A Small Gesture

I'm sitting here in the university's dining hall. They're hosting a study hall through the night, offering free drinks (coffee and the like) to help students study for finals.

I've had four finals already, and my last one's in about five and half hours. It's getting hard for me to concentrate, as I've had little to no sleep in the past few days, and constantly taxing my brain with calculus, oceanography terms, geography concepts, and the bane of all medical students: ochem. I'm sitting here, at 2:35 in the morning, trying as hard as I can to concentrate on studying for physics. But my mind keeps wandering, and I keep thinking about getting on that plane home. Less than 17 hours before I get home. So you see, my brain's beginning to wander.

I tried to kick myself back onto the studying path. I got up, refueled my cup of joe, and went back to scrolling through MIT's opencourseware physics notes. And a small, insignificant, seemingly meaningless memory surfaced...

A couple years ago, around this time, while I was still in high school, studying for some block of exams (may have been midterms, finals, or AP testing, I don't quite remember), my mom knocked on my door, late into the night when she'd usually be sleeping already, and came in with a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee. Told me to try and finish studying sooner so I could get some sleep, wished me luck, and went back to bed. I don't think I ever thanked her for that.

So this is just to say, when was the last time you took the time to thank someone close, be it family or friends? For all the little things they do. And when was the last time you performed a small, random act of kindness? The world could always use a little more kindness to go around. Especially this time of year. :)

There Comes a Time

I just finished watching last week's episode of Bones. And it spoke volumes. At least, to me.

To those who know me well, you know my situation, my relationship with a certain individual in my family. And to those who don't know me, you will easily be able to figure out what this relationship is like if you've seen the aforementioned episode.

A Father's Day card from Booth his father kept

A key part of last week's episode was how one of the main characters, FBI Agent Seeley Booth, dealt with the death of his estranged father. Throughout the episode, Booth pushes away everyone who tries to comfort him on his loss, announcing he doesn't want to talk about it, his father wasn't exactly there for much of his life, etc. Among the people he pushes away is his grandfather, whom he calls "Pops" and is the person who raised Booth. Pops was relenting at first, but eventually said to Booth something along the lines of, "How do you think I feel about this? He's my son! You don't think I don't feel guilty about the way he turned out?" Then towards the end of the episode, Pops reads a letter addressed to him from Booth's father. It was the usual lines that you see and hear in these kind of story lines about how he was sorry, and that his sons deserved better, but then Pops gave Booth a small wooden box, which Booth at first dismissed. At the very end, Brennan (Booth's girlfriend and main character of the show) convinces Booth to open the box. For the good memories. And inside contained some of Booth's fondest childhood memories, among them, memories from the one "perfect day" he had with his father.

One of the photos in the box.

 I couldn't help but relate. I am extremely angry at my own father about what he's done. I resent him, and I have a hatred for him inside me that nobody should have for a parent. Anytime things relating to the subject are brought up, my mom tries to convince me that he is still, after all, my father; much like how Pops and Brennan try to talk Booth out of despising his father so much. That I should try not to feel that way, that I should remember from before shit happened. But it's hard. It's so incredibly difficult. But those last two scenes I described above, the ones these images depict... I have pictures like those. I have experiences and memories like those shown that are so easily forgettable in light of what's been done. And it made me think once again, how will I react when the day comes? I keep telling myself that I won't care, that he's hurt us, my mother, brothers and me, too much. But things like this throw in a pang of guilt, a twinge of doubt. Well I guess I'll know for certain sooner or later. A bit morbid for a kid to be thinking huh?

Booth's "perfect day" with his late father.

I realize that people may say that I'm overanalyzing or that it's just a TV show, but I don't think I am. You see, that's the great thing about TV shows, or just art in general (yes, it is an art). The thing about art, be it a photo, video, music, novel, etc, is just how many people it can touch. It's a blank canvas where real people can tell a real story. A photo might be edited to make you focus on something. A song might be auto-tuned or have some other kind of filter overlaid on the track. A novel might be fiction. And a video may be dramatized. But at the end of the day, all these works tell a story, and they're the result of the very real relationships of very real human beings. They're about common experiences we all share. And that's what makes them so great. That's what makes art a universal aspect of the human race. That's why I love film, television, video-making, etc. so much.

A photo with meaning much likes ones I know we have, hidden away somewhere.

They are truly a testament to the human experience. No matter where you are in the world, no matter what you may be feeling right now, you know that you are not alone.

College Bike Rental Idea

On my recent trip to London, I noticed the bike rental system they had going on there. Some of you may know what I'm talking about. The nice grey bikes with the Barclay's logos on them? I'm not exactly sure how the rental process worked, but I saw plenty of "stations" so to speak around the city, and more than just a few people using them.

Towards the beginning of this semester, I was walking up the main large hill on our campus (which I have to trek up nearly every day). Depending on what classes I have that day, I decide whether or not I will ride my bike to school. I like riding bikes, but not so much to my current classes. You see, I have a single speed bike. Not only that, I have a fixed gear bike. It's not exactly fun to ride up that hill. And only a few of the building up there even have bike racks for me to lock up my bike. And the ones that do, only have a few. So I had a thought. What if we implement a bike rental system on our campus (and all other campuses for that matter. I'm sure UC Davis kids would love it)? A lot of kids want to bring their bike to school, but unless you live within driving distance, it's not really feasible. Bikes aren't exactly cheap, so it's not as easy to just throw down a couple hundred bucks to buy a new one. And even if you do bring your bike, if you've got a track bike or something, it's not exactly useful for a campus like Cal, with all its potholes and hills. So why not provide them?

This is how it would work. There would be a fleet of mountain bikes that any student can rent. Bike lock stations would be strategically placed throughout the school (along with normal bike racks). We already have ID cards that work as keycards. Granted, you have to apply for them, but they get approved pretty easily. But in this system, you don't have to apply for them, it comes included in your tuition, just like our Alameda County bus passes. Yes, some people do complain that they don't use the bus, and they don't like that they are forced to pay 60-some dollars as part of their tuition. But my thought is... it's your loss. The service is provided there for you. The cost for us to get semesterly bus passes is extremely low and good value. Why wouldn't you use it? Anyway, back to the idea. Each student would be charged a comparatively small fee (especially compared to buying a brand new bike), and their ID cards would work as their rental card. Each bike station would have one of those sensors, similar to the ones used for meal points, or key card access. Or even mass transit system cards (Bay Area's Clipper, UK's Oyster, etc). Since each ID card is unique, the system can easily track who's card was used to unlock a bike from one of the stations. You would be allotted a certain amount of time (let's say a full 24 hours) before you have to return the bike to any station around campus. Once you replace the bike and swipe your card again, the system recognizes you've returned the bike within the alloted time (kind of like how parking structures work), and you're fine. You can check out another bike if you need to. If you don't meet the deadline, there'd be a fee for every hour your late or something like that, and if you don't return the bike after a certain amount of time, then it's assumed you lost or stole the bike, and your account (at my school, all students have what is essentially an university billing account) will be charged the full amount of what the bike costed, let's say $250.

With this system, students wouldn't have to worry about trying to stuff their bike into their trunk, or getting it mailed. I was certainly pining away from my bike until I was able to bring it up. And if you don't have the best type of bike to get around campus, that's alright, because they'll be provided. And a pretty big selling point? It creates revenue for the school! Thousands of students being charged a small amount for the bike rental system sure adds up. And with that, creates more jobs. You'll have to have at some people doing general maintenance on the bikes and the stations. Plus, you'll need someone to go around and make sure each station has close to the same number of bikes at the end of the day. Too bad this'll probably be expensive to implement right now, with schools not having enough money for classes even. But once it get implemented, it would help. I just wish I knew who I could submit this idea to.

When Did You Last See Your Father?

"And when did you last see your father? Was it when they burned the coffin? Put the lid on? When he exhaled his last breath? When he sat up and said something? When he last recognized you? When he last smiled? When did you last see your father? The last time he was healthy, active? The last time he had an argument about something? Those weeks in which we tried to say goodbye were like a series of depletions. Each day I thought 'He can't get less like himself than this.' Yet each day he did. So I've been trying to recall the last time I actually saw him. The last time he was unmistakenly... there. In the fulness of being, I don't know... him."


I finally got around to watching When Did You Last See Your Father? last night, starring Jim Broadbent and Colin Firth. It was decent enough, but the underlying message is what was most important about the film. 


The title had caught my attention because for those who know me, they know it's certainly one of those questions that's hard for me to answer. While it may be a simple question to others, to me, my brothers, and probably my mother too, it's a very loaded question. When did I last see my father?
The film was based on the true story of writer Blake Morrison and his troubled relationship with his father. His reflection upon the relationship was sparked by the sudden diagnosis that his father was terminally ill with some type of colon/intestinal cancer. The entire film, we see adult Blake reminiscing, while assisting his mother with taking care of his increasingly ill and bewildered father. We see he's conflicted, and seems to be trying to hide it with an emotionless facade. During all this, flashbacks to Blake's childhood and teenage years are shown. We see Blake's father having romantic (though saying sexual is speculation) relations with another women, and his mother just dealing with it. We see his father as a man who likes to cheat the system, at least a little, in every which way. He's a loud man, while his son is quiet and keeps to himself. We see his father seemingly always putting his son down for wanting to be a writer instead of a doctor. But at the end of it all, after his father finally gives in and succumbs to death, after his mother says her loving goodbye, after he's prepared for his funeral, and after he's been cremated; finally, finally we see the other side. Blake all of a sudden remembers his father in a different light, when he's leaving for university. His father worries, and hangs on longingly, not wanting him to go. He tell his son, he's proud of him, while trying, unsuccessfully, to choke back tears. We see teenaged Blake hug his dad, which turns into adult Blake remembering hugging his elderly dad, and finally, Blake realizes and finally cries out for his father. At the very end of the film, he narrates the above quote, and shows a memory of him installing a chandelier light for his father. His father continually belittles him and tells him he's doing it wrong. But the chandelier was installed correctly, and for a second, his dad was happy. But then onwards once again. And that was the last time he remembered seeing his father.


While it's not completely the same, I do draw some parallels to this film. And I kept on thinking I'd cry during the film. But in fact, my emotional reactions were quite the same as the main character's. Or at least, how Colin chose to portray him. My father, I guess, would be what most people would call an absentee father. I grew up with my two older brothers under the sole care of my mother. Occasionally we'd get a visit or a call from him, but I think if you added up the total amount of time I've actually spent with my father, it wouldn't even add up to a full year. More so my brothers than me, but it seems whatever we do just isn't enough for him. It seems he's never got praise for else, and we can never expect a "well done" from him. Furthermore, just like how Blake's father is portrayed in the film, he's not faithful; he's loud and obnoxious and crude. 


But when did I last see my father? Who is my father exactly? Is it the loving dad who would keep waving to us and crane his neck until he couldn't see us anymore whilst walking into the airport terminal? Is it the one where we were scared of when he got angry and really respected him? The ones from before these past ten or so years? Or is it the man we see now, the one we all despise so much. The one that's hurt us all so much and in so many ways. When did he change? Or did he change at all? Was he just masking it before? 


So when did I last see my father? The last time I physically saw him was January of this year. It wasn't a great visit. I was a bit cold towards him, but he was also flaunting his crap in our faces, trying to get a reaction from us. Before that? Summer of the previous year in Taiwan, him showing me off to his buddies, and either trying to make me happy, or just showing off how grand he is there. And before that? Not for over three years. But let's rewind further back. The last time I saw him like the way I saw him as a child... that had to be about 11 years ago, when he rushed back to America since my grandmother (mom's side) had just passed. The only memory I have of that is sitting in my 3rd grade class, knowing he was going to be at home when I got back from school. I remember running in from the garage and seeing him in his tweed jacket sitting at the kitchen table, looking at some notes or his phone or something of the sort. I remember running to him and jumping on him, so happy to see him. I think that was the last time I saw my father with unclouded eyes and an open heart.


So now I pose the question to you. When did you last see your father?



A quick word on the passing of Mr. Steve Jobs.


Whether you were a fan of Apple products or not, Steve Jobs was a true innovator and an inspiration. His dedication to his work and the detail he put into not only the technology, but the design of the products, and even the design of the boxes they were packaged in, is something to model ourselves after. He revolutionized the world of personal computing, the music industry, and the world of animation (with Pixar). The world has lost a wonderful creative genius today, and he will be greatly missed.


Rest in peace Steve Jobs.


"No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever excaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.


Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary." -- Steve Jobs, Stanford 2005 Commencement Speech


Find the rest of the speech here: http://dft.ba/-stevejobs




It Isn't Just a Cookie

I'm a minority. Asian, to be exact. I'm also female. And I go to Berkeley. Got in fair and square.


There was a protest and subsequent counter-protest on campus today against and for affirmative action (respectively). If you haven't heard, California's governor, Jerry Brown, will be making a decision on whether or not to veto Senate Bill 185 (SB 185), which, if passed, will allow racial background, economic background, social-geographical background, among others, to be allowed into consideration (just like extracurriculars) in the admissions processes at UC and Cal State campuses. As a protest against this bill, a club called the Berkeley College Republicans decided to prove a point by holding a satirical bake sale, and advertising it in an equally satirical way. They said they will be holding said bake sale across from an Associated Student Union sponsored call-center booth that would be helping students call the governor's office to urge him to sign the bill. BCR advertised that they would be selling their baked goods like the way affirmative action would work: $2 for whites, $1.50 for Asians, $1.00 for Latinos, $0.75 for Blacks, and $0.50 for Native Americans. All women will get a $0.25 discount. Now, I didn't have any issue with what was written. To me, when I read it, it was just a bunch of angry, unsatisfied kids, lashing out at people around them since they aren't good enough and aren't hard working enough to try and be better. But many other took this to offense. Even the Associated Student Union (acronym is ASUC) unanimously condemned it as did the chancellor of the school, BCR decided to go ahead with the event. Many people, of all ethnicities, found that such a comparison was trivializing legitimate struggles of many minorities. While a good amount of people remained level-headed and argued their case, other conversations got heated and turned ugly.


As a result, a counter-protest was organized. The counter protest wasn't so much against BCR, but moreso against prejudices and rallied for SB 185. I guess my roommate happened to walk by the plaza this was happening in while it was in full swing. When I got back to the apartment, she immediately asked me about it wondering what it was. At least a couple hundred kids had gone out in support of the counter-rally, dressed in black, and laid down on the very plaza BCR was holding their bake sale. I explained the situation, to which she replied, "What a waste of time, and space. They're just annoying. It's not going to matter, nothing's going to happen except maybe a bunch of kids getting some sunburns." I didn't like that she, just like BCR, trivialized the initiative the protestors took, and considered it a waste of time. After all, all that protesting did bring Berkeley, briefly, to the top of Google news, and brought news reporters from all over flocking to our campus. That's hardly "nothing." My roommate then went on to say how affirmative action is just bad since it's using race and that's not putting people on equal footing. I, again, tried to nonchalantly explain to her that affirmative action, or SB 185, was not purely based on race. Even if race was taken out of the equation, those same races would be treated the same way. I explained that this is so much more than just an issue on race. Proponents and opponents of SB 185 don't see that. It's not just race. If anything, it's looking at an economic issue, a social issue, a historical issue; it takes geographical location into consideration too. It's such a complex issue and 9 out of 10 people (both for and against) just don't seem to see that. They only see race.


But she just waved me off and said whatever. I don't think I can ever understand her apathy.


So why did I type that first line of this blog? Go ahead, you can scroll back up and read it again if you forgot. If not, that's fine too. I said it because I agree with SB 185. I think it should be signed into affect. And if people have so much issue with race, then get rid of the race part, but still consider the rest. I mentioned all those things about me because I would benefit from SB 185 in some ways, and I wouldn't in others. It may even be bad for me in other cases. But the point is, I'm already in. I'm already at the school, no thanks to affirmative action and the like. I have absolutely no stake in this argument. Nor do the kids that are for and against it. At least, not on a personal level. If anything, I'd be against SB 185 because if I could do it, well then you can too! But that's not the point. We're all in one of the best universities in the world already. It shouldn't "matter" to us anymore. Yet people still fight for their beliefs, because of what they believe their fellow human beings should get. And I love that. I love that these kids, despite what all the media and many adults say about them, they keep on proving them wrong. We, as a generation, keep going. Because contrary to what Mr. So-and-so may say or what someone like my roommate does, we do listen, we do act, and we do care. And there's nothing anybody can say or do about it.

Rant 2.5

I originally posted this on my DailyBooth, but I figured might as well repost it here. It's definitely long enough.


I'm resisting the urge to rant about my roommate right now. And to think, she went so long without pissing me off; I was even considering possibly not moving at the end of the year. But she just renewed my bubbling annoyance that is growing into dislike for her.


However, I'm not going to stop myself ranting about another subject. There's a club on campus called the Berkeley College Republicans. Next Friday, they're protesting Affirmative Action right across from an Affirmative Action phone bank. They'll be selling baked goods, with pricing based on your ethnicity. Except the satirical piece they wrote to promote this event was extremely, and utterly racist and narrow-minded. To be honest, when I read it, I didn't think too much of it. It was just a bunch of insufficient, angry kids, who are unsatisfied with themselves and too lazy to do better, and thus wanted to take their anger out on everybody around them (i.e. everybody better than them). But their post incited a lot of anger, and while a good amount of people were stating how wrong their actions were in a very level-headed manner, there were those who just outright either cussed them out, or called them names. And that doesn't help, does it? I don't understand why people do that. I can understand if you're doing that, and you're a little kid. I know I definitely did that when I was younger. But c'mon, you guys are supposed to be a bunch of young adults, going to one of the best universities in the world. Surely, you could form more coherent thoughts?


And going along that line, same with all the Facebook complaints. The moment when Facebook updated again, I cannot count the number of friends who posted statuses complaining how horrible the new Facebook was. It was like the end of the world had occurred or something. Everybody knows that you're only hating on Facebook's changes to be "cool," and you'll be used to the changes within an hour or two of them taking place. People have to understand that things like Facebook are companies, products, and technologies. You cannot expect them to remain stagnant. They will develop, grow, and advance. Yes, sometimes, they don't work out, but most of the time, they do. So please, just shut up.

How Does it Look? (Edited)

Have you ever written or said something and unbelievably regretted it afterwards?

I certainly have, and while you may think this is one of those cases, it is not. I don't "unbelievably regret it" but I do somewhat regret it, and am a bit embarrassed about how I worded the post. And as such, I have deleted it and replaced it with this drivel.

If you're curious about what the original post entailed, it was an uninteresting rambling of appearance, and my habitual over-detailing of said appearances and not really getting out what I meant. Really, you didn't miss out on much, if anything at all.

Braincrack!: What If You Could Create a Memory?

After that long ass blog post from yesterday, I wanted to write this down too, but figured I should space it out a little.

So Wong Fu Productions recently released a video called Shell. The premise behind the short film was something along the lines of "What if you could create a memory? What would it be?" The lead male character, played by Chris Dinh, is comforting the lead female character, played by Mimi Chao. Their relationship, up to that point, appears to be that of close friends. Chris's character picks up a large shell and listens. Handing it off to Mimi's character, he talks about how the sound, or memory, of the ocean is captured in that shell. He then asks the question. She doesn't quite follow his train of thought and says that the memory would be fake, but speaks her thought process and say you wouldn't know it'd be fake. She then asks him what his memory would be. As he explains, we see his created memory taking place. He doesn't say, but we see that he likes Mimi's character, and his memory would be that of a relationship with her. But he stops short, before the memory shows the two kissing in the sunset. She realizes what he's saying and turns the pseudo-memory into reality, albeit in a different location and under different circumstances.

The short film was really well made. It was shot in the classic Wes cinematography style, and I love his style. But I had a thought while watching this. So what if you really could create memories? I know for readings I've done here and there that your brain sometimes does create false memories. So even if what you're saying is not true, if you're misremembering, you can still truly believe the memory is real. But what if, in some not so distant future, a technology gets introduced that allows you to literally create a scene, a memory, of anything, and put it into your brain? What if this new, and very direct, form of entertainment (like an exhilarating memory of base jumping even though you've never been, or the memory of the fun you had on a trip you never took) goes awry? What if people flood their brains with too many false memories that you can't tell what's real and what's not? What if rash decisions were made? What would happen to the world?

I think it'd be a cool basis for another sci-fi film. If I had the resources and confidence to make something of it, I would, but alas, I'm even too nervous to shoot a simple cinematography centric video I've had planned out for over a year showing a day in Berkeley.

Changing Tides

It's interesting how our opinions shift over time.

Sometimes, it's something as simple as food preference. For example, when I was a little kid, I hated onions. Absolutely abhorred them. If I got them in sandwiches, or found them in dishes my mom cooked for us, I'd pick them out and make a little pile on the sandwich wrapper or a napkin. And my mother and eldest brother would chastise me for this. While my mom would explain the health benefits of onions, my brother would say the same but add "onions are tasty, how could you not like them!?" But no matter how much they tried to convince me otherwise, I just couldn't bring myself to liking the bulbous things. But all of a sudden, when I was in high school I think, I started liking them. When given a choice of yes to onions or no to onions on burgers or sandwiches, I'd just say yes. And given a hotdog, I'd have to put onions on there (relish too, and I used to dislike relish as well); to the point where if there weren't diced onions on my hotdog, it wasn't complete.

But the kind of changing opinions that prompted me to write this blog post wasn't my taste preference for onions. No, it was how my career choice had changed over time, and accompanying those career choice changes were also a very strong set of opinions. I've always been praised on how dead set I am on my career path and how specific I was. From since I was around 8 years old, I declared I wanted to be a doctor, an MD, work in a big hospital, maybe on the East Coast. And while I still hold true to that (I've since added more to "locations I want to work," still a big hospital though), the specialties sure have changed.

From as far back as I can remember, I hadn't wanted to become a doctor at all. I wanted to be a "fossil finder!" which was the only term I knew to describe it at the young age of 5-6 years old. I wanted it so badly, I even went and figured out the actual term was paleontologist, and forced myself to remember how to say and spell it from 6-7 years old. I loved dinosaurs. I even had books on dinosaurs. Not the kiddy cartoon kinds, but computer animated, scientific books. I gave that up at around 8 years old. Why? Well I can actually explain this one. Simple. Because my parents made fun of me. It wasn't in a menacing way. They just poked fun, saying things like "Your brothers want to be scientists and inventors! Your oldest brother is going to work with new technology and bring comfort into our lives. Your other elder brother is going to invent new medicines that will make our lives better. What will you give us? An old bone?" Whenever I bring this up now, my mom always waves it off saying they were just kidding. But at kindergarten age, how was I supposed to know that? In any case, I've let it go. I know I love natural history, and analyzing myself now, paleontology would still be a great path for me. I'm best at the subjects in school that directly relate to that, but it's okay.

Then I went straight for the medical career. Like the good little stereotypical Asian child. But I did genuinely want to become a doctor. It was in my field of interest, and it still played on my strengths. At the very beginnings of this career path, I had wanted to be a pediatrician. Or an "eye doctor" which I, again, researched and found out its proper name; an ophthalmologist. I can't remember now why I ever wanted to be a pediatrician. Perhaps, the pediatrician and the eye doctor were the only two types of doctors I knew at the time. In any case, by the time I dropped pediatrician, and decided on ophthalmologist, I had a solid reason. This was around late elementary, all the way through at least 8th grade. I chose ophthalmology because I had spent a lot of time at eye clinics. You see, my eyes are terrible. Cover my left eye, and I can't see past the 5th or 6th line on an eye chart. Cover my right eye, well, I can't even see past the third line. My glasses lenses are -5.0 for the right, and -9.5 for the left, and they're still not the right prescription. I've had 3 different types (yes, that's a three, it's not a typo) of contact lenses to help correct my eye sight and to no avail. Of course, the relatively bad astigmatism doesn't help either. The point of all that is: I've spent a lot of time talking about the health of eyes. So interest developing in the area is expected.

But again, in high school, all of a sudden, I lost interest in becoming an ophthal. Not completely, like the pediatrician, but I felt like it was too specific. Of course, all specialties are specific, but it was just too small a part of the body for me. I started gaining interest in neurology and oncology. I dropped oncology pretty quickly because I had reasoned with myself saying "You've got to be very mentally secure with yourself to be able to do this job. Because statistically, a good percentage of your patients will die. And you will have met and built relationships with not only the patients, but their families and friends too. And you will see them deteriorate. And it won't only be adults or older folks. It'll be young otherwise healthy people, single parents, or kids even. Can you take that for you entire career?" So I ended up choosing neurology. Plus, I had a big interest in neurology; just how the human brain worked interested me a great deal. I also had a small inkling interest of emergency medicine, but I was unsure.

I got pretty gung-ho "MD with a specialty in neurology" after I made the decision. I read up on it. Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to do with my future, I'd say specifically that. And when I applied for colleges, if it was offered, I would apply for neurobiology or neuro science. I even looked up a couple schools for their neuro-based specialty majors. I even connected with a renown neurosurgeon from a prestigious university for an interning possibility. I had gained permission from him, but his administrative boss wouldn't sign off on it because of my age. But again, I changed specialties towards the middle or end of my last year in high school. I'm still interested in it, but maybe not as my medical specialty. This was partly because of talks I was having with an older friend of mine who was forcing me to figure out just why I wanted to be a neurologist, and I realized... there wasn't really a reason. So I changed again, but less specific. Now, I'll say something like, "Oh yeah, I want to get my MD, and specialize in internal medicine, don't know what sub-specialty yet, maybe infectious diseases or something, or emergency medicine. But I won't know for sure until I actually try them out. I do want to work in a big hospital though. Probably a teaching hospital so there will be more research opportunities." The one thing I do know for sure, I definitely do not want to be a pediatrician.

And through this long narration of my career choice sub-changes, I've realized how dramatically my opinions had changed. I had gone from wanting to work with small children, to absolutely despising them. I don't like children. I inch away from people cooing at babies, or toddlers. I get frustrated and unbelievably annoyed when I hear a crying infant. I so abhor them that I even refer to different stages of an infant, even while still in the womb, by their proper terms (fetus, neonate, etc.). And I definitely don't think they're cute. This of course, isn't the only change. There are others, but this has been the most obvious one to me.

Very long winded blog. Just something I had been mulling over in my head.