The Cigar
April 28, 2009
I’m in Nashville International Airport, about to fly to Chicago and ultimately Boston. I should touch down around 7:30 this evening. Yesterday afternoon I landed here, and on my way out, I stopped in a cigar store. The guy behind the counter explained to me that the company is based out of Nassau, and that the master roller is a very, very old man who used to work for the people who invented Cohibas. He also rolled Castro’s cigars for twenty years. Say what you want about Castro, but I’m going to assume that he had good taste in cigars. And that leads me to deduce that the old man who made this cigar company in Nassau knows how to roll a cigar.
I bought a cigar for just under $20. I chose a good, expensive one because it’s going to serve as motivation for getting a 4.0 in both of my classes this fall. If I do, I will smoke it. If I don’t, I won’t. I toyed with the idea of flushing it down the toilet, but I’ll probably give it to someone and have them explain to me just how good it tastes. The road to medical school is paved with masochism.
For extra motivation, I should give it to someone I don’t like. At all.
I explained all of this to the guy behind the counter before I left. He laughed and said, “Well now that you’ve told me this, I’m sure you will be smoking your cigar.”
Vanderbilt
April 28, 2009
I’m in Nashville, visiting a friend on my way back from Miami. She and her boyfriend took me around Vanderbilt yesterday afternoon, and it made me think. Vanderbilt has a large campus, full of nature, and with very few distractions. It seems like a good place to get in the zone and study. Productively, and for long periods of time.
It would be good for me to go to medical school in an environment like this, rather than a bustling city where I’m constantly faced with options like: “Sit here and study for three hours, or get a beer next door?” and “Re-draw this diagram so I will understand it better, or catch that comedy show with some friends?”
Discipline is good, but forced discipline is better. Because it’s easier.
Getting back to Vanderbilt being full of nature, it reminded me of a study called How The City Hurts Your Brain. While I love cities, and I ultimately see myself living in one, a small town full of nature is probably ideal for my studies.
Stuff to think about.
If I’m going to succeed in my post-bacc program and go on to medical school, I have to find a way to relate to the material. Even the most tedious material.
The other day, I had a nerd-epiphany. I found a way to connect to all those really, really small things I’m going to learn about in Chem, Orgo, and Bio.
I’ve always been fascinated by abandoned buildings. In college, I explored and photographed many lost and forgotten structures, from old houses in Florida to de-commissioned state hospitals in Massachusetts. At the end of a long day of exploring, after I had showered and gone to bed, I would think, “That place I was in earlier today… it still exists. Very few people know it’s there, but it’s there all the same.” It felt like a secret that I was part of, simply because I knew about it.
Here’s the weird part: I started thinking that way about things in everyday life. For example, the little ball of dust in the corner of your room. Or the pink wad of gum someone stuck under a desk in your high school in 1986. Nobody thinks about those things. Very few people (if any) know they’re there. But they’re there all the same. At every moment of the day, whether it’s lunchtime or it’s 4:32 am, they’re there.
And I think that’s pretty cool.
I have to think the same way about organelles like mitochondria, and subatomic particles like valence electrons. Little things that are always there, whether you think about them or not. Small, hidden parts of nature. I don’t know about you, but that mindset jazzes me up. And it makes me want to learn more about Chem, Orgo, and Bio.
The road to medical school is going to be weird as hell.
Let’s Get Serious Now
April 24, 2009
Yesterday, I submitted my application for the Health Careers Program at Harvard Extension School. The application process is pretty much voluntary. If I wanted, I could simply start taking classes in the fall. But those who apply and get accepted qualify for financial aid and health benefits. So there’s that.
In January of 2008, I attended my first information session for the HCP. Fixsen said a lot of things, but one thing he said has been reverberating in my head for the past few weeks. He explained that when medical schools review applicants, they look at two things: the applicant’s MCAT score, and their GPA. If they don’t like those two things, they move on. He added, “You could have the best resume, the best work experience, the best volunteer experience, but they won’t SEE any of that if they don’t like your MCAT score and your GPA.”
In filling out my HCP application, I had to divvy up all of my different GPAs. Science, non-science, and total. For both of my undergraduate universities. And they pretty much suck.
Here’s the funny part. For the past month, I’ve been reviewing resumes from hungry applicants vying for my job at the hospital (I leave in July, two weeks before I go to Europe and attempt to get every dysfunctional habit out of my system before I begin classes). Most of the applicants stated their GPA on their resume. After seeing a few 4.0s, 3.9s, and 3.8s, I find myself scoffing at a lonely 3.4 or, God forbid, a 3.2. I’ve reviewed about 25 applicants. Med schools review thousands. And while my resume PUNISHES (great work experience, volunteer experience, leadership experience, etc.), my GPA deserves to be scoffed at.
I have to get a 4.0 in all of my classes at Harvard Extension School. And I have to destroy the MCAT. Absolutely, completely, brutally, and mercilessly destroy the MCAT.
