Makomed's Weblog

Back on Track

Posted on: July 4, 2007

My Buddies Brian, Olaf, Tyson, and Navid

“God helps those who help themselves.” Last month I was ornery–much more than usual. Cynicism oozed through my pores while I snapped at family and friends. Like a snapping turtle. Snap. Crackle. Pop. Whatever.

 Anyway I had been telling myself that I would prepare for my classes ahead of time and wouldn’t register for class until I knew Chemistry and Biology thoroughly on my own. This way, when I would register for class, I would get an easy “A” and it would look like I did with no effort at all. Like magic. Magic Johnson. Magic Marker. Whatever.

But I could never seem to keep my life settled enough to root myself down into the desk chair so that I could teach myself. I started to resent myself and those who were close to me. I bought, like, 15 used DVDs from Blockbuster each week and just veg out at home or go out drinking with my friends. Best friends. BFFs. Buddies. Sure.

Things got sour between my lover and I, while my family saw me less and less. My friends had a great time when we were out clubbing but I always felt like I could never have fun because there were things that I still needed to do. They’re lucky, half of them are already lawyers and the rest have their master’s degree. Pedigree. Pedicure. Clean.

After acting like a nomad for two and half weeks, I decided to throw caution to the wind and registered for a summer semester and a fall semester. I thought I would start biology in summer–even though it was academic suicide. In Santa Monica College, the semesters are only six weeks long and the class load gets exponentially difficult because there are fewer tests but professors still try to cover topics thoroughly. I know it’s not a university or anything, but a lot of these professors also teach at UCLA. They don’t mess around. In addition, one of the people that work with me has a husband that is actually on the UCLA admissions board for David Geffen Med School and she says that going to JC is perfectly fine, “as long as you don’t get less than an A in all of your classes.” Nuff said. Muff. Muffin. Ear Muffs. Yeah.

So here I am, I wake up everyday at 0530 am, go swimming for an hour, and then go to work half an hour early so I could leave earlier to go to school for four hours. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Shampoo. Pamploo. Nice.

Surprisingly, things have patched up between me and my lover. My friends and family exhibit some confusion as to why I was so social and gung-ho about partying only a few weeks before and then all of a sudden fall of the face of the Earth. They have to understand that pursuing medical school is my goal. It’s for me. I love them, but I have to take care of me. Myself. I.


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