Tales from the Whipped

Tales from the Whipped

It's 8:30 p.m. on a gloomy Sunday night. The wind outside howls in fury, lashing leaves and debris against bolted metal doors. Within the murky dark hallways of the psychology laboratory basement, a lone ceiling light flickers on and off, sputtering it's last gasps of illumination. In the distance, the bathroom door is outlined in a eerie, yellow glow.

The animated silhouette of a small girl stands out in clear contrast against the still, stark background. Her blood red waist sash gently trails behind her as she walks briskly towards her laboratory. Suddenly, a deep noise rumbles nearby, followed by the heavy clank of metal chains. She speeds up, heels clicking sharply against the cold linoleum floor. Again, the same metallic rasping. This time... closer.

She reaches her lab, hands shaking as she clumsily fumbles through her keys. She finds the right one, quickly turning the lock and slipping inside, yanking the door shut abruptly behind her. She flicks on the lights and bolts towards the nearest computer. Fingers trembling, she somehow manages to type out the appropriate URL and....




starts blogging.

Okay, that may have been a little bit overdramatic, but it seriously felt like I was living out a cheesy horror film. You know, with those scenes where a girl is alone in the dark basement of some freaky old building, and you as a viewer are screaming in your head, "DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR, YOU STUPID WOMAN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THAT FREAKY ASS BUILDING ALL ALONE AT NIGHT ANYWAY??"

Well, I'll tell you what I was doing there. I spent most of my lovely Sunday afternoon at a community center in an ethnic enclave a few cities over, conducting behavioral assessments on underprivileged families. Through our study we hope to bridge the cultural gap between immigrant parents and their American-born children, thus facilitating communication, mediating conflicts caused by misunderstanding, and avoiding potential child abuse.
Who am I kidding. Actually, I just entertained the kids as their parents were filling out lengthy questionnaires. I'll be honest; I have NO idea how to handle kids. I have absolutely no grasp on their developmental stage or comprehension abilities. This is blatantly evident as I carefully explained the complete rules of UNO to a 4-year old (to which he responded by promptly plopping down a RED 9 on top of a GREEN DRAW 2, without drawing 2 of course), or as I baby-talked to a 10-year old while explaining how to play JANGA (to which she completely ignored me and stacked up the wooden blocks perfectly, then offered to let me start first *deeply humbled*). So then I decided to resort to being a pushover, which all the kids gladly took advantage of. After the 10th sprinting piggyback around the periphery of the entire office building and spinning around 5 times, I meekly asked the little girl screaming in delight on my back, "Wow, aren't you're feeling a little dizzy or tired?"
"NO!! AGAIN! AGAIN!! FASTER!!"
"okay... T-T"



Anyway, we didn't get back to lab until like 8 pm, and my sign-up time for classes was 8:30. As I am a cheap, penniless undergrad, I do not have my own stable internet at home. Knowing how you practically need T3 to get into those impacted upper division courses at a large, public institution such as my own, there was no way I could risk not getting those last courses I need to graduate. Therefore, I opted to stay in lab to finish signing up for classes before heading home. What a huge mistake for a wimp like me. Luckily, I finished around 8:35 and headed home, pepper spray firmly clenched in one hand (yes, you potential rapists out there; girls DO arm themselves with nasty maces, rape horns, and cattle prods, so think twice before trying anything!!).

While walking past a particularly shaded area next to a small street, a car suddenly stops and I hear a man's voice, "Excuse me miss!" I literally jumped, turned, and aimed my weapon directly at his open window. Feeling silly, I lowered it and cautiously backed away a few feet.
"Yes??" I shout
"Do you know where 1140 _________ Street is?"
"Uhm, no. What kind of building is it? An apartment, hospital, or school?"
"Uh... I don't know.. Where is 1140?"
"I don't know"
"I'm trying to find 1140, so you don't know where that is?"
"No, sorry." (walks away)

I didn't think too much of it, but I was glad to be home. Curiously, I've never heard of that street number although I live on that street. After looking it up on various internet map searches, I realized that the street numbers end at 1099. And now that I think about it, who doesn't know what kind of building they are going to? I mean, was he going to visit a friend, or was he looking for a specific department? My street is only like 3 blocks long... and half of it is a "botanical garden" (aka a plot of land with ghetto, sparse tufts of random weeds)!

This reminds me of the time some random man tried to kidnap me (i think?) while I was shopping in an outdoor mall as a freshman. Just because I look young doesn't mean I'm stupid!! gullible perhaps, but I have decent common sense! Plus my mommy gave me an illustrated book entitled, "How to Say No" when I was young. (Excerpt: A man in an unmarked white van comes up to you with ice cream and says, "how would you like to come to my house to play with some puppies?" You say, "NO!" and run away)

The End.

Type A Personalities

We all know that a sedentary lifestyle and an unhealthy diet can lead to diseases, but there's more bad news to add to that arguably "preventable" list: Did you know that your personality can also affect your risks of getting certain diseases?_? For example, having a "type A personality" is now recognized as a significant risk factor for heart disease. This brings a whole new perspective to verbal fights. Now if someone yells at you, "Good gracious woman, stop screaming or else you'll give me a heart attack!" You can cleverly retort, "NO! for your information, I should stop screaming or else I'LL get a heart attack!"

It has recently come to my attention how many people in LA fit the criteria for "type A personality". (Yes, this is something i only recently picked up on despite having lived with the nonstop traffic, honking, screaming, and materialistic obsessions in this city for the past 4 years.) According to my awesomely "WIcKed" (ooooh i'm so cleeeever) wikipedia skills, this personality is defined as
"impatient, excessively time-conscious, insecure about one's status, highly competitive, hostile and aggressive, and incapable of relaxation. Type A individuals are often highly achieving workaholics who multi-task, drive themselves with deadlines, and are unhappy about the smallest of delays. They have been described as stress junkies." AKA PREMEDS

And according to my professor and a well-researched book entitled "why zebras don't get ulcers" (which, believe it or not, actually applies mostly to stress-related diseases in HUMANS), type A personality individuals are at greater risk for a multitude of nasty, chronic diseases including (but certainly not limited to...)

heart disease/ atherosclerosis
digestive problems (ulcers, diarrhea, constipation...)
cancers of all colors, shapes, and sizes!

Now I see examples of this everyday, and if you look around, i'll bet you would too. Take the man in the beat up stationwagon today who tried to run over a pedestrian crossing the street to a GREEN WALK SIGNAL. He sped up rapidly, clearly trying to take advantage of the chain of cars turning right on a red light. As we crossed, he slammed on his brakes, honked violently, and shook an angry fist out of the window while screaming incomprehensible gibberish (in a VERY stereotypical, neck-vein popping manner). It was ridiculous! I couldn't help it but gesture at the GREEN walk signal. Whatever happened to pedestrian's right of way? If the mentality now is "the biggest vehicle/object on the street rules," I better rush out to buy me a hummer. which would probably then be torched the next day by greenpeace activists (ironically, in the process releasing more air pollution than the car would ever have throughout its normal lifetime usage)

Or how about people who don't understand that standing one centimeter behind you and breathing down your neck (or up your shoulder, for those of you who are NOT vertically challenged :'(...) does NOT make the line any shorter? AHEM *woman waiting in line behind me in the medical center cafeteria yesterday* The alternative may be even worse, like that woman at the grocery store who spent literally 15 minutes yelling at the cashier for charging her a whole whopping 20 extra cents for red delicious apples instead of the fuji ones she had intended to purchase. woman, with gas prices today, i think you would've been better off munching on your apple a day at home than driving BACK to the grocery store to send your blood pressure skyrocketing.

but by FAR i think premeds epitomize the stressed-out, type A personality. I mean most of our anxiety comes from uncertainty about our future (learned helplessness, if you happen to be a psych student), and what is more stressful than having to juggle a full course load with research, a kick-me-in-the-head-hard standardized test, extracurricular stuff, and a social life (all the while not knowing if any of what you are doing will ever amount to anything?) It made me really sad today to hear abt some premeds emailing/intimidating others out of applying for leadership positions in a certain campus organization. COME ON! (gob-style, for those arrested dvlpmnt fans who get it!) it makes me sad to think that some people believe they can only be successful with others' demise.(i'd like to think i'm a realistic optimist?)

Luckily, the effects of the type A personality (and STRESS) can be mitigated by your mentality!
taking deep breaths help (with your tummy rising and falling). also stopping to smell the roses and not worrying as much. i mean in life the most things ppl worry abt are stuff that has 1) already happened or 2) probably won't happen. so live each day knowing it's "the first day of the rest of your life" - Dan (congrats on breaking the gaming streak, i'm proud of you!)

"Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten."

Ohayo!

Good morning, world!

Q: Why on earth am I up at 10 am in the middle of my winter break, two days after xmas and three days before New Years when my average wake up time for this break has literally been 3 pm?
A: Like the 281573856873648364921 other American premeds out there, I set my alarm for 9am to register for the April MCAT online. Naiively believing that it would be a painless 30 second ordeal, I even propped my laptop right next to my bed at eye-level so I could just roll over and register then go back to sleep hopefully without ever leaving REM sleep. Then it would all just seem like a bad dream. ha.. ha...

If there's anything even remotely meaningful my premed journey has taught me so far, it's that NOTHING, I emphasize *NOTHING* ever comes easily to a premed. We have to claw, bite, and maul our way through everything usually without any sort of compensation. Take this morning for example. A 30 second done deal dragged on to 30 minutes... an hour... an hour and still running... Iyr62q48oyhfrlywarfiuaey gah! go to sleep and stop congesting AAMC traffic, people!! I would love nothing more than to go back to sleep and wake up maybe around 5 pm and just take the leftover spots. Unfortunately this whole process has me riled up, plus the inner premed is still wistful... like the abused puppy that still waits by the door and wags its tail when it sees its aggressor... or like the average lazy person waiting for the elevator, feeling a little guilty for not taking the stairs but unwilling to leave because we all know the split moment u head up those stairs the elevator will come... plus you've already pressed the button anyway, right?

Seriously these recurrent error signals due to heavy user traffic is making me want to stab myself in the foot and jab out my eye. But of course secular weapons won't suffice to inflict any sort of mortal wound; we premeds are just THAT thick-skinned.

So while I'm waiting for the system to check for available seats near my favorite ramen restaurant, I guess I'll explain my blog address. Succinctly, Dr. Uechi is my role model, and I hope never to lose sight of what he symbolizes in this whole premed/med/dr marathon. Dr. Uechi is a dentist residing in Okinawa, Japan. In kanji his name is (上地), roughly translating as upper ground, which I hope will remind me to take the high road or more graceful path in life. I think he is admirable because not only is he incredibly good at what he does, he never ceases to pursue further education and advancement in his field. Despite opening his own clinic, he finds time in his busy work schedule to volunteer twice a week to treat disabled kids who are really temperamental and usually cannot get dental care anywhere else. He then wrote a PhD thesis on his findings of treatment plans for these kids. Furthermore, he is extremely hardworking and compassionate, and always finds time to keep in touch and help out his friends.

Anyway, that's it I'm going back to sleep. Ramen isn't that important to me; as long as I get to take it somewhere...