MEDitating

Oh Chicago...
Had I been the responsible adult I'm supposed to be, I would have the tickets booked by now...
but it's such a fucking drag!
The closer September gets, the less desire I have to visit that city.

Am I weird for that? You know, for not liking Chicago?
It's humid. Parking is expensive as shit. Food is... eh. Their taste in music is... debatable. And their toll roads can go suck a dick (hmmm... did someone get a ticket? Not just ONE, but FIVE!!!)!

I had originally planned on being there for the entire month of September, but that's just insane. I'm starting to think three days is over doing it.
I visited the midwest last year, and that was enough.
But I promised the birthday girl I'd go to her cute little party... so I can't go back on my word.

I think I'm also dreading this trip because the girl's dad, aka my godfather, is a doctor.
The man's on the Harvard Med admissions board... and he doesn't go easy on me. The man has been grilling me about medical school since I was in middle school.
You know, you can't go off having any sort of distraction... parties... jobs... boys... all off-limits if you want to get into med school. It's not easy... you better start NOW.
Last year I sat in the kitchen talking about "my dreams" for about four hours... until I almost cried, but acted super interested in the behavior of a squirrel that was running up a tree by the window.

It's not that I can't handle med school... no, actually, that's part of it.
I don't think I can handle it, because I'm sure by the second week in, I'd be researching rope sturdy enough to hold my limp body from a ceiling.
My mind can handle med school, but not my soul.
It makes me miserable, absolutely miserable, to study that shit (medicine, not suicide... although researching that shit must be depressing, I'm sure). I don't sleep, I don't eat, and all I do is vomit... because I want to ace shit.
I can pass, I don't doubt it, but see... what good is it going to do me if my heart isn't in it?
I can handle the studying and all that bullshit, which appears to be what everyone around me suspects I can't handle, but the point is: it doesn't make me happy.
That environment makes me depressed... angry... downright despicable.

Also, I get far too affected when I bump into people entering the medical field for the simple fact that it pays well, not because they want to help people. It's upsetting. Here we have people needing help with their pain, and Dr. IdiotAssholeWithConnections over here doesn't give a fuck... he just wants to get paid and go on his merry way.
You be the change, AnoMALIE.
Seriously? How fucking naive do you think I am? The greedy assholes far outnumber the good-willed.

Can I use MY connection? Damn fucking straight I can, that's what Godfather wants me to do. I also have the score to get in most med schools... not to mention, I'm a PRO when it comes to kissing ass on essays, but do I want to do it? Hell fucking no.

It took me 17 years to realize it, but once I accepted I didn't have to go to med school like everyone else had planned for so damn long, I convinced myself it would be ok not to pursue it.
It's about time I make myself happy... who cares if others think my happiness is found in the stupidest thing in the world (oh boy, and do they). I like... art... all forms of it. I'm the happiest person imaginable when surrounded by it... even if it's 3 in the morning and I have to turn in a 15 page story in 7 hours and I only have 2 pages written down. I LOVE it. Drawing until my palms are raw from rubbing against coarse paper for hours makes me happy. Taking photos of the craziest shit that no one understands fucking completes me.

I have ONE life to live... and I don't want to spend it in a sterile environment, hating myself from the moment my alarm clock goes off, to the moment I pass out unconscious on my pillow. I don't want to face misery every single day.

Others think I'm stupid for doing this? Fuck them... I'll school them in whatever subject they prefer, shut them the fuck up whenever they want...
unless that person baptized me as a baby...
then I just sit there and stare at squirrels-- wondering if they're friends with chipmunks-- as I fight back tears.

Oh yea... this is going to be a blast.