Big news for me -- I recently accepted a new job! I'll start working as a research assistant studying renal disease and hypertension (that's kidneys and high blood pressure, for my readers whose vocabularies do not favor the medical) at University of Colorado's medical center in mid-July. I started reading through the project descriptions for what I'll be doing today. I'm excited and apprehensive about this.
I'm excited because...
- I will get to use my brain so much more than at my current job. My mind is crying out to be challenged.
- The new job has better pay and kickass benefits.
- I won't have to deal with the rude patients anymore.
- Did I mention that I'm looking forward to an intellectual challenge?
I'm apprehensive because...
- I will not have a close-knit group of coworkers like I do at my current job - it'll just be me and my boss.
- I don't know much about kidneys or the vascular system yet.
- I think I may miss patient contact.
- The timing of me leaving my job is not especially convenient for them, and I feel kind of bad about that.
In the mean time, I am trying to figure out what to do career-wise. Main options include nurse practitioner, physician assistant, or Ph.D. in human medical genetics or molecular physiology. I'm not ruling out medical school or a master's in genetic counseling either. I sure wish I could figure my life out.
22 June 2011
22 May 2011
A good day.
I had a really nice day today. It was one of those days that feels really long in a good way, I think because I didn't have any expectations or errands I had to run, just lived in the moment.
After church, Jess mentioned that he needed to go to the garden store, and I asked if I could go with him. Ross was sick (that part was not one of the nice parts) but just sick enough to want to stay home and not do too much, and Jess's girlfriend, Bonni, was working all day. So we decided to hang out together - something I don't think we've done in a long time. It was really pleasant -- I've missed one-on-one time with Jess. He's one of my best friends from college, but we usually hang out at least with our significant others.
We went to the garden center, helped Connie and John rig up a trellis for hops plants, met Bonni and Laura in the afternoon on Bonni's lunch break and then went to Starbucks with Laura and took her dog for a walk around a park with a lake and prairie dogs and gorgeous views of the mountains. Afterward, Laura and Jess both needed to do some gardening, so I went with Jess back to his house (via Home Depot), we planted vegetables, and then reunited with Laura and Bonni for game night at another friend's house. (I skipped out on that after parfaits to come home.)
I wish I had pictures for this post, but I don't. It was just a really nice day and sometimes, when you have a day like today, you just want to put it out there.
After church, Jess mentioned that he needed to go to the garden store, and I asked if I could go with him. Ross was sick (that part was not one of the nice parts) but just sick enough to want to stay home and not do too much, and Jess's girlfriend, Bonni, was working all day. So we decided to hang out together - something I don't think we've done in a long time. It was really pleasant -- I've missed one-on-one time with Jess. He's one of my best friends from college, but we usually hang out at least with our significant others.
We went to the garden center, helped Connie and John rig up a trellis for hops plants, met Bonni and Laura in the afternoon on Bonni's lunch break and then went to Starbucks with Laura and took her dog for a walk around a park with a lake and prairie dogs and gorgeous views of the mountains. Afterward, Laura and Jess both needed to do some gardening, so I went with Jess back to his house (via Home Depot), we planted vegetables, and then reunited with Laura and Bonni for game night at another friend's house. (I skipped out on that after parfaits to come home.)
I wish I had pictures for this post, but I don't. It was just a really nice day and sometimes, when you have a day like today, you just want to put it out there.
15 May 2011
Cold War Birthday Party
Ross and I celebrated our birthdays (April 8 and May 19) on Saturday. We had a Cold War themed birthday party.
People came in costume. There were cookies, dry ice, glow bracelets, and Atomic Age info-propaganda films and sound clips.
John and Connie (our gracious hosts) even broke open a package of authentic survival crackers! John got them when he was a food pantry volunteer in the 1980s -- he says a government truck dropped off several tins of these. They tasted and smelled like cardboard.
We had a wonderful time!
People came in costume. There were cookies, dry ice, glow bracelets, and Atomic Age info-propaganda films and sound clips.
John and Connie (our gracious hosts) even broke open a package of authentic survival crackers! John got them when he was a food pantry volunteer in the 1980s -- he says a government truck dropped off several tins of these. They tasted and smelled like cardboard.
We had a wonderful time!
11 May 2011
Demographic Oppression
I am currently reading "Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell. It's a very interesting read -- Ross recommended it to me and I am finding it captivating so far -- but it is making me depressed about my future.
Gladwell's thesis is basically that wildly successful people achieve great success not only because of their own talent and hard work, but also (and mostly) because of their life circumstances -- even because of the day a person was born. This is not exactly an earth-shattering proposition to me. However, Gladwell gives examples of one success story after another, and the more I read, the more fatalistic I get about my own chances for, oh, say, achieving my life goal and dream of becoming a physician.
I have failed to gain admission to medical school twice now. I don't think I am an unqualified candidate. I went to college on academic scholarships and won two writing contests. I completed all the pre-medical coursework and then some, and my GPA is 3.46. I scored a 28 and then a 29 on the MCAT. My most significant work experience is in clinical and research settings. I have done hundreds of hours of volunteer work and extracurricular activity participation. My application essays are eloquent, and I can discuss multiple current issues in modern health care at length. The numerical values of my preparedness are not the best ones out there -- they are around average, a little below average for matriculating med students in the years I applied. But they ought to be good enough.
In 1999, the average MCAT and GPA of a newly accepted medical student were 29.7 and 3.59. In 2010, the averages were an MCAT of 31.1 and a GPA of 3.67. In the last decade, average medical school acceptance rates have stayed around 42% or 43% while grade point averages and test scores for applicants have inflated.
But I was born in the Millenial Generation, the biggest generation since the Baby Boomers and, I read, three times the size of Generation X. My graduating class pushed our school buildings' capacities to the limits. The "Great Recession" hit in September 2008. I graduated from college eight months later. I've read somewhere that young people who enter the job market during a recession face handicapped earning potential for the rest of their lives. Demographically, according to Gladwell, I am screwed. Someone just like me but fifteen years older would have faced far less competition and probably succeeded where I have failed. I wish I had known that years ago. I might have spent extra hours studying.
One of the points that Gladwell makes is that there seems to be an intelligence threshold for professional success. One does not need to be the most intelligent or get the best grades or test scores to succeed. One only needs to be intelligent enough, a good enough student. Surely more than 43% of medical school applicants meet that threshold and would be successful physicians given the chance. I think I am one of them.
So many people have commented to me that I would be a good doctor or that they would see me as their personal physician. I have wanted that, and worked for that, for more than half my life. There is a physician shortage, projected to get worse. So why am I facing an identity crisis instead of finishing my second year of medical school? Why am I trying to dissolve fourteen years of hopes and dreams, to convince myself that I don't want to be a doctor after all?
This was not the plan.
Gladwell's thesis is basically that wildly successful people achieve great success not only because of their own talent and hard work, but also (and mostly) because of their life circumstances -- even because of the day a person was born. This is not exactly an earth-shattering proposition to me. However, Gladwell gives examples of one success story after another, and the more I read, the more fatalistic I get about my own chances for, oh, say, achieving my life goal and dream of becoming a physician.
I have failed to gain admission to medical school twice now. I don't think I am an unqualified candidate. I went to college on academic scholarships and won two writing contests. I completed all the pre-medical coursework and then some, and my GPA is 3.46. I scored a 28 and then a 29 on the MCAT. My most significant work experience is in clinical and research settings. I have done hundreds of hours of volunteer work and extracurricular activity participation. My application essays are eloquent, and I can discuss multiple current issues in modern health care at length. The numerical values of my preparedness are not the best ones out there -- they are around average, a little below average for matriculating med students in the years I applied. But they ought to be good enough.
In 1999, the average MCAT and GPA of a newly accepted medical student were 29.7 and 3.59. In 2010, the averages were an MCAT of 31.1 and a GPA of 3.67. In the last decade, average medical school acceptance rates have stayed around 42% or 43% while grade point averages and test scores for applicants have inflated.
But I was born in the Millenial Generation, the biggest generation since the Baby Boomers and, I read, three times the size of Generation X. My graduating class pushed our school buildings' capacities to the limits. The "Great Recession" hit in September 2008. I graduated from college eight months later. I've read somewhere that young people who enter the job market during a recession face handicapped earning potential for the rest of their lives. Demographically, according to Gladwell, I am screwed. Someone just like me but fifteen years older would have faced far less competition and probably succeeded where I have failed. I wish I had known that years ago. I might have spent extra hours studying.
One of the points that Gladwell makes is that there seems to be an intelligence threshold for professional success. One does not need to be the most intelligent or get the best grades or test scores to succeed. One only needs to be intelligent enough, a good enough student. Surely more than 43% of medical school applicants meet that threshold and would be successful physicians given the chance. I think I am one of them.
So many people have commented to me that I would be a good doctor or that they would see me as their personal physician. I have wanted that, and worked for that, for more than half my life. There is a physician shortage, projected to get worse. So why am I facing an identity crisis instead of finishing my second year of medical school? Why am I trying to dissolve fourteen years of hopes and dreams, to convince myself that I don't want to be a doctor after all?
This was not the plan.
24 April 2011
Remembering baptism
My sister was baptized today. I wasn't able to be in Kansas City to see it, but I was certainly with her in spirit. I am so proud of her. Congratulations, Grace!
In our Easter service at church (or maybe whenever we have a baptism?) we have a ritual during communion called "remembering your baptism" wherein, after taking communion, people may share the date and place of their baptism with the pastor and be anointed with water. Our church allows "all who seek the way of Christ" to take communion, not just baptized members, so I like this ritual of calling attention to the importance of baptism. After all, as Mennonites, we are Anabaptists -- "re-baptizers". Our denomination was born out of the radical idea (for the 1500s, not for the early church) that joining the church through baptism ought to be a decision made by an adult believer. Traditionally, only the baptized take communion, which is how I was raised.
I think I was baptized in the spring of 2002. Possibly 2003. It was spring, but wasn't Easter, and I have forgotten the date. I was 14 or 15, but my birthday is in May, so I might remember that I was 15 when I hadn't actually turned 15 yet - hence the confusion about the year. I remember being baptized vividly. I wore a blue and white floral skirt I had bought on a trip to Europe and a white sweater. I sat in the right front pew with my friend Kate. We were so nervous; we giggled at the mundane image on the worship bulletin cover. We were baptized together - kneeling, her to my right, backs to the congregation, first Kate, then me. I remember Carmen, the deacon who held the water pitcher, and Beatrix, a beloved Sunday School teacher who held towels for us, though I didn't really need one; there was much less water poured on me than I thought there would be.
I chose to be baptized because 9/11 had happened, and the invasions of Afghanistan and maybe also Iraq, and I had uncovered my pacifist Mennonite roots. My spiritual upbringing had been a combination of my parents' somewhat mystic spiritual beliefs, a staunch prohibition of toy guns and violent media, Sunday School stories, and church camp. I started praying and going to church of my own accord in middle school. But 9/11 and its aftermath prompted the discovery that I was, as it turned out, "in the world but not of the world." And so I was baptized.
There was no conversion experience. I still do not have a "personal relationship with Jesus," although I believe that what he taught is worth following. As far as I'm concerned, my baptism doesn't secure me a place in heaven. What I do have is ownership of my heritage, a personal relationship with my church community, and a commitment to that community and to continual spiritual reflection and discernment. Baptism was choosing that commitment.
In our Easter service at church (or maybe whenever we have a baptism?) we have a ritual during communion called "remembering your baptism" wherein, after taking communion, people may share the date and place of their baptism with the pastor and be anointed with water. Our church allows "all who seek the way of Christ" to take communion, not just baptized members, so I like this ritual of calling attention to the importance of baptism. After all, as Mennonites, we are Anabaptists -- "re-baptizers". Our denomination was born out of the radical idea (for the 1500s, not for the early church) that joining the church through baptism ought to be a decision made by an adult believer. Traditionally, only the baptized take communion, which is how I was raised.
I think I was baptized in the spring of 2002. Possibly 2003. It was spring, but wasn't Easter, and I have forgotten the date. I was 14 or 15, but my birthday is in May, so I might remember that I was 15 when I hadn't actually turned 15 yet - hence the confusion about the year. I remember being baptized vividly. I wore a blue and white floral skirt I had bought on a trip to Europe and a white sweater. I sat in the right front pew with my friend Kate. We were so nervous; we giggled at the mundane image on the worship bulletin cover. We were baptized together - kneeling, her to my right, backs to the congregation, first Kate, then me. I remember Carmen, the deacon who held the water pitcher, and Beatrix, a beloved Sunday School teacher who held towels for us, though I didn't really need one; there was much less water poured on me than I thought there would be.
I chose to be baptized because 9/11 had happened, and the invasions of Afghanistan and maybe also Iraq, and I had uncovered my pacifist Mennonite roots. My spiritual upbringing had been a combination of my parents' somewhat mystic spiritual beliefs, a staunch prohibition of toy guns and violent media, Sunday School stories, and church camp. I started praying and going to church of my own accord in middle school. But 9/11 and its aftermath prompted the discovery that I was, as it turned out, "in the world but not of the world." And so I was baptized.
There was no conversion experience. I still do not have a "personal relationship with Jesus," although I believe that what he taught is worth following. As far as I'm concerned, my baptism doesn't secure me a place in heaven. What I do have is ownership of my heritage, a personal relationship with my church community, and a commitment to that community and to continual spiritual reflection and discernment. Baptism was choosing that commitment.
29 March 2011
Sisters!
My sister Grace came to visit last week! It was lots of fun to spend sister-time with her. We are six years apart, so we are just now getting to the age where we can be friends, and it is great! I love having a sister, and I am so proud of all the cool things she's doing -- like that after she graduates from high school in May she's going to spend a gap year in Bolivia volunteering at an after-school program through Mennonite Central Committee. And she can run 10 miles.
We had a photo shoot. My friend Jess took these pictures of us. Grace and her friends do this all the time. I don't know why I didn't think to do photo shoots for fun in high school! Anyway, she is a way better model than I am. I did not know what to do with my limbs and she was looking all America's Next Top Model.
We also went to the Celestial Seasonings factory for a tour. I had never been before. We thought it was pretty great. I just wish Celestial Seasonings made more caffeinated teas. I did find a new decaf tea I liked though - Sweet Coconut Thai Chai tea.
I love my sister!
We had a photo shoot. My friend Jess took these pictures of us. Grace and her friends do this all the time. I don't know why I didn't think to do photo shoots for fun in high school! Anyway, she is a way better model than I am. I did not know what to do with my limbs and she was looking all America's Next Top Model.
We also went to the Celestial Seasonings factory for a tour. I had never been before. We thought it was pretty great. I just wish Celestial Seasonings made more caffeinated teas. I did find a new decaf tea I liked though - Sweet Coconut Thai Chai tea.
I love my sister!
09 March 2011
Ash Wednesday
Four years ago, I gave up meat for Lent. It was the first time I had given anything up for Lent. It was not spiritually edifying for me. Perhaps for some, the surrender of a too-beloved food or activity is a spiritual practice, but for me it was just a dietary change. The sentiment I have heard from some Christians observing Lent of "Jesus died for me; the least I can do is give up ___ for him" became utterly ridiculous to me. And my change from semi-conscientious eater of meat to vegetarian did not achieve the asceticism of early baptismal candidates, who spent the forty days before Easter fasting and praying.
After that meatless Lenten season, I gave up on giving up vices for Lent and decided that if I chose to observe Lent, I would do so by making time for a spiritual practice. Since then, I have chosen to meditate on scripture. I've found it much more meaningful.
I have chosen Psalm 139:1-18 as my meditation text for Lent. I had saved it as an option last night when I was looking for one, and it was one of the texts used in our Ash Wednesday service this evening. It is 40 lines, one for each day of Lent. Reason enough.
Psalm 139:1-18
During these forty days, I will have to deal with some big, life-changing decisions -- some made by me, some not. I am waiting to hear back from the one medical school I have a chance to get into. If I get in, Ross and I will start the process of leaving a place we love dearly, and we will need to make difficult financial and personal decisions. If I don't get in, I will need to reevaluate my career and educational prospects, a process I have already started. I will travel to Europe for two weeks, which will be a significant -- and hopefully very good! -- experience. There may be some significant changes at work, the details of which I don't yet know. This is a time when I sometimes hardly feel like I know myself, and I need to believe that I am part of something beyond myself. So, I'm looking forward to engaging this text.
After that meatless Lenten season, I gave up on giving up vices for Lent and decided that if I chose to observe Lent, I would do so by making time for a spiritual practice. Since then, I have chosen to meditate on scripture. I've found it much more meaningful.
I have chosen Psalm 139:1-18 as my meditation text for Lent. I had saved it as an option last night when I was looking for one, and it was one of the texts used in our Ash Wednesday service this evening. It is 40 lines, one for each day of Lent. Reason enough.
Psalm 139:1-18
O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night',
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
all the days that were formed for me,
when none of them as yet existed.
How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them -- they are more than the sand;
I come to the end--I am still with you.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night',
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For it was you who formed my inward parts;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
all the days that were formed for me,
when none of them as yet existed.
How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
I try to count them -- they are more than the sand;
I come to the end--I am still with you.
During these forty days, I will have to deal with some big, life-changing decisions -- some made by me, some not. I am waiting to hear back from the one medical school I have a chance to get into. If I get in, Ross and I will start the process of leaving a place we love dearly, and we will need to make difficult financial and personal decisions. If I don't get in, I will need to reevaluate my career and educational prospects, a process I have already started. I will travel to Europe for two weeks, which will be a significant -- and hopefully very good! -- experience. There may be some significant changes at work, the details of which I don't yet know. This is a time when I sometimes hardly feel like I know myself, and I need to believe that I am part of something beyond myself. So, I'm looking forward to engaging this text.
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