Never Look to Chocolate For Help

Ask a Dove chocolate a question and, when you unwrap it, you just might have an answer!  Granted, that answer will be dialogue from a LifeTime Original movie but it will be inspirational in some bizarro world where chocolate is a therapist.  Regardless, here is a conversation I had with candy, in the form of an advice column.

Dear Dove Chocolate,
I'm really getting my ass handed to me by my studies.  Is there anything that I can do to improve?
-- Sincerely, The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Thanks, but I'm not sure that you understand the writing style of my texts or my lack of time for pleasure reading.  Anyway, I guess I feel like I'm just not retaining things like I used to.  I'd appreciate any suggestions.

-- The Scholar 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 I don't know; I definitely feel like I'm having to scrap for every little bit of knowledge that I'm gaining these days.  I'm just feeling burned out and like my self-confidence is really shaken.  Do you think what I'm doing is worth it?

-- The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 Really?  I am?

-- The Scholar

 

 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Okay, I feel pretty now; thanks.  But really, though, I'm getting thrashed by my courses.  Any strategies or other test-taking advice for me?

-- The Scholar

 

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Good one, Dove Chocolate.  Hope you're being funny because, clearly, "trusting my instincts" isn't working out so hot for me.  I've done precisely that and have crashed and burned.  Spectacularly, I should add.  Seriously, I should just go full Costanza and do the exact opposite of my instincts and see how that works out.  I could probably look like a freaking genius.  What'cha think about that?

-- The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Really?  What's with the "good enough" bullshit all of a sudden?  You know that, at this point, I'd kill for passing grades, right?  Not superlative grades, just passing grades.  Got me? I am failing. I'm dying here.

-- The Scholar

 

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Now you're just screwing with me, right?  It's so dark, I can't see shit.  I'm in a cave that's wrapped up in a blanket that's been put in a box and buried.  It is dark, dark, dark.  You read me?  You get it, chocolate wrapper?

--The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

 What are you talking about?  Who said anything about singing?  Are you screwing with me?  Have you been listening to me sing?  Should I sing my answers during my exam?  WTF?

--The Scholar

Dear Dove Chocolate,

Are you referencing Lee Ann Womack lyrics now?  I'm starting to feel like you're nothing more than random quotes jotted down by members of Ellen's studio audience and slapped inside chocolate wrappers.  Hell, fortune cookies make more sense that you and they suck.  You know what, Dove Chocolate?  Screw you; we're done.  It's only 9a.m. but I'm gonna start drinking.  Thanks for nothing, prick.

--The Scholar

 

Do I Even Belong Here?

Royal Tenenbaum: That's just not right, damn it.  You used to be a genius.

Margot Tenenbaum: No I didn't.

Royal Tenenbaum: Well, anyway, that's what they used to say.

From Wes Anderson's "The Royal Tenenbaums"

Another tough week in the bag and I am damned sure not going to be earning honors in any of my classes.  If I can't improve my performance, the only thing I'll be earning is a bus ticket back home.  What the hell, man, I'm not even halfway through the semester and I'm feeling like I'm running on empty, on fumes.  I'm burned out and tired of not passing exams.

Shit, I'm tempted to host a coloring exam where all anyone has to do is take a single crayon and color in a giant rectangle.  That's it, just fill in a rectangle with a crayon and, hell, just stay mostly in the lines.  Do it and you pass.  Bingo.  A+.  Honors.  Ticker-tape parade.  Confetti.  Bells.  Whistles.  Bullshit.

Last week, during a four day weekend.  I took about 8 hours to myself excluding the hours I slept, of course.  On average, I've been getting about 5 and a half hours of sleep a night.  I've lived in a study room on campus, coming to my apartment only to sleep.  I knew that yesterday's exams would be a challenge.  Hell, no matter how you approach it, Neuroscience is tough stuff; it's amazing but tough.  Immunology, too.  And OMM.  And Pharmacology.  All told, though, I didn't expect another "O-fer" day.  "O-fer" as in I was zero for four on passing anything.  Here's the best part:  I was absolutely sure that I was going to rock my Pharmacology exam.  Absolutely effing positive.  When I'd answered all the questions, I clicked the proceed button, saw that I'd failed miserably, and felt my countenance morph from a smarmy, shit-eating grin to a stunned, distant look of shock.

I hate working my ass off and feeling like I'm just spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.  Still, I keep attempting to get up, dust myself off, and dive back into the fray.  That being said, it sure would be nice to have some sort of a win in the near future; I hate feeling like a big bag o' fail.

Shopping Habits of the Overly Stressed Medical Student

Pretty good summary of consumption as the next round of tests approaches.

Caffeine, dark chocolate, energy shots, and antacids.  

Missing: diaper.

Evolution of THE Man

In honor of Charles Darwin's 201st birthday on the February 12th, we held a few celebratory events at school.  In addition to the scavenger hunt and a lecture that touch on a few evolutionary adaptations in human anatomy, we had a cake baking / decorating contest.  I managed to take home the prize for most creative with my "Evolution of The Man" entry.

For some, Burt's face on a cupcake is a good weight management strategy.

Others end up with cake in their lap.

Although few people saw me bring them in or set them up, most everyone knew within a second that I'd brought them.  What's best is that my anatomy prof quickly (and without provocation) quoted a line from "Deliverance" that didn't involve Ned Beatty, mouths, or squealing.  It was bliss.

One younger classmate, however, remarked that he thought "Kurt Russell" look pretty strange after all the years and surgeries.  I told him to put down the cupcake, get the hell away from me, and never to confuse Russell with Burt Reynolds ever, ever again.

I Have a New Nephew

My sister finally had her baby boy!  For the fourth time, I'm an uncle.  This is, however, the first grandchild on my side of the family.  And, really, it's pretty special when your sibling has a child.  Throughout her pregnancy, we chatted about a ton of stuff related to her health and to the approaching delivery.  So, we were pretty frank about things because it sort of went along with some of the development and other things that we learned during the semester.  That being said, however, I was unprepared to be scrolling through photos that she'd sent and seeing her breastfeeding.  Seriously, could've used a heads up on that one guys.  You cannot unsee certain things, like your sisters' boob for example.  Pictures of the little man to follow.