Snowboarding Summarization

• It took me 2 hours to make it down the first slope on Day 1.
• On that first run, I fell over 30 times.
• Around fall 20 (which was a doozy), I broke down in a serious case of tears due to frustration.
• I literally bruised my bum from all the falls.  Knee, wrist, and elbow bruises are expected, but the gluteus maximus bruise was a first for me.  I would post pictures, but don't want to offend anyone.
• One time I was on a narrow trail and I was trying to slice back to the left but something went terribly wrong and I fall completely off the slope into a mud pit. Not embarrassing.
• I said my first reactionary curse word in my life after a fall on the last run of the day on Day 1.  Ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth.
• Don't go to bed at 8 pm, even if you are so exhausted you think you will die, because you'll wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to sleep the rest of the night.  Thank goodness for Grey's Anatomy Season 1 DVDs.
• I think Ed and Andrew like each other more than they like me.  Who knew I'd be the third wheel?
• ALWAYS wear a helmet and knee pads when you snowboard.  They are a girl's best friend. Who needs diamonds anyway?  
• When we went to get dinner in the village on Day 1, Ed dropped Andrew and I off and then went to park.  30 minutes later he had not come back to join us, and we couldn't get a hold of him because his phone was turned off, so I started to fret.  He finally shows up just and I told him I was worried he'd been attacked or something, and he literally pulled the "pssh, you should have felt sorry for the other guy if that happened" line.  100% serious.  Really, Ed?
• The second day of boarding is mucho better than the first.  Day 1 fun index: 4/10.  Day 2: 8/10.
• I have a new appreciation for indigestion.  It hurts.
• Motion sickness only increases with age for me.  Driving through those back hills of wild, wonderful West Virginia made me want to puke my brains out.
• I can't sleep in the same bed as someone else.  I am a high maintenance sleeper in that regard.  But I can sleep on the floor or in a sleeping bag in the woods just fine.  Odd.
• Do I like snowboarding or skiing better?  Skiing.  Will I go snowboarding again? Debatable.  Depends if someone else is paying for the rentals!  :)

Video:  Starts with me flipping up off the ground and then you see Andrew shoot across the screen as he wipes out.  Just keep watching.

Why Marriage is Beautiful

I've decided I'm ready to get married.  All these years I've pushed it aside, thinking I was too immature and selfish to enter into such a covenant.  But this Christmas I had yet another revelation that has shifted my stance on holy matrimony.  While I may still be callow and egoistic, I believe I have many other traits to bring to the table.

For example, I believe I could make some great babies.  Seeing how successful my brother and his wife have been, I am ready to give it a try.  These little babes would be super athletic (they will be on a training regimen to be walking by 7  months), super smart (writing symphonies by age 4), and cute as a button (blond curls and blue eyes).  If anything, I think there is a guy out there that would be more than welcome to put up with my personality flaws to get some good genes for his children.

But even more so than my fantastic breeding capabilities, I want to get married for another reason: the holidays.  Christmas is already fun as it is, but imagine multiplying it by 3? Christmas at home with my hubby and children.  Christmas at my parents house.  Christmas at my husband's house.  Three FULL Christmases.  Seriously, could it get any better than that? I'd be set the rest of the year with all the gifts I so graciously received.

I am embarking on a new journey, one filled with anticipation and hope for one day finding true love.  Because friends, marriage surely is a beautiful thing.

How to Lose Weight

Over my 24 years of existence, I have never struggled with my weight or ever even needed to drop 5 pounds for an upcoming event.  In fact, I was told I needed to gain weight by our team nutritionist, but I threw that garbage out the window because I already ate like a fat kid.  Can't fight metabolism, baby.

While I am not saying that I am fat by any means now, I will admit that I do probably have 5 pounds to spare now in my current state.  I decided to make a change in my lifestyle and I actually worked out fairly intensely 4 times this past week (following my old A&M soccer workout book that I found at home).  I have started eating a bit healthier, knowing that that could only help.  Well I figured that I would see immediate changes in my body composition (ie the return of my glorious tight abs and toned arms), but after a week of working out, no pounds have dropped and no fat has dissipated.  

And then I remembered something.  There really is only one sure fire way to lose weight quickly.  And although it may come at some other expenses to your life, you need to only focus on the scale.  That's all that really matters.

It's quite simple: go through a break up.  Nothing makes pounds drop faster.  During my times of rejection and depression that I am unfortunately all too common with, my insatiable appetite for food disappears right in front of my eyes.  The thought of food makes me cringe.  It couldn't be a more perfect scenario for losing weight.  You won't even have the desire to eat.  On top of that, nothing is a better stress reliever than working out, so you will probably start going to the gym more often after the break up than before.

So my plan before spring break is to find a guy, fall crazy infatuated with him, then find a way to make him hate me (see: How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days) so that he will break up with me.  I'll eventually thank him as I am sitting in my bathing suit in Florida in March, basking in the glory of my hot bod.

Apparently...

I'm high maintenance.  

I truly never knew.  I always thought I was as un-high maintenance as they come...I mean hello, I like wearing sweats, hate showering, and would rather go play tackle football with the boys than go shopping with the girls.

But when "high maintenance" girls came up in conversation the other day, my guy friends all informed me that I am the epitome of high maintenance.

Devastated, to say the least.

"You're the worst kind.  You're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance."  ~When Harry Met Sally

"Turkey" Day? More like Sweet Potato day.

If it were up to me, I would say leave the turkey out.  What makes the Thanksgiving meal so great is not the meat, I say shamelessly.  No, I believe it's the vegetables, casseroles, and dessert.  Corn pudding, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce.  You can even leave out the stuffing.  Yeah, that's right, I just said it.  No turkey and no stuffing would actually make me a happier person because I would have more room in my belly to savor the pumpkin pie.  The only reason to roast a turkey on Thanksgiving would be to save it for the leftover turkey sandwiches that you eat for the next week.  mmmmm, now THOSE are high quality.

Round 2

Ahhhhh....you smell that?  It's the delightful aroma of a new beginning.  Spring is in the air.  And clearly by "spring", I mean biochemistry and genetics.  I officially survived my first block of medical school, scraping by with B's in both anatomy and histology.  But I'm told B = MD, so I'll take it and move on.

Today was the first day of class for biochem.  (I personally like A&M's shorthand for that class (BICH), which I will be using from this point forward, which means take a mental note and store it away in that little brain of yours.)  I'm excited about studying a new subject, I just wish it wasn't this one.  The class is graded on a curve (not a bell curve, mind you, one where only 6 people get A's and the majority get C's - and for those who don't know, C does NOT = MD).  My teacher for the first exam is an angry, angry soul.  I can't imagine living with such hostility towards life.  Needless to say, I miss good ol' Professor Tsai already.  Dr. Spielmann won't be wearing any crazy hats, or showing youtube videos during class, or inviting me out to play soccer with him.  I used to have such fond memories of BICH, but I'm afraid, my friends, that this is soon to change.  Alas, I realize that this is no longer undergrad and it's time to buckle down.

Although the thoughts of studying glycolysis and protein folding does not make my spirit flutter, I must say that I am relishing this new beginning.  My slate is clean.  I feel as if I have been given a second chance to prove myself.  And hopefully with the help of Mr. Genius himself, Eduardo, "tutoring" me every day, I can do half as good as he does.

For those of you who don't know, Ed is a member of the "family".  I believe I have not blogged about family, which is quite remarkable.  In fact, they would probably disown me if they knew this.  Gross Anatomy Table #5 consisted of Cara, Carol, Mary, Mike, Ed, and Steve.  From the beginning, they hit it off as a group and formed a tight, cohesive study group, but more importantly, became best of friends.  I was fortunate enough to be one of Ed's Histology lab partners, and after him listening to me wallow in self pity about how poorly I was doing in Anatomy, his dear soul invited me to join their family in a study session the following day.  Well it worked, my grades started improving, and I became a permanent groupie of table #5.  I knew I had been officially adopted when I was included in their super secret list serve of emails.  We recently adopted another member, Rachel, into our family, bringing the grand total to 8.

For those of you who care (which I know is all 5 of you who read this blog), here is an exaggerated, quick break down of the family (in order of the picture above):

Mike: high maintenance California boy, super sweet, "dad".

Carol: the artsy fartsy, always smiling one.

Rachel: reserved, witty, athletic.

Ed: crazy army dude, ridiculously smart, "naughty uncle".

Mary: the "tall girl", makes sure everyone is happy and well fed ("mom").

Cara: miss popular, outgoing, token liberal of the family.

Steve: outwardly a stud, inwardly a huge nerd. 

In celebration of finishing the anatomy block, we packed up our cars and took a mini road trip to Mary's cabin at Lake Cumberland this past weekend.  It was raining/sleeting the whole time, but that was fine by us because it made the hot tub that much more endearing, and cuddling up on the couch in front of the fire so much more enjoyable.  But it is now back to reality, and although our family is no longer tied together through lab, we aim to remain one with our weekly Grey's Anatomy parties, Friday night family dinner, and study sessions throughout the week.  No one can break us apart, for our family "hit the freaking jackpot".*

*actual quote by an outsider who is jealous of us.

Obligatory post-election thoughts

1. It's not the end of the world. And even if it is, heaven will be a much better place than this.

2. I am grateful that I will be a student/resident for the next 8 years of my life and won't be making any substantial income. None of my wealth will be redistributed.

3. I absolutely, 100% can't stand people that made this election out to be about race. Who cares if he's "black"? He's also half "white". And he hasn't rubbed shoulders with the black people of America since...never (see Harvard, University of Chicago, Senate). Fact: every one of my black friends on facebook has the following as their status: "MY PRESIDENT IS BLACK!!!!" That is messed up. If I said something like, "at least my governor is white", I would be shot dead. Double standards. I hate 'em.

4. It saddens me to see all these people now say that they are for the first time "proud to be an American". I don't think I need to explain why this one hurts my soul.

5. Why did the Republican party choose McCain in the first place?

6. I believe there is Someone upstairs that still is in control.

Halloween ain't happy

I've never understood why people get so hyped up about Halloween.  As a kid I enjoyed it because I got free candy, but since I stopped trick-or-treating, I've sort of despised the holiday. Maybe I've hated it ever since my favorite pet of all time, Chadwick, got killed on Halloween by our rambunctious teenage neighbors for the simple fact that he was a black cat.  Or maybe I find Halloween to be offensive because it's every girl's excuse to dress like a whore once a year, and just blow it off by saying it's a "costume".  

Nonetheless, my distaste for the holiday just increased.  On UK's campus today, an effigy of Barack Obama was found hanging from a tree, with a noose around the neck.  

Deplorable. 

What is this?  1870's Georgia?  The thing that irks me is that you know there are some kids out there laughing their butts off, thinking it was hilarious.  I'm just embarrassed, to be honest. Kentucky really is backwards.

Apple = Dependability?

I am the proud new owner of a 15 inch MacBook Pro.  After years of lusting after one, I finally took the plunge and got one.  It was supposed to be my graduation present from my parents, but I took the advice of some computer guru friends that I should wait until Apple released their new product later in the summer.  Well later in the summer turned into earlier in the semester, and earlier in the semester turned into October, and I was still without one.  But due to my dedication to Apple, and the trust that I was putting in my gurus, I held out for it, and here it is.  My brand new MacBook Pro.  It's a beaute.

I must embarrassingly admit that I know very little about computers.  Besides checking my email and downloading music and pictures, I am an ignorant fool.  It's always awkward for me when fellow Apple owners get overly excited about me joining the family and they start talking about all the different programs and softwares, and I sit there and just nod my head like I know what they are talking about.  I don't even know what software is.  And how does the internet work?  I just don't get it.  Anyway, it's also problematic when all those Apple haters out there in the world ask me why I would change from PC to Mac, I enter pretender mode and say that it has much better media editing programs, it's "user friendly", and it is much more dependable than PC's, rarely ever crashing.  Cue change of subject.

But now one of my arguments is invalid.  I have owned this computer for 5 days, and it has already failed me.  I was having a great afternoon, enjoying this wonderful autumn Kentucky day at home, watching the Aggie soccer babes play CU on tv, and chatting away on gmail with an old friend, when my computer started making a funny noise.  I'm used to PCs making weird noises, so I didn't think twice about it, then all of a sudden, the noise stopped and the backlight on my screen went off.  No matter what I did, it stayed dim.  I then called Apple Care and talked to a very nice British lady for a while, trying to figure out how to get this working again.  She had me take out the battery and hold down the power key for 30 seconds (again, I have no idea what that was doing) and then she told me to put the battery back in.  Hmmm, well, I tried, and I tried some more.  All the while I am on the phone with her, and I ask her if there is some trick to this.  She tells me to put the phone down and try it then.  So I do that, and as I am trying to put her on speaker phone, I hang up on her.  Oh well, no big deal, I'll just call back when I get the battery back in.  Well the battery doesn't go back in.  I end up getting it jammed half way, so now I am stuck with a computer that barely lights up in the first place, and now has to remain plugged into the wall since the battery isn't properly installed.

I must say though that Apple's customer service is first class.  They were extremely nice and stayed on the phone with me for an hour trying to get my computer working.  When they realized it was a hard drive problem, they told me to ship it back in, and they will send me a completely new machine.  I can't really complain about that, except that if there was a week I needed a lab top all year, it's now.  With my first block coming to an end in the next two weeks, I have studying galore to do, and much of that studying is done on the computer.  I guess I will have to stick to my poor ol' Dell desk top to get the job done.

So thanks, Apple, for the warm welcome to the family.

War wound

Pretty, ain't it?

It's still a part of me

I read a blog earlier this week of a friend who said she was just missing something in her life. She was a former college athlete like myself who was fessing up to the fact that she was not over it, not ready to put away those cleats and ball. When I read it, I understood where she was coming from, but I couldn't really identify with it. Yes, of course I miss soccer. It was a huge part of my life for 18 years. But now I've moved on to something even more challenging and demanding than college athletics was. I don't have much time to sit around and think of days of old, I'm too focused on staying afloat with medical school.

But then tonight, in an effort to procrastinate studying as much as possible, I got on to TexAgs to find the score of the Aggie soccer game tonight. Someone had posted a link to watch live video, so I quickly followed that and watched the second half of the game vs Nebraska. Almost half of the A&M team are newcomers, people I don't know personally, just names I've only read about in score columns. Yet, I sat here in my apartment, listening to the commentators talk about the game, hearing the faithful fans in the background doing yells, and seeing these girls fight their heart out on that field on Senior Night, and my world just stopped. I literally felt like time stood still for the first time in a long time. Where did the last year of my life go? It's been a year since I was there on that same field, celebrating the end of my career at A&M.


Being an Aggie soccer player was something that I never took for granted, praise the Lord. I truly believe I soaked up every second I had that maroon and white uniform on, completely living in the moment. I had experienced the other side of college athletics - two losing seasons, an outsider on my team, a verbally abusive coach, and zero self confidence. A&M turned my world upside down. The team accepted me with open arms, the coaches were excellent and sincerely cared about my well being, and I now proudly own 3 Big 12 Championship rings. I lived the dream for three years. Chartered flights, free gear, fame, and building life-lasting relationships. My club coach had always told me that college athletics would not be the same as club soccer; that club would be the most fun I'd ever have playing soccer in my life because once you reach the collegiate level, it's more of a business. Well he was wrong. That wasn't the case at A&M. That team was my family. I got invited by my coaches to Easter dinner because they knew I couldn't make it home for the holiday. Our director of operations invited me over to his house one night when he knew I was having a bad week dealing with scholarship and relationship problems. When Spencer died last year and I was supposed to leave practice early to go to the funeral, the coaches called practice early for everyone so that I wouldn't feel bad leaving or have to make a scene. What other program in the country is like that?


So tonight I was watching the team in a hard fought battle against the Huskers, and I thought I was over it. I thought I was doing well watching the game as just a spectator. But as soon as Hooper scored the game winning goal, everything changed. Seeing the girls celebrate and watching the fans go crazy got to me. Tears started forming and I didn't understand why. It's not like this was a huge game that the Ags had to win to save their season. Besides it being senior night, there was nothing special about the game. And that's when it hit me. It's not that I miss the game so much. I miss the team. A group of girls who'd do anything for me, who'd pick me up after I missed a critical shot and tell me I'll get the next one. The girls who'd make me cookies, or write me an encouraging note and leave it in my locker when things weren't going so great. Girls and coaches who still send me text messages while I'm up here in KY just saying they miss me. I miss jumping on Ashlee after she scores yet another goal, or hitting Ketchum or Petey in the chest like we're football players after they make an incredible defensive stop. The passion that I lived my life with day in and day out while I was in Aggieland will never be matched again.

So I realized something tonight: I'm not over it. And I doubt I will ever be. Because you can't get over something that made such a huge impression on your life. And while I don't want to live in the past, I am thankful that the past will always be a part of me. Because what I experienced for those three years was special, and I pray that I will never, ever get over it.






*first 3 pictures taken by Spencer Selvidge
1) Winning in 2OT against UNC (2006)
2) Cover of Battalion (2007)
3) Celebrating my goal against Mizzou at Big 12 Tourny (2007)
4) Senior night (2007)

Birthdays

Birthdays don't make sense to me. I want them to because I love them so much, but really, they aren't anything special. Who came up with the idea of celebrating them? Here's my problem with them: 1. everyone has a birthday, and chances are you share your birthday with at least a few of your friends (I can name 5 of my friends who were all born on October 14th) - so you really aren't "special" on your "special day", 2. you did nothing/had no influence on your day of birth. If anything, all birthdays should be spent thanking your mother for going through all the pain and trouble of bringing you into this world. 3. No one really cares when it's your birthday, they only say "happy birthday" to you because they know that's what you want to hear, and because they realize that when it's their birthday, they want you to say "happy birthday" to them too. Honestly, how often have you been genuinely excited about one of your friend's birthdays (except the fact that you may be going out and doing something fun with a group of your best friends in celebration)? It's just a weird concept, that's all I'm saying. Cynical? Maybe.

Nonetheless, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW! Wish you weren't halfway around the world so that we could celebrate turning the big 21 with you! (I bet Matthew doesn't write a blog about your birthday, which must mean that I love you more.)

Love, your favorite sibling.

PS - This post by no means gives anyone an exemption from wishing me a happy birthday next week. Birthday cards and baked goods are graciously accepted.

Guest Writer #1 - "The Hunted"

I've been looking to bring a little edge to this blog by posting other people's works, opinions, or stories. Much to my delight, this morning I awoke to find this delightful email from my brother who is studying abroad in Russia this semester. I have condensed it due to the impressive length of his email, but making sure not to leave any critical parts out. Please do enjoy.


Today I was to go to a college class in the History department where they are discussing American culture. Alone, I was to embark upon this journey, however, my roommate Russ came along, and praise the Good Lord he did. I showed up at the class, having been told nothing but the time and place. As soon as I met the professor, before she asked our names, she pondered, "What will you be talking about?" To this Russ and I had no response, as we had not been told anything. So we just went for it. We jumped in front of a small class (8 girls and 1 sleeping male) and introduced ourselves. We mentioned differences we witnessed in American culture, and then took questions. It went fairly well, but I wish we had known to prepare for something. My assignment for next week is to teach about American cities. I have given little thought to this as of yet, but I figured I'll talk about Los Angeles, New York, Miami, Washington D.C., Chicago, and maybe some southern city like Nashville or Atlanta. I don't know, that sounds like a lot.

I only made one big plunder today during class. Someone asked about the American view on the Georgia-Russia situation, and I responded that Americans do not understand why Russia attacked Georgia. At the word "attacked" the class jumped. I could tell they were not happy with this interpretation of the events. I tried to explain my way out of that, but I'm not sure how successful I was.

Well, as to the title of this email, Russ and I are learning, nay, experiencing what it feels to be gazelles. Coming to Russia, we were told that Russians may target Americans as fresh meat. After living here four weeks, we considered this myth simply fancies of American minds. Alas, we have discovered this to be otherwise. (Though, I do not have the time for it, I am currently reading The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of York, Mariner. As I eat out of the palm of Daniel Defoe, I can't help but think it is influencing this very email in which I write to you. I love the way he spells things. In his book, written in the early 18th century, English is spelled as it sounds. It is fun, nay, glorious. But alas, I digress; back to the hunt.

Several nights ago, Russ and I were getting ready for bed and had just turned the lights off when we heard Артён, our Russian friend that we played soccer with that I told you about. Well, he was outside our room, and we could hear the voices of two Russian girls. As our room is out of the way in the dormitory, we thought this strange. A minute or two later we heard a knock on the door. Russ and I scrambled to the threshold, jumping into pants as quickly as we could manage. The door opened and to our surprise, we saw not the likes of man, but that of the lioness. Two girls, Леза and Катя (Lee-zah and Kat-yah… a.k.a. Lisa and Kate), came forth into our room with one purpose; to pounce. A common dorm room quickly transformed into an African savannah. It was every gazelle for himself, and Russ was the prize catch. Since our first meeting, the girls have lost some aggressiveness. We have found them to be normal, friendly girls; though I often worry if the lioness is but hiding under gazelle clothing. Also, Russ is no longer the juiciest of catches, but I have received some attention as well. Russ and I were unsure if they had already paired us off in their minds, as we have always all spent time together. Tonight, we went on a walk with them and we are now under the impression that Lisa likes Russ and Kate likes me. Of course, I am very proud of these results, as Kate knows much more English and is more attractive, in my humble opinion.

As I write this email, Russ is out cleaning out mugs and getting ready because the girls are coming to our room tonight for tea. Oh I think I hear them now. It is fun to actually have Russian friends that speak English, but not a whole lot of English. Also, I must admit that the attention from attractive Russian females is also welcome and enjoyable. We haven't had any serious discussions with them yet –for example, religion – but those things are very personal in Russia. In fact, we had protestant Russians come in to one of our classes as guest lectures, and someone in our group asked them how they came to be saved, and the Russians literally could not answer the question. They sat in shock and did not know how to respond. Religion is simply not a topic of discussion in Russia.

So anyways, back to the girls. We enjoy spending time with them, but we think it is best we get to know them better before we start asking big questions. Another example, we still don't know how they ended up on our doorstep. Russ and I think it best to wait a while before we ask why they chose to knock on our door. But do not worry about Andrew. There has been no romance between anyone nor any physical contact. We just spend time together and talk. Russ and I are just having fun and getting to know Russians. We have no plans of starting relationships. Now, I cannot promise the ultimate outcome of our actions, but I believe we are acting with wisdom, caution, and fun. The guys here have had some good Bible studies and discussions together. Russia has been good.

Until next time,
Andrew the Jones

It's not just a girl thing

(Yes, another med school story...sorry my blog has been so uni-dimensional lately.)

Today was a much anticipated day in gross anatomy...hemisection of our cadavers. We cut Carl in half (right above the iliac crests), then we cut his lower half longitudinally. So now Carl is 3 sections: a torso, right leg, and left leg. At first I was quite upset that we had to cut poor Carl up into pieces, but after seeing all the cool stuff in his pelvis, I now have accepted it and moved on.

Carl has been a great cadaver for us...perfect heart, huge muscles, great internal organs...just the total package. One of the cadavers right next to us has been a source of much amusement throughout the semester. The guys find it hilarious, the girls are disturbed by it. He was embalmed with an erection, and no matter how hard they try to get it to lay down, it won't. They have covered it with a rag thus far, creating a tent over his pelvic region. Well today, as they were cutting his lower limb/pelvis in half, they were to cut straight down the middle of the penis, that way we could see the urethra, corpora cavernosa, corpus spongiosum, etc. Well much to their surprise, they found two longitudinal white plastic tubes in his penis. That's right guys: penile implants. Needless to say, he stole the show for the day in lab.

One of our professors said that while that was amusing, it was not as shocking as what they found in a cadaver a few years back. While a group was dissecting the scrotum, they found an odd object in the testicles. They went to get a professor to ask what it was, thinking it could be a tumor, but when Dr. Brueckner came to the table to exam it, they quickly realized that it was not cancerous. As she was feeling it to try to decipher the origin of this oddity, she squeezed it and the penis went straight up into an erect position. He had a pump up erection device, just like the Reeboks of the early 90's.

Apparently girls aren't the only ones getting implants these days. But to the guys - there are alternatives. Viagra anyone?

Comic Relief

One of the professors who helps out with our gross anatomy lab is your quintessential older surgeon...full of jokes, almost always laughing, and loves to grill us like we're interns, asking absolutely irrelevant questions that no first year medical student would be able to answer. Nonetheless, he is a favorite amongst most of the M1's due to his eccentric personality. One of the dissection tables is composed of all males, so he always hangs out around them so he can get away with saying lewd jokes. (At least he has enough tact to not do it in front of the ladies.) Luckily, one of my good friends is at that table of all guys, so he passes on the funny stories my way whenever they aren't too over-the-top.

"Boys, I've got a joke for you. What's the similarity between a brick and a fat white woman?"

"They both get laid by Mexicans."


UK College of Medicine - quality education, serious medicine. More stories to come later, I'm sure.

Ignorance is Bliss

I got more action today than I have in my entire life. Today in class we dissected the penis. I was quite hesitant to actively partake in the dissection, allowing my partners to be hands on while I stood from a distance, soaking it all in. Of course we had the obligatory jokester in the group, making perverted comment one after another throughout the entire lab. I, on the other hand, was the most quiet I had been all semester. Not only because it's a foreign object to me, but because I knew I was in a room of people who's average age is probably 25, and realistically, I am probably the most ignorant about this subject than anyone else in the room.

At the end of lab, one of my friends, Mary, walked up to me and asked me if I could explain to her the difference between a circumcised vs uncircumcised penis anatomically. I thought about it, then I realized that I couldn't. I know how to explain it to someone, but I don't think I could identify it on an actual human. Unashamed, Mary asks the next closest person, Reggie, if he could explain it. He cracks up, then realized quickly that both Mary and I were serious. He could not believe it, started making a scene, attracting more attention to us. Luckily, Mary quickly ended his parade by saying "Hey, I'm not embarrassed by this fact. I truly just want you to show me because as a physician, I am going to need to know the difference." Reggie then got the picture and tried to show us, but did a poor job because Mary and I left still trying to visualize the uncircumcised. Some other guys overheard us and told us just to google it. Yeah, don't know about that. I'll probably just stick to Netters.

I am greatly looking forward to the day that as a physician, I can look at both female and male genitalia and not feel awkward. I have a feeling it's going to be a long road. I probably shouldn't go into gynecology or urology.

One Year Anniversary

This morning in church, as I was sitting down after the praise & worship, the guy in front of me put his arm around his wife's shoulder. No big deal, you're thinking, except for the fact that as he did so, I saw the huge, shining, beautiful Aggie ring on his right ring finger. My face immediately lit up. Ashley, sitting next to me, saw me staring at his ring and she was quick in making the connection (which I was quite impressed, seeing as she knows very little about Texas A&M). She leaned over and whispered to me that I should pound him, right then and there, with my Aggie ring. I withstood the temptation and decided to wait until after the service to say anything. I noticed the wife also had an Aggie ring on, which brought an insurmountable amount of joy to my morning. Aggie marriages, a gift from God.

"Do I see some Aggie rings?" I leaned over and said to them once the service was over.

Confused, but kindly, they respond "why yes you do."

"Well I'm Elisabeth Jones, Class of '07. So nice to meet you."

We stood there and talked for a bit. They were both Class of '89. The wife is from Bardstown, which is how they ended back up here in Kentucky. The husband is a pediatrician at UK, and I had actually seen his car parked at the hospital many times, proudly displaying the Association of Former Students bumper sticker. I didn't admit this to him, but I also love his other bumper sticker, "I used to be cool." But I should have, because I would have let him know that he still is cool. Wearing his Aggie ring every day, in a community that knows nothing about what it means and stands for, is cool in my book.

"I'll see you on the rounds! Good luck until then!", he says to me as we walk out of church.

God bless Aggie rings.


Picture: The day I got my Aggie ring. Exactly one year ago from today. Happy anniversary to me!

Dance it out

Typically when I am sick of studying, or I am just having a bad day, I resort to Facebook to be my escape. But since I quit that cold turkey this past weekend in efforts of maximizing my time for memorizing anatomical principles and facts, that has not been an option for me this week. Sadly, I must admit that this has been extremely difficult. Twice I clicked on my Facebook favorites icon to just get a sneak peak, but due to my conscience, I quickly exed out of mozilla firefox so that I did not have to admit to you, my loyal readers, that I was that weak.


So here I am, sitting at my desk, taking an old exam to get a feel of how far I am along with this studying process, and I continue to make stupid mistake after stupid mistake on the questions. Frustrated, I decide that I deserve a Facebook break. That's right. I haven't been on it for 5 days and I just want a measly 5 minute break to check to see what life is like on the other side.
But alas, I withstood the temptation and decided to follow in the footsteps of Meredith Grey. Whenever she has a really bad day, she goes home, turns the music on really loud, and just dances, freeing her mind of the stresses and worries. So that's what I did. I turned on my current favorite song as loud as possible (without disturbing the neighbors), gladly got out of my desk chair, and jumped around like a silly person for 5 minutes, singing into my fake microphone as best I could. I can promise you it wasn't a pretty sight, but It got the job done.


On a side note, if I had still been at A&M, I could have taken a different approach to escaping the madness. I would have just gone to practice, my teammates would have seen me out of it, and Kati Jo would have yelled, "Ags, Let's hug it out! Hug it out, ladies!" Immediately, everyone would start hugging everyone, with KJ of course going to G first and squeezing him until the whole debacle was over. Oh, those were the good ole days.

Dedication (?)

To whom it may concern,

I will be MIA from Facebook this week. If you write me a message or wall post, you will not be getting a response back until Friday afternoon at 4pm, when I am done with my anatomy midterm. This post is not to deter you in any way from writing something funny/encouraging to me, just a warning that there will be a delayed response on my end. Let it be known that any sort of contact through the blogosphere, email (ejones1484@gmail.com), or texting is always welcome.

Thanks for your time,
Management

Life Lessons

You know, it's funny. Life that is.



If you go through a rough patch, you tend to think that your current situation is so much worse than anyone else's. You automatically write off anyone else's worries or complaints with their job, or school, or personal life. "Well they don't have to study 24/7 and watch their social life go down the drain" or "they don't know what it's like to study 40 hours for a quiz and get a 40% on it" and you pridefully chuckle inside when you hear them say it's been a hard adjustment for them with their new job, because you just know deep down inside that your place in life is so much worse than their's.


I sit at a desk/library/coffee house almost all day long, studying muscle attachments and innervations, cell biology and histology, or embryology. I sit there and rack my brains, trying to find some way to fit one more piece of information up there. I become disillusioned when I turn the page to find another long list of things I have to memorize before Thursday. I then glance at the clock and see that almost half of my day is gone and I haven't really gotten anything accomplished yet. Then one of two things sets in: panic that I am never going to be able to pass this test, thus I will fail out of medical school and disappoint all the people that are expecting me to become a doctor, or I find a way to muster up a little pride and say that I am not going to be one of the people who fails. I am smarter than that! I can do it!


Either way, I am the center of this. All day, every day, I am thinking about myself. I haven't quite figured out if my selfishness has risen to a new level in the past 5 weeks since starting school, or if it is just now being revealed because I am being challenged more than I ever have. Either way, it must be said, I am selfish. No doubt about it.


Life is so much harder when it's all about you. When you can step back and see the big picture, a lot of your mountain-sized worries seem to become hills. When you can put your pride to the side and fully surrender to God and trust that He is in charge, there is a sense of freedom that comes with it. I don't have to worry about what kind of doctor I will become, or even more relevant to now, how well I will do on this upcoming examination. As long as I am a good steward of what he has given me and try my hardest, He will take care of the rest. And his plan is so much greater than anything I could ever dream up.


I was asked at my bible study tonight what my motivation in life is? Why I wake up in the morning and go to class? What my dreams are? My gut reaction to every single one of those questions was me, me, me. Sadly, my instinct wasn't to say "to serve God" or "get to know Him better". And I know those are sunday school answers that have been drilled in our heads since we learned John 3:16, but I guess right now I am now seeing the beauty in an answer like that. My life would have much greater purpose if I did truly wake up in the morning and look forward to finding out more about my Lord and falling more in love with Him, instead of just focusing on how I am going to survive medical school. Because frankly, that's depressing.


As most of you can tell by now, medical school hasn't been what I envisioned. I never thought it would be a cake walk, but I thought that if I put the time in and worked hard, I would do fine. That hasn't been the case. My grades are struggling and my attitude is right there with it. I am not liking the person that I am becoming.


Now my eyes have been opened to my faults and I am working day by day to improve my outlook on life. And more importantly, to find purpose in what I do. I am starting to see God more and more in my studies. When studying about human development, learning that a baby's heart is pumping at just 4 weeks old! When the baby is just centimeters long in a mother's womb it has a heart that is actually beating! Understanding all these embryonic foldings and cell differentiations and miracles that have to go into each and every one of us being normal is breath-taking. We can not be the product of random chance. There must be a God. And He must have a vision and plan for our lives.

Trust.

That's what it's all about. Give up your problems and worries, because this thing we call 'life' is just not about you.

$50 Economics Lesson

My brother sent this to me and I found it worthy of sharing.

I was talking to a friend of mine's little girl, and she said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, 'If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?'


She replied, 'I'd give houses to all the homeless people.'


'Wow...what a worthy goal.' I told her, 'You don't have to wait until you're President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow, pull weeds, and sweep my yard, and I'll pay you $50. Then I'll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward a new house.'


She thought that over for a few seconds while her Mom glared at me, then she looked me straight in the eye and asked, 'Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?'


And I said, 'Welcome to the Republican Party!'


Her folks still aren't talking to me.

Sarah Palin - McCain's Running Mate

I was shocked when I got the text this morning from my dad that McCain had chosen a female running mate. My first reaction was, "what was he thinking?!" But when I got home and looked up who this Sarah Palin lady was, I quickly jumped to the other side of the boat. Pain is a strong conservative, which will be great to balance out McCain's moderate stance. She's a woman, which will bring in some of those female voters out there who buy in to the "we need a woman in power" hysteria that Clinton had going for her. As Mike Huckabee said in an interview earlier today, "Governor Palin ... will remind women that if they are not welcome on the Democrat's ticket, they have a place with Republicans." She's also very young (44), which brings the McCain ticket to an average age of 58, while BO's is 56. She has strong morals, with a very strong stance on pro-life, which will appease the Christian right. And even more appealing to me, is the fact that she seems so down to earth, like a normal American mom. Just look at the picture!

My only hesitancy with her is that she is not a big name on the national stage. She just became governor of Alaska two years ago, so the experience is somewhat lacking. But I think McCain more than makes up for that. Also, her youngest child has Downs Syndrome, so with having a special needs child, along with 4 other children, how much time and energy will she truly be able to devote to Washington? But I am not going to hold her family against her. I appreciate the fact that she is not a typical politician that has devoted her whole life to gaining power. She has other priorities. Balance, my friends, is key.

So here we go. I'm now officially excited about the McCain/Palin ticket. McCain put a smashing on BO in the Rick Warren interview, and I think his choice as running mate will be quite a popular choice among the conservatives of this great country. He's on the rise.

I couldn't have said it better

I came across this blog and I believe it perfectly sums up how I feel right now. Overwhelmed, yet guilty about getting behind in the first place. It's my fault I failed my first quiz of medical school, no one elses. (Although when the average is a 60% you know the quiz was a wee bit ridiculous.) Anyways, read and enjoy.

Taken from: http://rumorsweretrue.wordpress.com/2006/11/01/pancakes-every-morning/

Title- Med School Metaphor: Pancakes Every Morning

I have a lot to learn. By Friday, anyway. I have a Pharmacology exam followed by a Pathophysiology exam this coming Monday. Once again, I find myself behind. It’s the funny kind of behind where you look at the stack of notes on your desk (2″ of one, 3″ of the other) and sort of chuckle. “Ha. This is going to be funny.” Cue despair.

Looking at it now, I’m tempted to start the passive bragging of impossible odds. “You have no idea how hard it is,” I’d say. “Medical school is like trying to take a drink from a fire hose,” I’d brag.

And that’s total bullshit.

At the beginning of each course, we’re given a syllabus telling us how we’re going to be graded, the question break-down for each test, and the schedule of lectures each day for the next 4-5 months. Nothing is going to sneak up on you unless you can’t read the print on the page (in which case you’re blind and things sneak up on you all the time).

But it’s sunny outside or snowing outside or Tuesday. Whatever. You’re in medical school to become a doctor, not to be in a classroom (scheduling conflicts here) and you find yourself out on the weekends, maybe catching a movie on the weekday, and so on. You blow off the first week of any course because the material is supposed to be introductory and you certainly blow off the first week after any exam to recuperate. Maybe you take off two weeks if it was especially difficult and draining.

Eventually though, the next exam is closer than the last exam and you have to return to the desk and pretend to be a serious student. The first week back studying, you won’t be as efficient and as familiar with the material as you were leading up to the last test, so there’s some built-in catching up to do. You can’t understand the material taught TODAY because you blew off the introduction, so until you catch up, you keep falling behind. By the time you’re back in your stride the exam is so close you can feel it’s breath on your neck and you still have material to cover on a first pass. Let’s not forget: you haven’t reviewed or committed anything to memory at this point. It’s now that you understand the truth:

Medical school is like trying to eat five pancakes every morning for breakfast.

You know you can do it. A Premed advisory committee endorsed you saying, “He has the stomach for it. He’s committed.” And you prove them all right. Every day you show up with your first-year optimism and your annoying hunger for learning and you clean that plate (just kidding, it’s adorable). But you begin to notice that those pancakes are slowing you down a little each day and the sugar highs and lows are screwing with your sleep. Smart person that you are, you decide to pass on the flapjacks one day. You think to yourself, “Self, I’m going to eat ten pancakes tomorrow so that I don’t have to eat any today.”

But it never stops. Turns out that “self” isn’t the most responsible lender, and before you know it there are 40 pancakes in front of you and your plate needs to be clean by tomorrow. So yeah, at this point it looks impossible. But really, it’s your fault.

In the future, as I like to imagine it, I’ll be in charge of all medical school admissions. The process will be six weeks long and will consist of nothing more than showing up each morning to eat five pancakes, at which point you can then go about whatever you were going to do that day. At the end of the five weeks a few jaded, newly diabetic hopefuls will come to my office and, mixed with both pride and resignation say, “I did it. I finished those goddamn pancakes.”

“Wow,” I’ll say. “That’s very impressive. You must be very proud, and your parents must be very proud. Just one more thing.” They’ll reflexively clutch their stomachs, shifting their girth from one hip onto the next and groan, “What’s that?”

“Regurgitate it.”

Truth Hurts

I am not cut out for med school.

First Publication

I got an email earlier this month from a company in Seattle, Schmap, that wanted to use one of my pictures that I took this past spring break in their next publication. They found my picture on Flickr and nominated it for one of the pictures to be used in their "University of Washington" section and it ended up being selected! Whoop! Here is the link to the picture I took, and here is the link for the magazine it was used in. I am kinda shocked they selected it because it was a cloudy day so the sky isn't anything to look at, and it was one week before the cherry blossoms bloomed, which is what UDub's campus is famous for in the spring. And for all of those who know Alex Lee, that is her sitting on the bench for me posing. So you got your first modeling gig, Alex. :)

It's not National Geographic, but I'll take it.

Mid-day affliction

Problem: I am completely worthless between 12 and 2:30pm every day. No exceptions. No matter how much caffeine I consume in attempts to keep myself focused on my studies, I somehow always find myself waking up from a quick snooze. And then I just give up and watch the olympics for a bit, before my conscience kicks in and I feel horrible for wasting my time. You would think topics such as gastrulation and neurulation, or sympathetic pathways of the ANS would keep me interested, but that has yet to be the case. If it weren't for Coldplay, I wouldn't be able to focus between 3-6pm. Praise Jehovah for Chris Martin.

Solution: A mandatory nap/rest time needs to be instituted between 1-3pm every day. China has been doing this for years. Schools and workplaces shut down in the early afternoon so that people can go home to relax and rejuvenate. It is obviously working for them. 43 gold metals. Enough said.

And it starts...

I arose bright and early this morning to the stress of knowing I wasn't even prepared for my first day of medical school. The professor had sent out an email a few days ago advising the class to read 30 pages of the anatomy book and then glance over the lecture notes. I had forgotten to do both until late that night so I decided to just get up early and do it in the morning. Although, after the extreme increase of adrenaline that was screaming throughout my body after watching Phelps et al win the relay last night, I probably should have just stayed up and done it then. Nonetheless, I awoke before dawn and accomplished everything asked of me, including taking the obligatory First Day of School picture in my brand new scrubs.

Simply put, class was a bore. I printed out my notes in color so I didn't even get to color along, which is why I was looking forward to anatomy so much. But after suffering through 2 hours of the lecture on the back muscles and vertebrae, we were led to the anatomy lab and set up shop around our cadaver. When we got there all the bodies were covered in coffin-like apparatus so we had no idea what our bodies looked like. Male of female? Black, white, brown, or yellow? Fat or skinny? Young or old? The anticipation was unbelievable. The combination of excitement with nerves, the smell of wintergreen formaldehyde pervading through the cadavers, and the 116 people crammed into a lab was almost as exhilarating as the opening ceremonies in Beijing this past Friday night. Almost.

When they told us to open up our dissection tables, I wasn't prepared to see my guy laying there face up. I had assumed they would have already flipped him over since we were dissecting the back today, but no, we got to do that ourselves. The skin was extremely hard, like rubber. I volunteered to be the first person to grab the scalpel and go at it (once the teacher had come to our table and explained what we were supposed to do). You had to put some strength in it to cut through all the skin and fat. Our guy* had a few extra pounds to spare, so cutting through his lower back and shoulder/neck area was particularly difficult because the excess amount of superficial fascia. FYI, fat is disgusting. No more McDonalds.

The two hours we were in there flew by. I had not really been looking forward to lab because I didn't know how well I would handle cutting open a dead body, but I quickly got into it and had a blast working with my lab partners. Getting to actually touch and hold the lattisimus dorsi, trapezius, deltoid, all these muscles that I had worked on toning so vigorously in the gym the past 5 years on my life, was amazing.

So let the studying commence. This is the beginning of a long 4 years.

*We haven't named our cadaver yet. Many names are up for debate. He has to have a distinguished name because he was kind enough to donate his body to science. So far Winston, Albert, and Carl have been thrown out there. We're going to give him a full name (first, middle, and last) and we've already knighted him as a "sir". Let me know of any good prestigious sounding names that you can think of.

The New Pad

Location, location, location. That's what my new apartment is screaming, besides ghetto, ghetto, ghetto. I just moved in to my new pad this past weekend, thanks to the much needed and appreciated help by my family. I am a 90 second walk to my classroom building, a 3 minute walk to my mom's and dad's clinics, and a 7 minute walk to my gross/histo labs in the main hospital. I can literally role out of bed in the mornings and not have to struggle with traffic, parking, shuttling, etc. Whoop!

While the location is superb, the area of town is not stellar. There is a constant flux of homeless people walking up and down the streets, searching through our dumpsters, and whistling at me. I don't exactly feel safe, but hopefully I will get used to it. There are 5 med students living in the same complex I am, so we will probably walk together at nights.

The good news is that my apartment is very clean - new carpet, new tile, newly painted walls, new toilet seat, and supposedly, soon to be installed, new doors. Yet, somehow, the apartment still reeks of smoke. I thought it would go away after leaving the windows/doors open all day on Saturday as we were moving and then putting in some plug-ins. But all my effort has been in vain. I get hit in the face with the stench of smoke every time I walk in to my apartment, and my clothes are starting to smell like it too. This is a crisis like none other. Something must be done to change it immediately. Also, I don't have a dishwasher or a washer/dryer. And I have a wall AC unit. I totally feel like I'm roughing it, but I will survive! :)

Thus far, living solo has been an enjoyable experience. I loved getting to come up with the decorating themes and organizing the furniture as I like. Pictures will come later once everything in my apartment is organized and pictures are hung, but my living room/dining area is a Texas theme (as in the state, not the university, with multiple A&M things), and my bedroom is a Greek Isle theme, mostly blue and white with bright pinks and yellows to accent it. It's my little Mediterranean oasis.

Well I'm off to grab some pad thai with my mom for lunch. I think I am going to get used to this being close to home thing!

Senior Superlatives

I have some pretty great friends, so I thought I'd hand out some awards and give shout-outs to those deserving. After a long, scrutinizing process, where intense mathematical equations were used, the following were determined to be the most exemplary.

Most Athletic: Ashlee Pistorius and Jason Meyer

Most Likely to Succeed: Diana Davis and Daniel Weizel

Funniest: Gail Macklin and Justin Wolfshohl

Best Dressed: Annie Burnett and Chad Peter

Most Creative: Kate Mailen and Spencer Green

Most Gullible: Alex Lee and Parker Dalton

Most Eccentric: Suzzette DeVloo and Ben Bitner

Most Mature: Rachel Sok and Matthew Jones

Sweetest: Acacia Littrell and Kent Gray

Most Competitive: Nicki Mechem and Nathan Li

Biggest Flirt: Natalie Currie and Andrew Hopewell

Class Clown: Kelly Wilmoth and Andrew Key

Cutest Couple: Amber Gnatzig and Kirkland Rivers

Most School Spirit: Sarah Foster and Michael McGuire

Hottest: Melissa Garey and Patton Bedford

Best Smile: Ashley Raisor and Michael Fermier

A Fleeting Dream

I guess it's time for me to give up on one of my dreams that I've held so passionately to the past 3 years: it looks as if I will not be marrying an Aggie. Hopefully my Aggie friends who read this will sympathize with me on this fact, because we are really the only ones that truly understand and grasp how special it is to be an Aggie. But I'm sure all my unfortunate, I mean non-Aggie, friends out there are probably rolling their eyes and thinking I take this whole A&M thing too far.

Today in my Prep anatomy course that I am taking (I've already been labeled as one of the nine "stupid" kids in my med school class who has to take this Prep course while the rest of our class is enjoying their summers), I told the guy I was sitting next to that I graduated from A&M. He responds, "A&M?". I had to then explain that I mean "Texas A&M", and then he just nodded his head, like I might as well have said I graduated from Wyoming. People up here have no idea about Aggieland. It kills me. I'm suffocating up here in Wildcat country. The ignorance is alarming.

I wear my Aggie ring proudly every day. I still carry around my A&M Nike soccer backpack, and today I wore my Texas A&M Soccer rain gear. I really am a walking billboard for my alma mater. And I don't see that changing any time soon. But I am starting to see that not only do people not care that I graduated from A&M, but many find it annoying that I would even sport anything other than UK gear around campus. They hate when I whoop. They don't want to hear how magical Kyle Field is. Really, the only positive feedback I get from people is, "Oh, we stole Billy G from y'all." Of course, I take full credit for that.

So I am throwing in the towel for my dream of an Aggie marriage, of sawing varsity's horns off at the wedding reception, of raising little future Ags who want to follow in their parents footsteps, and of having A&M paraphernalia plastered all over my walls in my house. It's a sad day for me. I feel defeated.

There's no hiding

The stalking capabilities on the internet are endless. I am not saying that in a creepy way, but in a fantastic/I wanna kiss whoever made up the internet* kind of way. Unless someone lives in a remote village in the rain forests of Brazil, there is a high probability that you will find something about their job or location if you search the internet hard enough.

My family used to be really close to the Clarke family. They were native Australians that moved to the States for a couple of years so that Steve, the father, could go to Asbury Seminary. We ended up going to the same church as them and our families instantly bonded. My older brother was in between ages of their 2 oldest daughters, Trisha and Kate; I was the same age as Joanna, and Andrew was the same age as the youngest daughter, Sarah. We all hung out like one happy family for the majority of my childhood. We went camping with them to Canada. We had cookouts all the time. When they finally moved back to Australia we promised we would come visit, and sure enough we did a couple of years later. They were outgoing, loud, and definitely not proper, which made them so much fun to be around.

Well after the parents divorced, they dropped off the face of the earth. We completely lost touch with them and have not been able to find where they are or how they are doing. We have thought of them often over the last ten years, and tried searching for them on the internet, but were unsuccessful. I've tried searching for Joanna a couple of times on Facebook but couldn't find her, and Andrew has tried the same with Sarah. Well tonight we decided to give it another try. We searched and searched Facebook for a Sarah, Kate, or Joanna Clarke in Australia, but tons of profiles came up and we couldn't tell if it was them. We hadn't seen them in 12 years, so that didn't help. So Andrew decided to just write a message to all the Sarah Clarkes in Australia and I did the same with Kate Clarkes. We were hoping one of them would respond and say it was them.

I also tried googling Sarah, Kate, Joanna, and Judy Clarke but wasn't able to find anything. After searching for over an hour, I gave up and was just counting on getting a reply to one of the messages I had sent. My mom then came upstairs and wanted to get in on the search, so she gets on the computer and types in "Steve Clarke Australian pastor" and BOOM, she gets a hit. It takes her to this female blues singer myspace page, Fiona Boyes. She is looking through the page and sees at the bottom to contact manager Steve Clarke "The Pastor" if you have any questions. We don't know if that is THE Steve that we need, but it is ironic that he comes up on an Australian lady's page with the nickname of "The Pastor" behind it, especially because last we had heard about Steve was that he had married some famous musician and was touring the US with her.

So then I get on Facebook and search Fiona Boyes and ask her to be my friend because I wanted to see her profile, hoping to get more clues. But then I remember that I can look at her list of friends, so I pull that up and sure enough, two of her friends are Sarah and Joanna Clarke. We found them!!! We actually found the Clarkes! After a decade of no contact, we are now waiting on them to confirm our friendship requests! We ended up finding a picture of Fiona and Steve together, and it is definitely the Steve Clarke that we know.

It's a small world after all. Thanks to the internet.

*not Al Gore

Revelation #2

Since my freshman year of college, when Sarah and I were trapped in the dungeon commonly referred to as Kirwan IV, we openly shared our revelations with each other, even marking them on our calendars to go down in history. To count something as a revelation, it has to be ground-breaking and monumental. For example, Sarah woke up one morning convinced that she was going to marry Trey Moeller, a family friend whom she had not seen since she was in 8th grade. Obviously this is not going to happen since she is marrying Kent this fall, but at the time it was revolutionary because Sarah had never dated, nor had she been seriously interested in doing so.

Earlier this semester I decided to start making my revelations public again, for posterity's sake. If you recall, I had a revelation that I am going to marry a nerd. Just for clarification, that doesn't mean a suspender/bowtie/thick glasses-wearing kind of nerd, that just means someone who is intelligent and loves to learn and isn't ashamed of it.

Well I just had another revelation last night.

I've always thought my younger brother was the bomb. He is good-looking, smart, funny, athletic...just a dream boat. I never understood why the opposite sex was not falling at his feet. He has everything in the world going for him. Well this summer we have spent a lot of time together, more than we have in years. And I have found that we have been getting on each other's nerves a lot. Half of our conversations end with someone saying something smart, and even occasionally ending in a slap. I started to think maybe he isn't such a prime catch. But then it dawned on me. It's because we're the same person. We have very similar personalities, so of course when we are together for extended periods of time, we start to clash. We both want to make the funny joke, or be chosen first at pick-up soccer games, or be seen as the "poster child". We are one in the same.

So using simple logic, if A=B, and B=C, then A=C. Which means, I am the bomb. Just a dream boat for the opposite sex. Now that's a revelation! :)

Great Expectations

Expectations are a double-edged sword. If something/one lives up to them, then you experience the fantastic feeling of having your desires met - the way you've always dreamed. But if expectations are put too high, you are only setting yourself up for failure and disappointment. So what do you do? Enter into situations without any expectations? Impossible.

I figured I would lay out my naive, ignorant expectations of medical school now, so that I could look back on this and get a good laugh in a couple of years.

I fully plan on everyone in my class becoming good friends. My parents' med school class gelled quite fantastically, and I want nothing more to have a cohesive class that can find fun in all the madness. For instance, my parents class made up a student, Nick Pavona, that went through all 4 years of school with them. Classmates would trade off taking the tests for him. His scores were posted along with every one else's. The teachers had no idea that he didn't exist. The funniest part about it is that during their rotations, people would page Nick Pavona over the hospital loud speakers, telling him to meet up with Dr. so-and-so pronto. Classic. Example #2 - one of my parents classmates, Louis, married a girl in the year behind them after his 2nd year. One day in his wife's class they were discussing topics of sexual nature, and the teacher asked how big a typical male penis is. His wife, a newlywed, eagerly raises her hand, dying to give the answer to something she had just discovered. Of course the teacher calls on her, and she confidently says, "9 inches". Rumor spread, and for the remainder of Louis' medical school career, he was called King Louis the IX.

I expect to be quite busy, but still have free time. Some friends have told me that if you study all afternoon after you get out of class, then you will have most nights off to relax. While others say they study almost 10 hours a day, with breaks only for meals. I can't do that. For some reason I am expecting medical school to greatly enhance my social life. I envision me hanging out with my new friends at my apartment, having Grey's Anatomy parties, dominating them in game nights, and cheering the Cats on to victory behind BCG.

Speaking of Grey's Anatomy, that's what I expect the hospital scene to be like. Drama, drama, drama. And I say this in a good way. Never boring, trying to figure out who's sleeping with who. And I will find my McDreamy (I am Meredith, for all those who don't know...not Cristina, who some joke that I am because of my super-competitiveness).

I am looking forward with great anticipation to the first day of med school - 4 weeks from today. I am excited about meeting new people, seeing what I am capable of medicinally, and starting a new chapter of my life.

"Now, I return to this young fellow. And the communication I have got to make is, that he has great expectations." ~Charles Dickens

Go Green or Go Home

At the beginning of the summer I made a life-changing decision: I decided to go green. I had always found green people to be quite annoying. All my loyal readers can probably recall my astonishment towards Seattle's mandatory recycling that I experienced earlier this year. Part of me rejected it because I didn't believe the government should have control over what I do with my own trash, but the other reason was because the economics behind it doesn't make sense - it costs more to recycle than to make things new. It's just not efficient use of our tax dollars. So who cares about the environmental factors? Who cares about the dying whales? God made the earth and then gave mankind dominion over it. I never fell for the "mother nature" movement, that preserving the earth should be our first priority in life. I was no tree hugger. I gave my full support for oil-drilling in Alaska (in fact, I won a debate in high school over oil-drilling). And I thought the entire global warming issue was a hoax.

Well, I hate to break it to you, but none of those ideals have changed. I've only gone green so that whenever I do something that a liberal would find responsible, I can pat myself on the back and proclaim that I am now green. It's a way to gain instant respect and popularity amongst the Democratic community. I honestly really couldn't care less about what they think of me, but I get great satisfaction out of seeing them ignorantly light up when I say something as simple as, "I don't flush the toilet after every use because I want to conserve this beautiful earth's clean water. I'm green." Or when I explain to them that I am going to live close enough to campus to bike to class so that I won't use up the limited source of oil that our earth has left. Too bad they can't see past me to realize that the reason I am not using water or gas is to save my own money. I could care less about preserving the environment, but if that is a side effect of my actions, then so be it.

My family has really jumped on board with going green. For the first month of summer, we didn't turn on our air conditioning. We just kept the windows open and lived in harmony with God's beautiful creation. We may have been sweating, but we were putting our own desires aside to preserve energy for generations to come. Either that, or our AC was broken?

My brother has taken this to a whole other level that I am not dedicated enough to reach. He will wait until I am done drinking out of a glass or eating off of a plate and then use the same dishes I did so that we will have less to clean up later, conserving even more water by reducing the amount of dishwasher loads we have to do. He turns off all the lights in the house before he leaves, and turns of monitors on the computers, because apparently, "if 360 monitors would be turned off when not in use, the power that would be saved would be enough to power a car for an entire year." Good to know. I gave him a green high five for that tid bit of information.

So next time you go to flush the toilet, think twice. When you are asked if you want paper or plastic, choose paper. And when you want to grill out that perfect steak, do so with an electric or propane gas grill, because charcoal emits high levels of carbon into our atmosphere. Carbon emissions have the potential to kill the beasts of the field, such as longhorns, and who would want that?

The start of something new

I've picked up a new hobby recently, not one that most people find entertaining, but it has brought me great delight. It's the art of being anti-social. I don't know where it came from, but it has overtaken my life. I have deleted over 50 friends on facebook. Most of the victims are people that I have never talked to once in my life. I assume that they were soccer fans, and now that I am no longer anyone important, I figured they wouldn't be hurt by the termination of our "friendship". Nonetheless, the "Remove from Friends" link at the bottom of every profile page is screaming my name. I didn't care when my Newsfeed was announcing the marriage of John and Jane Doe. It is very freeing to unclutter one's facebook. You should try it. It's simply wonderful.

My new hobby has extended beyond Facebook too, as I have discovered there are many more ways to express my new-found love of being anti-social. I have developed a strong distaste for my phone. In fact, I rarely ever have it with me any more. I'll be honest in saying that I haven't had much activity on my phone since being in Kentucky, yet the few times that people have kindly attempted to call me, I haven't called them back. It's nothing personal, I promise. I am ignoring everyone's calls. I leave my phone in my purse on silent all day, and don't check it for hours upon end. This means that if you text me, you may get a significantly delayed response. While missed calls make me upset because of the guilt associated with not returning the call, text messages still make me happy and will always be replied to.

This new hobby may be a defense mechanism to combat my unpopularity. Or it could be my way of not wanting to move on and make new friends at UK as I hold on to the memories of Aggieland. I don't have the answer, but I do know that if you go a long time without talking to me, please do not be upset, as this is the same treatment that the Pope or Queen would get.

All-American...pssh

I have reached a point in my post-college athlete career where I am truly a has-been. Before, I liked to joke about it, but deep down I knew I could step onto the A&M field and contribute to the team. But that is not the case any more. I am now in the worst shape of my life. What used to be rock-hard abs, killer quads, and ripped arms are now nothing but flab. I haven't worked out in well over two months. You probably think I'm kidding. Well I'm not. The last time I lifted weights was in January. The last time I got out and jogged was in February, when Justin coaxed me into running the 5K at GLOW by telling me he expected more from a D1 athlete. So of course I wasn't going to take that trash talk...I stepped up to the plate and ran. And proceeded to make a complete fool of myself. Long distance running is the bane of my existence.

I've been spoiled being able to rely on my sport to keep me in shape. This is what makes soccer superior to every other sport. While I do feel like many sports out there require endurance to play at your peak (ie football or baseball), you don't get naturally fit just playing the sport. I may be biased, but I believe soccer players are the most complete athletes - heart, lungs, mind, and muscular strength. I want to get back to that. I need to get back to that. My self-esteem has plummeted in the last 6 months, especially when people bring up the fact that I am a Strength and Conditioning All-American. It's true, I was (am). But I am nothing but an charlatan now. So it's time to suck up my distaste for running and just do it.

I'll start tomorrow.

It's all Greek to me

I signed up to do research this summer. All my friends told me that was the stupidest decision I've ever made. They said it was the last summer of freedom I'll ever have. That I should go travel Europe. Or lay by the pool all summer. Two problems: I don't have the funds to go to Europe. And I don't have the skin type to sit by the pool. I'd turn into one big freckle. Research seemed like the logical thing to do. I'd get paid. I'd learn a ton. I'd get my foot in the door at the hospital and the medical school. I'd be ahead of the game compared to the rest of my classmates. I'd enhance my CV. The list goes on and on. Still, part of me was wanting to have a relaxing summer before the chaos starts in August. But it is time to grow up. Time to be responsible for the first time in my life.

I've never done research before. I've never worked in a lab. I've never taken a medical school class. So I was already intimidated before I stepped foot in the Markey Cancer Center at the University of Kentucky this past week. But I figured my boss would understand this and would give me a project that I could handle. Let me take a second to introduce you to my boss - Dr. Natasha Kyprianou. She is as Greek as they come. She is a go-getter. Intense. Intelligent. Enthusiastic. I am glad I have been to Greece so that I can truly appreciate her. The first time I sat down with her in her office, we discussed American politics for 30 minutes before we ever got to what I'd be doing in the lab this summer. My gut told me not to get into a debate with my boss about the upcoming election and the current president, so I attempted to just nod and agree with what she was saying, but when she directly asked me, "Do you like Bush?" "What do you think about the war?", it's hard to skirt around the issues. So I told her my two cents, and we had a very intellectual, amiable discussion about the political scene in America over the past ten years. I enjoyed our conversation very much. She was a staunch Democrat, and I am obviously not, but we were civil and both had the opportunity to put our beliefs on the table. She grew up in a very political family in Greece, where her father was in the Parliament and eventually became mayor of Athens! This lady is really into her politics. She told me afterwards that she enjoyed our discussion because most people in my generation don't give a care about politics. She was impressed with how articulate I was. 1 point for Jones!

We finally moved on to what I will be doing this summer. And I wish I could tell you what it is that I am going to be doing, but it is top secret. Actually, I can't tell you because I have no idea what I am going to be doing. She spent 30 minutes telling me, but it was so over my head that all I picked up was that I will be curing prostate cancer. Superb! Then she handed me six journal articles that I need to read before next week so that I will have a good background before I start the actual experiments (where I get to castrate mice...woohoo). I can honestly say that I only know 1 in 5 words in these journal articles. I think it's time to invest in a medical dictionary. I am in WAY over my head.

But she told me that I will get my name published with the article, so that's great news! Then she asked if I was a good writer. I thought she was asking because she might want me to look over the article before it gets sent to the journals, so I said that writing probably comes easier to me than most because of my history major, and she said "Great, you will also be writing a chapter in my book this summer. Of course I will critique it, but you will be in charge of writing it." WHAT?! I am supposed to cure cancer and write a chapter in 8 weeks!? I didn't realize I was superwoman.

There's still hope

Just when everyone is proclaiming that America is losing its luster, that she is not what she used to be, that everything is looking glum, she goes and does something like this....and totally redeems herself! First she votes in Kristi Yamaguchi as the champion of Dancing with the Stars. Though she is not as popular as Jason Taylor, doesn't quite have the personality, or the charm, as the NFL superstar, America still sees that she is the better dancer. Americans followed their moral conscience to vote for the superior talent instead of just making it a popularity contest.

Next, American votes for David Cook to be the new American Idol instead of teenage heart throb David Archuleta. The latter David has the better voice, is more talented vocally, and has the eyes to melt any 14 year old girl in America, but America saw that he doesn't have "it". He can't handle the media. He laughs like a little girl when he is interviewed. He only sings one genre: love ballads. David Cook is mature, confident yet gracious, and even more importantly, creative. He will make his own, unique album like no one else in America. I will buy his CD. I wouldn't have bought Archuleta's. David Cook may not be easy on the eyes, but he still has "it". America comes through, again.

Lastly, I will sleep well tonight, after having witnessed an incredible thing tonight on TV. In the midst of trials and tribulations with natural disasters in China and Myanmar, as gas prices reach $4/gallon, and as distasteful words are constantly shared between presidential candidates, a glimmer of hope was found. For one small moment on television, the world was right. All the problems of the world faded away. Meredith Grey figured out her problems. She dealt with them and then she went to the man she loved. Derek and Meredith kissed!! When the writers of Grey's Anatomy could have left us hanging in this season finale like they have the previous 3 seasons, they didn't. They realized that America couldn't handle that right now. We needed something. We needed to be able to believe in love again. We needed to see that there is still good in the world. And they gave that to us.

Thank you, America, for restoring hope back into the world. There ain't no doubt I love this land. God bless the USA.

Oh, what's that? You want my opinion?...

Freebirds > Qdoba > Chipotle

Billy Gillispie > Mark Turgeon

Manchester United > Chelsea

Coca Cola > Pepsi

Adidas > Nike

Blogging > Facebook

Football (soccer) > Football (American)

Hillary > Obama > Edwards

SEC > Big XII

Pistons > Celtics

Spurs > Mavericks

Air Force > Army > Navy

Grey's Anatomy > House

Boys > Girls*

Cats > Dogs

Why, Justin, Why > Elisabeth's Explanations

Mac > PC

Iron Man > Spiderman > Batman > Superman

Chocolate > Vanilla

Briefs > Boxers**

Wal-Mart > Target

Thanksgiving > Christmas

Spirit of Aggieland > everything


*at sports.
**if I were a guy.

You should see the other guy...

Well I am going to go ahead and let the cat out of the bag. Why? Because I don't feel like I have anything to hide. Nothing to be embarrassed of here. I broke my nose three times throughout my athletic career: when I was twelve in a soccer game, when I was a senior in high school (by Shannon Novosell...the 7 foot freak that played for Lexington Catholic who elbowed me when going up for a rebound in basketball), and the final time being this past soccer season during the warm up (yes, warm up) against Texas Tech (we were scrimmaging and our goalie punted it and it was coming towards me and I was sitting there waiting for it, preparing to take it down with my chest, when Micah Stephens pushed me last second in the back and the ball hit me straight in the face). There were tears all three times. Yet, no blood. But the damage was still done, and I have been living with a crooked nose for 11 years.


Now that my illustrious soccer career is complete and I am about to head out to a whole new world of medicine (which I can only imagine to be identical to Grey's Anatomy, which means if I am going to get McDreamy, I gotta bring my A game), my parents and I decided it was the perfect time to get my nose fixed. So this past Tuesday I got it done. It was quite an odd sensation waking up in the middle of surgery, feeling them pounding away at my nose, just like in the movies. But I was enjoying it too much to say anything, so I laid there with my eyes closed and just cherished the moment. But the awkward part came when I had to decide how long it was appropriate to pretend like I was still drugged up and eventually come to. Apparently I did it well because I heard the doctor tell my mother afterwards that "everything went well, she slept right through it all!".


So this week I've been laying low, watching movies, taking insane amounts of pills, sleeping a ton, throwing up, and facebooking an embarrassing amount of my life away. I can't talk well because my face is still numb, so I've ignored most calls. Text if you want to contact me. :)


But just for your entertainment, I will show a picture of what I look like. This was taken a few days ago, and the swelling and bruising have both gone down a bit. But feel free to laugh. I would too if it were physically possible. Good thing is, you shouldn't even be able to tell a difference when you see me next because it's so subtle, but I will have my straight nose back. Yay!

Goodbye Texas. Howdy Kentucky.

It's official. I'm a college graduate (or as we Aggies like to say, a former student). I am no longer a resident of the great state of Texas. I walked Friday morning, packed up the U-Haul, made one last stop at Layne's and Sweet Eugenes, blared the Aggie War Hymn as I rolled out of Aggieland, and made the 1000 mile trek to Lexington, Kentucky with my mom in the trusty Camry and my dad driving the macho, manly truck.

To be honest, I thought it was going to be a lot harder than it was to leave. During the early stages of the packing process last week, I broke down three times and cried my eyes out, as I found old love letters, sifted through 3 years of tests and papers (for some reason I found it very sentimental - I had somehow forgotten about that 74 I got on a physics test or the 76 on an organic chemistry test), and thought of all the great times I had as an Aggie. But when the clock finally struck graduation day, my tear ducts were dry as could be. I credit that to the Man Upstairs.

The trip home was exactly what I had hoped for: 17 hours of bonding time with my mama. We laughed our back sides off joking around, had lots of heart-to-heart talks, jammed to some oldies music, and got ourselves into trouble. Like the time I was driving and my mom was in the passenger seat. My dad had been leading us in the Penske truck for a few hours and we had finally caught up after making a pit stop, so I sped up to pass him and my mama started making kissy faces and smashed her lips up against the window, only to find out as we passed that it was not my dad, just some other random guy driving another Penske truck. I quickly sped off to save my mama from even more embarrassment.

Or when we stopped outside of Nashville to fill up with gas for the last time. As we were pulling back on to the interstate, my dad cut off a middle-aged woman in an Escalade and she was just about fit to be tied. She got right up on my dad's tail, was honking her brains out, then to cap things off, gaive a strong, firm flick off, leaving the bird up for at least 15 seconds as she sped on by. To make things even better, my dad was completely oblivious and did not even know that happened til we got home and I brought it up.

Just as I crossed the Kentucky border we hit construction. I luckily got caught between two cars that wanted to go over the speed limit, so I willingly followed their lead, but the white van behind me was sitting close to my tail. I could tell he wanted to get by me but he was stuck in the one lane. When it finally opened up to two lanes, he promptly got in the other lane and sped up. I curiously looked over just to get a look at the guy, and I found two middle-aged men throwing up the t.u. "hook 'em" sign. I gave an absolutely disgusted look (the best I could think of on the spot) and gave a strong "gig 'em" right back to them. They laughed, we exchanged smiles, and they sped off. I love being an Aggie. My mom then started singing the "Spirit of Aggieland" at the top of her lungs. I joined in, and we put on a performance of a lifetime.

I don't think it has hit me that I am in Kentucky for good. I still feel like I am just on vacation. But a few prescriptions of anti-depressants and staying busy at work (researching prostate cancer all summer) will hopefully make the transition easier. Although the weather (50 and raining) isn't helping at all.