For your entertainment, a conversation with my friend:
Friend: How's your PS?
Me: ps=bs
Friend: exactly
The beauty of the equation is twofold. It, for one, brings forward the incredulous idea of putting myself on paper in 5300 characters. It's also a thinly veiled insult that highlights the poppycock that is my personal statement.
Confessions of a thesaurus abuser: I looked up a synonym for crap because "crap" sounded so prosaic. At least poppycock ignites the imagination.
And now I shall take this opportunity to exact vengeance (not really). Why you ask? I am inspired by this:
Dear Life,
When I posted the ps=bs equation on SDN, accompanied by a sincerely desperate request to read my personal statement, I received many helpful responses, and then there was this response:
Mind you, this person has never met me, not even sure if they have read the blog to get some sense of who I am (insert self-deprecating yet ever lovable Asian pre-med bordering on quarter life crisis), and they meted out judgement, just like that. I guess I should have seen it coming. Internet is not a place for nuance.
Point of reference: Senator hopeful Deutsch's twitter debacle
Evidence 7: I was relieved to get an 84 (80 + 4-pt curve) on my Anatomy test. An Asian would be crying right now, blaming the misalignment of Venus and Mars.
Evidence 8: It's June 14th, and I still haven't submitted my primary AMCAS application.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Slip of the Tongue
I am not an ardent or even tepid supporter of Freud. The far fetched ideas in his Oedipus Rex and Electra complex theories are off-putting, and seem to be products of his frequent cocaine use at the time. But there's something to be said about his theory of the unconscious. Freud believed that unacceptable ideas or fears are repressed or pushed into the unconscious, where they remain until they are morphed enough to pass the guardian censor, which controls access to the conscious. These ideas, though in the unconscious, can still manifest in our dreams, or in extreme cases, as psychosomatic disorders.
When I was studying for the MCAT, I would often have a dream where I was in some sort of danger, and took out my cell phone to dial 911, but I kept pressing the wrong numbers. I am assuming Freud would have interpreted this as my fear or anxiety of the MCAT. Since the second set of scores came out, I have not had this dream. I guess he was on to something.
When I was studying for the MCAT, I would often have a dream where I was in some sort of danger, and took out my cell phone to dial 911, but I kept pressing the wrong numbers. I am assuming Freud would have interpreted this as my fear or anxiety of the MCAT. Since the second set of scores came out, I have not had this dream. I guess he was on to something.
Pre-med or Dead
“There are three types of pre-med students that I see: The ones that don’t do the right things because they are doing it for the wrong reasons, the ones that do the right things, but for the wrong reasons and the ones that do their own thing for their own reasons. That third type of group is the most rare and they are the ones that go to the top schools.”
Malcom Gladwell has an interesting book called "Outliers" on the subject of success, which is typically defined in pre-med circles as attending an Ivy League undergrad, a top 10 medical school, and then landing a competitive residency. It seems, however, success is a group effort; personal motivation and intelligence only take you so far.
In my personal observations, there are singularly unique categories of pre-meds, some annoying, some friendly, and some that should come with a sign, "Befriend with caution."
Malcom Gladwell has an interesting book called "Outliers" on the subject of success, which is typically defined in pre-med circles as attending an Ivy League undergrad, a top 10 medical school, and then landing a competitive residency. It seems, however, success is a group effort; personal motivation and intelligence only take you so far.
In my personal observations, there are singularly unique categories of pre-meds, some annoying, some friendly, and some that should come with a sign, "Befriend with caution."
The neurotic one:
* Will ask everyone for help during lab and with class assignments, and will not offer any in return.
* Will call multiple people with the same question despite hearing the same response; they just want to make sure. They also somehow found your number from a friend’s friend.
* They will ALWAYS say they did not perform well, but will end up getting the highest grade.
* Knowing they have received the highest grade, they will ask other students what they got just to see how everyone else fared.
* These are your future medical school gunners
Diagnosis: Best for academic medicine or radiology
The smart one:
Knows what they are doing, keeps quite or to themselves, asks intelligent questions in class, and finishes lab is three hours because they know how to work efficiently.
* A-sians tend to fall under this category.
Diagnosis: I hope you're my doctor.
The stupid one:
There is one in every circle. You look at them and know immediately they will not make it. They are characterized by an inability to answer simple questions like “What is a nucleotide?” If given the right mentorship, the stupid one can transform into a smart one.
Diagnosis: Will not make it. DNR.
The suck-up:
Average pre-med who feels the need to ask the professor personal questions and get to know them intimately just to ask for a recommendation.
Diagnosis: Will unfortunately make it.
The pretentious one:
This is the smart one with zero motivation. They talk intelligently and seem to understand the material, but when it comes to test time, they perform at or below average.
* B-sians tend to fall under this category.
Diagnosis: Your typical lop-sided applicant. All will depend on extracurricular activities and MCAT.
“My daddy is a physician:”
These kids are usually smart, but totally unmotivated and in science for the wrong reasons. They go to Four Seasons for dinner, to the spa for relaxation, and then study if there is time left from all the socializing.
Diagnosis: May or may not make it, depending on daddy's connections and salary
Becoming a physician to work for “Doctors Across Borders:”
These humanitarians are really only interested in medicine to do DAB. Once they enter the dehumanizing world of science and lab work, they quickly realize that there are other ways to channel their Mother Theresa penchant.
Diagnosis: Will not make it
MCAT
Oh MCAT, you were such an interesting romance. You left my life as suddenly as you came. I miss you sometimes...but then I remember how much work I put into us and am glad that such a selfish, time consuming, soul-eating, heartless woman is out of my life.
Good riddance you passive aggressive street walker,
Lost In Study (SDN)
Hands down, best description I have read of what it feels like to study for the MCAT.
It's a marathon, not a sprint.
And after all the mental torture has been meted out, here's how subsequent conversations will proceed regarding the subject:
John, boss' boss: How did you do?
Me (with pride, like Mufasa holding Simba): I got a 34.
John, having no frame of reference for the MCAT: What’s the highest you can get?
Me: A 45
Me (to myself): I guess my 34 isn't really that impressive after all.
Me (quickly salvaging ego): But a 34 is 93% percentile.
John (not the slightest bit impressed): Great.
You are probably thinking, 34 sounds like an Asian score. Maybe, but a committed Asian would score a 35 or above. In case there were doubts,
Evidence 6: I got a 28 the first time I took the MCAT.
The Yellow Wallpaper
So I spent the last hour or so trying to figure out which wallpaper would be the best.
I decided on the current theme because it reminded me of the story, "The Yellow Wallpaper." If you haven't read it, you're not missing anything. Here's a secret: I haven't read it either. I just know the woman goes crazy in the end because of her controlling physician husband, locking herself in a room and refusing to ever come out. I feel it aptly mirrors my current state of mind as a re-applicant, though Gilman's intention was to bring to the forefront the narrow and biased view of psychological disorders in that era.
As I progress through the admissions cycle and yet another gap year, I will chronicle evidence of my B-sian-ness. Even an average (maybe this should read subpar) scientist such as myself recognizes that every hypothesis must be validated by observation.
Evidence 1: Spent one hour looking for appropriate wallpaper.
Evidence 2: I had an Anatomy exam today, and only studied for 4 of the 5 chapters because I didn't know the last chapter was also included. Suffice to say, my platysma muscle was contracted throughout the ordeal and I had bouts of tachycardia.
Evidence 3: I didn't know the last chapter was on the exam because I didn't attend the class before the exam, where the professor went over said chapter.
Evidence 4: I didn't attend the Anatomy class because I was studying for a Genetics exam the same day. In retrospect, the pattern of procrastination was self-evident and failure imminent.
Evidence 5: I have dark circles. Actually, this is just a sign of me being (A/B)sian, but I included this factoid to ease you into the constant self pity that will rear its head from time to time regarding this issue.
I decided on the current theme because it reminded me of the story, "The Yellow Wallpaper." If you haven't read it, you're not missing anything. Here's a secret: I haven't read it either. I just know the woman goes crazy in the end because of her controlling physician husband, locking herself in a room and refusing to ever come out. I feel it aptly mirrors my current state of mind as a re-applicant, though Gilman's intention was to bring to the forefront the narrow and biased view of psychological disorders in that era.
As I progress through the admissions cycle and yet another gap year, I will chronicle evidence of my B-sian-ness. Even an average (maybe this should read subpar) scientist such as myself recognizes that every hypothesis must be validated by observation.
Evidence 1: Spent one hour looking for appropriate wallpaper.
Evidence 2: I had an Anatomy exam today, and only studied for 4 of the 5 chapters because I didn't know the last chapter was also included. Suffice to say, my platysma muscle was contracted throughout the ordeal and I had bouts of tachycardia.
Evidence 3: I didn't know the last chapter was on the exam because I didn't attend the class before the exam, where the professor went over said chapter.
Evidence 4: I didn't attend the Anatomy class because I was studying for a Genetics exam the same day. In retrospect, the pattern of procrastination was self-evident and failure imminent.
Evidence 5: I have dark circles. Actually, this is just a sign of me being (A/B)sian, but I included this factoid to ease you into the constant self pity that will rear its head from time to time regarding this issue.
Being B-sian
Why you get a B? You no B-sian, you A-sian!
Why this blog? Why now?There you have it. Inspiration for my blog.
Fun factoids:
No, I don't go to a top 50 or even top 100 sch0ol.
Yes, I had to look up what HYPSM meant (Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford, and MIT for the uninitiated).
No, I didn't get a 1500 on my SAT.
Yes, I once dreamed of Harvard
.
No, I don't have a 4.0.
Yes, I would trade 1 point of my MCAT for a 0.1 increase in GPA.
No, I didn't get a 35 on my MCAT.
Yes, I had to tackle the beast twice.
No, I am not an Asian.
Why yes, I am a B-sian! What makes me so? I am painfully average.
Fun factoids:
No, I don't go to a top 50 or even top 100 sch0ol.
Yes, I had to look up what HYPSM meant (Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Stanford, and MIT for the uninitiated).
No, I didn't get a 1500 on my SAT.
Yes, I once dreamed of Harvard
.No, I don't have a 4.0.
Yes, I would trade 1 point of my MCAT for a 0.1 increase in GPA.
No, I didn't get a 35 on my MCAT.
Yes, I had to tackle the beast twice.
No, I am not an Asian.
Why yes, I am a B-sian! What makes me so? I am painfully average.
I am applying to medical school this year, and I am worried about EVERYTHING: my grades, MCAT, research, extracurriculars; heck, I am even worried about my height, hair, and weight.
I feel like a disorganized, uninspired mess, so I am writing this blog to make sense of the Barnum and Baley that is the admissions process.
Various emotions (credit to SDN) I imagine I will be feeling as a re-applicant:
Enjoying the ride
How I really feel about the admissions process.
What, you lost my secondary again?
Interviewer: Why do you want to become a doctor?
Me (to self): Did you not read my primary? What about the secondary? What am I paying for?
Me (to interviewer, with utmost sincerity): I like helping people.
Interviewer (to self, trying to control disdain): Rejection pile.
I should've totally talked about that one time in band camp...
Fly on the wall at an adcom meeting...
Another rejection?
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