12 January 2010

Brain Explosions

That was a bit grim of me. But I've been so bored the last few days (apparently two Summer School papers is not enough to keep me occupied? Bring on Semester One) that I've spent a great deal of time watching late 80s gymnastics videos (Daniela Silivas is a perennial fave), which inevitably develops into watching early 80s, late 70s, and of course - the glamour years - early 90s. Nothing like a bit of Mo Huilan to cheer up your Tuesday.

More exciting news? I got a text today telling me I need to stop buying Threadless tshirts. It was from my mum, and it's in light of the fact that apparently two more shirts arrived at my home in Hamilton this morning. That is to say, Blooming has finally arrived! Does this mean I am going to stop buying them? Probably not. I have a few more lined up...

The Great Debate rages on: am I ever going to apply for medicine?

For most of my life, this has been a largely internal debate. On one hand - of course I should, I've been fascinated by the concept of being a doctor since I knew what one was. Before you ask, yes, I do know that being a doctor is not like being on Scrubs (if only, right?) or Grey's Anatomy. I know that it's six years of university, followed by specialisation - in my case, oncology or immunology, followed by a lifetime of continual learning, struggling, and maybe dying unhappily because I never cured, or contributed to the cure of, AIDS (you've heard this before). And yes, I still want to do it. Even though I'm 23, sick to death of being a student with no money, and dead set on going to Japan next year. It's my dream, guys. What's life if you give up on your dreams?

And then I'm like, oh nah - who am I kidding? I won't get accepted, and if I do, by the time I even finish I'll be thirty - which only leaves me ten years (until my death at 40, obviously) to win a Nobel Prize and have "Emeritus Professor" prefixed to my name. There are other ways to live well. I don't have to be a doctor. There are other things in life.

So you see? My head is a bit of a hot mess right now. And it has been since I missed an interview for medicine in 2005 by 1%.

Consider my dilemma then when I recently met a 25-year-old "surgical resident" (don't know the difference between surgeon and surgical resident? Nah, me neither. Nor do I care that much). Yeah, read it again, and weep. Twenty-five years old, and practicing surgery. SURGERY! It's almost too much for my under-developed brain to process. You guys know I think medicine is the holy grail of professions, right? Well, surgery is like, the holy grail of holy grails. Not just any old medicine student becomes a surgeon. And this guy did it by 25. This time next year, I will be less than a month off 25. And I can guarantee you I will not be practicing surgery this time next year. It's heavy stuff.

Of course, in a state of drunken stupor, I told said surgeon of my own medicine dreams. So now we must add his argument to the table: that of course I should apply for medicine. Of course I should. And we all know what a sucker I am for other peoples' opinions, right? We all know this very post is going to end with, "Should I apply for medicine, guys?"

Maybe I should just do it. It's not like I'm going to get my Nobel Prize if I don't even try...

Did you like that? A "surprise" ending to my post. I'm sneaky.

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