My parents, being very close with Steph's parents, were also at the wedding. Yes, it was awkward. Yes, I was glad that they were seated at a table on the opposite side of the room from me. Yes, I was relieved that my parents and their friends went home before things started getting really crazy.
Anyway, when I introduced Nisha to my parents, the first thing my mom said was, "Oh, yes, I remember you! You went to Yale!" Then, she turned to all of her friends and exclaimed, "This is Nisha! She went to Yale!"
Wow, way to break down those stereotypes, Mom!
Meet My Date
For the wedding this weekend, I brought my good friend Nisha along as my date. She went to high school with Stevie, Steph, and me, and she happened to be in the area last week for a showing of the documentary she made. I got a message from her recently saying that she wanted to catch up with all of our friends while she was in Virginia, so I dragged her along to the wedding, which I knew a lot of them would be attending. How fortuitous!
Nisha is the epitome of the word "globe-trotter." If she isn't standing right next to me, then I have no idea where she might be. Did she go to visit her family in Thailand? Is she taking classes in London? Is she doing more filming in Tanzania? Your guess is as good as mine.
Aside from being a world traveler, Nisha is also a budding documentarist. Check out her film, Twiga Stars, which has already been screened at many venues, including the Vail Film Festival, the Palm Beach Women's International Film Festival, and the Africa World Documentary Film Festival, where it won the Audience Choice Award. A version of it is actually posted on her website, so you can watch it whenever you like.
So, where is Nisha now that the wedding is over? For once, I know that she's in Brazil. To quote Nisha (which I love to do, followed by, "Sigh, only Nisha..."), "I need to go to DC to renew my Thai passport because there is some sort of diplomatic reciprocity between the United States and Brazil and my Thai passport is expired, and I'm supposed to be in Brazil on Monday." Sigh, only Nisha...
Nisha is the epitome of the word "globe-trotter." If she isn't standing right next to me, then I have no idea where she might be. Did she go to visit her family in Thailand? Is she taking classes in London? Is she doing more filming in Tanzania? Your guess is as good as mine.
Aside from being a world traveler, Nisha is also a budding documentarist. Check out her film, Twiga Stars, which has already been screened at many venues, including the Vail Film Festival, the Palm Beach Women's International Film Festival, and the Africa World Documentary Film Festival, where it won the Audience Choice Award. A version of it is actually posted on her website, so you can watch it whenever you like.
So, where is Nisha now that the wedding is over? For once, I know that she's in Brazil. To quote Nisha (which I love to do, followed by, "Sigh, only Nisha..."), "I need to go to DC to renew my Thai passport because there is some sort of diplomatic reciprocity between the United States and Brazil and my Thai passport is expired, and I'm supposed to be in Brazil on Monday." Sigh, only Nisha...
Wedding of the Century
Forget Kate and William. I just got back from the wedding to end all weddings. This weekend, two of my best friends in the entire world, Steph and Stevie, got married. It has truly been a long time coming: they are high school sweethearts that started dating eight years ago.
Steph and Stevie did me the honor of asking me to be the pianist at their wedding. They then did me the favor of picking some really difficult pieces to play for the ceremony. I guess it's partially my fault, since I wouldn't let them use any of the overplayed songs in the wedding repertoire. I should have known that this would open up the possibility of choosing songs I'd never even heard before.
So I've played for dozens of weddings, but this one takes the prize as being the first one that made me cry. I just couldn't hold it back when Steph and Stevie started reading their self-written vows at the altar. After all, I've known Stevie since the sixth grade and I don't even remember not knowing Steph. I've been through more with the two of them than most other people I can name.
While I worked pretty hard during the wedding service, the reception was the perfect time for me to kick back. It was held at the beautiful Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, and it takes the (wedding) cake for being the best party I've ever been to. Stevie's little brothers were without a doubt the center of all the attention. I was seriously jealous of their sick dance moves.
The wedding reception eventually came to an end, but we were nowhere near done partying. We donned our costumes and headed over to Capital Ale House, where we found the basement game room entirely empty and proceeded to take it over. It was great, because we ended up with a private Halloween party at no cost. Personally, I took advantage of the fact that I was already wearing a suit and dressed up as Clark Kent.
Before we knew it, the bar was closing and we had to head back to the hotel. But first, we managed to snap this picture, filled with some of my favorite people from college, high school, and yes, even middle school. I can't even put into words how much I love these guys.
Steph and Stevie, I know yesterday was supposed to be all about you guys, but thanks for making it the best day of my life along the way. God bless you as you start on the best journey of your life. I'll always be here for you, and I wish you all of the happiness that you deserve!
Steph and Stevie did me the honor of asking me to be the pianist at their wedding. They then did me the favor of picking some really difficult pieces to play for the ceremony. I guess it's partially my fault, since I wouldn't let them use any of the overplayed songs in the wedding repertoire. I should have known that this would open up the possibility of choosing songs I'd never even heard before.
So I've played for dozens of weddings, but this one takes the prize as being the first one that made me cry. I just couldn't hold it back when Steph and Stevie started reading their self-written vows at the altar. After all, I've known Stevie since the sixth grade and I don't even remember not knowing Steph. I've been through more with the two of them than most other people I can name.
While I worked pretty hard during the wedding service, the reception was the perfect time for me to kick back. It was held at the beautiful Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, and it takes the (wedding) cake for being the best party I've ever been to. Stevie's little brothers were without a doubt the center of all the attention. I was seriously jealous of their sick dance moves.
The wedding reception eventually came to an end, but we were nowhere near done partying. We donned our costumes and headed over to Capital Ale House, where we found the basement game room entirely empty and proceeded to take it over. It was great, because we ended up with a private Halloween party at no cost. Personally, I took advantage of the fact that I was already wearing a suit and dressed up as Clark Kent.
Before we knew it, the bar was closing and we had to head back to the hotel. But first, we managed to snap this picture, filled with some of my favorite people from college, high school, and yes, even middle school. I can't even put into words how much I love these guys.
Steph and Stevie, I know yesterday was supposed to be all about you guys, but thanks for making it the best day of my life along the way. God bless you as you start on the best journey of your life. I'll always be here for you, and I wish you all of the happiness that you deserve!
Home Is Where the Mom Noms Are
Many of my parents' friends have moved recently. As their children grow up and get their own places, they've downsized into more appropriate living spaces. Not so with my parents.
They recently upsized into a larger house than the one I grew up in. I can't really tell you why; as far as I can gather, it's so that they can host bigger parties. Fact: this is not a good reason to buy a new house. Especially when there are only two of you living in it.
I saw my parents' new pad last night, and it's weird to think that this is where I'll be coming home to on Thanksgivings and Christmases from here on out. Especially because they haven't decorated it yet, so the walls are entirely bare. Oh well, I can't deny that it's certainly nicer than the house I'm accustomed to. Plus, it's less than an hour from Charlottesville, so you'd better believe that I'll be making regular trips to collect mom noms to bring back with me for the remainder of the school year.
They recently upsized into a larger house than the one I grew up in. I can't really tell you why; as far as I can gather, it's so that they can host bigger parties. Fact: this is not a good reason to buy a new house. Especially when there are only two of you living in it.
I saw my parents' new pad last night, and it's weird to think that this is where I'll be coming home to on Thanksgivings and Christmases from here on out. Especially because they haven't decorated it yet, so the walls are entirely bare. Oh well, I can't deny that it's certainly nicer than the house I'm accustomed to. Plus, it's less than an hour from Charlottesville, so you'd better believe that I'll be making regular trips to collect mom noms to bring back with me for the remainder of the school year.
I'll Never Do That Again, Part V
Singing The Good Old Song, painting Beta Bridge, calling our campus "grounds," giving out candy at Trick-or-Treating on the Lawn: these are just a few of the many traditions at UVA that we students are proud of. But for every noble custom that we have, there is a corresponding one that is... not condoned by law enforcement officials.
For example, every UVA student is expected to go steam tunneling before he or she graduates. You see, there are a number of underground steam tunnels connecting the entirety of grounds. Sadly, most of the entrances are locked, so it takes some clever scouting to find a manhole that actually lets you into the system. Once in, you can explore the maze of steam pipes, most of which lead to various academic buildings and dormitories.
My friends and I always talked about making a map of the steam tunnels, but we never actually got around to it. For one, they're very difficult to navigate, because the tunnels themselves are only about four feet high in most areas. Plus, many of the gates are locked, leaving much of the tunnels inaccessible. Another problem is that going into the steam tunnels apparently turns Martha into a cracked out zombie.
In addition to steam tunneling, there are other less-than-legal traditions at UVA, the most popular of which is streaking the Lawn. Custom dictates that the streaker must disrobe at the Rotunda, run down the 740-foot length of the Lawn, kiss the statue of Homer, run back up the Lawn, climb the stairs of the Rotunda, peer through the keyhole of the front door, and say to the statue inside, "Good morning, Mr. Jefferson." Only then can the streaker put his or her clothes back on.
Unfortunately, public nudity is a sex crime in Virginia, and I'm pretty sure they don't let people with a sex crime on their record become pediatricians. And so, last but not least:
5. I'll never streak the Lawn again.
For example, every UVA student is expected to go steam tunneling before he or she graduates. You see, there are a number of underground steam tunnels connecting the entirety of grounds. Sadly, most of the entrances are locked, so it takes some clever scouting to find a manhole that actually lets you into the system. Once in, you can explore the maze of steam pipes, most of which lead to various academic buildings and dormitories.
My friends and I always talked about making a map of the steam tunnels, but we never actually got around to it. For one, they're very difficult to navigate, because the tunnels themselves are only about four feet high in most areas. Plus, many of the gates are locked, leaving much of the tunnels inaccessible. Another problem is that going into the steam tunnels apparently turns Martha into a cracked out zombie.
In addition to steam tunneling, there are other less-than-legal traditions at UVA, the most popular of which is streaking the Lawn. Custom dictates that the streaker must disrobe at the Rotunda, run down the 740-foot length of the Lawn, kiss the statue of Homer, run back up the Lawn, climb the stairs of the Rotunda, peer through the keyhole of the front door, and say to the statue inside, "Good morning, Mr. Jefferson." Only then can the streaker put his or her clothes back on.
Unfortunately, public nudity is a sex crime in Virginia, and I'm pretty sure they don't let people with a sex crime on their record become pediatricians. And so, last but not least:
5. I'll never streak the Lawn again.
I'll Never Do That Again, Part IV
I like meeting new people. I like dispensing advice, whether solicited or not. I like creating order out of chaos. Put those characteristics together, and you've got yourself a great resident advisor.
I spent both my third and fourth year as an RA in Old Dorms. And, for the most part, I loved my job. The guys on my both of my halls were great, and I'm still pretty close with some of them.
I remember them, wide-eyed with wonder, on their move-in days. I remember watching them struggle through classes, get in trouble, break up with high school girlfriends, and even learn a few things along the way. This was a group of well-meaning boys who, despite exasperating me to no end, were also pretty endearing.
I loved when they suggested that we do a Secret Santa exchange during the winter holidays.
I loved when they let me hang wreaths on their doors and then decorated stockings with their own names.
I loved when we had fancy dinners in the Rotunda, but then stopped to take goofy pictures together in front of TJ's statue afterwards.
I loved when they left absurd messages on my white board.
I loved when they left creepy (and thankfully inaccurate) predictions about my future on my white board.
I loved that the other RAs in Humphreys my fourth year were obsessed with Harry Potter enough to make our dorm theme "Humphrey Potter."
But don't be fooled: it's not always rainbows and butterflies. It's compromise that moves us along. (HA!) Yes, there are a lot of things that are not great about being an RA.
Sharing a bathroom with 40 guys? Not fun. Waking up on Monday morning to find four out of five toilets clogged with vomit? Not fun. Staying in on one weekend each month to patrol the halls for underage drinking? Not fun. Reprimanding 18-year-olds for breaking the University of Virginia Standards of Conduct? Not fun. Endless hours of paperwork? Not fun. Almost getting fired for taking a picture with my residents at an off-grounds party? Not fun. Living through the heat of August without air conditioning? Not fun.
All of that combined means one thing. You can better your bottom dollar that:
4. I'll never live in a hall with 20 other guys again.
I spent both my third and fourth year as an RA in Old Dorms. And, for the most part, I loved my job. The guys on my both of my halls were great, and I'm still pretty close with some of them.
I remember them, wide-eyed with wonder, on their move-in days. I remember watching them struggle through classes, get in trouble, break up with high school girlfriends, and even learn a few things along the way. This was a group of well-meaning boys who, despite exasperating me to no end, were also pretty endearing.
I loved when they suggested that we do a Secret Santa exchange during the winter holidays.
I loved when they let me hang wreaths on their doors and then decorated stockings with their own names.
I loved when we had fancy dinners in the Rotunda, but then stopped to take goofy pictures together in front of TJ's statue afterwards.
I loved when they left creepy (and thankfully inaccurate) predictions about my future on my white board.
I loved that the other RAs in Humphreys my fourth year were obsessed with Harry Potter enough to make our dorm theme "Humphrey Potter."
But don't be fooled: it's not always rainbows and butterflies. It's compromise that moves us along. (HA!) Yes, there are a lot of things that are not great about being an RA.
Sharing a bathroom with 40 guys? Not fun. Waking up on Monday morning to find four out of five toilets clogged with vomit? Not fun. Staying in on one weekend each month to patrol the halls for underage drinking? Not fun. Reprimanding 18-year-olds for breaking the University of Virginia Standards of Conduct? Not fun. Endless hours of paperwork? Not fun. Almost getting fired for taking a picture with my residents at an off-grounds party? Not fun. Living through the heat of August without air conditioning? Not fun.
All of that combined means one thing. You can better your bottom dollar that:
4. I'll never live in a hall with 20 other guys again.
I'll Never Do That Again, Part III
In spite of the fact that I love dressing up for UVA home games, I have been known to don a t-shirt to film scenes for the pump-up video at the beginning of football games. During the summer between first and second year, several of my friends and I happened to be in town while they were putting all the clips together for the fall football season. Have you ever seen a more spirited group of Wahoos?
Also, have you ever seen me with auburn hair? Because that's what color it was that summer. I had actually decided earlier that I was going to bleach my hair a surfer blond. I went to a salon in Richmond to get it done, but about half an hour into the bleaching process, the hair stylist told me that he would have to stop or else my hair would die and fall off. While "blond" and "bald" kind of sound alike, I definitely didn't want to be the latter, so we called it quits.
Unfortunately, my hair had only made it to a reddish-brownish hue. Not quite the blond I had originally hoped for, but still a nice change from the jet black hair I'd had for my entire life.
My hair grows fast, so within two months, I once more had a full head of my original black hair. As a result, only a few pictures of me with my bleached hair exist. I haven't tried to alter my hair color since then, and as a healthcare provider I'll have to maintain a "professional" image, so it's probably safe to assume that:
3. I'll never bleach or dye my hair again.
Or, alternatively:
3. I'll never be extremely tan from spending all summer playing in the outdoors again.
Also, have you ever seen me with auburn hair? Because that's what color it was that summer. I had actually decided earlier that I was going to bleach my hair a surfer blond. I went to a salon in Richmond to get it done, but about half an hour into the bleaching process, the hair stylist told me that he would have to stop or else my hair would die and fall off. While "blond" and "bald" kind of sound alike, I definitely didn't want to be the latter, so we called it quits.
Unfortunately, my hair had only made it to a reddish-brownish hue. Not quite the blond I had originally hoped for, but still a nice change from the jet black hair I'd had for my entire life.
My hair grows fast, so within two months, I once more had a full head of my original black hair. As a result, only a few pictures of me with my bleached hair exist. I haven't tried to alter my hair color since then, and as a healthcare provider I'll have to maintain a "professional" image, so it's probably safe to assume that:
3. I'll never bleach or dye my hair again.
Or, alternatively:
3. I'll never be extremely tan from spending all summer playing in the outdoors again.
I'll Never Do That Again, Part II
Ah, Beach Week. I don't have a lot of regrets, but of the few I have, probably 99% of them took place at North Myrtle Beach.
Every year during the week between final exams and commencement, you can find what feels like all of UVA at the same beach in South Carolina. Coincidentally, the annual Bike Week shares the same time and location, making for an interesting mix of preppy college kids and leather-clad middle-aged men.
What is most bizarre about Beach Week, though, is a place called the Spanish Galleon (or Spee Gee, as we like to call it). There's a strange magical force about it that draws in UVA students like moths to a light bulb. Then there's an additional magical force that causes those same UVA students to clamber like monkeys into various cages strategically placed throughout the dance floor.
Yes, that place is ridiculous. Yes, we always ended up there no matter what our initial plans were for the night. Yes, I was in a cage within 15 minutes of walking in the door every single time.
This is the least incriminating photo I could find of myself in a cage. Faces have been blurred to protect the not-so-innocent. Whatever, we were just having ourselves a good time. Even so, I feel pretty comfortable saying:
2. I'll never dance in a cage in the middle of a club again.
Every year during the week between final exams and commencement, you can find what feels like all of UVA at the same beach in South Carolina. Coincidentally, the annual Bike Week shares the same time and location, making for an interesting mix of preppy college kids and leather-clad middle-aged men.
What is most bizarre about Beach Week, though, is a place called the Spanish Galleon (or Spee Gee, as we like to call it). There's a strange magical force about it that draws in UVA students like moths to a light bulb. Then there's an additional magical force that causes those same UVA students to clamber like monkeys into various cages strategically placed throughout the dance floor.
Yes, that place is ridiculous. Yes, we always ended up there no matter what our initial plans were for the night. Yes, I was in a cage within 15 minutes of walking in the door every single time.
This is the least incriminating photo I could find of myself in a cage. Faces have been blurred to protect the not-so-innocent. Whatever, we were just having ourselves a good time. Even so, I feel pretty comfortable saying:
2. I'll never dance in a cage in the middle of a club again.
I'll Never Do That Again, Part I
When it comes to UVA football games, I am 100% in support of Guys in Ties, Girls in Pearls. Why? Because it's tradition, dangit! Plus, we look good when we dress well.
But back when I was in college, you were just as likely to see me in a shirt and tie as you were to see me wearing body paint. That is, if you even recognized me at all.
My friends and I painted ourselves for nearly every home game during first year, so of course I had to pass it down to my residents when I was an RA. Plus, if we did it together, it could count as my programming for the month. Win-win!
Of course, painting your body does have its drawbacks. For one, it's not very fun to do it at a night game. Sure, you may feel hardcore at the beginning, but when it's past 9:00 and the game looks like it's going into overtime, you're no longer a happy camper. Thank goodness our stadium sells hot chocolate.
Last but not least, if you're considering wearing body paint to a game, then you should be sure to cover all of your exposed skin, or you may end up with an unfortunate tan line.
I have tons of great memories from undergrad football games, but one thing is for sure:
1. I'll never paint my body and go shirtless to a sports game again.
But back when I was in college, you were just as likely to see me in a shirt and tie as you were to see me wearing body paint. That is, if you even recognized me at all.
My friends and I painted ourselves for nearly every home game during first year, so of course I had to pass it down to my residents when I was an RA. Plus, if we did it together, it could count as my programming for the month. Win-win!
Of course, painting your body does have its drawbacks. For one, it's not very fun to do it at a night game. Sure, you may feel hardcore at the beginning, but when it's past 9:00 and the game looks like it's going into overtime, you're no longer a happy camper. Thank goodness our stadium sells hot chocolate.
Last but not least, if you're considering wearing body paint to a game, then you should be sure to cover all of your exposed skin, or you may end up with an unfortunate tan line.
I have tons of great memories from undergrad football games, but one thing is for sure:
1. I'll never paint my body and go shirtless to a sports game again.
When I Was In College...
Neil has been on an away rotation in St. Louis, and whenever I talk to him, he tells me about how much he misses Charlottesville. Who can blame him? The thought of leaving here to go somewhere else for residency terrifies me. I've become so accustomed to living in this near-utopia, it's hard to imagine moving to another city, let alone another state.
The thing is, I'm going on my eighth year of being a Charlottesville resident. Have I changed that much during that time? I don't feel too much different than I did when I lugged my TV and laundry basket into Watson dorm on a hot day in August of 2004. And I still tell poop jokes. And I still go into paroxysms of laughter that scare everyone else in the restaurant.
But you know what? I have matured. I'm a professional, or at least so I'm told. For better or for worse, there are a lot of things that I did when I was a college student that I'll never do again. What kinds of things? Stay tuned this week to find out.
The thing is, I'm going on my eighth year of being a Charlottesville resident. Have I changed that much during that time? I don't feel too much different than I did when I lugged my TV and laundry basket into Watson dorm on a hot day in August of 2004. And I still tell poop jokes. And I still go into paroxysms of laughter that scare everyone else in the restaurant.
But you know what? I have matured. I'm a professional, or at least so I'm told. For better or for worse, there are a lot of things that I did when I was a college student that I'll never do again. What kinds of things? Stay tuned this week to find out.
I'm Not Mad; I'm Just Disappointed
Google, I thought I could trust you with everything. I let you manage my electronic mail. I schedule my life using your calendar. I use your maps to plan my public transportation routes when I'm in New York and DC. Heck, you even own the server for this blog.
But then I happen to go into my spam folder and find an invitation to interview at a residency program that was sent five days ago. Dagger!
Google, how could you do this to me? Why are you sabotaging my future? What did I do to deserve this? Why won't you love me the way I love you??
But then I happen to go into my spam folder and find an invitation to interview at a residency program that was sent five days ago. Dagger!
Google, how could you do this to me? Why are you sabotaging my future? What did I do to deserve this? Why won't you love me the way I love you??
Rolling on the Floor Laughing
Gauri posted some videos by Harvard Sailing Team yesterday, which pretty much made my night. Also, it made me stay up an hour later than I originally intended to. Why, Gauri, why??
The sketch comedy troupe has posted a number of great skits on their YouTube account, but the one below called "Puppy Pictures!!!" takes the cake by far. I think I was laughing so hard when I watched this that I broke a rib. And the cracked rib punctured my lung and gave me a pneumothorax. Then it wasn't funny anymore. :[
The sketch comedy troupe has posted a number of great skits on their YouTube account, but the one below called "Puppy Pictures!!!" takes the cake by far. I think I was laughing so hard when I watched this that I broke a rib. And the cracked rib punctured my lung and gave me a pneumothorax. Then it wasn't funny anymore. :[
Stick to It
When Sammas says something, by George, he means it. Except for when he's exaggerating. Or when he's being sarcastic. Or when he's inebriated. Umm...
Anyway, I made a vow when I submitted my applications for residency. I promised myself to never, ever, ever pay for a hotel room during the interview process. Luckily, I'm a pretty popular guy with friends all over the country (yeah, I went there). I have free places to stay in New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Durham, Chicago, Baltimore, Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Charlotte. But.
But.
I don't know anybody in Stony Brook.
Well, there's no way in this world I'm paying $119 to spend one night at the local Holiday Inn. Enter CouchSurfing. I first heard about it through my roommate David, who has used it in the past. We even hosted a CouchSurfer at our place during the LOOK3 Festival of the Photograph. Today, I joined the CouchSurfing community in hopes of finding someone to give me a place to crash just two weeks from tonight.
I'll keep my fingers crossed, and you wish me luck!
Anyway, I made a vow when I submitted my applications for residency. I promised myself to never, ever, ever pay for a hotel room during the interview process. Luckily, I'm a pretty popular guy with friends all over the country (yeah, I went there). I have free places to stay in New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Durham, Chicago, Baltimore, Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Charlotte. But.
But.
I don't know anybody in Stony Brook.
Well, there's no way in this world I'm paying $119 to spend one night at the local Holiday Inn. Enter CouchSurfing. I first heard about it through my roommate David, who has used it in the past. We even hosted a CouchSurfer at our place during the LOOK3 Festival of the Photograph. Today, I joined the CouchSurfing community in hopes of finding someone to give me a place to crash just two weeks from tonight.
I'll keep my fingers crossed, and you wish me luck!
I Can't Do Work
For the past nine hours, I've had a Word document open. For the past nine hours, all that has been written is "SEPTIC ARTHRITIS" in size 20 font.
I literally cannot bring myself to put this presentation together.
Senioritis strikes back with a vengeance.
I literally cannot bring myself to put this presentation together.
Senioritis strikes back with a vengeance.
Revenge Is Mine!
I'm spending the day with the Charlottesville-Albemarle Rescue Squad, and you know who provided lunch today? That's right, Ariana Grill Kabob House!
You see, if I can't eat you for cheap, then I won't eat you at all. But if I can eat you for free, I will eat you until I pass out.
I am the winnar! (^_^) Y
You see, if I can't eat you for cheap, then I won't eat you at all. But if I can eat you for free, I will eat you until I pass out.
I am the winnar! (^_^) Y
Double Whammy
So, I'm a little behind on my work hours. But it's not my fault, I swear! I couldn't work any shifts last weekend because of the wedding and I couldn't work any shifts this weekend because of Homecomings, so I started making up for it today by taking on a 9a-12p Toxicology shift followed by a 3p-11p adult ED shift. Yeah, it made for a long day, but at least I got to break it up with another trip to Ariana Grill Kabob House, this time with Derek and Sunny for $3.99 lunch.
Or so I thought.
We got there and took our seats outside. The server brought us three glasses of ice water, silverware, and menus. And then we saw it: a lack of lunch specials. Even the banner advertising $3.99 kabob wraps had been taken down from the front porch! Our world came crashing to a halt! At the risk of looking extremely cheap, we sheepishly told our server that we would no longer be eating there and left. Okay, fine, we made Sunny do it. Oh, the shame!!
My failure of a lunch experience was merely a foreshadowing of how my ED shift would be: by the time I left tonight, there was an eight hour wait for the adult ED and a five hour wait for the peds ED. It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times.
Or so I thought.
We got there and took our seats outside. The server brought us three glasses of ice water, silverware, and menus. And then we saw it: a lack of lunch specials. Even the banner advertising $3.99 kabob wraps had been taken down from the front porch! Our world came crashing to a halt! At the risk of looking extremely cheap, we sheepishly told our server that we would no longer be eating there and left. Okay, fine, we made Sunny do it. Oh, the shame!!
My failure of a lunch experience was merely a foreshadowing of how my ED shift would be: by the time I left tonight, there was an eight hour wait for the adult ED and a five hour wait for the peds ED. It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times.
HOOS the Exterminator
Two things could have happened yesterday: it could have been the best day of my life, or I could have ended up in jail. Seeing as how I'm posting on my blog right now, it's safe to say that we went with the former.
It all began with a brunch hosted by Lizzie. Bodo's bagels, bacon, eggs, and mimosas? Talk about a breakfast of champions!
After briefly catching up with my friends who were there, I headed over to the house that Stevie and Steph had rented for the weekend and picked up our friends for the wedding tailgate. Unsurprisingly, Stevie's mom prepared a bountiful feast for the party. I'd like to say that we cleaned up, but we only managed to make a notable dent in the food and the beer.
Soon it was time to head into the game, which turned out to be one of the greatest games I've ever attended. Apparently all of the other fans agreed, too: we rushed the field after clenching a 24-21 victory against 12th ranked Georgia Tech. It was my second time rushing the field of a UVA game, but it was my first time getting a picture with Cavman on the 50-yard line.
Still on a high from winning the game, we ventured over to Young Alumni Reunions. Sure, the party filled up quickly and I had to sneak Josh and Paul in, but that just made it all the more awesome. Not that there was much room for improvement given the unlimited food from Wayside Chicken, Take It Away, and Arch's plus a beer truck carrying both Bud Light and Shock Top. Man, I hope this is what Heaven is like. Also, I hope to get a picture with Thomas Jefferson there, just like Steph got a picture with a cardboard cutout of his image at YAR.
The party ended at 11pm, and the smart thing to do would have been to go home. After all, we had a Trustees meeting at 10am the next morning, and a good night's sleep after the madness of the day would have been nice. But how could we possibly waste the three golden hours before bars closed? Plus, when have I ever been known to make the "smart" decision?
I'm not going to lie: when I woke up this morning, I wanted to die. But that's a small price to pay for what will forever stand as the most epic day of my entire life. Thank you, UVA, for being the happiest place on earth.
It all began with a brunch hosted by Lizzie. Bodo's bagels, bacon, eggs, and mimosas? Talk about a breakfast of champions!
After briefly catching up with my friends who were there, I headed over to the house that Stevie and Steph had rented for the weekend and picked up our friends for the wedding tailgate. Unsurprisingly, Stevie's mom prepared a bountiful feast for the party. I'd like to say that we cleaned up, but we only managed to make a notable dent in the food and the beer.
Soon it was time to head into the game, which turned out to be one of the greatest games I've ever attended. Apparently all of the other fans agreed, too: we rushed the field after clenching a 24-21 victory against 12th ranked Georgia Tech. It was my second time rushing the field of a UVA game, but it was my first time getting a picture with Cavman on the 50-yard line.
Still on a high from winning the game, we ventured over to Young Alumni Reunions. Sure, the party filled up quickly and I had to sneak Josh and Paul in, but that just made it all the more awesome. Not that there was much room for improvement given the unlimited food from Wayside Chicken, Take It Away, and Arch's plus a beer truck carrying both Bud Light and Shock Top. Man, I hope this is what Heaven is like. Also, I hope to get a picture with Thomas Jefferson there, just like Steph got a picture with a cardboard cutout of his image at YAR.
The party ended at 11pm, and the smart thing to do would have been to go home. After all, we had a Trustees meeting at 10am the next morning, and a good night's sleep after the madness of the day would have been nice. But how could we possibly waste the three golden hours before bars closed? Plus, when have I ever been known to make the "smart" decision?
I'm not going to lie: when I woke up this morning, I wanted to die. But that's a small price to pay for what will forever stand as the most epic day of my entire life. Thank you, UVA, for being the happiest place on earth.
Can't Escape
I had to leave my shift in the ED today in order to go play piano for the Musical Theatre Ensemble class at Charlottesville High School. And just when I thought I had gotten away from the madness of the hospital...
Literally one minute into rehearsal, one of the girls started feeling uncomfortable. She had a history of supraventricular tachycardias, but this time she was feeling weaker and her heart rate was faster than it had ever been before.
At that point, I initiated vagal maneuvers, ranging from having her hold her breath to having her bear down to even performing carotid massage on her. The school nurse arrived a few minutes later and took her to the clinic to lay down. I'm not sure what happened to her after that, but I hope she's doing better now.
The event itself made me realize how powerless I am without the gadgets and gizmos in the hospital. By the end of it, all I wanted was an EKG and some IV adenosine, but I had nothing with me out in the field. Sigh, being a doctor is going to be hard!
Literally one minute into rehearsal, one of the girls started feeling uncomfortable. She had a history of supraventricular tachycardias, but this time she was feeling weaker and her heart rate was faster than it had ever been before.
At that point, I initiated vagal maneuvers, ranging from having her hold her breath to having her bear down to even performing carotid massage on her. The school nurse arrived a few minutes later and took her to the clinic to lay down. I'm not sure what happened to her after that, but I hope she's doing better now.
The event itself made me realize how powerless I am without the gadgets and gizmos in the hospital. By the end of it, all I wanted was an EKG and some IV adenosine, but I had nothing with me out in the field. Sigh, being a doctor is going to be hard!
Three Halves Are Better Than Two
Ariana Grill Kabob House! I will sing its praises.
First, a little back story. Jim is staying in town for the week in between the wedding and Homecomings. We've been working out together but more importantly eating out together at all of the good ole Charlottesville restaurants. I've been to Ariana in the past, but recently they started a $3.99 lunch menu that I've been hankering for, and since I didn't pick up a shift in the Emergency Department today, we had the perfect opportunity to check it out.
Lee, Jim, and I all went for the lamb kabob wrap. It. Was. Effing. Delicious. Especially when eaten with that green sauce. What's in it? Crack cocaine? I don't know, but everything tasted amazing. So amazing, in fact, that Lee and I split a second lamb kabob wrap. We ate like kings at such a low price!
At the end of our meal, the owner brought us all a cup of hot green tea with rosewater on the house. Was she trying to win me over? Because if so, she succeeded. I'm going back. Like, tomorrow.
First, a little back story. Jim is staying in town for the week in between the wedding and Homecomings. We've been working out together but more importantly eating out together at all of the good ole Charlottesville restaurants. I've been to Ariana in the past, but recently they started a $3.99 lunch menu that I've been hankering for, and since I didn't pick up a shift in the Emergency Department today, we had the perfect opportunity to check it out.
Lee, Jim, and I all went for the lamb kabob wrap. It. Was. Effing. Delicious. Especially when eaten with that green sauce. What's in it? Crack cocaine? I don't know, but everything tasted amazing. So amazing, in fact, that Lee and I split a second lamb kabob wrap. We ate like kings at such a low price!
At the end of our meal, the owner brought us all a cup of hot green tea with rosewater on the house. Was she trying to win me over? Because if so, she succeeded. I'm going back. Like, tomorrow.
Buyer Beware
I went grocery shopping hungry last weekend. I know, I know, I've been told you're not supposed to do that. I thought I learned my lesson when I went shopping after working out one time in college and ended up buying a 12-pound turkey that was on sale, which inadvertently led to the first annual Hallowanksgiving celebration at Venable Court Apartments in October 2005. But I digress.
So, I bought a lot of food. But that is not what this post is about. This post is about one particular item that I purchased. This item is called a Titan High Protein Bar.
You see, I had never eaten a protein bar before. And so many of them were on sale at Kroger! My hunger after an intense Plyometrics workout combined with my innate Asian love for sales left me no choice: I had to buy one and try it. Out of the entire shelf, I ended up going with this one because I love my dog Titan and I thought maybe I would love my protein bar Titan as well.
Well, I was wrong, and it was bad. Not gag-and-spit-it-out-of-my-mouth bad, not swallow-but-throw-the-rest-of-it-away bad, but more like this-tastes-like-cardboard-and-I-don't-want-it-anymore-but-I-already-paid-for-it-so-I'm-going-to-finish-it bad.
Moral of the story: if you've never tried a protein bar, then this one is not the first one you should try, unless your goal is to develop a visceral reaction to the name of your beloved pet.
So, I bought a lot of food. But that is not what this post is about. This post is about one particular item that I purchased. This item is called a Titan High Protein Bar.
You see, I had never eaten a protein bar before. And so many of them were on sale at Kroger! My hunger after an intense Plyometrics workout combined with my innate Asian love for sales left me no choice: I had to buy one and try it. Out of the entire shelf, I ended up going with this one because I love my dog Titan and I thought maybe I would love my protein bar Titan as well.
Well, I was wrong, and it was bad. Not gag-and-spit-it-out-of-my-mouth bad, not swallow-but-throw-the-rest-of-it-away bad, but more like this-tastes-like-cardboard-and-I-don't-want-it-anymore-but-I-already-paid-for-it-so-I'm-going-to-finish-it bad.
Moral of the story: if you've never tried a protein bar, then this one is not the first one you should try, unless your goal is to develop a visceral reaction to the name of your beloved pet.
Wind Taken Out of My Sails
My spirit has been crushed. I just came back from my LASIK consultation appointment, and to make a long story short, I am not a candidate for the procedure.
To make a short story long, my cornea is actually perfectly healthy and able to tolerate the procedure, but the level of myopia in my right eye is too severe (-8.5 diopters). In order to correct my vision, they would have to remove so much tissue that the remaining corneal layer would be too thin to tolerate physiologic intraorbital pressure. I also don't qualify for PRK because the extent of the procedure would put me at risk for severe scarring.
The good news is that there's something coming down the pipeline (isn't there always?) that basically functions like a contact lens implanted permanently into the cornea, called an intracorneal inlay. It's currently in Phase III Clinical Trials, so maybe in the next few years this will be an option for me.
Until then, I'll just have to continue looking incredibly dashing in my stylish glasses.
To make a short story long, my cornea is actually perfectly healthy and able to tolerate the procedure, but the level of myopia in my right eye is too severe (-8.5 diopters). In order to correct my vision, they would have to remove so much tissue that the remaining corneal layer would be too thin to tolerate physiologic intraorbital pressure. I also don't qualify for PRK because the extent of the procedure would put me at risk for severe scarring.
The good news is that there's something coming down the pipeline (isn't there always?) that basically functions like a contact lens implanted permanently into the cornea, called an intracorneal inlay. It's currently in Phase III Clinical Trials, so maybe in the next few years this will be an option for me.
Until then, I'll just have to continue looking incredibly dashing in my stylish glasses.
Kitteh Has Regretz
Last year, I had the time of my life at the 2010 Harriman Cup. This year, I needed to save money for residency applications and interviews, so I did the right thing and stayed in Charlottesville that weekend. Or so I thought.
As it turns out, I missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Not only did my friends have a blast at the annual UVa vs. Yale alumni polo match, they were even featured on Guest of a Guest, an website covering New York social news and interest stories.
The caption for this beautiful photo? "The entire album screams Hilfiger ad, but there were a couple of shots that really stepped up their game on the Hilfiger front. Seriously, they should consider heading to the next casting call."
I'm so jealous right now that it's giving me angina.
As it turns out, I missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Not only did my friends have a blast at the annual UVa vs. Yale alumni polo match, they were even featured on Guest of a Guest, an website covering New York social news and interest stories.
The caption for this beautiful photo? "The entire album screams Hilfiger ad, but there were a couple of shots that really stepped up their game on the Hilfiger front. Seriously, they should consider heading to the next casting call."
I'm so jealous right now that it's giving me angina.
Jenniven vs. Kevifer
My good friends Jennifer and Kevin got married yesterday. It was a special wedding to me for several reasons, not the least of which is because Kev and Jen are the only couple I've ever shared a bed with simultaneously. The story is long and really doesn't make sense even when told properly, so I'll spare you all the details.
The ceremony at the UVA Chapel was short and sweet (seriously, it lasted all of 15 minutes), and before I knew it, we had been whisked downtown for the reception at The Jefferson Theatre.
The decorations there were great, especially the fake movie posters they made with pictures of Kev and Jen. I also loved the bottles of wine they laid out front that we could write messages on. Of course, I went for the big money and picked the one they're supposed to open on their 50th anniversary. While other people left sentimental and thoughtful notes, I wrote, "Hope you guys still remember who I am! -Sam."
The rest of the evening was a blur: there was bacon-wrapped shrimp that blew my socks off, there was a buffet that gave me such a large food baby that I nearly tore through my vest, and there was dancing. Boy, was there dancing. Unfortunately I never got a picture with Jen, but I did get this great picture with Kev. It looks like Jim is photobombing it, but I swear, we totally meant for him to be in the picture, too.
This morning, I woke up to find the last text that I had sent last night was in fact a mass text to everyone I had hung out with at the wedding:
LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I LOVE MY FRIENDS!
It's all too true.
The ceremony at the UVA Chapel was short and sweet (seriously, it lasted all of 15 minutes), and before I knew it, we had been whisked downtown for the reception at The Jefferson Theatre.
The decorations there were great, especially the fake movie posters they made with pictures of Kev and Jen. I also loved the bottles of wine they laid out front that we could write messages on. Of course, I went for the big money and picked the one they're supposed to open on their 50th anniversary. While other people left sentimental and thoughtful notes, I wrote, "Hope you guys still remember who I am! -Sam."
The rest of the evening was a blur: there was bacon-wrapped shrimp that blew my socks off, there was a buffet that gave me such a large food baby that I nearly tore through my vest, and there was dancing. Boy, was there dancing. Unfortunately I never got a picture with Jen, but I did get this great picture with Kev. It looks like Jim is photobombing it, but I swear, we totally meant for him to be in the picture, too.
This morning, I woke up to find the last text that I had sent last night was in fact a mass text to everyone I had hung out with at the wedding:
It's all too true.
Fyat Cyat
Yes, it's true: I ate too much last night. Maybe it was the rush of seeing all of my college friends in town, maybe it was the result of working out too hard earlier in the day, or maybe it was simply because I am a fyat cyat, but I had not one but two late night meals.
First stop: Last Call Dogs, a late night food truck service that meats (hiyo!) all of your midnight cravings.
Second stop: The White Spot, where the patties taste strangely delicious despite being stored next to the bathroom door. Whatever, I'm sure all of the bacteria are killed during the cooking process. Right? Right??
Now, why do I feel so guilty after eating six meals yesterday? FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!
First stop: Last Call Dogs, a late night food truck service that meats (hiyo!) all of your midnight cravings.
Second stop: The White Spot, where the patties taste strangely delicious despite being stored next to the bathroom door. Whatever, I'm sure all of the bacteria are killed during the cooking process. Right? Right??
Now, why do I feel so guilty after eating six meals yesterday? FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS!
Non-Emergent
I worked my first real Emergency Medicine shift today. I don't count Monday because I went home after Orientation, I don't count Tuesday because I worked in Express Care, and I don't count Wednesday because I basically just had seven hours of teaching. And you know how many patients I saw today? Four. That's right: during my eight hours in the Emergency Department today, I saw one, two, three, four patients.
Part of the reason was that we had several boarders from the night before that were awaiting admission, which prevented the nurses from bringing back the new patients for us to examine. Luckily, I am suffering from a severe case of senioritis, and to be honest, I was pretty happy to have a low-key day. In fact, I think I'd be happy to have low-key days for the rest of my life. Can't I just skip the 40 or so years ahead of me and go straight from graduation to retirement? Come on, please??
Part of the reason was that we had several boarders from the night before that were awaiting admission, which prevented the nurses from bringing back the new patients for us to examine. Luckily, I am suffering from a severe case of senioritis, and to be honest, I was pretty happy to have a low-key day. In fact, I think I'd be happy to have low-key days for the rest of my life. Can't I just skip the 40 or so years ahead of me and go straight from graduation to retirement? Come on, please??
No Rules, Just Right
Having burned off a million calories this past weekend (90% of which was spent on maintaining homeostasis in the setting of temperatures in the 40s), I felt no guilt cashing in on my free meal at Outback Steakhouse last night. Josh, Sunny, and I treated ourselves to free steaks and, of course, an appetizer of bloomin' onion. During dinner, I came to the sad realization that the last time I had eaten at Outback was when I was still in college. That, my friends, is far too long of an interval in between visits to America's seventh best chain restaurant.
Speaking of Pac-Man (Huh? No, I wasn't!), here's a video from me to you. Or rather, from Random Encounters to you via me. Technicalities.
Speaking of Pac-Man (Huh? No, I wasn't!), here's a video from me to you. Or rather, from Random Encounters to you via me. Technicalities.
On Target
Before we left for our epic whitewater adventure last Friday, I helped Troy out with one of his work assignments. To make a long story short, he needed to film a training video, and I made my acting debut as a terrorist attempting to place an improvised explosive device (IED). For the majority of the video, I played a dead body while Troy narrated how to properly search my body, sort the contents of my pockets, and document his findings.
It may not sound like it, but playing a dead body in an open field was kind of fun, especially since I had only gotten one hour of sleep the night before in the CCU. In fact, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep during one of the scenes. The only hard part was trying not to react whenever bugs landed on my face or crawled across my arm.
To thank me for my help, Troy let me fire some of his weapons. I'd never held a gun before Friday, so getting to shoot his M24 sniper rifle was pretty much the coolest thing I've ever done. I even hit the two-liter bottle Troy had set up as a target about 100m away on my very first try, much to my own surprise.
Troy also let me wield his AK-47 assault rifle and his 9mm handgun. Personally, I found the 9mm much harder to use than the M24. It was also really loud and I had some pretty severe tinnitus in my left ear despite wearing earplugs.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go revel in my new-found machismo.
It may not sound like it, but playing a dead body in an open field was kind of fun, especially since I had only gotten one hour of sleep the night before in the CCU. In fact, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep during one of the scenes. The only hard part was trying not to react whenever bugs landed on my face or crawled across my arm.
To thank me for my help, Troy let me fire some of his weapons. I'd never held a gun before Friday, so getting to shoot his M24 sniper rifle was pretty much the coolest thing I've ever done. I even hit the two-liter bottle Troy had set up as a target about 100m away on my very first try, much to my own surprise.
Troy also let me wield his AK-47 assault rifle and his 9mm handgun. Personally, I found the 9mm much harder to use than the M24. It was also really loud and I had some pretty severe tinnitus in my left ear despite wearing earplugs.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go revel in my new-found machismo.
Survivor: Gad
After two years of waiting, we finally finished what we set out to do: we have conquered the Gauley River! This weekend, eight of us braved the elements to do the Upper and Lower Gauley Marathon, a 23-mile trip down some of the best whitewater rapids in the world. I'm not kidding about the elements: the high temperature on Saturday was 44°F and the water was a warm 52°F. But somehow, we survived, and we kicked butt on the river, if I do say so myself.
Of course, this is mostly because we had the greatest river guide of all time, Jeff. This is his 20th year as a guide on the Gauley River, and he happens to train all of the new guides every year. Basically, he knows everything about every rapid at every water level. We had an extremely unique experience because the day we went, the Army Corps of Engineers was releasing 3200ft³/s of water, while the typical release level is 2400 to 2800ft³/s. Needless to say, we were in for the ride of our lives.
The most exciting weekend of my life is winding down, and I think I'm ready for a nice, long sleep in my own comfy bed. I'll see you on the flip side, trailblazers!
Of course, this is mostly because we had the greatest river guide of all time, Jeff. This is his 20th year as a guide on the Gauley River, and he happens to train all of the new guides every year. Basically, he knows everything about every rapid at every water level. We had an extremely unique experience because the day we went, the Army Corps of Engineers was releasing 3200ft³/s of water, while the typical release level is 2400 to 2800ft³/s. Needless to say, we were in for the ride of our lives.
The most exciting weekend of my life is winding down, and I think I'm ready for a nice, long sleep in my own comfy bed. I'll see you on the flip side, trailblazers!
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