Paging Doctor Fa….

February 28, 2010

“And you know you’re never sure
but you’re sure you could be right
if you held yourself put to the light.”
– Smashing Pumpkins

So a while ago, sweet sweet Mulpskis asked me to write a post. A serious post. A post about what I see myself doing in the future. Man, now doesn’t that sound like one of those dreadful, tedious college supplement questions? In fact, it is. So perhaps in writing this post, I’ll have a clearer idea of what I would write for my answer. Talk about killing two birds with one cute shiny pebble.

My future. Well, considering that I’m a pre-med student, I should want to be a doctor, right? Funny thing is, I don’t know if I want to be, but I’m going to try to be one. A dermatologist to be exact, but don’t hold me to that. I also think I’m going to major in Communications and minor in Chemistry or Anthropology. If all else fails, I can go into PR. That’s what I really want to do, but not really.

So, do you understand? No? Well, that’s because I don’t either. Let me give it another shot:

I want to be a doctor for all the wrong reasons. School until I’m thirty? Cutthroat competition? Long nights of crying? Waste of my youth? I don’t care. All I care about is the security, the set salary at the end of the long, long road. I’m also dead scared of not going to school anymore after college. I need school. I don’t know anything else. I guess I’m going to blame it on the way I was brought up. Financial success, not happiness, has been the goal drilled into my head as far back as I can remember. I still consider happiness to be my top priority, but monetary gain is a close second. I’ve always been afraid to admit that because people automatically transform me into some superficial, unworthy bitch (pardon) in their minds. I’m not selfish. I’m not conniving. I’m going to work for it.

Wait, what? I should grow a spine and do what I actually want to do? Yeah… no.

The fact is, there is nothing that I am passionate about. I mean, Chemistry really excites me, but come on now. I’d rather be in a room full of balloons than be a chemist. So my passionless life just encourages my decision because, well, what else am I going to do?

So in my future (let’s talk thirties (yes, the whole ten years)), if everything goes well, I see myself finishing my last years of residency and starting my own clinic, hopefully already married to some dude, and with a kid or two. I’m a pretty traditional chicka. I can’t wait to get married. I want children (two). I’m going to have a place in the city, but also a cute suburban house near the city, where it’s appropriate for my kids to grow up. I’m going to be part of a cute country club and travel a lot. My kitchen’s going to huge and stocked all the time. My family is going to be perfect.

Basically, I want to be a wasp.. maybe? Haha, oh dreams.

Did that make more sense? Kind of? Here goes my last shot:

There isn’t much that I feel I need
A solid soul and the blood I bleed
But with a little girl, and by my spouse,
I only want a proper house

I don’t care for fancy things [<– partially true]
Or to take part in the freshest wave,
But to provide for mine who ask
I will, with heart, on my father’s grave

On my father’s grave
On your father’s grave

I don’t mean to seem like I
Care about material things,
Like a social status,
I just want
Four walls and adobe slabs
For my girls

So there you go. I just want to be able to provide for myself and my family and even my friends. Jesus, I’m never going to get into the schools if I answer like that.

On a whole other note, I just found out if I do stay here next year, I have a SWEET living arrangement. I was going to have an (in my opinion) even better arrangement, but my roommates overruled my decision. So I would have a triple. 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a kitchen, huge closets, laundry machines in the room, and a living room… and my roommates said I can be the one who has the single room and bathroom. So, it’d be like having the most amazing single ever. Oh, and there’s a spa, Starbucks, and Subway downstairs. I’m personally most excited about the subway. I’m going to be kind of upset if I leave now.

A little tidbit about me: I love going out to dinner. Let’s go out to dinner.

Dr. Suess

(I know that’s not how you spell his name).

I have been reading the journals of Sylvia Plath and man, do I love and hate her. Her incessant complaining and ranting about such insignificant matters reminds me of myself. What a lovely  quality to possess, right? When and how did I become so neurotic? I don’t know, but it’s really bothering me (haha). Thing is, I know I shouldn’t complain. I know I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I really need to get some roommates or something. Don’t worry, I won’t go gas myself (although that’s probably the most painless way to go) with my children sleeping in the next room and breakfast made (as dear Sylvs did). I’d probably eat the breakfast first.

Jokes! 🙂 What I do admire about her, though, is her wit. I always admire wit in any person. That and humor. Which one more, I’m not sure.

Right now, I’m eating soy sauce flavored rice crackers… how asian of me. I haven’t really hung out with anyone for almost three weeks because I’ve just had so much to do and I wont be free for another week or two. I hate my antisocial periods. I’m going crazy with myself. Sleep> social life at the moment. I need human contact… but not really because I’m very irritable right now. The fact that I broke my laptop last week didn’t help either. I spilled milk all over my keyboard and then I started typing like a re… So, I’ve been cooped up in the library during all free hours until 2 or 3 am every night doing work with no service on my phone. I actually liked it, but thank god for my new computer. The screen’s very bright and kind of make my eyes go wacky, but that’s all right. My most unreliable friend ever also suggested that I get iWork instead of Word… WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. Now I can’t make smiley faces and arrows on my word documents (not that I ever make the smileys, but I always make arrows). Also, the format is all different and large and I have to export each document a million times to make it a real document. What the shit. Who likes that?

Sorry sorry sorry for the rant rant rant as always always always. February is almost done. I promise sanity is coming.

A little tidbit about me: I love to watch really bad shows and movies. I think they’re really funny and wish life were like them.

Oh!! I can’t believe I haven’t even mentioned the RECORD snowstorm we had earlier this month. It was SHITTY but I got a 11 day weekend out of it hehehe. It’s slowly getting warmer and warmer yay!!! Well, that means in the high 30’s, but whatever.

I take that all back. It just started snowing out. I hate weather… and I just realized I mentioned the storm in the previous post… uh.


It’s All About the V

February 13, 2010

It’s about time, right? Unfortunately, I only have about ten minutes to write.

I just diagnosed myself (with Matthew’s help, of course) with seasonal depression… except mine only comes in the nasty four weeks of February. For the past three years now, February has been the worst four weeks of the year. I don’t know why, but nothing goes well and I just hate everything. I become really antisocial and don’t like to go out or meet anyone new. Winter’s just too long.

Also, I’ve been very busy lately with catching up on work… I have a 11 day weekend (two more days left :() because of the MASSIVE storms that hit this city… that’s longer than my spring break, jesus christo.

Nothing’s been really going on. Just little things that annoy me. I’m also very irritable this month, I guess. Yikes, month long PMS. I’ve started doing yoga about a week and a half ago and I’m trying to go around 4 times a week. An hour and a half of yoga in a 95 degree room. I want to die every time I go. It really hurts me. I want to cry and break down when I do it. Why do I go? I don’t know anymore, but I already paid for the whole month, so I have to go. I hate when I trick myself into doing these things. However, I really like it. I never make sense. I know.

So there is this guy that talked to me at yoga the other day. It really annoyed me. Now he won’t stop calling me because, turns out, he works there and got my number from the system. He’s actually calling me right at this instant. I think that is very creepy. I do not like.

I have to get ready for dinner. Later tonight, I’m going to a frat’s date night with a complete stranger. I don’t wanna. I just want to sleep. I’m like a big grumpy childish bear in February.

I know you guys wanted me to write something along the lines of my dream house/future stuff, and I will. Apologies for this horrible pathetic post. I just wanted to put something up because this thang has been inactive almost a month to the day.

A little tidbit about me: I have the LOWEST heat tolerance ever. Maybe that’s why I hate yoga. I also have trouble sweating a lot. During yoga, everyone is dripping puddles and all nastay while I’m just pleasantly damp.

Happy Valentine’s Day!Su