I worried about this as a senior. Would I be happy with just two science classes a semester, or could I tack on a third? Should I take such-and-such a class for a grade or not? What classes would get me an easy A? Did I want to write papers? Did I really have to take that class with the four-hour lab? Would I have time for sleep, food, and myself? I thought about all this as I cooked little meals at my little dorm kitchen. It was so much to choose from, and it confused me. I almost wished I could just be told what to do, to take some of the weight of the constant cost/benefit analysis off my shoulders.
Hahaaa.
Little did I know that, come next year, I'd be dying for just the tiniest taste of the uncertainty that comes with having choices.
Things are completely different now. Long, long gone are the days of choosing between this difficult class or that one, this easy class or that easier one. Every class and lab I take has been chosen for me, and every single one is something I would never voluntarily have taken as an undergrad. I spend five days a week in a building from 9 -5, listening to overly dense lectures or gingerly flaying strips of rubbery skin and stringy muscle from a formaldehyde-soaked cadaver. I didn't choose the hours, the classes, or the professors. I will say that I expected it. I understood that this was to be a part of it. But I didn't expect ALL of it. I don't think anyone did. When exams draw near, I have time for nothing. Being able to sit down to eat is a luxury. A hot, home-cooked meal is an extravagant impossibility.
Remember to eat, just enough to live. Toast, toast, toast. Peanut butter.
Remember to drink enough water, or else my nose will bleed. It's happened.
Remember to get coffee on the way.
Remember not to shudder when I see an unfamiliar, wan face in the mirror, each eye carrying its own little bag.
Life pushes down from all sides until there's just no room for me anymore. I must shove "me" to the side, shove it underneath a comically mammoth backpack, piles and piles of papers, mismatched pairs of shoes and socks. I will take care of it after the exam is over.
Now my problems have nothing to do with choices. I know everything I must do. What I don't know is how I'm going to get there.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Things I've become thankful for that would have seemed inconsequential months ago.
1. Coffee
I've always liked coffee. It's got that unmistakeable, untameable bite that latches onto your tongue and shoots up into your brain like some crazy-ass panther. Adding cream merely throws a thin, lovely fog over that wonderful sharpness. It mixes in without covering it up. Cinnamon is the perfect sprinkling of gunpowder to top it off.
2. Hot food
Trying to satiate myself when I'm in a rush is becoming a lot more difficult than I ever thought it could be. Sandwiches, granola bars, and the like can be nourishing and filling, but I find that there's nothing satisfying about biting into cold food when I'm exhausted and starving. My dry mouth and its thickened saliva are unable to fully process the cold chunks that I've desperately bitten off, and I feel no further motivation to continue chewing.
But hot food. Oh, there is really nothing like sitting down and feeling searing heat travel agonizingly down my throat, lightly burning every nook and cranny of delicate epithelium in its path. Hot soup. Hot stir fry. Hot ramen. Hot pocket. There's no need to be picky as long as it's hot. "Heat" should have its own space on the food pyramid.
3. Free food
Imagine this scenario: You've been slaving over your lab table or some textbook or mammoth binder or just any sort of inhumanely monumental task. You realize that the odd pain that has been grinding in your stomach is hunger. You search in your bag, and, lo and behold, you've brought everything - laptop, charger, textbooks, change of clothes, sneakers, hairties, gum, makeup - except food. In such desperate times, you would be glad to eat even the stalest, coldest cereal bar to mysteriously materialize in your backpack. You stumble into the communal kitchen and open the fridge. Your bleary eyes scan other more well-prepared people's yogurt, cold noodles, and salads guiltily before focusing on a mysteriously shrouded platter marked with "PLEASE EAT." Well, you think, you didn't even have to ask. And whatever is inside is, without fail, delicious and fills you with tear-inducing relief and happiness.
4. Finishing early
Even 5 minutes can make a huge difference. I consider the happiness gained in finding an extra minute to that of finding a dollar on the street. A minute = $1. In just one minute I could read a paragraph of a book, skim a magazine or fashion blog, buy myself a treat to go, stand in the shower just a bit longer, sit in the sun.
5. Being told that I look nice.
When I feel my mind and body slowly unraveling as I continue to push myself past endurance, trying my to tie up my loose ends isn't so bad when I'm told that I appear to be doing a decent job of it. I've already decided that I'm going to do at least a bit of makeup every day, just to keep myself feeling human. This isn't saying that humans are defined by their looks and ability to superficially dress up. I'm speaking for myself.
6. Being able to put everything away and just go to bed
This requires no explanation.
I've always liked coffee. It's got that unmistakeable, untameable bite that latches onto your tongue and shoots up into your brain like some crazy-ass panther. Adding cream merely throws a thin, lovely fog over that wonderful sharpness. It mixes in without covering it up. Cinnamon is the perfect sprinkling of gunpowder to top it off.
2. Hot food
Trying to satiate myself when I'm in a rush is becoming a lot more difficult than I ever thought it could be. Sandwiches, granola bars, and the like can be nourishing and filling, but I find that there's nothing satisfying about biting into cold food when I'm exhausted and starving. My dry mouth and its thickened saliva are unable to fully process the cold chunks that I've desperately bitten off, and I feel no further motivation to continue chewing.
But hot food. Oh, there is really nothing like sitting down and feeling searing heat travel agonizingly down my throat, lightly burning every nook and cranny of delicate epithelium in its path. Hot soup. Hot stir fry. Hot ramen. Hot pocket. There's no need to be picky as long as it's hot. "Heat" should have its own space on the food pyramid.
3. Free food
Imagine this scenario: You've been slaving over your lab table or some textbook or mammoth binder or just any sort of inhumanely monumental task. You realize that the odd pain that has been grinding in your stomach is hunger. You search in your bag, and, lo and behold, you've brought everything - laptop, charger, textbooks, change of clothes, sneakers, hairties, gum, makeup - except food. In such desperate times, you would be glad to eat even the stalest, coldest cereal bar to mysteriously materialize in your backpack. You stumble into the communal kitchen and open the fridge. Your bleary eyes scan other more well-prepared people's yogurt, cold noodles, and salads guiltily before focusing on a mysteriously shrouded platter marked with "PLEASE EAT." Well, you think, you didn't even have to ask. And whatever is inside is, without fail, delicious and fills you with tear-inducing relief and happiness.
4. Finishing early
Even 5 minutes can make a huge difference. I consider the happiness gained in finding an extra minute to that of finding a dollar on the street. A minute = $1. In just one minute I could read a paragraph of a book, skim a magazine or fashion blog, buy myself a treat to go, stand in the shower just a bit longer, sit in the sun.
5. Being told that I look nice.
When I feel my mind and body slowly unraveling as I continue to push myself past endurance, trying my to tie up my loose ends isn't so bad when I'm told that I appear to be doing a decent job of it. I've already decided that I'm going to do at least a bit of makeup every day, just to keep myself feeling human. This isn't saying that humans are defined by their looks and ability to superficially dress up. I'm speaking for myself.
6. Being able to put everything away and just go to bed
This requires no explanation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
