You Can't Win If You Don't Play

After a discussion about how much medical school will cost, Winning Run offered the following idea:

"I'll quit getting a coffee every morning if you'll use that money to buy a lottery ticket every week."

Not sure it's the best fiscal plan but it can't hurt, right?

Pouring Iron

Over the weekend, some friends invited me to tag along with them to a pub to watch an "iron pouring." In the Castleberry Hill neighborhood on the west side of downtown Atlanta, the Elliot Street Pub is home to a recurring iron casting event where you can gather 'round, have a few beers, and watch some guys melt iron and cast it into molds. For a small fee, you can create your own mold and take home an iron plate bearing your design. It was a pretty cool way to spend an evening. I highly recommend it to break up any monotony of experience.

Safety first: one of the pub owners (Mike or Pete?) keeps watch

Heating up the ladle to receive the molten iron

The iron is almost hot enough to flow

Collecting the iron in the ladle

Casting the iron into the molds

All in all, it was a fun way to spend a Friday night.

Today, I, Too, Have Made History

To the best of my knowledge, I'll be the first person in my family to attend medical school.

A few moments ago, I got the call from Yakima offering me a seat in their incoming class.



I wish my Grandaddy, Bamba, and Papa were here; they'd be thrilled.

A New Day

Promise. Hope. Intelligence. Oratory skills.

So Long, W

I've been waiting for this day since 20 January 2001.

I won't miss you. I won't write.

Heckuva job, Dubya.

The Palm Springs of Washington

After the interview, I returned to the hotel and mostly stared blankly at a television for a few hours. Honestly, it was bliss. I always underestimate exactly how taxing an interview day can be. Winning Run and I went for a short walk on the Greenway, a bike and running path that follows the Yakima River. When I felt thoroughly frozen which took only about ten minutes, we returned to the hotel. On the walk back, we saw a couple of bald eagles flying over the river. After a couple of beers and a light dinner, we managed to fight the urge to sleep long enough to nerd-out and watch the season premier of Battlestar Galactica. As soon as the credits rolled, however, the lights were off and we were snoring.

Saturday
Saturday, we got up and began our day of adventure. To combat the cold, we stopped at one of the ubiquitous drive-through espresso shacks for hot coffee. Seriously, what the hell is it with the Pacific Northwest and coffee? I thought it was an exaggeration but these damned things were everywhere. Best part was, their coffee was excellent.

Brewlesque Espresso
(Note the dancers painted on the shack.)

Mocha House Espresso
(Looks like they couldn't fully commit to the gray paint.)

Coffee Cravings, a Winning Run favorite

Armed with delicious, hot coffee, we set out on a driving tour of the Yakima area to get a feel of what it's like because, frankly, being holed up at a cheap hotel near the interstate doesn't really offer an honest picture of a place. So, for a while, we drove around, looked at things, and tried to get lost. The fog started to lift during the morning, giving us the ability to see some of the surrounding mountains and orchards -- and a bald eagle. We made a point to drive through some of the agricultural areas on the outskirts of town: open range for livestock, apple orchards, vineyards, and hops farms. (My beloved hops! I imagine that in the summer, the wind carries the scent of a double IPA; the notion made me thirsty.)

Trees coated in frozen fog.

After concluding our driving tour of Yakima, we decided to broaden our area. We headed south to visit a winery for a little tasting. Along the way, we managed to get in a stop at a tiny little tourist attraction: The Teapot Gas Station.

The Teapot Gas Station.

After the abbreviated wine tour, we decided to fit in a little more adventure before retiring for the day. We aimed to get to Natches and see a little wildlife before the sun set on us. Since the 1950s, the government has been feeding a herd of elk in an effort to minimize conflicts between landowners and the animals. On the way in, we spotted about 30 elk on a plateau above the highway. We stopped the car to shoot a few photos.

Elk grazing near the highway.

Satisfied with our elk sighting, we headed toward the visitor center. Man, I felt a little foolish when we pulled into the parking lot and looked into the valley in front of us to see hundreds and hundreds of elk. It was Marty Stouffer's wet dream. Not only were elk everywhere but several bald eagles were lurking nearby.

One of many, many elk at the government feeding site.

With the sun and temperature quickly dropping, we jumped in the car and headed back to town.

Sunday
This morning was, perhaps, the largest snafu of the trip. Our flight from Yakima to Seattle was canceled which, in turn, caused us to miss all of our other connecting flights. So, shortly after the cancellation, we managed to get rebooked on a later flight from Yakima and on the redeye from Seattle. As the Yakima airport is "Wings" tiny, we asked the desk agent, Beth, if there was anyplace to get a bite to eat and kill the 3 hours before our flight. She mentioned that there were a few restaurants nearby and that she'd be happy to give us a ride to one of them when her shift was over in about fifteen minutes. Floored by how friendly she was, we accepted.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Beth from L.A. picked us up and drove us to Miner's, an old hamburger joint, and dropped us off with well wishes for safe travels. Holy crap, the food was great: just a good old hamburger and milkshake (chocolate and fresh banana). Kudos to Rose, who'd worked there since 1970, for helping us navigate the menu and make the best choices.

Winning Run enjoying a shake.

After the gluttony, we killed some time in a bookstore and grabbed a taxi back to the airport to hop our puddle-jumper to Seattle for a seven hour layover. We'd considered heading into Seattle for a quick visit to Pike Place Market but, as we didn't have boarding passes for our flight, we decided to have a few beer and watch the Steelers/Ravens game. After an eternity, we finally got on the flight at 11:00pm PST and began our journey home. Today has been a little rough.

What's Next?
I'm supposed to get a call from the school on the 20th to notify me of their decision. Personally, I think that the interview went really well. Unfortunately, however, I've stopped trusting my feeling on these things. About 70% of the class is to come from the Pacific Northwest, the rest would need to show some great interest in the area that is convincing enough that they'll gamble on you to stay and practice there. More as it unfolds.

Yakima

Holy crap. The people out here are awesome.

The interview experience was the complete antithesis of the trip down to Florida. Not only was it well-organized but everyone was friendly and genuinely enthusiastic about the program. Students stopped by all day long to meet us and chat. They weren't after a free lunch but just wanted to spread the gospel about their program. Really, the positive energy from the place was great.

The interview itself was smooth. I spoke with two people for about 45 minutes, answering their questions and chatting with them. After, we had a quick lunch and toured the brand-spanking-new facility. Pretty damned cool. Then, I hung around and spoke with many of the other applicants as they waited to have their interviews. The spirit of camaraderie and politeness that I experienced was unbelievable. Hell, I thought I was getting Punk'd or something. Really, where where all the kids jockeying for position in the pissing contest? They weren't here, that's for sure.

Anywho, I'm pretty emotionally spent. I'll know their decision on me in the next couple of days. Yippee. Tomorrow, we go out to explore the area. Photos to follow.

I Thought He Was Kidding

Our voyage to Yakima took place in three legs yesterday: Atlanta to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Seattle, Seattle to Yakima. Our travel time took over twelve hours including layovers but, thanks to Skymiles, the flights only cost us $35 each. Yippee!

When landing in Minneapolis, the pilot announced that it was "20 below" outside. Naturally, this announcement was met by laughter by most everyone on the plane. When I stepped onto the jetway, I suddenly knew that the bastard was telling the truth. Seriously, 20 below? C'mon.

Anywho. We finally made it to the hotel. More on the trip later; at the moment, I'm doing some final prep for the interview.

Overheard

Today's bit of wisdom comes from a hipster sitting next to me while he got his haircut. He loudly spoke the following words as he got his long, highlighted hair cut into a conservative style prior to the start of his "corporate" job.

"Rock-n-Roll ain't about what you look like;

Rock-n-Roll is about what you do."

Thanks you, Lester Bangs, for those words. Truer ones have never been spoken.

Tomorrow morning, Winning Run and I head out to Yakima, WA for another of my med school interviews. Wish me luck. More as it unfolds.

A Big Heartfelt "Thank You"

I'd like to take a moment to wish a big, heartfelt "Thank You" to the person in the YMCA who thoughtfully decided to uncork a putrid fart while standing right in front of an oscillating fan, ensuring maximum dispersion for maximum enjoyment. Strong work there.

Yes, this was the event in my day worthy of a post. Someone please rescue me from me.

Flip the Calendar; It's 2009.

I'm still shaking my head wondering where the hell the past year went. Seems like just yesterday, Winning Run and I were in Rhode Island bringing in the New Year with Dr. J3K, Sandy, and The Captain.

This year, we headed down to Valdosta for a quick visit with Crazy Greg. During a conversation with J3K prior to heading south, we gauged the probability of someone requiring medical care:

"So, what's he got planned?," asked the good doctor.
"Well, he told me that he's been in the timber stand to find a few pine trees to burn. Oh, he mentioned that he's got the golf cart fixed and that we'll be going to Florida to buy a bunch of fireworks."
"Uh oh."
"Yep. Seems like the chances are good that someone's going to lose a hand or an eye."
"Just tell him that if he does the fire right, they'll be able to smell it all the way in Atlanta like a few years ago."
"Deal."

Shortly after arriving, we piled into the Crazy Greg's truck and headed to the Florida line to buy some fireworks. Evidently, we stumbled onto one heck of a year-end sale: Buy One, Get Two Free. At the register, Greg found out that he'd actually gotten about $140 of "free" fireworks.

It's a wonder that fireworks stores don't have a prosthetics aisle.
It really couldn't make the places any more strange or uncomfortable.

After buying the contraband fireworks, we headed back to his place, had a few drinks, ate dinner, and scouted some wood for the bonfire.

As darkness fell, the fire was raging, Georgia Tech was getting their ass handed to them, and everyone anticipated a fireworks show that would make the Beijing Opening Ceremonies look like sparklers at the VFW. The secret to a successful pyrotechnics program is the Magic Black Snake; easily the most terrifyingly awesome firework in existence. The runner up is any type of mortar round. Honestly, it's pretty exhilarating to stuff a cardboard tube with a giant projectile explosive, fumble with a lighter in the darkness to ignite the fuse, and run like hell to a presumed safe distance.

Lightning.

Roman Candle vs. Spark Fountain.

Maintaining safe distance from trees.

Turns out that the evening was much more low key than anticipated. All the promised elements didn't yield any calls to 911 or trips to the hospital. This is, of course, a very good thing. Shortly after the champagne toast at midnight and a few phone calls and text messages, we turned in for the night with eager anticipation of a UGA victory and high hopes for the new year.

Sparkle Motion.

Sparkle Motion Revisited.

Best wishes for a fantastic 2009.

Happy Holidays!

Here's hoping that you don't mysteriously find yourself trapped in the Insurmountable Stairwell of Sadness (physically located in Phipps Plaza Mall). If you are in the stairwell, keep pushing deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building into you are expelled into the cold night air. Then, dear friend, run as fast as you can toward the MARTA station and get yourself to The Majestic for a soothing Patty Melt.

Regardless of what or how you celebrate, I wish you the happiest of holidays.

A definition? That's the best argument you have?

As usual, Jon Stewart cuts though the crap to the heart of the matter.

"It seems like semantics is cold comfort when it comes to humanity." Indeed.

Well-played, Jon.

Winning Friends, Influencing People

Or: Shitting the Bed in Which I Sleep (Title pending outcome.)

Yesterday afternoon, I received a call from the director of admissions at PCOM. She mentioned that she received a note to call me regarding my application. I quickly filled her in on my previous conversation with the admissions office. She explained how the admissions committee designs the requirements and the requirement for a recommendation from the institution that granted your bachelor's degree. She continued to describe how she constantly gets questions on this topic from applicants.

"Well, the letter is intended to get feedback from your pre-med advisor or, failing that, the dean of the college in order to prove that you graduated in good academic standing without disciplinary problems."

"Ma'am, I graduated in 1995 with degrees in liberal arts. The deans who are there now have no idea who I am. I fail to see how a letter from someone who doesn't know me or, much less, have any recollection of me will be of any benefit to you guys."

"That's the requirement as designed by the committee."

"I graduated with honors. Shouldn't my transcripts prove that I graduated in 'good academic standing?' "

"We don't have your transcripts."

"But I submitted my transcripts to AACOMAS* and they're included on my primary application."

"We never get the transcripts. All we receive from AACOMAS are a printout of your classes and grades."

"Would you like me to send you my official transcripts from UGA?"

"No. That's not necessary."

"Well, it seems to me that your requirement is biased against older, non-traditional applicants."

Finally, she agreed to accept the letters that I submitted and consider my application complete for the Philly campus. She explained that the GA campus is governed by a separate admissions committee over which she, the director of admissions, has no authority to deem my application complete. She would, however, make a note on my file to let them know her decision regarding my other app with them.

To recap, here's my simple three-step method of problem resolution:

1. Phone the office and complain
2. Tell the admissions director that the requirement they drafted sucks and is biased against you
3. Offer to send an official copy of information that they currently possess

And that, my friends, is how to make yourself known to the admissions committee and to ensure that a director of admissions scrawls the word "ASSHOLE" across your application in thick magic marker. I can't wait to get their rejection letters.

*AACOMAS is the application service of the American Association of Colleges of Osteopathic Medicine. All applicants to osteopathic medical schools must use this service. In addition to essays that detail your motivation for applying to med school and detailed histories of your life, work, volunteer, and academic career, the application service requires that you submit official transcripts from every college or university you attended. Submitted official transcripts are authenticated and validated against information entered on the application. When complete, this "primary"application is submitted to each school to which you apply and is the basis for their decision to invite you to complete a supplemental application.

Three Cheers for Bureacracy!

After submitting all of my required letters to the schools, I've received interviews from 3/5 of them. I've yet to hear from both PCOM campuses (Philly and GA). Thinking it strange that I've heard nothing, I rang them today to follow up regarding why I've receive no contact from them. Here's a recap:

"Hi. I'm trying to follow up on my application status. I've submitted everything and heard nothing from you guys."

"Is your application complete? Have you submitted everything?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. It should be complete because I submitted everything via Interfolio last month."

"Hold please."

[Holiday music plays while I'm on hold for a few minutes.]

"Okay, I see that we received a letter from [private women's college] and looks like one other one..."

"That would be from the D.O. that I shadowed Dr. [name withheld]."

"Okay, just let me look and I can tell you who it's from."

"It's from the D.O.; it's the only other letter that I've submitted."

"It's from the D.O., you're right."

"So, you guys have had these for a month, can you tell me what's going on with the application?"

"It's incomplete."

"What? Why? You have all of my letters."

"We don't have a letter from the institution where you got your Bachelor degrees."

"I graduated almost fifteen years ago with liberal arts degrees. I submitted a letter from my post-bacc program that I recently completed. They are much more familiar with my sciences work."

"I'm sorry but we require a recommendation letter from the institution that granted your bachelor's degree."

"You want a letter from UGA by someone that I don't know -- and who certainly doesn't know me -- from a department that has nothing to do with science to write a recommendation letter for me? How will that help anything?"

"That's what we require, sir."

"That doesn't really make any sense. Every other school to which I've applied has happily accepted my letters from my post-bacc program."

"I'm sorry, sir, that's our requirement. Can I take your information and have someone get back to you on this?"

"You better believe it."

Evidently, they don't have too many older applicants. I find it ludicrous that they are holding things up because I didn't submit a letter from my undergrad institution. Also, I think it's pretty shitty that I've received no notification that my application wasn't complete.

By the way, after giving them my information, I've not received a call. I can't wait to continually hound them on this.

One down, more to go

A few hours ago, I returned from my interview in Ft. Lauderdale. Happy to be back home and away from the stress that is med school interview day.

After spending the night waking hourly between 2:00am and 5:00, I finally got up. I showered and shaved. If they only knew how much it pains me to be clean-shaven, they'd give me bonus points. Around 8:30am, I made my way over to campus and found a parking spot near the building. A few minutes before 9:00, I opened the door to the admissions office and was surprised to see about forty people nervously sitting there, staring at everyone who walked into the room. Apparently, they were interviewing other professional schools (optometry, dentistry, etc.) on the same day.

After waiting and waiting in what was becoming a sweltering room, we separated into two large groups of about 20 and began the process. Usually, this involves an admissions counselor speaking about the awesomeness of their school, someone from financial aid to scare the shit out of you about the $150,000 worth of debt you'll incur, and someone to toot your horn about how good you should feel that you're even on campus for an interview. Turns out that they receive about 2300 applications, invite 500 to interview, and accept about 230. So, sure, I guess that I could feel good about almost making it. Problem is, I don't really hope to be "runner-up."

We heard about the clinical education program they run, their awesome rural medicine effort, and their international medical missions. I was on the edge of my seat when they mentioned a three-month elective rotation in Argentina in which the lodging was provided by the school. Pretty nifty, I thought.

The Interview
After leaving the initial meeting, we were taken to meet our interviewers. I met with two faculty members who were tasked with interviewing me in order to present an evaluation to the admission committee. Per the schedule, I was supposed to interview with them for nearly an hour. Turns out that after waiting for 40 minutes, we chatted for about 15, and then I was on my way. The conversation was pleasant but I'm still trying to process how I felt about it. I was not asked directly about any of my background or anything about the interesting things I've done. Essentially, I got another "tell us how you got here" approaches. This was followed by a "why osteopathic medicine?," and "do you think you'll be able to manage the study load of medical school?" question. My reactions to all of these inquiries were, simply, to curse a lot, insinuate that the interviewers were racist and sexist, and throw my chair across the room. Personally, I think it's going to work out well for me.

Honestly, though, I felt like they weren't all that well prepared for me or - and here's where the neurotic applicant mindset takes root - that they'd already formed an opinion of me prior to my arrival in the room for the interview. What opinion they held escapes me. If they were biased against me, I think I would've detected a little antagonism. If they were biased in my favor, could they not have offered an innocent high-five or a terrorist fist bump? Anyway, I might be over thinking it a little bit. The point is that I could've phoned in for a fifteen minute interview and saved the several hundred dollars that it took to get my ass down there.

The Jackass
During these things, there is always at least one person who does their best to show off their pedigree. Usually, this is either in the form of bragging about an MCAT score, discussing their awesome research, detailing how many interviews they have, loudly asking overly detailed questions or raising points for the purpose of being noticed. This one guy from "suburban New Jersey" was this jackass. Not only did he have a voice that would make Fran Drescher nauseaous, he never shut his pie hole during the entire lunch session. He made it a point to loudly contradict or question everything that the two female 1st year students said during lunch. Keep in mind that they're joining us, in part to evaluate us, but, most likely, for a free lunch. Still everything they said was challenged or met by a overly-detailed follow-up question. Example:

"This chicken wrap is tasty. I love the tomato tortilla." [Takes bite of sandwich.]
"Actually, it's a sun-dried tomato tortilla. A tomato tortilla has a different hue."
"Umm, okay." [Rolls eyes, continues eating.]
"C'mon, you have to know the difference. You can also tell by the different texture it has."
"Umm, okay." [Fastens rope to ceiling, affixes noose to own neck, steps out of chair.]

The Dean
After lunch and an endless wait for someone to tell us something about what was going on, the Dean of the college stopped in for a conversation. If I were the school, I definitely would've put him on stage early in the day. He was enthusiastic and gregarious; a perfect salve for the rash of obsessive/compulsive, Type A applicants. (For the record, I'm not nearly as OCD or Type A as the majority of these folks. I'm quietly confident not loud and boastful.) To top it off, the guy wears quite the mustache and, I might add, he effing nails it. Personally, I'd like to believe that he enters any room though a cloud of white smoke that immediately follows a magician's explosion. Ideally, he'd be out of breath and muttering about leaving the damsel bound in rope on the railroad tracks in the desert with no hopes of the hero liberating her before the 3:10 passed.

It's so much better in person.

His talk with us was rambling but very engaging. Essentially, it was this: don't give up on your dream of being a doctor. If someone is trying to talk you out of going to medical school, don't listen to them. Also, if someone is trying to talk you into going to medical school, don't do it. It must be your dream to pursue for your own reasons.

Honestly, it was nice to have someone in his position eliminate a lot of the bullshit that gets thrown at you during these things. It was pretty refreshing to witness that degree of candor. He's a friendly, outgoing guy with a fascinating life history.

Afterward
We were told to expect a decision by the DEC 17th or so. If accepted, we have 30 days to pay a deposit to hold a place in class. The good thing (sic) is that my other interviews (WA and CA) are just on the other side of a 30-day window. :(

While waiting in the airport for my flight, I had a couple of beers with one of the guys from the interview who was from Boston. It's nice to talk about the Sox and "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia." For the record, I think that Sunny has a disproportionately loyal following in New England.

Ready, Set...

I'm in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. Tomorrow, I'm interviewing at the local Osteopathic medical school for a spot in their incoming class. So, I'm a bit anxious and excited and hopeful. This South Florida thing is sort of strange. It's pretty flat and strip-mallish. The thing is that I'm not in Lauderdale proper but Davie which is akin to telling people you're in Atlanta but really hanging out in Alpharetta: close but not quite the same.

Anywho, I interview for most of the day tomorrow. Hopefully, all will go well. I've already taped a note to the door tomorrow morning reminding me to wear pants. Yep, that should do it.

More later.

Auditorium

Anyone else heard of or played Auditorium? Check it out; it's strangely relaxing.

School Updates

Well, I have interviews with at least two D.O. schools. Later this week, I'll head to Ft. Lauderdale for my first D.O. interview. In February, I'll head out to the San Francisco area for another one.

In the meantime, I'm waiting to hear from schools in Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Yakima, WA. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I need at least one stinking offer of acceptance.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston

Just watched "The Devil and Daniel Johnston" for the second time in the last few days. It's really an amazing documentary.

The film's trailer.

Like many, I'd been peripherally aware of Daniel Johnston's music via others' performances of it. During the mid-80s, I was just cutting my teeth on music that was off the beaten path. As a result, he was off my radar until many years later; his story was one about which I new a few details but nothing comprehensive. I'm awed by the peaks and valleys of his musical career and, even more importantly, of his life.

I must admit that, while viewing the special features on the DVD, the filmed reunion between Laurie and Daniel made me cry. I'm not so sure that it should've happened (the reunion, not my tears) or, at the very least, that it should've been filmed. It broke my heart.

I can't get his songs out of my head. "Speeding Motorcycle" has been stuck there for days.

Anyway, give this one a shot.