Why did the pre-med chicken cross the road?

Because he heard it was REQUIRED!!!!LOL!!!ELEVENTY!!one

Not my lame-ness--originally told by the prof who is the head of the pre-med society in our illustrious college on a hill.

So, he's attempting to mock the over-anxious pre-med students who are terrified of missing something that's "required" for admission to med school. (Personally, I think if you're using chickens to describe pre-meds, you should head more in the running-around-like-a-headless-chicken direction, but that's just me.) The pre-med society is constantly attempting to convince us of three things:

1. You will get into med school.
*Gigantic SNORT OF SCORN*
Like I didn't use up all my karma getting in HERE in the first place.

2. There are no "requirements."
*Pissed-off eyebrow raise of bitch, please*
Because THERE ARE REQUIREMENTS. They won't TELL you what they are, but if you spend fifty bucks on the AMC handbook YOU WILL FIND THEM. Assholes.

3. You don't have to decide right now if you're going to be pre-med. *FRIGHTENING MANIACAL LAUGHING FIT*
*falls backwards off of chair*
*hits head, spends rest of life in oddly pleasing coma*

Ok, see, the fact of the matter is? YOU HAVE TO DECIDE IF YOU ARE PRE-MED, LIKE, BEFORE YOU ARE BORN. This is why all doctors are children of doctors. THEY BREED, PEOPLE.

Here's how it is. IF you go to med school directly after graduation, are accepted immediately into an internship program, and concentrate on something "soft," you will be 29 by the time you are actually PRACTICING SOME FREAKING MEDICINE slash making enough money to dig yourself out of the gigantic hole of debt you've gotten yourself into.

If you decide to specialize in something interesting, i.e., surgery (always do the version of the job they show on TV, people, it's the cool one) your residency could be something "lite" like, say, five years, OR it could be an extended NINE YEAR FUNFEST. And you are 35 years old. Note that this assumes that you a.) took no years off for mental health reasons and b.) have not died somewhere along the line due to lack of sleep.

Honestly, though? Those final numbers aren't the ones that scare me. What really terrifies me, keeps me up at night, pacing and blogging despite the fact that I HAVE A FREAKING TEST IN A PRE-MED CLASS TOMORROW, AND AM KILLING MY SCIENCE GPA, what scares me more than clowns or spiders, or the fact that George Dubya Bush has control of our nuclear weapons, what REALLY FREAKS ME OUT, is:

That you could, theoretically do well in your pre-med college classes.

And you could go to med school.

And maybe even pass your classes.

And the medical boards.

And get accepted into an internship program.

And then, after all that, after eight years of training and praying and not sleeping and having your success measured by memorization and tests...your twenty-six year old self has to pick up a scalpel and actually cut open a living, breathing person.

AND YOU COULD BE LOUSY AT IT.

SERIOUSLY! WHAT IF YOU HAVE KLUTZY FINGERS? Or you drop slippery things like duodenums? Or you just AREN'T GOOD AT THE PHYSICAL PROCESS OF CUTTING PEOPLE OPEN AND SCREWING AROUND WITH THE GOOKY STUFF INSIDE THEM?

This is one of the many aspects of medicine not addressed by Grey's Anatomy. Of course, those doctors are too busy having sex with each other to actually, like, perform surgery or anything, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I also shouldn't be surprised when I fail the biology test that I have in, oh, five hours.

Maybe if I cut mySELF open, I'll find out if I'm good at it!

Alumni

"You're happy? You're happy now? The Meredith I knew was a force of nature. Passionate. Focused. A fighter. What happened to you? You've gone soft! Stammering about a boyfriend and saying you're waiting to be inspired? You're waiting for inspiration, are you kidding me? I have a disease for which there is no cure; I think that would be inspiration enou--"

"Mommy--"

"Listen to me, Meredith. Anyone can fall in love and be blindly happy,but not everyone can pick up a scalpel and save a life. I raised you to be an extraordinary human being. So imagine my disappointment when I wake up after five years and discover that you're no more than ordinary. What happened to you?"

No. More. Than. Ordinary.

"You want to know what happened to me? You happened to me."

Mommy.


Shonda Rhimes, I fucking hate you.

Although I mostly hate you because you ended the damn episode with a cliffhanger and I have to wait until Thursday.

*Sad*

Do you know what sad is?

Sad is when your younger sister has a boyfriend or when there were flowers outside your door this morning because someone delivered them to the wrong room.

I win!

Current state of mind

And I've studied so much biology that I've finally flipped. For reals.

An excerpt from the current notes:

STEM CELLS!!!!OMG!!ELEVEN
-Cells that divide to give rise to more cells or cells that can adopt specialized jobs or cells that can sing opera while snowboarding
-Stem cells are basically the shit, despite what George Bush thinks
-They can replace damaged/cells/organisms
-Help us research diseases/make interns lose it
-Supply and source for TONS 'O' ORGAN TRANSPLANTS!!!! (2nd transplant of equal or lesser value FREE WITH PURCHASE!!!!!)

I think this is the point where you're supposed to start breathing into a paper bag.

WTF?

If your version of the blog is legible, please comment.

If it's illegible, grab a torch and prepare to join me on the siege of the Blogger headquarters, because I have been messing with CSS sheets for the past hour and it STILL DOESN'T WORK.

UPDATE: It seems to have magically fixed itself. Ten to one says I just jinxed it.

Because you care

Left side of the fridge:
six protein shakes
three kinds of vitamins
Four protein bars
Carrot juice

Right side of the fridge
nine cans of Red Bull
five Doubleshots
three packs of caffeine gum
CHOCOLATE

So, guess who's the athlete and who's the stress case.