I love Scrubs. 'Nuff said. It sucks the sound is a little off, but you get the gist. The premise of this episode is that this woman (actor Stephanie D'Abruzzo...from Avenue Q on Broadway?) hears singing all around her - a result of a giant brain aneurysm that had to be operated on immediately. Although fictitious, I like the familial/humanist vibe that this show offers. Plus it's just so very clever! I know my life as a future doctor won't be nearly as peachy keen...but I'd like to think that I won't be too jaded to break into showtunes once in awhile!
Oh, and for those of you nerds like me who were curious about the medical lingo in the song:
We're as close as --The vena cava and the aorta!
We're best friends just like --Amoxicillin and clavulanic acid!
The tibia, the fibula! The left and right ventricle!
A hypodermic needle and a latex tourniquet!
Diverticulitis and a barium enema!
Monday, November 26, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Things to get off my chest
So yeah, I really hate venting about myself, but sometimes it feels so damn good, and this way, I don't have to bug anyone close to me about it. So read at your own discretion.
It's been a pretty tough year and a half for me. Obviously nothing compared the atrocities that happen to people on a daily basis, or having a life of "hard knocks." I'm comfortable, my life is stable, and I have a supportive family network. No doubt that I keep that in perspective.
But do you ever wonder why your body might respond better to an amputated leg than a paper cut? Your psychologically and physically go into overdrive for huge traumas...but the little ones usually don't trigger enough of a response and just continue to nag you until one day you're like DAMMIT go away...something to that effect. Basically, I have learned a ton about myself and about other people and I feel a responsibility to impart what little wisdome I've acquired to my invisible public.
For example: I'm not a huge "loyalty" person. I don't believe in the wolf-pack mentality. We were born to think with our heads and not to just go with the majority. Every person has a right to judge for themselves what is right and wrong about others, and how they want to behave. But if you're going to talk shit about someone I don't like to me, don't let me catch you being friendly with them later like you didn't just badmouth them. That's just hypocritical and superficial (saying whatever to anyone so they will like you) and it reflects worse on you than on the person I originally had issues with. It's even worse if I didn't even provoke the badmouthing when I probably had plenty of reason to. Moral of the rant? If you know you want to maintain an even artificially friendly relationship with someone, it's better just to say nothing bad at all. It's not about loyalty. It's about sincerity, to others and more importantly, to yourself.
But somehow that reasoning gets me in trouble. Despite neither joining a wolf pack nor trying to appease everyone, I still managed to make enemies and threaten others and get caught in the crossfire. Or maybe be a source of the crossfire. And I'm not saying I'm a saint, because I'm far from it. But I can't help but wonder what exactly it is I do to drive people away. For one thing, I seem to be a source of constant power struggles. I've always believed in the democratic approach and I usually defer to the majority...but just about every time I've had to make a major decision, someone comes under me and changes it up, making me look like a fool when I'm the last to find out. What's that about? Am I really that unapproachable that people can't just talk to me? Do people just want to be in charge and "can't seem to get rid of Jess the pest?" Or was my ultimate decision so horrible that it has to be completely changed so as to confuse everyone? I could chalk it up to bad luck I guess, bad timing, people wanting things done drastically differently than I...or maybe it's that I'm defensive and take things personally. Guilty as charged. But it's a little hard not to, when it happens constantly. Just rhetorical questions to no one in particular.
Anyway, so those are my dilemmas of the moment. But otherwise I'm perfectly happy. I'm in a good place in my life, and I'll leave it at that. It's just refinement from here on out :)
Happy Thanksgiving! I have much to be thankful for this year in particular.
It's been a pretty tough year and a half for me. Obviously nothing compared the atrocities that happen to people on a daily basis, or having a life of "hard knocks." I'm comfortable, my life is stable, and I have a supportive family network. No doubt that I keep that in perspective.
But do you ever wonder why your body might respond better to an amputated leg than a paper cut? Your psychologically and physically go into overdrive for huge traumas...but the little ones usually don't trigger enough of a response and just continue to nag you until one day you're like DAMMIT go away...something to that effect. Basically, I have learned a ton about myself and about other people and I feel a responsibility to impart what little wisdome I've acquired to my invisible public.
For example: I'm not a huge "loyalty" person. I don't believe in the wolf-pack mentality. We were born to think with our heads and not to just go with the majority. Every person has a right to judge for themselves what is right and wrong about others, and how they want to behave. But if you're going to talk shit about someone I don't like to me, don't let me catch you being friendly with them later like you didn't just badmouth them. That's just hypocritical and superficial (saying whatever to anyone so they will like you) and it reflects worse on you than on the person I originally had issues with. It's even worse if I didn't even provoke the badmouthing when I probably had plenty of reason to. Moral of the rant? If you know you want to maintain an even artificially friendly relationship with someone, it's better just to say nothing bad at all. It's not about loyalty. It's about sincerity, to others and more importantly, to yourself.
But somehow that reasoning gets me in trouble. Despite neither joining a wolf pack nor trying to appease everyone, I still managed to make enemies and threaten others and get caught in the crossfire. Or maybe be a source of the crossfire. And I'm not saying I'm a saint, because I'm far from it. But I can't help but wonder what exactly it is I do to drive people away. For one thing, I seem to be a source of constant power struggles. I've always believed in the democratic approach and I usually defer to the majority...but just about every time I've had to make a major decision, someone comes under me and changes it up, making me look like a fool when I'm the last to find out. What's that about? Am I really that unapproachable that people can't just talk to me? Do people just want to be in charge and "can't seem to get rid of Jess the pest?" Or was my ultimate decision so horrible that it has to be completely changed so as to confuse everyone? I could chalk it up to bad luck I guess, bad timing, people wanting things done drastically differently than I...or maybe it's that I'm defensive and take things personally. Guilty as charged. But it's a little hard not to, when it happens constantly. Just rhetorical questions to no one in particular.
Anyway, so those are my dilemmas of the moment. But otherwise I'm perfectly happy. I'm in a good place in my life, and I'll leave it at that. It's just refinement from here on out :)
Happy Thanksgiving! I have much to be thankful for this year in particular.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Dear Architects (An Open Letter)
For personal reasons, I find this article hilarious. I look forward to writing one about doctors in the future, because I'm sure I will fall into the category of obsessed professionals who are married to their jobs and are incapable of thinking or talking about anything else...
...but at least I'll be able to admit it and accept it when my friends will inevitably make fun of me. And then I'll give them free prescriptions for narcotics and antibiotics and they will love me again :)
Annie Choi is a fantastic writer. I wonder if she's done any other stuff like this..
"Once, a long time ago in the days of yore, I had a friend who was studying architecture to become, presumably, an architect.
This friend introduced me to other friends, who were also studying architecture. Then these friends had other friends who were architects - real architects doing real architecture like designing luxury condos that look a lot like glass dildos. And these real architects knew other real architects and now the only people I know are architects. And they all design glass dildos that I will never work or live in and serve only to obstruct my view of New Jersey.
Do not get me wrong, architects. I like you as a person. I think you are nice, smell good most of the time, and I like your glasses. You have crazy hair, and if you are lucky, most of it is on your head. But I do not care about architecture. It is true. This is what I do care about:
* burritos
* hedgehogs
* coffee
As you can see, architecture is not on the list. I believe that architecture falls somewhere between toenail fungus and invasive colonoscopy in the list of things that interest me.
Perhaps if you didn’t talk about it so much, I would be more interested. When you point to a glass cylinder and say proudly, hey my office designed that, I giggle and say it looks like a bong. You turn your head in disgust and shame. You think, obviously she does not understand. What does she know? She is just a writer. She is no architect. She respects vowels, not glass cocks. And then you say now I am designing a lifestyle center, and I ask what is that, and you say it is a place that offers goods and services and retail opportunities and I say you mean like a mall and you say no. It is a lifestyle center. I say it sounds like a mall. I am from the Valley, bitch. I know malls.
Architects, I will not lie, you confuse me. You work sixty, eighty hours a week and yet you are always poor. Why aren’t you buying me a drink? Where is your bounty of riches? Maybe you spent it on merlot. Maybe you spent it on hookers and blow. I cannot be sure. It is a mystery. I will leave that to the scientists to figure out.
Architects love to discuss how much sleep they have gotten. One will say how he was at the studio until five in the morning, only to return again two hours later. Then another will say, oh that is nothing. I haven’t slept in a week. And then another will say, guess what, I have never slept ever. My dear architects, the measure of how hard you’ve worked and how much you’ve accomplished is not related to the number of hours you have not slept. Have you heard of Rem Koolhaas? He is a famous architect. I know this because you tell me he is a famous architect. I hear that Rem Koolhaas is always sleeping. He is, I presume, sleeping right now. And I hear he gets shit done. And I also hear that in a stunning move, he is making a building that looks not like a glass cock, but like a concrete vagina. When you sleep more, you get vagina. You can all take a lesson from Rem Koolhaas.
Life is hard for me, please understand. Architects are an important part of my existence. They call me at eleven at night and say they just got off work, am I hungry? Listen, it is practically midnight. I ate hours ago. So long ago that, in fact, I am hungry again. So yes, I will go. Then I will go and there will be other architects talking about AutoCAD shortcuts and something about electric panels and can you believe that is all I did today, what a drag. I look around the table at the poor, tired, and hungry, and think to myself, I have but only one bullet left in the gun. Who will I choose?
I have a friend who is a doctor. He gives me drugs. I enjoy them. I have a friend who is a lawyer. He helped me sue my landlord. My architect friends have given me nothing. No drugs, no medical advice, and they don’t know how to spell subpoena. One architect friend figured out that my apartment was one hundred and eighty seven square feet. That was nice. Thanks for that.
I suppose one could ask what someone like me brings to architects like yourselves. I bring cheer. I yell at architects when they start talking about architecture. I force them to discuss far more interesting topics, like turkey eggs. Why do we eat chicken eggs, but not turkey eggs? They are bigger. And people really like turkey. See? I am not afraid to ask the tough questions.
So, dear architects, I will stick around, for only a little while. I hope that one day some of you will become doctors and lawyers or will figure out my taxes. And we will laugh at the days when you spent the entire evening talking about some European you’ve never met who designed a building you will never see because you are too busy working on something that will never get built. But even if that day doesn’t arrive, give me a call anyway, I am free.
Yours truly,
Annie Choi"
...but at least I'll be able to admit it and accept it when my friends will inevitably make fun of me. And then I'll give them free prescriptions for narcotics and antibiotics and they will love me again :)
Annie Choi is a fantastic writer. I wonder if she's done any other stuff like this..
"Once, a long time ago in the days of yore, I had a friend who was studying architecture to become, presumably, an architect.
This friend introduced me to other friends, who were also studying architecture. Then these friends had other friends who were architects - real architects doing real architecture like designing luxury condos that look a lot like glass dildos. And these real architects knew other real architects and now the only people I know are architects. And they all design glass dildos that I will never work or live in and serve only to obstruct my view of New Jersey.
Do not get me wrong, architects. I like you as a person. I think you are nice, smell good most of the time, and I like your glasses. You have crazy hair, and if you are lucky, most of it is on your head. But I do not care about architecture. It is true. This is what I do care about:
* burritos
* hedgehogs
* coffee
As you can see, architecture is not on the list. I believe that architecture falls somewhere between toenail fungus and invasive colonoscopy in the list of things that interest me.
Perhaps if you didn’t talk about it so much, I would be more interested. When you point to a glass cylinder and say proudly, hey my office designed that, I giggle and say it looks like a bong. You turn your head in disgust and shame. You think, obviously she does not understand. What does she know? She is just a writer. She is no architect. She respects vowels, not glass cocks. And then you say now I am designing a lifestyle center, and I ask what is that, and you say it is a place that offers goods and services and retail opportunities and I say you mean like a mall and you say no. It is a lifestyle center. I say it sounds like a mall. I am from the Valley, bitch. I know malls.
Architects, I will not lie, you confuse me. You work sixty, eighty hours a week and yet you are always poor. Why aren’t you buying me a drink? Where is your bounty of riches? Maybe you spent it on merlot. Maybe you spent it on hookers and blow. I cannot be sure. It is a mystery. I will leave that to the scientists to figure out.
Architects love to discuss how much sleep they have gotten. One will say how he was at the studio until five in the morning, only to return again two hours later. Then another will say, oh that is nothing. I haven’t slept in a week. And then another will say, guess what, I have never slept ever. My dear architects, the measure of how hard you’ve worked and how much you’ve accomplished is not related to the number of hours you have not slept. Have you heard of Rem Koolhaas? He is a famous architect. I know this because you tell me he is a famous architect. I hear that Rem Koolhaas is always sleeping. He is, I presume, sleeping right now. And I hear he gets shit done. And I also hear that in a stunning move, he is making a building that looks not like a glass cock, but like a concrete vagina. When you sleep more, you get vagina. You can all take a lesson from Rem Koolhaas.
Life is hard for me, please understand. Architects are an important part of my existence. They call me at eleven at night and say they just got off work, am I hungry? Listen, it is practically midnight. I ate hours ago. So long ago that, in fact, I am hungry again. So yes, I will go. Then I will go and there will be other architects talking about AutoCAD shortcuts and something about electric panels and can you believe that is all I did today, what a drag. I look around the table at the poor, tired, and hungry, and think to myself, I have but only one bullet left in the gun. Who will I choose?
I have a friend who is a doctor. He gives me drugs. I enjoy them. I have a friend who is a lawyer. He helped me sue my landlord. My architect friends have given me nothing. No drugs, no medical advice, and they don’t know how to spell subpoena. One architect friend figured out that my apartment was one hundred and eighty seven square feet. That was nice. Thanks for that.
I suppose one could ask what someone like me brings to architects like yourselves. I bring cheer. I yell at architects when they start talking about architecture. I force them to discuss far more interesting topics, like turkey eggs. Why do we eat chicken eggs, but not turkey eggs? They are bigger. And people really like turkey. See? I am not afraid to ask the tough questions.
So, dear architects, I will stick around, for only a little while. I hope that one day some of you will become doctors and lawyers or will figure out my taxes. And we will laugh at the days when you spent the entire evening talking about some European you’ve never met who designed a building you will never see because you are too busy working on something that will never get built. But even if that day doesn’t arrive, give me a call anyway, I am free.
Yours truly,
Annie Choi"
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