n. the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you’d be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.
After graduating from Med School, one is entitled to using the M.D. title pretty much to one’s perusal. In this country however, a 5th year medical student/postgraduate intern can have the luxury of owning a coat emblazoned with one’s name and title on it despite only taking the national board exam after the end of 5th year itself. Pretty much, we’re in limbo here because we are given the responsibilities similar to that of a resident’s (well not really) but not entirely the same title because we have yet to pass the said board exam. (In comes the dilemma of whether or not we really are M.D.’s and with it the pressure of passing the board exam on the first take blah blah bleargh.)
So anyway, fast forward to now. I am officially on my 6th month of internship and people more often than not address us as “doctors” even if deep inside we know we aren’t entirely and legally so. The other day, I was at a big market fair in town and a raffle was apparently being given out to people within the fair. To cut the story short, I magically ended up winning a supposed free trip to an island destination of our choice. The sales representative however, was obviously keen on mentioning the fact that I was a doctor. After minutes of talking to her, details of the said raffle win became even more obscure. It went along the lines of me having to meet up with her at (and I quote her on this): “a fancy cocktail dinner” where we had to meet up with some other company “representatives” and claim the said vouchers at the basement of some building after we watched their supposed presentations about the company. In short, it was just one of those typical pyramid scams that tried to lure you in with their “freebies”. What really ticks me off though, is how quick these people were to sugarcoat my profession. I MEAN SRSLY. We don’t shit money here. (If some people only knew the shit we had to go through and all the money we had to spend to get a degree only to start off with a salary that’s below the minimum. So yes, the Scrubs depiction of the janitor earning more than the intern is in fact true. Which pretty much sums up a huge chunk of our government’s focus on healthcare and its professionals which is rly close to NADA. I can really go on and on about this.)
I know it’s everyone’s prerogative to do whatever the hell they want to lure ppl in with their offers. But I don’t know, somewhere in between the time I wasted listening to this sales person gab on and on about their company and me harboring all this hidden angst about my profession and the government’s lack of support in healthcare altogether I realized something: I’m having a fucking hissy fit thanks to PMS. Good job, catharsis. I’m really just digressing here. Move along now.
Peace and rockets,
You know how at the end of each novel, the last few chapters start having that “impending-end-of-things” kind of vibe? Well I think we’re in it. Or atleast in this chapter of our lives anyway. And before everything else starts to fade and we move on with our lives (as time and inevitability compels us), I would just like to say that the past year has been a mixture of godawful awesomecreepycrazyamazing things - a huge part of which I spent with people I will probably never ever see again in one congregation. So thank you for the memories and the time spent doing things, mostly avoiding doing said things (read:borlogs), seeing each other in a multitude of mental states, hatingloving each other and mostly putting up with each other’s quirks. I love you guys. I really, really do. Never will I encounter a unique set of people who I can just be myself with. Thank you for putting up with my weirdness. Thank you for understanding and most of all, thank you for the laughs.
I am such a sap. I’m typing this while still wearing my autographed JI uniform, sober and in dire need of spewing out said random thoughts. So there. I think I just did. JUNIOR INTERN KIMI PANGILINAN SIGNING OFF.
[04.01.11 // 3AM]
While acquaintances from College are getting hitched, I find myself still smoking up on rooftops, waiting for sunsets and spending my idle time waxing poetic on the inanities of life instead of actually studying med-related stuff. COMMUNITY MEDICINE, what have you done to mah brain cells!
I need structure and actual dying patients in need of complicated medicine and procedures that requires one to be at the very least, RATIONAL AND SOBER.
This pretty much sums up my Junior Internship so far - wide smiles, happy demeanor, being with osm osm people and shitloads of freebies from pharmaceutical companies (hee). JI-ship is fucking stressful like WHOA, but it helps a lot that the people I’m with are amazingly well-adjusted and mature.
Turning the big 2-4 wasn’t as bad I thought it would be. All this self-deprecation should really end right now. Thank you friends!! :)
Stick on earrings.
Back when I was still a kid, I always found accessories to be fascinating and a must-have as a little girl. Well look at what I found!! I had the exact same set and I remember wearing this to school and coming home w/o it on. Stick-on earrings FTW!
Jesus Cat iz luv.
WWKJD (What Would Kitteh Jesus Do)?
I Google you
late at night when I don’t know what to do
I find photos
you were in
put up by your friends
I Google you
when the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal
that you kept
that month in France
I’ve watched you dance
And I’m pleased your name is practically unique
it’s only you and
a would-be PhD in Chesapeake
who writes papers on
the structure of the sun
I’ve read each one
I know that I
should let you fade
but there’s that box
and there’s your name
somehow it never makes the pain
grow less or fade or disappear
I think that I should save my soul and
I should crawl back in my hole
But it’s too easy just to fold
and type your name again
I Google you
Whenever I’m alone and feeling blue
And each scrap of information
That I gather
says you’ve got somebody new
And it really shouldn’t matter
ought to blow up my computer
I Google you