White Coat Ceremony

My parents were nice enough to fly out for my White Coat Ceremony (and on my dad's birthday nonetheless!) Unfortunately, I had finals a few days later so I pretty much only saw them once a day when they took me out to dinner (hey, a girls gotta eat.) I must say, getting our white coats makes this whole PA thing seem a little more official. If only I didn't feel like such a man. Seriously - only about 10% of my class is male, but they make us all wear man coats? They're ridiculously boxy and most of the girls look like they're drowning in them. Not to mention the fact that it's completely disorienting to try and button it up. Who in the world decided that men and women should button their clothing in opposite directions?!



My main study-buddies Mike and Brooke.



My sushi-friend Danielle.

Mother Nature is Grossing Me Out Today.

Since I moved to Arizona I have been acutely aware of the fact that there are a lot more bugs and animals here than in Utah. It's not uncommon for me to see a couple of frogs or a jack rabbit on the short walk from the parking lot to the school.

That I can get used to.

What I can't get used to are the scorpions, cockroaches, grasshoppers, crickets, etc. that scurry across your path or the huge disgusting flying insects bouncing off the windows at night. They create a loud incessant hum in the air which, after a while, starts to grate on your nerves.

Today was worse than usual.

I was walking in to school at 6am this morning when I heard a loud "pop." Looking down, I saw what I thought was a crushed food item on the floor. Not so. Looking closer, I saw several little legs that were still twitching. I had stepped on a huge cockroach. Disgusting. It was the length of my thumb and twice it's width.



I was still shuddering when I walked into the library and sat down near a window to study. Less then 1 minute later a bird slammed into the window 2 feet in front of me. Sick. You may think, "What? It was just a bird." Yeah. Well have you ever seen Hitchcock's bird movie? It's freaky. Huge flocks of birds break through people's windows then peck their eyes out and proceed to brutally murder them. Yeah. Birds. Birds are freaky.

The Drive

I used to LOVE driving. There's nothing like turning up the tunes and singing at the top of my lungs for inordinate amounts of time.

Yeah... Not so much anymore.

I'm pretty sure the drive from SLC to Mesa is the longest drive of all time. Especially when you're driving by yourself and you have no clue where you're going. (Okay, probably only when you're driving by yourself and you have no clue where you are going.)

I didn't have much of a plan when I left that morning. My dad told me it would take 10-11 hours so I figured I'd just follow my trusty GPS. However, when I switched it on, the "fastest route" was 14 1/2 hours! Looking closer, I realized that it was routed through Las Vegas, so I tried the "shortest route" which was about 11 hours. Umm yeah, that's awesome how the "shortest" route was 3 1/2 hours faster than the "fastest" route. I should have seen that as a sign of things to come. Nevertheless, I naively started on my way, really having no idea where I was going, but trusting that my GPS would get me there.

Yeah, not so much. About an hour and a half into the drive my GPS instructed me to take an exit. It seemed a little early, but I had no clue where I was going so who was I to argue with the electronic voice? As I coasted to a stop at the bottom of the exit ramp, I was instructed to get back on the freeway. Seriously? Okay, just another little glitch in the system, no big deal. Yeah, no big deal until it started telling me to take every other exit and then get right back on the freeway. What? Is that supposed to make the route "shorter" or something?!

Frustrated, I switched off my "trusty" GPS and found the nearest Quicky Mart where I could call someone to get some real directions while I bought some sunscreen for the terrible sunburn and heat rash I was already starting to develop.

After obtaining more reliable directions and slathering on some sunscreen, I started on my way again. It wasn't too much longer before I made another stop to eat lunch and purchase gas in Podunk, UT. I found endless amusement in the fact that while the women's restroom didn't have a tampon machine, they did have a condom machine (with 4 different flavors, nonetheless.) Ahh, society these days.

Back on the road again, I decided to listen to a book on CD my roommates gave me as a going away present. It didn't take long, however, before I was completely confused. The plot made absolutely no sense. For the life of me, I could not figure out what type of writing devices the author was trying to utilize. You bet I felt pretty stupid when it took me over half an hour to realize that my CD player was on "random." Awesome. That's a half hour of my life I'll never get back.

In the end, I did make it in one peice. I'd like to thank my ipod, the book on CD, Paco (my trusty Corolla), and Diet Coke with Lime.

I would also like to NOT thank my GPS.

Jen, In Real Life

So the other day I saw the movie Dan, In Real Life. In an attempt to show how sad, lonely, and pathetic his life is, one of the shots at the beginning is of Dan lying on a big bed next to a stack of books which have obviously taken up permanent residence. I had to laugh when I realized that scene was an exact replica of my own bed. Should I be offended? What exactly are they trying to insinuate anyways?

This Book is Not Yet Rated

Is it just me or does anyone else think books should be rated? I can say that I've never seen a rated R movie, but I can't say that I've never read a rated R book. In fact, I'm pretty sure that a large portion of the books I've read over this past year would have been rated R. I try to skim over things but I'm pretty sure it doesn't make that much of a difference. I have been swearing up a storm lately and I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the books. (Because I like to shirk responsibility like that.) Now I know I can't claim that I've always made the most pristine of vocabulary choices, but my customary hells and damns are nothing compared to the words that have been popping out of my mouth as of late. (But does it really count if you're in your car and the radio's blasting and no one's around to hear you?) In an attempt to clean up my act I banned myself to only LDS books... But let's be honest, that's just not cutting it. So, tell me, have you read any good books lately?

Conspiracy Theory

My phone decided to self-destruct 3 days after the warranty expired.

Coincidence?

I think not.

Just call me Janet.

You might as well. 95% of the patients at work do.

Seriously, 95% of the people I talk to on the phone call me "Janet" after I announce myself as "Jen at Dr. Walker's office."

I'm sorry but, "This is Janet Dr. Walker's office?" That just doesn't make sense.

No matter how hard I try to enunciate it doesn't make one bit of difference. At this point, everyone in the office knows who they're referring to when they ask for "Janet." We don't even try to correct them anymore. It has become easier for me just to assume a new name.

We the American people have some serious deficiencies in the listening skills department.

And the Winner Is...

Many of you have been wondering where I am going to grad school.

I myself have been wondering the same thing.

For a few months, I was set on going to Pennsylvania. I was really excited about the program there: it's the shortest, I don't have to do an ounce of research, I can do international rotations to wherever I want to go, I would get the chance to travel all over the east coast, and they have had the highest test scores in the nation for several years running. (When they consistently achieve a 100% first-time pass rate with the average score in the 98th percentile you know they're doing something right!)

Unfortunately, things just weren't working out. The roommate I had lined up fell through unexpectedly and I was having a hard time finding another one. (Housing was so expensive I was even seriously considering living with two unknown males... I don't know, but I'm pretty sure my bishop might have a problem with that.)

I was also becoming increasingly discouraged by the fact that I was committing social suicide. (Because let's be honest, I've already hit social rock-bottom after all the drama I've been through over the last couple years and I really can't afford to sacrifice any more of my "youth" to the inevitable isolation of being the only single LDS adult within a 40 mile radius. My personality already started to shrivel years ago and I'm really not so sure how much of it is still salvageable at this point.)

Add those factors to several other unmentioned concerns and I was starting to feel pretty darn discouraged.

That's when the school in Arizona called to offer me a spot in their program.

Now, you would think I would have been excited... But no sir-ee. Not me. I totally started crying. I didn't want to have to make a decision between the two schools. I liked the program in Pennsylvania better, but was it really worth it if I was miserable and alone? Not to mention the fact that we all know how hard it is to distinguish between what we want to do and what we're supposed to do.

Finally, after five drama-filled days, I made my final decision. And the winner is.....



ARIZONA!

I am moving to Mesa next month to start the program the first week of June! I am so excited to be starting sooner and to be living closer to friends and family. I'm also looking forward to warmer weather (okay, probably a little too warm,) la comida mexicana, cold cadavers, and above all, the fact that I get to drop Bio 100. (Hence the reason the aforementioned "flurry of posts" never came to pass. You might have to wait until I start grad school for that event to take place.)

Announcing My Return to Blogdom

This blog originally began not because I have anything of interest to say, but merely because it was the most time consuming means of avoiding homework and the GRE.

Hence the reason I immediately stopped blogging the moment I walked out of the GRE testing center.

Unfortunately, it was recently brought to my attention that my admittance to grad school was conditional on me taking Bio 100 this semester. (Don't ask me how I forgot something that important - Hallelujah for Independent Study!)

As a result of the impending Biological crisis, it's back to the books, and with that, back to the ultimate procrastination enabler: blogging. You can expect to see a flurry of new posts over the next month or two as I strive valiantly to avoid doing my homework, thus effectively prolonging the misery.

(Side rant: Seriously, is it really necessary to take Bio 100? What pertinent information can I possibly learn that I haven't learned in the 5 million other pre-reqs I've already taken?)

Identity Crisis

I must be having some sort of major quarter-life crisis. In the last couple of days I have seriously been considering not only going sky diving, but moving in with a couple of guys whom I've never met.

Let's start with the sky diving. "Sky diving?" you think to yourself, "that's not that big of deal." Right. It really isn't. Except for me. Have you ever met me? I'm pretty much the least adventurous person of all time. Not to mention the fact that I like to stay grounded. Have you ever seen me dance? I am not a jumper. You are much more likely to find me writhing around on the dance floor than trying to mess with gravity. Gravity is not to be messed with.

Second, moving in with two random guys I don't know. I was planning on living with another girl from Salt Lake when I went to grad school, but she just emailed me out of the blue to inform me that she decided to live with some other girls (I have a sneaking suspicion that it's because I'm LDS and she's already had her fair share of our kind after living in Salt Lake, but I suppose I can't be too offended because I've never met her and we only exchanged a few brief emails.) Anyways, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to find other roommates at this point (and I really can't afford to live on my own) so I was starting to get kind of worried, when one of the guys from my program offered me a spot with him and one of the other guys. For the first hour or so after I received his email I couldn't stop laughing. Then, I started to think, hey, that actually doesn't sound like that bad of an idea. They would probably let me have the master bedroom with a walk-in closet and my own bathroom and it would be nice not to have to live with all of the drama that comes from living with females. Not to mention the fact that I would have two built-in bodyguards that I could manipulate into doing manly things for me like opening my pickles, hanging my pictures, and moving my furniture. Of course, there's always the possibility that they are smelly, raucous and vulgar, but hey, I've met my fair share of smelly, raucous, vulgar females so it's a toss up really.

So yeah, between sky diving and the roommate situation, I keep finding my old-self asking my new-self in complete and utter disbelief, "Who are you?" I have to admit that it has taken me almost an entire week to talk myself out of both, and I can't say that I've completely succeeded. Sky diving is pretty much out, based purely on financial reasons (I just found out that none of my federal taxes were withdrawn from my paychecks last year. Yeah, uh-huh.), and the roommate situation is pretty much out for the sake of my parent's psychiatric and cardiovascular health... Pretty much... But who knows, really, because apparently alien life forms have invaded my body.

Seriously? Who am I? I hardly recognize myself these days. Next thing you know I will be agreeing to go on more than 2 dates with the same guy... But don't worry, if it ever goes that far I will be sure to get some serious help.

Have I mentioned that I am NOT a morning person?

I didn't notice until after I got to work this morning that I was

wearing one black shoe and one brown shoe. Sweet.

"And why," you ask in bewilderment, "do you own not just one, but TWO pairs of orthopedic shoes?"

"Because," I reply sheepishly, "I went on a mission, became addicted to Dansko's and now I can never go back. (No matter how ugly they may be.) Why do you think I'm going into health care? For the simple fact that orthopedic shoes are socially acceptable... Not just acceptable, expected really."

If I were a zoo animal, what would I be?

I love asking my 4 yr. old nephew questions because I know I'll get an honest response. The other day when I asked him what color my hair was, it turned out to be a lot harder question than I had anticipated. I was expecting him to simply respond either blonde or brown, but this time he really had to think about it.


"Ummmm........" he paused, furrowing his eyebrows and giving it deep consideration before finally responding, "brown with white stripes."


Sweet. Brown with white stripes. Good to know. Now I can't get this image out of my head every time I think about my hair.

Praise to the Man

“Faith in something greater than ourselves enables us to do what we have said we'll do, to press forward when we are tired or hurt or afraid, to keep going when the challenge seems overwhelming and the course is entirely uncertain.” ~ Gordon B. Hinckley