The Break-up

Last night Olivia and I went out and watched The Break-up. She was in town for business in the bustling metropolis of Reston, VA. It was good to hang out with her again.

The Break-up, overall, was a very realistic movie. Jennifer Aniston is good in the movie because she makes the story seem so accessible. Perhaps it's good acting. Perhaps it's just because she doesn't really have to act, she just had to be herself. Whatever the reason, I must say that the movie was actually rather unpleasant to watch. It was unpleasant because it really portrays the ugliness of a breakup, the aftermath where people are angry and bitter with each other and hurting inside. I also thought that once a couple breaks up, it's always particularly sad when they try again to be nice to each other, making lame jokes to lighten the atmosphere, saying things to be "helpful" when clearly, nothing will be the same again. I think my ideal breakup would be to just say Goodbye to my sig other and then turn the other way and get the hell out of there. No messiness. No chances for accusations, finger pointing, rehashes, tears, wringing of hands, bitter acrimonious name calling even. Maybe I'm just an escapist and I don't want to have to face horrible realities.

At the end of the movie, the two run into each other randomly on the street. They have obviously moved on with their lives and are over each other. In truth, they don't even harbor too much resentment against each other and they still care. So their chance meeting was a good one, with both of them being okay. On the other hand, when you chat with an Ex and you ask them how things are going, and they gush things like, It's going SO well, everything's SO great!. I don't know, maybe once the relationship is over, you lose a significant portion of your trust for that person. So it's hard to believe that person. In my experience, I have a hard time really believing anyone's life is so frickin fabulous all the time, as is clearly insisted by some people. At least I can take consolation in the fact that I don't ever try to dress up my life in the vain hopes of appearing better than I really am. I'm just such a square, after all.

Let's take a vote

While I can concede that name calling is in general not good form, I would like to ask this following question.

Is calling a guy Bastard as bad as calling a girl Bitch?

I personally think the latter is much worse and is misogynistic. However, I do admit that in the past, I have called guys bastard mostly in a joking manner. I don't even honestly think that if I were truly pissed off at someone and called him a "bastard" that it would be a strong enough put down. However, calling someone a Bitch is usually strong enough on its own as a real insult. Therefore, in my mind at least, the two are vastly different and serve different purposes in our everyday lexicon.

Furthermore, the dictionary terms are as follows:

bastard:
A child born out of wedlock.
Something that is of irregular, inferior, or dubious origin.
Slang. A person, especially one who is held to be mean or disagreeable

bitch
A female canine animal, especially a dog.
Offensive.
A woman considered to be spiteful or overbearing. A lewd woman.
A man considered to be weak or contemptible.
Slang. A complaint.
Slang. Something very unpleasant or difficult.

I will also concede that my opinion may be biased due to gender, however I am truly trying to analyze this question objectively.

Monsoon in DC

Lately it's been a lot like the tropics here in DC. Rain comes down hard and heavy for long stretches of time. I feel like I am in Myamar (at least according to one movie I watched)

It's kind of fun to stare at how fast the rain comes down. It's so powerful, almost angry. It would be no fun to be caught in the downpour though. Although looking out the window, we saw a few people caught in the rain. We laughed at them in a good natured mean spirited way. Is that an oxymoron?

Today I have had to grow cells repeatedly owing to technical difficulties. This is the third time I'm doing this and I sincerely hope, the last today.

It's raining too hard today and I probably won't get to play tennis. Too bad.... =(

Yoming and Dave came to town

It was fun talking and hanging out with them again. It felt like old times back in NYC when I hung out with them happily as the third wheel. We chatted as usual about deep consuming thoughtful topics such as hot guys, being attracted to someone who is not your significant other, etc.

Yoming was complaining how everyone sees her as so young. I feel that overall, it's not such a bad complaint to have. Most women will probably be very happy to have that "problem."

Dave was his typical self. He went to the bookstore and read Brokeback Mountain while he waited for us incorrigible shoppers to finish. We teased him that he was very comfortable with his masculinity because most guys won't be caught within 1500 feet of the movie or the book. I wonder if most people realize that a phobia, no matter what type, is really a mental disease?

Seminar on Inter-Sex Humans

I just attended an interesting topical seminar on what is traditionally known as hermaphrodites or individuals who fall into the nether region of being neither male or female. The historian scholar cum LGBT rights activist gave an entertaining talk on how traditional medicine viewed these people with a critical and judgmental eye. It has actually happened in the past that when a baby "boy" was born with a penis significantly smaller than average, surgeons would remove the offendingly small member and pronounce the baby a girl. Similarly, if a baby "girl" was born with an oversized clitoris, that too was removed. People get very nervous with boundaries are blurred and nice neat categories can not be established.

The speaker is now very much involved with individuals with gender issues, whether biologically derived or not. She also champions their rights and tries to enlighten health practitioners on the best way to deal with such individuals. It is no longer acceptable, she believes, to try and just pick one gender or another for the intersexual being and then surgically try to mold that person into that particular gender. To back up her claims, she gave some tragic examples of people ultimately committing suicide to escape the pain of feeling as if they were inferior due to their ambiguous sexual characteristics. More understanding, more communication and more sensitivity need to be applied when dealing with such complex issues.

I enjoyed the talk for the most part and it got me to think somewhat about my own ideas of gender. It seems that I have never truly questioned that I was a female and a girl and although I despise certain aspects of being a girl, I have more or less accepted it without too much internal agony. How much of my perceived gender and idea of self was nature? How much was nurture? If it is true and that on a biological spectrum of gender, with most of the people falling more or less in between the spectrum from being ultra female to being ultra male, where do I fall? Was I at one point more androgynous and only progressed towards being the girly girl that I am through years of being told (aka brainwashed) that I am a girl and I have to understand the roles that come with being a girl?

What if egads, I was born as a boy but with a small penis? And it was cut off? And now I think of myself as a girl without understanding my true origins?

Funny story - a person who by all accounts was a woman went to the doctor complaining of hernia. When the doctor opened her up, they discovered, not a hernia, but a pair of testes growing inside of her. They removed them promptly but thereafter decided that she is really a male. They pronounced her a homosexual pseudo-hermaphrodite because she was attracted only to males.

Where is the Juice?

Someone tell me how to become more energized.

1. Sleep more. Check. (7-8 hrs on avg.)
2. Eat more. Check. (I'm one of the biggest eaters I know)
3. Exercise. Semi check. (I exercise at least once a week, if not more)
4. Decongest my nose? Perhaps that's the key. Have more oxygen saturation in my blood. What a concept. I should take my zyrtec-D religiously from now on.
5. Have fun. Yeah, I remember having lots of energy when I went out to play. I guess the idea of work though, and all the accompanying drudgery has a way of sucking out the energy.
6. Get naughty. Hehe...
7. Take vitamins. What a drag....
8. Hm what else what else? Someone help me I need more energy in my system. Perhaps I should take up Tai chi.

The Big Score

I got my big score back yesterday! Suffice to say that I'm grateful for having made it over a certain number at least. I know my score is no wowser. It's not going to knock the socks off anyone. Yet I think my score is solid enough to demonstrate that I have what it takes to be in med school! =)

On to other news...

Yesterday after work I went to play tennis. Someone much much better than me has graciously offered to give me some lessons. He said I was pretty good! After being much abused by a certain someone else (whose name shall not be revealed) I'm very gratified to be told that I am quite above average for a beginner.

It's amazing too. Once he showed me a few tricks regarding how to hold the ball, I began to play so much better. There was more control in my strokes and I was able to keep up a decent volley. So anyway, I'm glad I went and hopefully I'll continue. I think I can make tennis a lifelong hobby. I see people in their 50's and 60's playing. I still have a good forty years to go.

Viola and Olivia came to town

This past weekend, two of my gal friends came to play. They arrived in DC late Friday night and earnest Emily was waiting for their call, what do the girls do? They shopped! They saw a sale at Benetton's and like a moth drawn to the fire, the two were lured into the store by potential bargain finds. 45 minutes later, they reluctantly boarded the metro to head over to Rockville, suburbia Maryland.

The next day, bright and early, we headed off to Viriginia and kayaked. It was my first time. We had a world class champion kayaker named John join us for the day's festivities. The kayaks sat very low on the water and were very stable. I really enjoyed propelling myself forward, although at times it was somewhat tiring. Also, Viola aka Jaws came bearing down me a couple of times, threatening with an evil grin to throw me into the water I had to use my paddle several times to push her away to avoid a collision. She was scary.

We saw a large bird, a blue herring. We also saw a beaver dam but no beavers. I sweated alot within my PFD (personal floatation device - a cool name for a lifejacket).

After kayaking, we had a sumptious lunch at a Thai place and then went shopping for the rest of the blissful afternoon. We all bought different variations of the same skirt at one store. Olivia had some good finds that day.

Sunday, we went rock climbing at Dick's. I made it all the way up to the top! For my efforts, I was rewarded a Rock On sticker. Viola and Olivia were pretty good for their first try. They made it about halfway up, with little effort, but then I think they got a bit scared. Viola especially was like a monkey at first, scampering up the wall with incredible ease. I was mucho impressed.

Anyhoo...I had a great weekend. Hope we get to do this again sometime!

I can sing!

Today I mastered a song. It's called Do Re Mi. I don't know how it ends because the song loops in on itself. So once I start singing this song, I can't seem to stop. But I can say that I wasn't half bad, for someone who was always musically challenged. =D

It goes like this:

Do, a deer, a female deer
Ray, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name I call myself
Fa, a long long way to run!

So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note that follows So
Ti, I drink with gingham bread
and that brings us back to DO OH OH OH...

Do, a deer, a female deer...

You see how you can't really end this song? It goes on forever. But it was very entertaining bellowing the song at the top of my puny lungs as I sped down the freeway today. All the cars parted to let me through. There was no traffic today! I wonder why....?

At some point

one has to be true to herself and understand her limitations.

There are people out there who seem to do it all. They can live on four hours of sleep a day, eat like a mouse, and accomplish such grandiose achievements like publish a book, start a company, run a marathon, feed hungry children, travel throughout Africa, volunteer at a clinic, etc. etc.

I am not one of those people. I understand my limitations. Sigh.. yeah, I know, that's not much consolation to me either.

Oldies

As I was driving to work today, I was listening to some oldie love songs. These are songs from the 60’s. They’re surprisingly good. The lyrics are simple and clever, but at the same time, they capture a poignancy that many pop songs today simply lack.

One song “Tennessee Waltz” is about how a woman loses her love to another friend during this waltz. She was dancing with her lover to the music when they run into a friend of hers. Her friend cut in on them and began dancing with her lover. And that’s when she knows that she has lost him forever.

Another song is called “Dear John” a soldier, so happy because the war was over and he was able to go home at last. Then he gets a letter and it starts with “Dear John, it pains me to say that I have lost my love for you. Today I wed another.”

Yet another love song has a woman singing that she was attending an ex’s wedding. She sees him stride down the aisle, with a smile, in his dashing manliness (okay that line was cheesy). Then she sings, “Your mother was cryin’. Your father was crying’. And I was too./ The tears were falling because we were losing you./I say goodbye to my happiness” Okay that’s all I can remember of the exact lines, but the song is very good. Catchy but sad at the same time.

Many old songs deal with loss, change of heart, feelings that were once there but no more. I wonder…most of the people who wrote these songs are now in their old age. Does that change anything at all? When you look back on your life and all the people you may have come across and then lost, what extra wisdom does old age bring? Does it bring relief from sorrows? Does the knowledge of impending end bring relief, freedom, or does it in fact add to the sorrow, the feeling of having lost something irreparably and that you must carry that regret and pain to your grave?

Father's Day Gift Ideas

Father's Day is coming up and since I've been kind of a grouchy daughter, I think I should try to make it extra nice to make up for my snappish moods recently...

Here's a list of ideas I came up with.

1. Tennis racquet - so I can go play tennis with Dad sometime
2. Burning some of my favorite music CD's
3. Print out some of Dad's latest pictures and put together a photo album for him
4. Buy Laputa and Wallace & Gromit DVD and Shrek 1 & 2 - Dad likes animated films
5. Something to do with writing because Dad likes writing articles
6. Magnet of a dog bopping head plus any number of "bodies" to pop on the head. You could put a dog head on a firefighter or a doctor's figurine body. I think my Dad will like this. He likes dogs and he likes little knicknacks.

Not a comprehensive list by any means. I want to try to be more creative this year though. No ties, no stupid golf-themed gadgets, no shirts, no "manly man" tools and gizmos, I am always very disappointed by what the stores have to offer in terms of Father's Day gifts.

Scrubs

Perhaps in a lamo effort to gain some medical insights and inspirations for my essay, I have begun watching Scrubs.

This show, more than any that I could recall, has made me laugh out loud. I like how they don't go for the easy points and therefore the flat humor. They always try to throw something unexpected at you. Dr. Cox, of course, is pure genius. His groucho act is one that I suspect can be sustained for a long time to come. But he’s a skilled enough actor to make you like him without becoming a sentimental rag.

JD or Zach – I think this role was made for him. That’s how well he has come to dominate the character of JD. I also like how he’s this goofy character who wants to be seen as cool and on top of the game, but everyone likes him precisely because he’s such a dork. Love thy dorkiness, for it can be a strength.

Elliot (Sarah Chalke aka Roseanne daughter #1) she’s funny but her neurotic act can get a bit tiresome. It’s probably not entirely her fault as that’s just the way her character is. But she definitely has her moments of glory.

Turk, he’s solid. I think his teeth are a bit messed up so they’re somewhat distracting. A jarring juxtaposition to an otherwise cute, affable face. But he’s got smooth dance moves and has the energy of a bunny on speed. I like Turk.

The janitor sort of creeps me out. I liked his little soliloquys, but overall he’s just this menacing character that pops in and out of scenes. I’m sure he’s got a real fan base or they wouldn’t have kept him on episode after episode. The bonus program informs us that his part is almost never written or scripted, that he ad-libs most of his lines. If that is so, that’s pretty cool I guess. Even though he looks like a dunce, he’s definitely not empty up there. I admire people who quip well, it takes a spontaneity that I wish I had more of. Maybe I should take up my improv classes again.

Anyway, I’m just working my way through Season I. I know there’s lots more to go through. I hope every season is as fun as the first one.

More childhood adventures

A small, lanky girl lay stretched out on a bed, hands splayed, legs straight, too afraid to move, almost too afraid to breathe. From head to toe, she was covered with two-inch long slender needles inserted into her meridian points. She only breathed a little easier when the doctor finally left the room, signifying the end of the needle applications. I was that girl.

At eight years old, I underwent a traditional Chinese medicinal treatment. For several years and more often than I cared to, I was stretched out on the couch, holding a wad of tissue to my nose, and laying a cold compress on my forehead, requisite care for a bleeding nose. I had a nose-bleeding problem.

For one whole week, twice a day, I went to a renowned acupuncturist and received acupuncture. In between the treatments, I had to drink an extremely bitter herbal medicine, brewed to a shiny, viscous black beverage. It was a painful week for a child.

Yet, to my own amazement, my nose-bleeding stopped after that week and to this day, has never recurred. As far as I can tell, the acupuncture treatment was amazingly effective. While I can not say that I enjoyed my acupuncturing experience, I have developed a newfound respect for this ancient practice ever since.

Achy bones

I went to dance class on Monday and joyfully pounded my feet to the music for about 45 minutes. Result? I'm limping around two days after, feeling sore all over. When did I become so rickety? I'm like a decrepit, aging American car teeter tottering on its last legs.

Not only that, but I feel like my body needs so much sleep. I don't understand how I can go to bed at 12 and still be struggling to wake up 8 hours later?!? Am I regressing to infanthood again? Will I soon be sucking my thumb and crawling around on all fours?

I wish I knew the source of my lethargy. Maybe I have too many anxieties battling for my attention right now and I quelch them all by burrowing into my pillow and zooming into Emily wonderland. Ahh, escapism. To sleep and perchance to dream! Shakespeare, he's a good man.

If I had more guts...

this would be the essay I'd write to med school.

The Ultimate AMCAS Essay by Daniel Guttman

I felt fortunate to awaken from my weeks-long life-threatening coma in the Zimbabwe orphanage in which I was raised from infancy, until I realized the building was ablaze. After evacuating all the inhabitants including any stray insects who were drawn to the flames, I doused the fire with a water pump I had improvised from an old accordion bellows (on which I often played Bach fugues a la Albert Schweitzer) and a bamboo-like plant I had discovered in the jungle. I named the plant Medusa Abandona after my now forgiven American born mother, who forsook me in my cradle, only after it turned out to be an unknown genus and promised to have exciting anti-cancer medicinal qualities as well. When I was convinced that everyone in the orphanage was safe, I escaped the holocaust in the solar powered wheel chair I had developed to give myself more mobility after the unfortunate accident I had as a child, breaking my seventh vertebra while wrestling a lion that had terrorized the village.

When I was seven, the only doctor within a 300 mile radius took me under his wing. I shadowed him for ten years, which was quite difficult when you consider the dense jungle foliage and lack of sunlight at ground level. The fact that he was a witch doctor should in no way denigrate his skills nor the efficacy of his spells. If you accept me into your next medical class, I intend to teach my fellow students a series of hexes that will eliminate the need for Viagra, Allegra, Grecian Formula and Formula 409.

Most of my adolescence I spent draining swamps, eliminating mosquitoes and generally reducing the malarial plague in three contiguous countries in equatorial Africa. It was only after saving the lives of ten's of thousands of people that I decided to become a doctor in hope that over the course of my career I might be able to save just a few more. The journey to medicine was difficult. It was a choice between being a doctor and being a shoemaker, but after I taught everyone in my village how to make their own shoes there was no need to pursue this noble profession.

Harvard was reluctant to let me go after I got straight "A"s as the first graduate in their new correspondence bachelors degree program but with five majors and 12 books to my credit they finally acknowledged (see attached letter) that they had nothing left to teach me. My economics honors thesis was entitled "Grade Inflation at Harvard: The Great Hoax."

Given my academic prowess, imagine then how mortified I was to receive only a 44 aggregate AMCAS score. Those of you at AMCAS reading this, who may have contributed to writing the April exam, should be ashamed of yourselves. In the passage on "Halitosis" you referred to the sufferer as having "bad breadth". The patient could certainly be circumferentially challenged but I assumed a typo had been committed and that you meant he had "bad breath" and answered accordingly. My fellow hapless examinees' incorrect answers to question 39 should be stricken and the exam be recalibrated accordingly.

In short, becoming a doctor may seem humdrum and a come down compared to my life so far, but I am willing to unlearn a few things so I won't be so far ahead of my fellow medical classmates. And don't worry about my disability; I can still perform an angioplasty and thread several needles while doing 500 one-armed finger pushups.

This essay was written by Daniel Guttman, a long-suffering parent of a medical school applicant, and is reprinted here with his permission. He is also the proud father and creator of Cartoonjazz.com which has some of the best medical, educational and other downright hilarious cartoons this side of the funny papers. They make great gifts for graduates, would be graduates and slackers as well for anyone who knows or has ever heard of the above. Go to cartoonjazz.com and enjoy or call 732-283-8700 and kvell.

A happy childhood memory

So I was just whining (per usual) to my boyfriend about how stressed out I am about writing my application essay. And my precocious boyfriend responds with (what else?) "Why don't you become a doll fashion designer?"

Yes, non sequitur conversations practically are the essence of our relationship.

But as I thought more about it, I realize that designing doll clothes really is a lot of fun. I remember as a girl, I was about 9, my grandmother used to spend summers at our house and would keep my sister and me company. She was already in her 60's but she kept up with us with amazing vigor. She would play badminton with us, she taught my sister how to ride a bike (maybe she taught me too, but my sister was somewhat slower to pick it up than me) and we often took long walks in the park. On some days, we took a rolling suitcase with us and ambled to the public library to stock up on books. My grandma also liked to make zhong zi for us and other sweets. She was very conscientious about taking care of us and always nagged us to cover up our abdomens, so as to not "catch a cold drift." Curiously enough, whenever I didn't heed her advice and let my stomach be exposed to wind, I would shortly get a stomach-ache. It is still true today. Psycho-somatic or true Chinese pearls of wisdom? I still don't know.

On rainy days, Grandma would sit with us and help us sew clothes for our poor barbie dolls. Since we were not a rich family, my mom couldn't exactly afford to buy barbie houses and loads of barbie clothes. But we were still lucky enough. We were never deprived. We at least did have barbies. I remember that she'd, being a Grandmother, would sew very old-fashioned, stodgy clothes like a green vest and knee length shorts. Practical as ever, she figured her duty was done if she saw these dolls get clothed, looking good was another matter. Sometimes her eyesight would fail her and she would ask me or my sister to put the thread through the eye of the needle for her. It was always so easy for me, and it was hard to understand why it was difficult for her. I chalked it up to the fact that she was just old.

At night, sometimes we would watch Chinese soap operas. I remember Grandma had a habit of using the toothpick to pick her teeth after meal times. I don't think she was overly conscientious about dental hygiene otherwise, but she had really good strong teeth and never had to get dentures.

I also remember when Grandma sometimes laughed, and she doesn't laugh often, she would laugh until she teared up, her face collapsed in helpless giggles. She was always very soft to the touch and I liked grabbing her arm and then telling her, Grandma, how come your skin is so soft? She always seemed pleased and smiled and said, I don't know. Just because. I now realize that old age has made her muscles deteriorate until her flesh became soft and pliant. But despite her age, she remained very smooth and wrinkle-free. She had dark skin, but it was very good skin. I like to think that I have inherited some of that from her.

Now that I think back, Grandma was really very active and versatile for her age. Before the onset of a painful disc inflammation in her spine, she was always up and about and kept up with us kids with relative ease. She would stay up with me during the time when I was beset by coughing for a good two weeks. It always came on at night and would keep me up for hours. It was so painful. I went to see every pediatrician in the county. My grandma would help take care of me during those horrible nights and worried as much as my parents, if not more. Later when she had her disc inflammation, she was immobilized and bed-ridden. We were too young to do much but we tried to help, patting her with our ineffectual fists, trying to massage her pain away. She always told us that it helped, even though it may be more to ease us. She was in so much pain, she couldn't walk. We took her to California to have acupuncture done. While there, I was also forced to undergo acupuncture for the treatment of my nosebleeding. It was a very nightmarish week, but being the brave little girl that I was, I always got a lollipop after each acupuncture session.

Wow, talk about stream of consciousness. I have to admit that I haven't thought about these memories in a long time now. But I am still very grateful for having lived through them and having been loved by my Grandmother so fiercely, so protectively.