Spring Break

Nothing like eating at your desk, realizing you need a napkin, and finding one lying on the table. It's like a Christmas day miracle. But I digress...

Woken up by my allergies this morning at six. Stuffy nose and sneezing up the wazoo. Instead of getting up and doing something like a productive person, I tossed and turned in misery before picking up my kindle...which only compounded my misery. Several days ago, I was perusing the NY Times Bestselling list and found some kinky romance novel that sounded promising --- Fifty Shades of Grey. Garbage. Utter garbage. I've read better fanfiction. Which is pretty much what this is. Cross out the name Christian Grey every time you encounter it and pen in "Edward" and you have some pretty inspiring Twilight porn...except without quite as much blood fixation. As atrocious as it is, I can't stop reading and unfortunately for me, it's a trilogy. The author's favorite word is apparently "convulsions", and for the life of me, I cannot fathom how that can ever be...pleasant...let alone desirable. Anyways, I spent my morning reading about epileptic sex.

I have a Korean oral exam in a little more than an hour, but really, how do you study for an oral exam? My listening skills are awful. I can't understand what most people are saying even when they're speaking English. BUT, apparently, I have the verbal fluency skills of an ADHD kid on crack. I passed the Stroop test with flying colors when I was getting screened for dementia. Can I get a "woot woot"? Just got an email from my supervisor giving me the day off. DOUBLE WOOT WOOT.

Spring break pretty much started on Wednesday for me, after my Nervous System midterm, my pre-college RA interview, and my Korean written midterm. By the grace of God, my Orgo midterm was moved to the Thursday after break. Phew. So, I decided to double up on clinics Wednesday evening. I went to Shepherd's then after that, tried out the Baltimore Rescue Mission Clinic with WPHLS. I'd always wanted to go but never got the chance. I've heard conflicting viewpoints about it, some people telling me it was the best experience of their lives while others told me they were exposed to TB and were going to die within a week. Needless to say, I was intrigued.

We get to the clinic downtown and park shady-like by the side of the road. The clinic is on the third-floor...I think, and we pass through what looks like a dining hall and cabin bedrooms of a run-down summer camp. Apparently, the clinic is in something like a homeless shelter. When we finally make it upstairs, there are already several people there. Some are obviously Hopkins students, but there are a few people milling about in white doctor's coats who have the bright-eyed, self-assured look of medical students. The one doctor in the room quickly calls everyone to attention.

"Any newbies here?"

Uhhh...I get pushed out into the spotlight. Along with another girl, I'm sequestered off to the side and given a quick three-part crash course in medicine.

1.) SOAP:

Subjective: The patient's chief complaint. This made me very glad I took HERU courses. Gotta bust out my OPQRST and...other stuff I've since forgotten.
Objective: Vitals, etc. Hard facts and numbers
Assessment: This was the best part! After we interview the patient and gleaned all the relevant information we could, we get to present the cases to Dr. Dalton.
Plan/prescription: Dr Dalton then precribes treatment accordingly.

2.) This is where the drugs are. This is where the gloves are. This is where the goggles are. That's the bathroom.

3.) This is how you get HIV. Don't get HIV.

I'm like "Uhh...are we going to be actually interacting with patients by ourselves?"

"Oh, you'll be in groups." Titi reassures me.

Great.

We are ushered back into the group just as they were leaving to enter the waiting room. Dr. Dalton is the nicest man I have seen in a long time. He asks us to each introduce ourselves to the patients and leads us in a quick prayer before clinic begins. "Things always go better when we start with prayer."

Then patients are assigned. Well, not so much assigned as...start walking and wait for two/three students to attach themselves. There was an awkward moment where two people tagged onto a man and I wasn't sure if I was to follow so I stood around helplessly until a seasoned worker caught my eye, gestured at the side room with her arm, and firmly said: "GO."

Yes'm!

I've never had the opportunity to actually interact with a patient before. It was amazing. I don't know how much I'm allowed to say (Who really remembers all that HIPAA stuff?) but I'll err on the side of caution and focus more on what I observed from a social perspective. The patient was very respectful even though it was obvious that he was faced by four inexperienced college students. We had a small netbook for writing down relevant information. From the beginning, we were plagued with technical difficulties. While two students figured out the computer, Jess and I talked to the patient. He looked tense, twitchy almost, and it turned out that he had a history of anxiety which led to a mild case of claustrophobia in the crowded room. I guess what really bothered me was that the two students on the computer kind of acted as if the patient was not there. No small talk, no eye contact, just pointed questions followed by furious typing on the computer, then murmured comments to themselves, to the other students, but never the patient. RUDE.

The worst part came later when our patient had already been assessed by Dr. Dalton. We realized that in our noobness, we had not taken the patient's vitals. The patient was showing signs of agitation and he was clearly not feeling well. He started complaining about how the clinc/shelter was infested with bedbugs and promptly took off his shirt and plucked one off for us to see. The student who was on the computer recoiled in horror. I'm like "Calm yo titties." He then runs off to grab a sandwich bag to get a sample and show the doctor. When he returns, the patient is worse. The student then informs the patient that we need to take his vitals. The patient is irritated and demands to know why we didn't do it earlier. The student, who's been at the clinic before, hands me a stethoscope. I'm like "Whuh." Hello, first time at clinic and I'm clearly incompetent. I don't even know what a full vitals work-up entails.

The student: "You've never taken blood pressure before right?"
Me: "Um, nope. "
He hands me the stethoscope.
Him: "Now you can learn."
He leaves.

What the fuck.

We've already established that the patient has a fever. He's not feeling well, he's agitated, he's claustrophobic and stuck in a small space. People keep on crowding into the exam room to talk to him and he is now visibly upset. Now is not the time for you to give me that shit-eating, smug-ass grin of yours and tell me to bumble-fuck my way through an examination on a distressed patient. As I hesitate, a medical student senses my unease and comes over.

"What's wrong?"
"I've never done this before."

Med student is calm.

"Don't worry, I'll walk you through it."

He introduces himself to the patient. He brings me over. However, after introductions are made, he also senses that the patient is somewhat less then pleased. I quickly explain the bedbug situation and the claustrophobia. At this point, the patient is loudly exclaiming: "FILTHY. This place is FILTHY." The med student, all casual-like, gives me a reassuring nod and gestures me out. He takes care of the problem.

Now I will be the first to admit that I have no balls. None. Not even a travel-size. Still, I'm always open to get my hands dirty (unless it involves spiders) and learn. However, I do believe there's a time and place for everything. We're at a clinic. The patients have come to get treatment. The priority is the patient's comfort, not my own learning. This asshole student with an inflated sense of self-importance acts like the clinic is a classroom where his amount of "experience" (namely, more than mine) entitles him to act like a pretentious prick and grants him the ability to graciously bestow learning opportunities on the peons around him. That is unacceptable. I may have been overly sensitive because as the patient got more and more worked up, my nerves were getting increasingly stretched out. I'm like "Aaaaah, he's not happy. Why don't you guys care that he's not happy, let's make him happy, I must do somethinggggg." When other people are not happy, I feel like I've failed the world in some way. But that's just my own neuroses speaking.

My own biases aside, the Baltimore Rescue Mission Clinic was one of...medical experiences I've ever had. Being the noob, I was assigned to present the case to Dr. Dalton. I know I'm just stringing words together and I'm practically gushing in my own excitement, but there's just something about attempting to speak doctor talk that makes you want to thump your chest and say, "Yeah. That's right. I'm the shit." And the assessment of the patient is interactive. Dr. Dalton asks us what we think the important facts are -- the "hints". Then he asks us how we would treat these causes and symptoms. Actually, he doesn't just ask. He points at you and demands to know the answer. This is particularly unfortunately when you've spaced out because you were too busy eying the cookies on the desk with ardent longing. (But I got the answer right. Find it before the arthritis sets in! I've now much more knowledgeable about Lyme disease.) After you've presented your case, he asks you to respectfully listen and weigh in on other cases as well. My goblet of glee runneth over.

In the end, we did get to help my patient. We got him new clothes, bed bug killing shampoo, and the prescriptions he needed. I talked to him before he left, just to apologize again for the frenetic atmosphere and my own lack of experience. He was very understanding and even apologized to me. For what, I don't know, but when he thanked me for my time, it felt good. Fulfilling. Almost as fulfilling as getting on my knees and scraping the adhesive off that hardwood floor at Remington Outreach. But very near to that feeling of ecstasy and satisfaction.


It's experiences like these that make me question then reaffirm why I want to be a doctor. I'm still thinking, more details on that later. But for now, I'm thankful for these opportunities and hope to keep them coming.

Okay, off to class. Need to start packing/cleaning soon. -___-. Boston, Philly, NYC with my sister in less then 24 hours! Watch out food of the world. Soon you will GET IN MY BELLY.

Best Text Convo I've Ever Had

I'm at work right now, but this was brilliant so I had to post it before I accidentally deleted the text. I'm scanning teleforms when I get a text from a number I don't recognize:

Her: Baby? Are you up?
Me: who is this?
Her: What? Are you with your wife?
Her: Marissa of course baby.
Me: Get thee behind me, Satan!
Her: Huh?
Her: Oh this must be her. Tell my man I said to call me.
Me: YOUR MAN?? Bitch, I will cut you.
Her: Sorry I think I texted the wrong number I was looking for 5515 not 5155 I really apologize...Hungover
Me: Aww, it was fun while it lasted. Have a happy adulterous life! :)


No joke. That is the exact conversation transcribed word for word. Made my day. I think I'm going to make it a habit to text random numbers now and start drama.

"WHO IS SHE. I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL"

Ok, back to work...

UPDATE: Her: "Haha! You so funny!!"


UPDATE 2: So, I was talking to Clinton who says " I suppose now you know the number she was going for...you can warn him". And this gets me thinking of all the ways we can mess with Marissa's poor unsuspecting lover.

Should I text him and say "I know your secret?"

How about "I want a divorce." ?

My personal favorite, coordinate a group a people to text him, one letter at a time, "A-D-U-L-T-E-R-E-R". 

BRILLIANT.

Any suggestions?

Trauma in the Lab

I'm supposed to be taking notes on the Orgo reading right now (I even have the book open to the right page in front of me, honest) but I still can't get over the trauma I just experienced. Allow me to provide a little background:

I used to work in the Yantis Lab so I'm pretty familiar with behavioral experiments. I have a friend who works in this particular lab so sometimes I agree to be a subject over ere too. Two weeks ago, I sign up for a "Learning & Memory Research Study". Sounds innocuous enough. $10 for thirty minutes? Sweet, I'm in.

Fast forward to today, when I go in to actually do the task. I'm told it's an "emotional study" and instructed to rate a series of images on an emotional scale of 1-9. A "1" would denote a very negative emotion, while a "9" would indicate a very positive emotion. Ok, cool, I got this, easiest $10 ever made.

The pictures start off simple enough -- food, scenery, animals. I give these 5-7s, I love my food, and I love my animals...sometimes at the same time. Then, they start presenting pictures of mummies, guns, and crime scenes. I'm like "YAY, CSI" so I give these 6-7s. Suddenly, out pops a picture of a GINORMOUS black widow. It's not exactly a secret that I am scared of spiders. People are just unaware how bad the phobia is. To my credit, I hardly flinch, and I press "1". I start giving myself a pep talk: "OK, got the spider over and done with. No more spiders. You can do this." Then, I notice some of the pictures are repeating. At this point, I get the sinking feeling in my stomach and I'm growing more and more resigned to -- "OH FUCK". Second giant picture of a black widow. I furiously mash on the "1" key. I know there are going to be more, but I reassure myself that I can handle a few pictures of black widows. I keep on going. About thirty pictures later, I'm still going strong, mentally steeling myself for the next picture of a black widow. I'm feeling confident and proud of myself for persevering.

 BOOM. GIANT PICTURE OF A TARANTULA.

I scream.

In my haste to get it off the screen, I may have pressed the "5" key. I do a few more pictures, but I can hardly look at the screen because I just KNOW there's going to be more. My hands are kind of shaking when I push open the door.

"Excuse me?"

Nice lady from the lab comes out.

"I'm kind of deathly afraid of spiders. Do you know how many more picture there are of them?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. There should be about three pictures. Yeah, we probably should have asked about phobias beforehand."
"I might have seen them all then. So two black widows and a tarantula?"
"Umm...well, three of each."

FUCK THIS SHIT.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't think I can do this."

While I apologize profusely, she reaches behind me to close the task, which is still running pictures every 2.5 seconds. She gives me a voucher for $10, which I try to refuse because I didn't finish the task. She insists. Apparently, finishing the task is not a requisite for being paid. Personally, I think she just felt sorry for me because I was visibly shaken. By the time I peaced out, I'm a twitchy, paranoid mess.

This is just the latest episode in a long saga of spider-related traumatic events. I've been afraid of spiders for as long as I can remember. When I see them around the house, I am paralyzed with fear and scream for help until my parents come rescue me. I've been known to run out of the shower dripping and naked. You have no idea how much scarier spiders are when they are only blurry black blobs moving on the wall. And I'm not just afraid of the real deal, I can't even look at pictures of them.

When I was in grade school, I told some asshole boys I was scared of spiders. They thought it would be hilarious to stick the Giant Illustrated Book of Spiders in my cubby. When it came time to go home, I needed to grab my homework from my cubby but couldn't get close enough to take the papers out. I cried. Boys got 45 minute detention. Ha.

In fourth grade, we had to read a story in the textbook called "Fear Factor". There was a giant picture of a tarantula on the cover page. Dale, the nicest boy with the largest hands, covered the picture for me until we turned the page. I've always liked Dale.

Middle school, boys (what's with boys and being douchenozzles) flashed pictures of a spider at me from across the classroom until I cried.

When my cousin came over to visit, my Dad took us to go see a vintage car exhibit. The adjacent exhibit was a Spider Exhibit. My Dad has always believed that I needed to try to get over my fear so he insisted that we go in. I'm tense as hell and keep my eyes fixated on the floor. All of a sudden, I hear my Dad say, "Catch!" and see a glimpse of something flying at me. Without thinking, I scream, bat it out of the way, run outside, and cry my little eyes out until my Mom came to collect me. I think my Dad got the dog house for that one. I recently brought this up when, on a road trip, my Dad tricked me into looking at a giant Black Widow replica someone had stuck to their car door. He says, "I don't remember that." ASSHOLE. My mom was like "Nope, that definitely happened." My sister says, "Oh yeah, that was hilarious."

Also, there was the time I was teaching in Taidong, Taiwan when I suddenly saw a tarantula nonchalantly creeping across the classroom in the back.  "FUUUUHH. WHAT IS THAT." One boy casually reaches out and smacks the tarantula with his slipper. I'm close enough to see its legs go flying. I thought the situation had been defused, then one boy decides it would be funny to scoop up the remains into a dustpan and chase girls around with it. As the authority figure in the room, I should have stopped it, but technically, I had already hied the hell out of there. My TA, who was a native Taiwanese man, was like "Stop running, it'll encourage them".  To which I replied, " I CAN'T. TARANTULA." To my credit, I did not cry.

There was a period in my life where I was not as scared of spiders. I was gradually desensitized by overexposure in Thailand and Taiwan. But I think having gone two years without seeing one in person in Baltimore has brought me right back where I started. Why can't I go to Australia? LOOK UP THE AUSTRALIAN SPIDER. Just thinking about it almost caused a mental breakdown.

Anyways, for those of you who think it would be funny to try to scare me with a spider...don't. I'm serious. I will scream, cry, curse you out, beat you to the ground, unfriend you on Facebook, and never speak to you again. In that order.

God, I'm still seeing spiders everywhere. (shudder) OK. Back to Orgo.

There and Back Again in 20 Hours

Headed down to So-Cal yesterday morning It was a trip that was conceived of months ago, cancelled recently, and miraculously brought back to life again in the final hour. I was supposed to drive down with Vicky to see Priscilla's Young Guild Artist Recital, but we cancelled at the last moment because of a failure to plan until the last second. I had just come to terms with not heading down when my Dad suggests that we go down as a family. I'm like "That's crazy. Where are we going to stay?" But my Dad was undeterred. "If you want to go that badly, Daddy will find a way." OK, I'm fictionalizing a bit here. The real conversation went a little more like this:

Me: "SCREW THIS. I'm just not going to go. Rawr."
Dad: "We could drive down together. It would be great family time."
Me: (glare) "You're an idiot. Where would we stay."
Dad: "We could get a hotel."
Me: "WE PO. NO."
Dad: "...I'll make a few phone calls."

So Dad makes a few phone calls to some church friends who moved to Irvine a few years ago. Unfortunately, both families had just come up to NorCal for a wedding. So the plan to go down south was cancelled yet again. But, since they were both up in the saner part of California, of course we would have to meet -- so dictated by the Asian Code under paragraph 10, section 3, under the heading "20 Years of Friendship". We invite them over for lunch, my mom cooks up a storm (of which I had little to no part because they started cooking at 10 AM. Such an ungodly hour).A good meal merits good conversation and lunch soon became dinner. Grandma Zhu insisted that we let her treat. Now, I like these families (which is not usually the case with my Dad's church friends), and these families like me (which I find absolutely terrifying) so I didn't mind spending the whole day with them. At Ma Jia Guan (a restaurant with amazing knife-cut noodles and giant sesame cakes...OK, too many parentheticals? I'll stop.), conversation veers again towards So-Cal. All of a sudden, LK Aiyi turns to her husband and says: "Give them the key." Her husband doesn't even blink and gives us the key to his house. HIS HOUSE. And after that, it was pretty much settled. We were going to So-Cal.

The trip down was great. My Dad had stayed up until 3AM keeping track of the Taiwan presidential elections. Dr. Ma was re-elected, thank GOD. We started off the trip on a good note. Anyways, I drive the first one-third of the way, which was disturbingly enjoyable. I mean, driving an average of 80 mph and weaving around trucks and slower vehicles? BOMB. I think I hit 95 mph at one point. Yeah, I know. Some of y'all assholes out there are going "Pfffft. 95? Small potatoes." Well shaddup, this is MY moment.

We get into Irvine at around 4:30PM. By this point, my Dad needs to poo something fierce and I also have a somewhat urgent need for the bathroom. We pull up to LK Aiyi's house and I hear my Dad exclaim "HALLELUJAHHH!" as we all race to her front door. Things were gloriously slow-motion-esque as my Dad puts in the key...turns the...can't turn the...Oh hell no. She gave us the WRONG key. My Dad calls her to explain the situation, she is mortified and tells us to go around, check all the windows, try climbing through the back...all of which we do to no avail. My Dad, who is quickly reaching the breaking...bursting...point, piles us all into the car and makes his way towards the closest shopping center. He drove like a maniac under the control of terrorist bowel movements.His savior came in the form of Kohl's. While he's finding sweet release over a porcelain nirvana, my Mom immediately starts shopping. -__-

I call up the Changs, who are the family we actually came down to see and ask them to Google hotels in the area for us. Nehemiah promptly invites us to stay at their house. Now this is the BUSIEST family in the world. They have church duties, people milling in and out of their house like they own the place, and on top of all that, after her performance, Priscilla is leaving for Baltimore the next morning. We protest but really, at the moment, we see now other choice (besides a shit-expensive hotel). Now, as also dictated by the Asian Code, we go to Ranch 99 to buy a box of pears....and an orchid. My Dad's a fruit.

We get to their house and it is apparent from the moment we enter that chaos is afoot. We decide that we most DEFINITELY cannot stay and cause more trouble. Coincidentally, we run into Cynthia Aiyi, who is another friend from church. She invites us to stay at her place, which is (also coincidentally), a house she is renting from ANOTHER church friend. Once all that was settled, we set off for dinner.

Dinner was Bruxie's, some place I found on yelp that serves waffle sandwiches. Amy would be so proud. When we got there, we ran into some people from the Chang church. Turns out, the recital hall is right across the street. The food was delicious, I'll get the pictures from my Dad later. But mm, chicken and waffles, pulled BBQ pork, Irish nachos...good respite from the craziness of two hours ago.

Priscilla's performance was amazing. I stayed awake through the entire performance...which is a huge compliment. It was a group recital with another boy...something de Fazio, which I remember because it's a freaking cool last name...who played the cello. Anyways, amongst all that class, the Wangs were finding it hard to fit in. My mom made me giggle when during the cello performance, the piano accompaniment hit a very obvious sour note. She made such a face of mortification. Then it was giggle loop time. My Dad start pantomiming his interpretation of each song...which always involved a cat, a mouse, and divine intervention. Oh man, class was abundant.

After the performance, I had a splitting headache. Ok, less splitting, more slow, spinning nausea merry-go-round of DOOM. After stopping off at the Changs to drop off the pictures from the performance, we head over to Cynthia's place. When we're almost there, she says, "Man, I hope they have extra blankets." At this point, I'm curled up into a fetal position of misery. My Dad's like, "If there are not blankets, let's just drive home." We get there, there are blankets, but NO WHERE TO PARK. Guh. Apparently, the apartments are close to UC Irvine and they prohibit parking to prevent a massive take-over by college students. Next thing I know, we're heading back up I-5.

Yeah, I'm majorly devastated that we didn't get to ride the hot air balloon, didn't get to experience the much-extolled virtues of Newport Beach, didn't get to gorge ourselves at Gen, but I'm still thankful for the great time I had with our parents. We were trapped into a little careening vehicle of death for twelve or so hours with no internet to cockblock us from real conversation. Yes, three of those hours were dedicated to politics, but still...family bonding time. Bottom line: I had a blast catching up with the family after a semester apart, I got to support a good friend...and see a show that will probably cost me a LOT more in the future teehee, and I stumbled upon great news. >:]

No regrets. Plus, my parents promised to take me to Point Lobos because they know I LOVE the beach. Mmm...ocean, shores, sand. Nothing like that harbor shit. Baltimore is ass.

Republican Debate

I'm not the most politically conscious person, but hanging out with Kimberly for the past three consecutive days made me pause when I came across the debate while channel-surfing. Call it morbid curiosity, if you will. I mean, if I'm going to disagree with Republicans, I should at least know what it is exactly I'm disagreeing with...

First of all, I love the standing arrangement. Romney in the middle, flanked by Santorum and Ron Paul. Gringrich is a bit further off center. Then waaaaay off to the side, you got Rick pArry and Jon Huntsman. SAD! But hilarious.

Anyways, if I were to play the average citizen and evaluate the candidates by appearances alone, I must concede that Romney does look the most "presidential" out of the bunch. Santorum lacks a chin, Ron Paul looks like a cross between Gandalf and Master Oogway, and Gingrich looks like a squib. I think Rick Perry  would come in second-place for the most presidential-looking candidate cuz DAMN he wears nice suits, except he's got that dumbass look so reminiscent of George W. Bush. Poor Jon Huntsman just looked so eager to please--"Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pan the camera over here!"

Look at all 'em candidates with their patriotic pins. BUT WHAT'S THIS? WHERE'S RON PAUL'S?? He clearly hates America.

So I'm watching the debate and I didn't even realize that I was commenting out loud until my mom goes, "If it makes you so angry, why are you still watching?" BECAUSE I MUST MOTHER. If America falls into the hands of one these...lovely people, God forbid, I would like to be able to predict how our nation as we know it will go to shit...well, faster than it is now, anyways.

The one thing that irked me was how little respect the candidates showed our current president. Anything is always "better than what we have now". Why can't we politely disagree? Why does everything have to be " I disagree with you so I'm going to completely ignore anything you've accomplished." So frustrating.

Speaking of respect, Huntsman breaks out in Chinese! Mad props. Apparently, he's the former ambassador to China and he called out Mitt Romney in Chinese saying he knows nothing about the economic situation with China. I laughed out loud.

I'm not going to go into my own opinions, but let's just say I had a GRAND time listening to the debate over gay marriage, hypothetical bans on contraception, and military spending.

Come Monday, my registration for an absentee ballot is going out in the mail. MONDAY...because today is SATURDAY and mail is not MAILED until MONDAY. D:

God, with Taiwan and American politics going down simultaneously, I have such low esteem for mankind.

Lord of the Orgo

Josh: Orgo is beautiful. Embrace it.
Me: I'd rather appreciate it from afar.
Josh: So do all who live to see such times.


Oh man, I am so blessed with friends who know just how to cheer me up. Lord of the Rings quote of the day! :)


"Frodo: I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Meant as a joke, but actually very encouraging considering the context. Tolkien was a wise, wise man cuz' The Lord of the Rings has snippets of wisdom for all situations.

"All that is gold does not glitter, not all who wander are lost."

"Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death and judgement, for not even the very wise can see all ends."

"The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them."

I have decided that the Bible must be made into an epic movie. I'd be much better at understanding and applying the Scripture to my life. 

Back to Orgo. Sigh.

ADHD

So, I find myself once again sitting in Nervous System...not paying attention. I have four tabs open: Gmail, Blogger, Yahoo News, and Five Families. Just a second ago, I was playing Swapples. Just a second before that, I was playing FourPlay. Hendry is droning on about visual receptive fields, a fascinating lecture, I'm sure. But I just cannot find the willpower within myself to pay attention, let alone care about what he is lecturing on. As Sam says, I'm "mad distracting". Now when did that CA boy start picking up East Coast slang? That "mad" better be fixed to a "hella" right quick.


Slept through my Orgo Conference session today and as result, didn't get to pick up my graded midterm. Now I have to do the Walk of Shame to the TA's office. "Uhh, why wasn't I at today's conference? F-family issues, I really don't want to talk about it...it's still too fresh, not to mention my terminal illness, plus my dog got hit by a- GOD. I HATE YOU, JUST GIVE ME MY MIDTERM." 


I have a Korean oral midterm tomorrow and a Orgo Lab midterm right afterwards. And yet, I spent three hours playing Swapples/reading yesterday instead of studying for them. Refer to handy-dandy website about Adult ADHD:


 "Hyperfocus is actually a coping mechanism for distraction—a way of tuning out the chaos...you may be so engrossed in a book, a TV show, or your computer that you completely lose track of time and neglect the things you’re supposed to be doing."


Story of my life.


So I've suspected that I've had ADHD for some time now. When I watch TV on my computer, I NEED to have another window open to play Tetris, Swapples, or Minesweeper. Otherwise, I get bored. I've somehow gradually trained myself to be unable to focus on any single task. I am a Multitasking Monster. We had a guest speaker at the lab meeting today, a post-doc who is working on ADHD in children down at the Kennedy Krieger Institute. I was running a bit late because I waited fifteen minutes for the TA to tell me that he didn't have my test and that he'd send me an email -- an infuriating story I will not go into here. Having speedwalked to Ames from Hodson, I was out of breath and my heart was beating slightly faster than normal. Five minutes after she starts talking, I realize my heart hasn't slowed down. This prompts me to start taking my pulse every two minutes or so. Guess what, my resting heart rate is apparently 80. I then start thinking about how this MUST be correlated with the coffee and cheesecake I had this morning, which starts me brainstorming healthier breakfast options. Then, I get a scary thought. What if my heart rate is a symptom of anxiety? I have been feeling stressed out lately...What if I have some sort of arrhythmia? That'd be kind of cool, actually... 


I'm extracted from my own thoughts when the speaker plays a Youtube video about torturing children with marshmallows. (You should totally look it up, it's hilarious.) I tune in just long enough for her to go over a few graphs (Ooh, pretty colors!) and start talking about her own research about delay discounting using video games. (Delay discounting, from the first five minutes in which I was paying attention, apparently has to do with how subjects deal with reward. Would they rather have a small immediate reward? or a larger but delayed reward? ADHD kids apparently opt for the immediate reward. ME TOO.) When she mentioned that the games they chose for the experiment included Tetris, it was game over for me. I started playing Tetris in my head, got bored, and started playing Swapples. Spent two minutes worrying about my grade for Orgo Lab, which got me thinking about my elevated heart rate again. At the end of her talk, when I realized I had learned next to nothing, I decided to look up adult ADHD.


Observe. Symptoms of ADHD (as they apply to me):


1.) "zoning out" without realizing it, even in the middle of a conversation
2.) extreme distractibility; wandering attention makes it hard to stay on track
3.) difficulty paying attention or focusing, such as when reading/listening to others
4.) poor listening skills; hard time remembering conversations and following directions
5.) have poor self-control
6.) blurt out thoughts that are rude or inappropriate without thinking
7.) have addictive tendencies
8.) have trouble behaving in socially appropriate ways
9.) sense of underachievement
10.) doesn't deal well with frustration
11.) irritability or mood swings
12.) trouble staying motivated
13.) hypersensitivity to criticism
14.) low self-esteem and sense of insecurity
15.) feelings of inner restlessness, agitation
16.) getting bored easily
17.) racing thoughts
18.) talking excessively
19.) doing a million things at once
20.) trouble sitting still; constant fidgeting


There you have it. 20 pieces of evidence that I have adult ADHD. (Now, a lot of you are probably thinking "Oh my God, I have ADHD too!") Some of them seem more an indication of what a bad person/friend I am rather than symptoms of ADHD, but whatever. 


Can't...believe...there is still 30 minutes left in class. GUUUH.