now I am here, writing this silly post. I have an exam tomorrow, I woke up early this morning (well, relatively so) and justice declares I should be asleep right now. In fact - counting from the very hour I slid between my sheets - I should have been asleep for three hours now.
If I hear the phone in the apartment upstairs ring one more time, I swear, I will climb through the plumbing and have at them with a hacksaw. We're not all done with finals, sugar. And what is that shkr, shkr noise I keep hearing right outside my door? What is this? Is the carpet in the hall rubbing itself onto my door?
Sweet sleep, why do you elude me so?
I'll be good, I promise.

Retribution

I am so utterly alone, and so completely desperate. My heart beats, but it is only to feed the guilt festering in the blackened vestige of my soul. I am damned. I see it in their eyes, in the way they half glance at me, in the way their eyes refuse to take me in. Am I so abhorrent, am I so beyond redemption that even the maggots deny my existence? Please, scream filth at me, burn labels into my flesh, throw the blood at my feet. Only, do not look at me that way.
Ye Gad, divine being, agent of karma; for what it is worth, I am sorry. Unborn child, fruit of my womb, humanity, I beg of you, let me claim self dignity before I make retribution.
If it was selfishness that drove me, I repay it with self-sacrifice. If it was pride that possessed me to think only of my circumstances, then surely I have re-paid in tears a thousand fold. With every breath, you, society, have wrought vengence. With every thought, I have received that vengence, and I accept it gladly. I will tell you this - at that moment, at that selfish moment - my very future was at stake. And so, I threw the dice, I played my hand and I let guilt take residence in my soul. Now, I will give life for life.
Yet, I must believe that there is hope. I must believe this, if only for my sanity. If only to make this act, this cleansing of soul, acceptable.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now.
And at the hour of death.

November 8th, 2006

This morning, just like any other. Gym, class and lots of lab work. This evening, just like any other. American Sign Language class at Rhode Island School for the Deaf, and studying for my Neuroanatomy exam tomorrow. And yet - a fact about me has changed. Furtively, things have been changing since November 8th, 2005. Changing behind my back. And I have been excluded from this change. Until now.

Is it true, I am no longer 21? Is it true?

Fear and trembling

Today I had a migraine. No, not a simple headache - a full blown migraine. Having had my first one toward the end of the summer, I know what I am talking about. This time I definitely recognized the signs; inability to focus (I was happily studying Neuroanatomy), blurred vision and extreme sensitivity to light. Quickly downing an Imitrex did no help, the pain came on at full strength. And when I say full strength, my friend, I mean quite literally, Full Strength. Two Imitrex (don't tell, okay?) and four exedrin later, I was on my dorm room floor, pleading for mercy. I actually called Brown's Emergency Medical Service, but changed my mind mid-ring. After all, I knew what it was.
I am sane now. But I await the next one with fear and trembling.

The whole kit and caboodle

In the Beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

A statement so simple, and yet so utterly profound. This is the ultimate moment of inception, a time so far back into the past as to render meaningless any explanations of time as we know it. It is not, 'Millenia upon millenia' or even 'Soon after the Big Bang'. It needs no elaboration. It requires no permission. It is simply, 'In the Beginning'.
As to who is in charge? The answer is quite simple really - God. There you have it.
And God, in his unequivocal omnipotence, made all that is and would ever be. He created, ladies and gentlemen, the whole kit and caboodle.

That guy

That guy, he
works out at the gym 24/7
lifting heavy weights
and so he compensates for his height

That girl, she
told me
the only reason I am here
my fathers, my father's fathers
own New England
let me show her my 4.0

Those people, they
look at me
when
I'm with my significant other
and they
whisper to themselves
unmentionable relations

That lady, she
told me today
drinking water
helps you
lose weight faster
who said I wanted to lose weight?

That one, told me
I shouldn't be here
affirmative action

That person
looked at my tray
devoid of meat
you think you can save the world
one plate at a time?

Neuro stupidity

Q: What did the Stimulant do to the Neuron after their wedding?

A: He carried her over the threshold.

4th year at Malory towers uhh, Brown University

The year has come. By this, ladies and gentlemen, I mean Senior year (notice the capital). Classes, work, a great apartment, research and 3 awesome friends. How could I ask for more? Well...there is the issue of Medical School. I would like to get that congratulations-you-have-been-accepted letter in the mail sometime. Now wouldn't that be something? I bet it would. Are you listening Johns Hopkins?
And before you rip my hair out (hold your daym horses), here is the anticipated, long awaited class list:

EL91: How to read a poem
SI40: American Sign Language
BN165: Structure of the Nervous System
BN293: From Neurons to Perception
BN195: Independent Study (Fragile X Syndrome research)

Isn't life great?

in a flash of inspiration i found the words, and then i thought about it and the words were no longer there
they slipped through the fingers of my mind, escaping permanence, escaping expression
but i want to tell you, i need to tell you
oh, and i can feel my heart beating and the confused thoughts tumble through my mind and when i try when i try and try and stop them
they skirt around the edges
possessing me
do you know what i mean?
do you?

I want me some cardio too

Cardio-hog: 'kärd-E-(") O hog, n. Any of various forms of the species homo sapiens, which uses too much of the cardio machine.

Look here. I like to exercise, and I go to the gym 2 hours a day. That may be a little on the excessive side, but hey, my thighs need it.
Now some people....(ahem, ahem) always be working out at the gym. I mean, I get there at 4pm after I'm done with work and these cats? Already on the ellipticals, and been on them a good while, if their sweat soaked shirts are anything to go by.
So baby dawg, I do my thang on the stairmaster, and after half an hour, miss-sweat-stained-t shirt is still on. (Never mind the half hour limit on cardio machines, no ma'am, I'm beyond such pettiness.)
A few stretches and 45 minutes of weight training later, I'm ready to crank up the ol' metabolism. But of course, you know who and her twin sister are still on the ellipticals. Damn girl!
Now, don't get me wrong, I understand and appreciate the pull of the cardio machine. Your heart rate is in the 85% efficiency zone, you're feeling the burn and you just know that extra 100 calories will take care of that snickers you had with lunch.
I myself, have given into the sweet reasoning voice of the 5 minute cool down at the end of a 30 minute work out......but please! More than an hour? Give it a rest sugar, the machine will still be there tomorrow.
Yes. It's you I'm looking at. Time to get off now.

Late night in the lab

Working on Medical School Applications (notice the capitals, ladies and gentlemen) is strangely exhilarating. It makes me feel powerful; as though merely by using strategically chosen words and spicy synonyms I could rule the world. And you know what? I think I could.

Here I come Johns Hopkins. Or Columbia. Or NYU. Or....

In a month and a half I will be a senior. This makes me (officially at the very least) one of the wisest few on campus. Of course, this was the case even as a freshman, har de har har har, but now, my friends, it is for real. Be very afraid.

Did you know my sister won the Manager of the Quarter award at the hotel she works at? She surrre did. And she's only been working there a few months. Respect.

I should be writing an essay. Not my blog. Goodbye.

Home

tomorrow is the day of reckoning aka d-day soon to be known as The Day My Mcat Score Was Revealed To Me. despite the faith and good feelings of the people that make up my ahem, life, I know that whatever score I get will be a disappointment. because that's just the way it is. with the post-now wisdom some people call hindsight, that ten minutes you spent not studying will come back, grin at your sorry self and its teeth will not be white.

i'm in zambia right at this very moment. as I press these keys and put words together, I am breathing Southern Hemisphere air. why am I saying this? I just am, so deal with it.

wooden floors that go squeek under your feet when you walk on them this way, and water in the fridge safe to drink because it's been cooked to get rid of the germs. grass outside and the sound of the six million dogs barking late into the night in the neigh-bor-hood. going to church on foot, but not really, just in your heart. and a living room you can sit down and watch tv in because at the end of the day, damnit, we just want what everybody else wants: a place to call home.

so count those hours down with me, friend, and think big thoughts.

I have a box
in this box
I put my
tears
blue tears, that drip down
the side of my face
over my cheeks
I let them
this box
used to be empty
now
it is
a quarter full, half full, three quarters full
tell me,
when this box is full
and begins to run over
where will I put my tears?

Ode to coffee

Oh coffee! How marvellous is your power. How beautiful are your mechanisms. You give me strength when I have none. You fill me with a sense of renewed vigor and purpose. How potent your effects, how merciful your action. When the tentacles of sleep seek to crush me in their lethal embrace, when the very jaws of exhaustion seek to devour me with their terrible fate, coffee, you spring to action. Your smoky flavor alights on my tongue. Your purine rings awaken in me a desire to re-memorise all 10 steps in the glycolysis pathway. They open my eyes to the way of the electromagnetic wave - they equip me with the critical thinking necessary for a 15 on the Mcat Verbal. Truly your works are noble. Long I made jest at your pro-studying capacity. How I mocked those who partook of your healing powers. Alas! I was in err. Permit me now, this moment of post coffee meditation, to extol your virtues.
Oh coffee! How marvellous your power. How beautiful your mechanisms.

What it is

Notice:
The droop of the shoulders due to the heavy burden
The discarded Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts coffee cups
The pained expression in the eyes

Overheard: Dramatized and blogified

Not so thin girl: I have all this cellulite on my legs. It looks awful! I've been going to the gym and eating right, but my legs are taking ages to firm up.
Thin girl: Omg, I had the exact same thing, like, a year ago. I know exactly what you mean!
Not so thin girl: Really? What happened?
Thin girl: I was like, enormous - a size 10 can you believe it??
Not so thin girl: Umm, yeah...
Thin girl: Yeah, well. A friend of mine told me about this amazing procedure. You will not believe it, OMG!
Not so thin girl: No way, what was it?
Thin girl: Hold, on - I'll tell you!
Not so thin girl: Ok, Ok.
Thin girl: So, it's really easy, but you have to like, be kinda strong you know?
Not so thin girl: Mm, Hmm.
Thin girl: So basically, what it's about, is that like, you just don't eat, for like two weeks. And then, OMG - you'll be amazed at how much cellulite wears off! Plus, you lose MAD weight.
Not so thin girl: You don't say...
Thin girl: I know! Isn't it marvellous? I could not believe it either! When my friend told me about this, I was like, I cannot wait to start this procedure. And it SO worked! I mean, now I'm the same size I was when I was 11! I can like, wear size 0 clothes. You should try it, it so works!!
Not so thin girl: You know what, I think I'll just...
Thin girl: No really!! I'm dead serious. The only bad thing about it though, is that you tend to faint or collapse when it gets too hot. Or too cold. Or when it's late at night. Or early. But you know what I mean right?
Not so thin girl: Right.

Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person.

Mother Theresa

Do it in purple

I'm back. Here. Another semester lays all stretched out and furious before me. What have I done wrong? Express a desire to go to Medical School? Show my intentions of taking the Mcat in April? It's a count down I tell you. 87 days and my life will flash before my eyes. Four score and 7 days and my heart will stand still for 8 hours. Oh boy, oh boy - Mcat fever. (I'm too young to die).

Here is that list, my friends, in case you lost count:

BN104: Developmental Neurobiology
PH4: Basic Physics
BI28: Introductory Biochemistry
And the Kaplan Mcat prep course

Do it in purple.

Coldplay is the only music worth listening to

What if there was no light
Nothing wrong, nothing right
What if there was no time
And no reason or rhyme
What if you should decide
That you don’t want me there by your side
That you don’t want me there in your life

What if I got it wrong
And no poem or song
Could put right what I got wrong
Or make you feel I belong
What if you should decide
That you don’t want me there by your side
That you don’t want me there in your life

Oooh, that’s right
Let’s take a breath, jump over the side
Oooh, that’s right
How can you know it if you don’t even try
Oooh, that’s right

-What If. Coldplay

The Beginning of the End

Christmas is coming, and hooray to that. Boo to the snow, which makes it impossible to get out of a warm bed at 7 in the morning. But hooray for concoctions of half black hazelnut decaf and half cappuccino. That creamy froth goes down like a bad habit.

Boo to being unable to sleep at 2 O'Clock in the morning, despite a full day of studying and running around headless chicken style. Boo to the Organic Chem quiz I have tomorrow. Who cares about enolates and enols anyway?

The last two weeks of school. Hooray for classes that observe the reading period. Boo to Organic Chem for going way out of line, and keeping us learning.

Awesome. Absolut Neuro T-shirts on the way. Hooray to being first in line to buy mine, and double hooray to being a Neuro nerd. Nerdiness is in, baby. Get with the program.

Boo to the feelings of anxiety that seed in the bottom of my stomach and develop into fully grown panic trees on the day of the Orgo exam. Hooray to no more Orgo classes after Dec 17th. Orgo - it's not you, it's me.

But most of all, hooray to being one step closer to the semester that starts it all: applying to Medical Schools, lots of essay writing and....the Mcat. Boo for all the studying I will have to go through to prepare myself.

Life, in the meantime at least, continues to go on.

Thanksgiving weekend is here

Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy
Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy
Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy
Psycho groupie coke
Makes you high makes you hide
Makes you really want to go, stop
Psycho, groupie, cocaine, crazy
Psycho groupie coke
Makes you high makes you hide
Makes you really want to think and stop

-System of a Down

In other news - no class for two whole days! And then, because they hate us so much, Organic Chem exam right after Thanksgiving weekend. Bleh.

November 8th, 2005

I thought time would stand still and let me be 20 forever.

I cannot tell you

let me tell you
I want to tell you
telling you is all I wish-hope-dream for
yes? answer me with affirmation
spectacular, unique, incomparable
tell me, you say
want me to tell you
anything, everything, nothing
in gasps - in stutters – in silence
in quiet tones
and in between words
in between heart beats - a response
harsh, sarcastic, bitter-sweet, painful, inside, outside
every dimension considered
and rushing through daylight
gathering ideas, mentally noting-
to laugh. To breathe. To feel
warm
hot
on fire – and yet
the cool waters of deliberation
anti-Climax
tell me, you say
deleted words, phrases –
a nod here
a frown there
I cannot tell you

Saturday night ramblings

I have a Neuropharmacology exam on Tuesday. I do not have class, meetings, or lab as it is a Saturday and yet I have only studied 3 hours. Why is this so?
For one thing, I am in my room which is most unconducive to productivity - of the studying variety, of course. I need to be in the library, forced to gaze at nothing other than Neuropharmacology text books and notes.
My room is also under a sleep spell. Rip Van Winkle would agree. Entrance is followed by immediate decrease in the firing rates of most of my brain stem modulatory neurons, and a strong desire to get horizontal.
And then, there's no class on Monday, due to ahem, ahem 'Columbus day'. This really should be a day of national mourning, but that's just me...
What else? I just ate a pesto-cheese-tomato-red pepper-and lettuce sandwhich and studying just doesn't seem so hot anymore. Naughty thoughts have begun to intrude, such as...what better time to watch Grim and Evil than the present? Or even better, Reno 911? Family guy? Or heck, the entire adult swim?
Naughty, I tell you. They are being punished.
Orange juice, anyone?

Bathroom conundrum

When one is in the privacy of one's bathroom - and it doesn't necessarily have to be one's bathroom, any bathroom is appropriate - and one is going about one's business, a dilemma is in the making.
The dilemma that I refer to here is the situation in which an external force in the form of a knock is applied to the outside of the door. The door being, of course, the entry to the bathroom that one is currently occupying.
Several solutions avail themselves at this point. Does one cry out, "I'm in here" and endure the possible questions that might ensue? Who exactly is 'I' and what is the initiator of the knock going to do about it? And indeed, one most certainly (depending on where this bathroom is located; public dormitory as opposed to private home) will have ensured that admission is impeded via door-lockage, and as such, utterances akin to 'I'm in here', are redundant to say the least...
One might also cry out, "Occupied!". The ostentation and pageantry associated with such a manner of response need not be discussed.
So what, really, must one say in reaction to this happening?
"Yes?", "What do you want?" or even "Who's there?"
Perhaps one's best option is to remain silent, for even the most brainless of knock-instigators will understand the meaning of a locked door.
Still, the conundrum of the bathroom remains irresolvable. It lurks behind the shower curtain, underneath the bathroom sink, in the medicine cabinet, and not even the most socially cognizant individual can figure out its mysteries.

3rd year at Malory towers uhh, Brown University

So once again it's back to this place that I can almost call home, Brown University, for another year of good old Neuroscience classes and Organic Chemistry labs.
Back to studying late into the night at the Science Library.
To walking Thayer in search of that perfect brew of coffee.
And even though I have the Mcats to think about sometime next semester, I can relax and enjoy the fact that at my fingertips are thousands of resources that can, and will, make me a better person.
Ladies and gentlemen, in no particular order of preference, the long awaited deadrocketcow class list:

CH36: Organic Chemistry
BI80: Principles of Physiology
SI30: Intermediate American Sign Language 1
BN167: Neuropharmacology and Synaptic Transmission

Did you miss me?

How awesome is Coldplay?

Look:

All that noise and all that sound
All those places I got found
And birds go flying at the speed of sound
To show you how it all began
Birds came flying from the underground
If you could see it, then you’d understand

Need I go on?

Words cannot express

I want to tell you a bit about myself. My name is Meredith, I am 5’7, I live with my parents, and tonight I am going to kill them.
Now that you have read that, you may be thinking that I must be mad or worse still, that I am one of those troubled youths who, refusing to let the system brainwash their genius minds must get the system before it gets them, and must begin this process by exterminating their progenitors. Let me assure you that this is not so. I have spent the greater part of 20 years on this planet that I call home thinking about the perfect consciousness. It came to me in a flash last night. You see, blood is a beautiful thing. It flows through your veins, pumping all that sweet oxygen up and down the avenues of your body, making deliveries to every cell. If you cut just so on your wrist, you will feel the pain that comes from cutting through skin, sensitizing mechano and then pain receptors that scream to you, something is wrong, harm is being caused to your body. Deep enough, and blood, warm and red, wells out into the laceration. Deeper still and a few drops become an outflow that gushes forth life, and informs you of the possibilities that exist under your skin, of the richness of being human.
But I digress.
I think about blood often. I lie in my bed, envisioning pools of red liquid, lakes of erythrocytes, hemocytes, leukocytes, thick oceans of pure, hot blood. Of veins spurting forth hemoglobin enriched cells, of thick aortas working and pumping, of punctured carotid arteries pouring out deluges of blood.
So you see, I love the human body. I have a healthy respect for what keeps it alive. My fascination is blood, and tonight I will cure myself of this curiosity, this madness that grips me in the still of the night and takes over my mind. And what better blood, than the blood of the people I love?
Come now, I know what you are thinking. You think I am insane, I am deranged. What psychotic monster have my parents unleashed upon the world? To what stage of utter lunacy have I reached that I would even think such things?
Again, let me assure you. This is not so. Some things simply must be. Things will come to pass….my, how didactic I have become. They will feel no pain, and just think – what wonders will be revealed to mankind. How clear, how sweet the manifestation of what life is. Words cannot express. It will be an ecstatic jubilation of what it means to be alive. And I will relish every moment.

Elevator wars

What is it about the nature of the elevator interior that demands total silence and complete termination of all previous form of communication?
The area in front of the elevator is an extroverts paradise. Work mates clutch cups of expensive, hot starbucks coffee, weekends are described, new shoes, jewelry and other such adornments appraised. Life is good, and high powered executive frolics with lowly janitor. Buttons are pressed, the wonder of being at work is discussed, and all is well.
Then a light flashes. Ding! A slight shift in the air, and people regard each other, stealing furtive glances from under lowered lashes. An almost imperceptible spirit visible only to the trained eye has possessed this group. It reveals itself in the clenched buttock, in the tightening of the jaw, the faltering conversation.
The doors open, and each walks into his own private territory. A little to the left, a bit to the back. Muttered excuse me's and sorry's are exchanged. Place feet appropriately and stance.
In a second, the elevator doors glide towards each other and shut.
And there is silence.
1 - ding
2 - ding
Shoes are examined. Quality mentally assessed and prices calculated. That one over there shops at Walmart. That one over here shops at JC Penny. Not me, I shop at Saks. Noses turn upward as if seeking the air that is purest and untainted.
3 - ding
Eyes ever forward, faces composed, eyes unyielding. It is the great elevator undertaking. Be cool. Be sauve.
4, 5 - ding, ding. People get off.

And down again.

Hell is my house

My days have passed away, my
thoughts are dissipated, tormenting my
heart.
They have turned night into day,
and after darkness I hope for light again.
If I wait hell is my house, and I have
made my bed in darkness.
I have said to rottenness; thou art
my father; to worms, my mother and
my sister.
Where is now then my expectation,
and who considereth my patience?
All that I have shall go down into
the deepest pit: Thinkest thou that there
at least I shall have rest?

Job 17: 11 - 16

They are with me

so we are here. you and I. let us sit at this table, this big table, over polished glass and wanton displays of starched whiteness. lift fork here, sip water there.
only do not look at me that way. if you do, i will poison your children
murder your seed
haha, you like that? and you drape me with the flesh of exotic tree dwelling animals. when you adorn my neck with blood, you smile to yourself. i am your pretty trinket, your gold plated imitation gucci. smile at me, you say. i smile at you, and the silver you planted in my teeth reflects the candlelight that bounces offyour bald head
we sit at this table that is as long as it is wide, under ceiling as high as you are tall. you look down at me, possesively, exclusively. everything is as you want it. shoes? i will give you shoes, licentious underclothing that you tear offmy naked body
wear red, you say. i wear red, and i hang my head hang my head my head...
and they watch. perhaps it is the smell of the cocoa butter that you spread on my back. remind me how to be cruel. remind me that clothes hanging to dry under hot sun strong wind
look like ghost and whisper treacherous ideas to me.
only open your eyes and you will see that I talk with them. if you come, you will see me, and you will see how I am with them. and so we sit here
at
this table
that is as long as it is wide as dark as you are strong

and they are with me

May is for mothers

Back in the day Mom used to get excruciating migraines and she still gets them once in a while, but those suckers rendered her completely defenceless, reduced to an agonised heap beneath sweaty and dark sheets. I would sneak into her room, lay next to her on that huge expanse of bed, and stare at her. I remember those times, like they were (yes indeed) yesterday. The fan would whir out its promises each time it made its relentless circuit, and as it turned to face us, breathe soft air into the stagnant migraine waters of the room.
Vague and disorganised primary school memories hide in the dark recess of my mind. They float around like faded post it notes, dropped behind a cluttered desk, aching to be examined again.
I see her, morning after morning, holding the blue jacket I had to stuff into my bag before I got to school because it 'wasn't part of the uniform, and could be con-fis-cated' over the grill, so it would be warm when I wore it. And when I walked to the stop, with my head as low in my jacket as was possible, and the sleep still in my eyes, I was warm.
And always, always, just like clockwork, in the hour she had for lunch, she would come pick me up after school. I tried to be nonchalant about it, face expressionless, walking over to the car with not a care in the world. Yeah, Mom, I knew you were coming.
But I was delighted. Nothing beat the joy of seeing her come driving into the parking lot, with the window slightly down, and the smell of ZCCM wafting out the car.
And there would be ice-cream after that. Bright (almost to the point of fluorescence) pink artifically flavored after taste inducing strawberry ice-cream. I loved it. It gave her headaches, but she ate it with me anyway.
It's all that, and it's more. I know you know this already, but hey. My Mom rocks.

I like your earrings

Look, I don't know you. When I'm sitting in the CIT or the Sci Li, and I'm frowning over my Organic Chemistry text book, with the steam coming out of my ears because I can't figure out how to make a reaction work, don't smile at me. I don't want to see your pretty little crest whitestrip enhanced dental formula. The reason I have those huge headphones over my ears is because I don't want to exchange idle chit chat with you. So what if it's nice outside? I have an exam tomorrow, and I feel really, really stupid right now. I don't want to stop my music and take off my earphones to listen to you tell me you're also considering being pre-med, or that you're a freshman (really, only freshmen do this), and yes isn't Organic Chemistry so incredibly boring?
I have synthesis problems to figure out, reagents to memorise and carbons to count. So when you walk in with your pink little ruffled barely there summer skirt, matching toenails and cute tote bag, walk past me, find your see-and-be-seen center stage spot at the table and fuss over the 8 page paper you have due for your English final.
Complain that your class is so very hard, because you have a paper due every other month. Or you actually have to read through an entire book to keep up with class readings.
And yeah, I actually do mind turning down my music. I have it blasting away on purpose. I like a nicely fried eardrum. Don't look at me, and I certainly won't look at you. I have work to do.

By the way, I like your earrings.

What do you mean, 'it's only an email'?

Hi [my name] jus wnted 2 kno if u cud meet earlier on 2day 'stead of @ 2pm lik we sed. s'thing came up and I hav 2 go out of twn this afternoon. how dus 10am sound? thanks, [her name].

With the veins bulging out in my neck, my eyeballs nearly bursting out of their sockets and an increasingly accelerating heart beat, I considered deleting this email and never speaking to this person again.
What an utter atrocity of an email! How dare we let ourselves sink to this disgusting level of erroneous punctuation and nauseating grammar.
I cannot believe the argument that because it is only an email, it doesn't need to be letter perfect. Is this a logical conclusion? Is it? Just because one is able to communicate with someone else in an instant, just because the way in which one is achieving this communication is electronic is not reason enough that we become derelict and sloppy with our writing.
That form of communication, regardless of the medium, is going to be received, read and assumptions are going to be made about the way the sender thinks - after all, what is an email but a presentation of ones ideas?
And saying the reason we can be tardy in the way we write is because it is so convenient is utter hogwash. Surely, a convenience such as this ought to give us more time to take pride in the way we write, to articulate ourselves well and damnit, to use paragraphs.
No, it is not just an email. It is a reflection of who you are. It is communication. Take pride in the way you write.
And at the very least, be coherent.

It's all about me

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion 26% Stability 43% Orderliness 46% Empathy 70% Interdependence 30% Intellectual 90% Mystical 90% Artistic 83% Religious 10% Hedonism 10% Materialism 90% Narcissism 70% Adventurousness 76% Work ethic 90% Self absorbed 50% Conflict seeking 43% Need to dominate 76% Romantic 83% Avoidant 63% Anti-authority 90% Wealth 36% Dependency 10% Change averse 50% Cautiousness 83% Individuality 90% Sexuality 76% Peter pan complex 70% Physical security 63% Food indulgent 90% Histrionic 30% Paranoia 90% Vanity 63% Hypersensitivity 50% Female cliche 30%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Bye Spring Break

Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

Becoming normal

And so my spring break is almost over and I am glad. I really cannot wait until Wednesday at 5pm when I have my ghanain drumming class. I cannot wait to complain that I have three exams on the same day, and lab hasn't been cancelled.
I want to hit the V-dub at 4:45pm, have a quick dinner and then swipe my card to begin 4 hours of work with the nicest, most interesting workers there are.
I miss Manny, with his gray hair curling out from under his Buds cap, and his shy smile.
I miss Antonio aka Tony, with the long braid that goes all the way down to the small of his back. You don't want to mess with him.
And even though Ernesto gives me the creeps with his I'm-so-hot-right-now attitude (especially when he slips on that awful leather jacket) and his mashed finger - I kinda miss him too.
I miss parrying Pedro's continued quest to take me out to dinner.
Or Rabbit telling me what a great job I've done as soon as I walk in the door.
I miss seeing the shock on Bling-Bling and Baby-Gurl's faces when I tell them how I spend my weekends - studying or doing research at the Sci Li/CIT.
"Girl, you need to go clubbin sometime. You need a life"
I don't really know the other two student workers. They come and they go. Depending on how good they are at holding back their dinner when they discover they have to scrape the remains off other people's plates, or (oh, the horror) clean up the mess their friends made, they may last the week. I usually give them 3 weeks max. Then new ones come.
So far I haven't lost a bet.

Wow. I've been up all night.

Life is

silence. heart beating. blood - blood gushing. life blood. who said life was about blue skies and green fields?
Life is

tears gray skies winter cold streets mist

Today is Thor's-day. He sleeps somewhere with his short hammer dreaming about thunder. Sometimes I dream about thunder. I dream about it perhaps because it makes me small. And everybody wants to feel small and insignificant right?
Right?
I discovered today that I define myself by what I do. I need Organic Chemistry, and I need Neuroscience, I need deadlines for research, because without them...
Life is

tears gray skies winter cold streets mist

Last night I went and saw two movies all by my lonesome. I saw The Ring 2, and then I saw Hitch. I should have done it the other way round, but what gives.
I liked The Ring 2 because I felt helpless, scared and alive. I liked the idea of a mother having to kill her child to save it. Oh yes.
Evil is like that. You can't keep giving and trying to help it, because it is never satisfied and it will always want more. No matter how patient and loving you are, in the end it will bite you in the back. And then bite your leg for good measure. Because evil loves to bite.
Hitch needs no comment. It was that kind of movie.
I should have watched The Ring twice.

Fragments

question;
do you see me? do you see me here? do you see me as I see you? do you want me? do you want me now? do you want me as I want you?

I came back to school today at 8am. I slept right through until 5pm, got up and turned on my computer for my daily sustenance of msn, aim and other people's blogs. A few hours later I got up because I was hungry, and so I ate.

It was raining today. Cold unrelenting buckets of H2O running down my windows - what a sound. I am dismal. Melancholy is such a beautiful word. I feel the quiet of my room pressing down on me from the ceiling, from the walls, and I wonder if the silence will slowly drive me insane. I do not wish to speak - speaking will only disturb the silence that has accumulated like dust on my skin. I feel as though I could sit in bed forever, I feel as though I will remain ageless; unmoving and untouched by time.
My mind is slowly emptying itself out. It is like a black hole now. A space that once was filled. Only blankness-
blank blackness, black blankness...

I cannot describe to you this sensation. I am floating in the dark. Pure utter, darkness. It is pure because there is only dark. It is utter because it is complete- and I like it. I want to stay in this blackness forever.

This must end

Perfecting the art of the Anti-social one day at a time; one silent hour after the other. In my room, reading my book, as always. Got up this morning, went to my computer, as always. Checked in at the Msn Hotel, with a stop at the Aim Plaza, for an increasingly unhealthy addiction to making huge castles in the air with random online people. (let's save the world) People I've never met. People I will never meet. And so my mind wanders-
because I have too much time on my hands. I don't have to think about studying Orgo, or neuroscience or practicing my sign language. No research to get done by the end of the week, no work, no lab, just a nothing-ness that could stretch on forever. And so my mind wanders-
because...
And the thing is, I want to stay in my room. I want to stay here until the end of spring break, and just breathe. And even if a friend I know who is also on campus knocked on my door and wanted us to go do something, I would say no. So when my friends come back from Miami, and Hawai, and the-place-where-College-sophomores-go-to-get-wild, they will ask me why I stayed in my room all week and did nothing. I will have no answer, and they will make their own answers for me - they will tell me it's
because...
Because in another dimension I would be
would be...exhilarated.
And they will fling the D word at me. They will tell me I need to get over-
the hill, it's a big hill, and ah, the grass is so green. And there are flowers. Purple flowers, and oh, the sky is so blue...
Insurmountable, unforgettable. The telltale signs of a fleeting moment, a moment that lasted ten thousand years, yet was over before it ever began. Slowly sinking in a downward spiral.

This must end.

Hello Spring Break

Walking out of Organic Chemistry this morning was an almost tangible load off my mind. Just to think; for the next week and a half, life will be pure, divine bliss with waking up as late as I can, guilt free conversations on messenger ad nauseam, and blogging to my hearts content.
And then there's Adult Swim, Cartoon Network (perhaps a little Nickelodeon) and Comedy Central - how I have longed for their off-beat humor and poorly drawn animated characters.
Haven't watched tv in the longest time.
But still, there is work to be done. If I am not done declaring my concentration by sometime in April, I will not be allowed to register for my 5th semester at Brown. Now that, is not cool.
Now, lest you think I am tardy, let me tell you that I was done declaring my concentration at the beginning of the semester until I discovered that neuropharmacology is like.....awesome. Of course I had arranged my classes with a focus on understanding the molecular basis of memory, including working in a lab for my research thesis....so in short; I need to re-declare.
I want to learn how chemicals affect the brain. How medication used to treat diseases of the brain (and mind, for all you dualists out there) affect it in the process. How awesome is that?
I know. Awesome-est.
I also need to do a research project for sign language. But hey;

out in the street I see flip flops -
and
the sun
touches my cheek and whispers

spring is here

Like Moses

Come on now, don't you want to see?
This thing that's happening to me
Like Moses has power over sea
So you've got power over me

Coldplay

Getting down to business

I need to study Orgo

I need to study Orgo

I need to study Orgo

I need to study Orgo

(now that I'm done writing about it, I can get down to business)

Lunch at the Ratty

When the sky decides it has had enough of holding the now frozen water molecules (yay Orgo!) in its belly, it opens its mouth and regurgitates (the other way is just nasty) snow onto the world below it, making sure to render every sidewalk, every pedestrian pathway totally inaccessible for simple walking.
So it was that I picked my way through snowy mush to the Sharpe Refectory Cafeteria, aka the Ratty, way down there on the-other-side-of-campus. I was totally making a statement in my bright (Ye, Gad) yellow jacket, which I swore never to wear, on account of it being hazardous to the eyes, but who cares? It was cold out, and it's a mighty warm jacket. As I approached one out of three sets of doors, I removed the earphones from my ears (because you know I was listening to Lenny Kravitz telling me he wants to fly away; yeah, yeah, yeaaah), in order that I would not appear rude when I had palaver with the man-who-swipes-the-cards.
He's a nice man, this man-who-swipes-the-cards, but he's the kinda guy who revs up his engine, and once it gets started, goes full steam ahead into the no return land of when I was your age. So I kept the smile on my face whilst my stomach had pre-lunch conversation with my salivary glands (hunger is the best sauce donchya know - even for Ratty food), nodded at the appropriate intervals, and added a 'yeah' every now and then for good measure. At the juncture between the "I wasn't like that..." and the next "You young people nowadays...." I made my hasty (and hungry) retreat.
So much food, and so little time. This last semester, the Ratty had the Brown's version of Extreme Makeover, and 4 different sections boast a variety (ahem, ahem) of dishes designed to tickle those ravenous student taste buds. For people like me, there is a whole section devoted to animal friendly food. I am a wrap kinda girl, and so I crammed a tomato and basil wrap with beans, cheese, peppers, rice and shredded lettuce, and made my starving way to the grills.
It was a balancing act with my tray, water bottle and bag to find a seat, but I made my way there, and heaved a sigh of relief as I sat down.
It was time to dig in.

lol

Sunset

the late glow of a sunset
golden
shimmering;
incandescent

bathe me in your warmth
burn me in your intensity
close my eyes
and just let me be

I soar
faster, higher
gliding on your wings
of golden light

unadulterated euphoria;
turbulent passion
anger..sorrow..rapture... madness
anything-
just let me be

in the late glow of a sunset

Valentines day is everyday.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
and so are you.

Four lines. Let us take a moment to explore these four lines. These four lines are an expression from the beating heart that pumps hopelessly romantic love around the circulatory system of the soul. Roses are red....it's a matter of fact. You don't deny a force of nature. Roses are red. Simple, yet profound. Violets are blue....more of the same. Just with that little extra pzazz. Sugar is sweet....how could it be anything else? One thinks sugar, one thinks sweet. No two ways about it. So, here's the good part (you can wake up now) you are all that. And more. Your beauty is simple. Yet profound. My love, too, is like that for you. Undeniable. Unquestionable. Just as roses are red. Just as violets are blue. Just as sugar is sweet. So is my love for you. It's a fact.

Sci Li - CIT hybridization

Consider the Science Library, which has 5 medium energy ( with the energy caused by classes, work, and lab) weekday orbitals and 2 low energy weekend orbitals. In order that the intrepid student molecule achieve optimal bonding with the Sci Li, that is, maximal studying output with mininal energy input, the student must bond with the low energy weekend orbitals first.

However, a closer look at the low energy weekend orbitals available at the Sci Li will reveal that these orbitals have nodes which will not allow any student-Sci Li bonding to take place. These nodes are in full effect Saturdays after 10pm, and Sundays before 12pm. In addition, the latter most medium energy weekday orbital has a node after 10pm.

It is clear that optimal student-Sci Li bonding cannot take place at the afore-mentioned nodes, and so it becomes necessary that another studying place, the Center for Information Technology be involved.

Consider the CIT, which has 5 high energy weekday orbitals ( with the energy caused by rooms being occupied for lectures) and 2 low energy weekend orbitals. Contrary to the Sci Li, the CIT's low energy weekend orbitals have nodes that are spaced further apart, with a node on Saturdays after 2am and Sundays after 2am, leaving more room for student-CIT bonding.

Therefore, mixing the medium energy weekday orbitals at the Sci Li and the low energy weekend orbitals at the CIT will result in a Sci Li - CIT hybird to which the noble student molecule will be free to bond with optimal results.

I am a fool

Silence

I am back
here
back in the same place I was before
wondering
sighing
dying inside
so I question myself
how did I get here?

must I keep coming back
again and
again
like a dog
to its own vomit?

questions - every one of them unanswered
silence
silence
silence

but even so
spring comes
soon after winter

dawn comes
soon after dusk

and the sun bids goodbye to the moon

Black History Month

Don't call me black. I am African-American.
My great grandfather was oppressed. My grandfather was oppressed
I come here, and you tell me
I am oppressed.
I will stand before you and I will tell you about my oppression-
Because I am oppressed.

Don't call me black. I am African-American.
I will learn about my heritage
and so I will major in africana studies
to learn my roots
I will become a message to those of you that would oppress me-
beat me down
tear me down
wear me down.

Don't call me black. I am African-American.
Don't hate on me.
Don't hate on my people.
I will make you see the difference-

Don't call me black. I am African-American

Sophomore Slump

Hooray for friends, and hot Selorm cooked west african stew on rice. Hooray for central heating. Boo to the snow. Boo to the distance between the Sci Li and my room.

I'm back. Back and ready for part deux. Hey, one more semester before I need to seriously consider taking the infamous Mcat....and ye gads, medical school. (Do I want it?) Right now I can groan my way through 3 months of Organic chemistry. What gives right?

Classes, classes classes. Here's that list (in order of preference) which I know you are all dying to see:

BN102 - Principles of Neurobiology
MU68 - Ghanaian Drumming
SI20 - American Sign Language
CH35 - Organic Chemistry

So there you have it. The earth, my dears, continues to rotate on its 23 and a half degree angle, despite one B in statistics. The moon, my dears, continues to shine. (At night)

What sophomore slump?

2005

Hail Mary
Full of grace
the Lord is with thee
Blessed art thou among women
and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb, Jesus
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now,
and at the hour of death

Amen

I need to drink water at the gym

Today was a diamond of a day. During the critical hours that promise a tomorrow on this side of time, it came to me in a sudden epiphany that I had the grand total of 2 unused meal credits to my name, and immediately I knew just what to do with them. Ye gad, it was off to The Gate with me. I gathered up my stuff from deep in the science library, escaped the clutches of the textbook, passed the jaws of impending finals and walked happily up (down?) my beloved Thayer street.
5 - 8 minutes later, and you would have found me at The Gate.
In The Gate I walked, bagel, cream cheese and water in mind - card in hand, ready to send those credits to late night snack heaven.
But alas, even diamonds need to be helped to shine. I am dismayed by this system. The poor defenceless (and by that, you know I mean quite the opposite) cashier cannot handle the burden (the immense energy required to raise the arm twice is just too, too much) of swiping a starving students' card twice in order to claim what is rightfully theirs. The now emaciated and famished student must practically leave The Gate with one purchase and return again, if second purchase is necessary.
Bagel, cream cheese or water? I made my decision, ladies and gentlemen, and the water was duly replaced. But damnit, I need to drink water at the gym.

It hurts my eyes

Brother. You knew me. You knew me and you said nothing. You sat there and you watched them come. You watched them come and take me away. They showed up that time when we were sitting by the fire, just the two of us, and they dragged me away and you said nothing. You didn't even look at me brother. You kept staring into the fire and my eyes were on you. They were on you all the way, brother - all the way into this...

And the fire! It hurts my eyes, so I look away. I keep my eyes fixed to the ground and I remember how you looked into the fire. I remember how you let them take me away and you said nothing.

So I ask myself. And then I ask again, but the fire brother, it hurts my eyes.

It hurts my eyes.

The immigrant voice

Back home to here na long long way.
The picture of here from home is so different from the wilderness I de see night and day.
This na America with homeless for every corner
that I think I de a numberless world?
Where all the fine fine things in that picture:everybody dress kamkpe that I think
na angels, Hollywood Heaven they misspell?
Now I work standing so te for minimum wage, get dollars for one hand and give them out for the other.
I come back from work so dead I can't eat or sleep and before dawn I don get up to begin another slave day.
When I reply their letters from home saying here no be what they think they see for their minds, they no gree with me and call me lie-lie man: "You de already there and you no want us to come."
I know my people hate me for telling the truth.
Wetin they see geographers de call am mirage--America na big photo-trick to me.
If say big thief no boku for home and they no give man chance to live softly, America no be place to live for one whole day.
The streets de explode kpa-a kpa-a like Biafra,
dead body no de fear anybody; you no know whether the person saying "Hi!"want to shoot, rob, or rape you.
Neighbour no de, friend no de except them dog; you de for your own like craze-man de pursue dollar which no de stay for your hand--they say na capitalism, when dollar de circulate, circulate without rest.
When somebody don naked for you for daylight, nothing de the big boast of beauty for the cloth e take cover crawcraw and eczema.
No be as e be for the picture they don retouch--beggar, thief, poor poor, all dem de boku.
Sometimes I cry my eyes red for night in bed.
Wetin my eye don see for here pass pepper make me de prepare to go sweet home.
If God de, make e punish them wen drive me from Africa come hell.

November 8th, 2004

So it happened.

Now what?

Grim Reaper

We are living to die

Bitter-bitter

In the desert I saw a man
naked, bestial
who
squatting upon the ground
held his heart in his hands
and ate of it
I asked
"Is it good friend?"
He said
"It is bitter-bitter."
"But I like it."
"Because it is bitter. And because it is my heart"

Ode to a roomate on her birthday

For roomates who will put up with you. For friendship, for the days that I set the wrong time on the alarm clock. For trips to the gate, friday night movies at the providence place mall. For smiles. For laughter.
Hot chocolate at dunkin donuts in the middle of a snowy night. Trips to Mass, staying over with only the thread on my back, double cheeseburgers at Micky Dees - no meat and no pickles please. Plays every month. Hints of a payed-for-by-the-grownups dinner afterwards. Cheesecake with oreos in it. Yum.
For mid-term time. For the kind of patience you don't find everywhere. For being mad but understanding. Frustrations of work, disappointments after exams.
For every routine. V-dub for dinner. Sometimes lunch. Before sleep time tv watching. For sharing. For caring.
For being you.

It was a very bad day

One day I woke up slightly late. Nothing was where I had put it the night before. I ran through a shower and got ready for class. Then I couldn't find my keys. I searched all over the room. They had magically disappeared from where they were the night before. I was sad. I needed my keys. At last I found them. They were under some books.
I reached the door to the outside and it was raining. So I had to go back to my room and get my coat. This was good because once I was there I realised I had forgotten my card. So I put my card in my pocket. Then I left my room. I went to get some coffee because people drink that when they're in class. They say it keeps them I awake. I think it keeps me awake too. I bought my coffee and things were getting better. Then I dropped my coffee mug. All the coffee spilled out onto the sidewalk. I was sad. I needed my coffee.
I got to class just in time. My seat in the very front row was empty! I rushed forward to sit. Then someone cut before me. They sat in my seat. I was sad. I needed my seat.
It was a very bad day.

Past

Give me back what I had before
I want it
I need it
let me feel what I felt before
I crave it
I yearn for it
please
come back to me

Evolution and T.As

The elusive Teaching Assistant (Tutor, etc) is a cunning creature. The common practice of searching high and low is a labor that yields no fruit, as he craftily remains undiscovered, despite several attempts.
Emails, voice mail and other such handy means of communication so useful when tracking down other ordinary species do not produce results either. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) remains in hiding. It is also a proven fact that at the times when the T.A (tutor, etc) is needed the most; at the crucial intersection resulting from an unanswered question holding a path that surely will lead to unknown turtuous and horrific death a.k.a an appearance of that question on the next days exam - the elusive T.A (tutor, etc) is nowhere to be seen.
Frantic searches, panicked glances are darted hither thither, but in vain. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) has once again proven his insidous tact.
Years of T.A (tutor, etc) evolution have culminated to produce a species that is perfection itself. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) is a connoisseur of concealment, a master of masquerade, a dilettante of disguise. If the evolution that produced the T.A (tutor etc) has any short-coming it is the review session. However, even in this, evolution has formed a counter attack.
T.A conspirators abound.
These are the creatures that come to review sessions with the intention of carelessly using up valuable time. They crowd the coveted front row and ask only the most obvious of questions. It is clear from the T.As' (tutors', etc) exhaustive response of what could have been a two word answer that they are in it together.
However, the time is coming when there shall be a revolution. The many manipulated and vulnerable students seeking an A on the exam are vulnerable no more. Together, they are forming ranks and will strive to seek a better and more suitable environment for the ubiquitous last-minute-question-before-the-exam.
Students of Brown unite!

Haiku

bugger it, can't sleep
hours in the quiet night
same old music on
studying chem tomorrow

staring at the wall
nyquil work your sweet effects
tossing and turning
what is the meaning of life?

dawn soon approaches
circadian rhythm lost
nocturnal am I
anguishing the night away

General progressions that lead you nowhere

Milk. Silk. Smooth. Smoothie. Fruit. Plum. Dumb. Blonde. Joke.
Laugh. Hippocampus. Neuroscience. Major. Classes.
University. Usa. Country.

Night time. Lights off. Boarding school. Month holidays. Mango season. Santa Claus? New Year. New Shoes. New books. More plans.

Music. Coldplay. Studying in the Sci Li. Again classes. Learning.

Ever learning