We are the Hands . . .

. . . of research. It's true. AG-F and I occupy one of the lowest tiers of in the lab hierarchy - freshly graduated lab technicians. The only people lower than us are high school students and undergrads. We are thus subject to the whims of lab politics. It's somewhat amusing really (to me, though AG-F hates it). We do whatever someone wants us to do.

In any case, I've learned to love pubmed as much as one can possibly love it. Actually, I don't love pubmed. It can be annoying to use. In retrospect, however, it has allowed me to look up medical journals without having to actually seek the physical copies of those journals. In all my four years of undergrad, I've only checked out a book from the library once, and that was in my first semester freshman year. Everything else I needed was from either pubmed or some online biology journal. I still printed these articles though, as I can't stand reading them on a computer and I like to highlight and write notes in the margins.

I gave up on my own project and lately have been helping AG-F with hers (and doing whatever bidding people higher up the hierarchy want). I've been assigned a new project, except I'm leaving the lab in 2-3 days and this project takes at least a month to complete under optimal situations. So again, I just help AG-F. A few months ago she showed me how to extract the cochleas (the snail shell looking thing, for those who aren't biologically inclined) of the inner ear from the heads of mice. I don't know if I've blogged about this before, but here it goes again if so.

Today we had to kill 6 mice and extract their cochleas - 4 wild-types and 2 mutants. The mutant mice are so cute! They're "dwarves," so they're tiny. They have cranio-facial deformities that actually make them look cuter. Too bad their mutations also make them deaf, unable to keep their body temperature up, and thin their bones. I felt a bit bad killing them. I don't like to kill things (except spiders, ants, flies, most other insects, and bacteria, they don't count). After the mice were dead, I decapitate them, skin the fur back on their heads, then bisect their heads length-wise with scissors. I then scoop the brains out on either side to expose the cochleas, and then pry the cochleas out with sharp forceps. Even though I was wearing gloves, my hands smelled like dead mice for a couple hours afterwards.

To a non-biologist I'm sure all this probably sounds inexplicably gruesome, gross, and intense. It is rather gruesome, but not as intense as it could be. At least the mice weren't alive as we did all this. I think there's some weird psychological thing that makes it way more bearable to do all this when they're dead than if they were still alive. Even though I don't have a problem doing this, I know I cannot be a surgeon. I don't care about the money; never did. For one thing, as I mentioned before, these mice are already dead when we dissect them. In surgery, a person's still alive and you want to not harm/kill them. I don't want that kind of burden - the thought of making a mistake that could be costly beyond my imagination is a kind of stress I do not want as a future doctor. I think I would often refuse to do even the "simplest" procedures involving cutting unless it were an emergency or something.

On something completely unrelated, my brothers have got me looking at the webcomic Questionable Content. Here are two recent strips:

http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1171

http://questionablecontent.net/view.php?comic=1172

The nerd in me rejoices. At some point I will go back and read all of them. When I have time . . . if I have that much time.

---TANGENT---
Oh, I just thought of something randomly. About 2 days ago my roommate DvF-M invited 3 of his Physics Club people over. They were watching Battlestar Galactica. I didn't think it could exist, but there were effectively 4 DvF-M's in the living room at once. One was enough!!

So, DvF-M is very loud. He doesn't have a "quiet/whisper" mode. And he doesn't know when to stop talking. And here they were, 3 other people who were equally loud and each kept trying to talk over the other to be heard. Eventually I couldn't hear the TV anymore as their voices drowned it out. They put the episodes on closed captioning. Seriously?!

And they weren't even paying attention to what they were watching!! They just sat there loudly criticizing what they were watching and the actors. Seriously?! I had to leave. Note to self: never watch a movie with one of them.
---END TANGENT---

Shifting Futures

Okay, I couldn't come up with a particularly pertinent title for this post. But I hate leaving things untitled - things need to have some kind of unique identity.

Anyway, plans have changed for tomorrow. I woke up this morning and remembered that tomorrow is my grandma's birthday. Since my grandparents are visiting us this summer, they're all coming out here to me to celebrate her birthday. I get to show her around campus and such, and they'll probably stay for lunch and dinner then return home (home is only an hour away, so not such a big deal).

This does, however, prevent my friend TR-M from visiting me tomorrow. Which is sad. This means no "coming out" moment tomorrow. Oh well. I called TR-M and we agreed that as soon as I got back from Chicago I would drop him a line so we could hang out. We have been friends since we were practically around 7-years-old. He needs to know. Only now it'll be later rather than sooner. If I possess nothing else, I possess a rather remarkable amount of patience.

Today I also said goodbye to SR-F. I'll be leaving for home this coming Thursday while she's going up north with her family on Tuesday. Since we're both busy tomorrow and Monday, today was our goodbye. We basically just walked around campus for about 2 hours, talking, and then we went to get bubble tea and popcorn chicken for perhaps the last time together. It's weird to think that I may never see her again . . . or any of my friends I said goodbye to, for that matter. It's kind of lonesome. ::inserts frowny face::

Who knows what the future brings. Things are always subject to change and we must take it all in stride. Perhaps years from now, twice my current lifetime thus far, I'll meet together with a friend. In the shifting futures of our lives, anything is possible.

On a completely different note (good idea to click to enlarge) . . .
http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive.php?comicid=1023
I think this is a fairly accurate description. This comic never ceases to amuse me.

Mind-dump

Okay, mind-dump here. Prepare yourself for total randomness.

1. Speaking of mind-dump, I hate public bathrooms. I try to avoid them when possible.

2. Speaking of public bathrooms, I hate it when guys take a dump and then don't wash their hands. So gross and unhygienic!! It's somewhat more tolerable if they don't wash their hands after a piss (as the penis isn't that dirty, as far as body parts go, and urine is sterile), but they should still do it out of courtesy.

3. This Thursday was my last day playing in the hospital lobby. Each Thursday I have to get the piano key from the security guard room place. And each Thursday there's a new guard. This week's guard was rather attractive. I normally have no attraction nor fetish for guys in uniform, but he was cute - short blond hair, blue eyes, about my height (so not that tall), fit, innocent look in his eyes (which seemed a little out-of-place given his security guard uniform). Ah well, whatever.

4. I was in the presence of greatness today. Or rather, in the presence of a great mind. This expert in ear research came to give a talk today. My PI invited me and AG-F to lunch with her, the visiting scientist, my researcher, and the grad student who AG-F works with. The visiting scientist - the ear expert - was so enthusiastic and knew so much about the ear. She had all these interesting and great questions and experiments that would allow us to have pretty clear-cut answers to some of the problems we're encountering. She had this . . . excited aura about her. As if she's really into her research, and she knows a lot. I wonder if one day I'll be able to exude such an aura - I wonder if one day I'll be so good at what I do, so interested in what I do, that it would show.

5. Oh, the guest speaker/visiting scientist/expert was from Germany. I love foreign accents. I particularly like how Germans pronounce the word "proteins." However, when she said "cochlea" it almost sounded like she was coughing up phlegm at first.

6. Speaking of my PI, she's perhaps one of the most motherly, down-to-earth, nicest, knowledgeable, and sweetest short woman I've ever one. Apparently she's also something of a rock star in the endocrinology research world. She went to an endocrinology conference in San Francisco last week, and people doing pituitary research were lining up to talk to her, to show her their data, and to get her opinion. I must say, that's pretty amazing. Perhaps I've been in the presence of epic-ness all this time, and never really noticed it.

7. I love the sound of rustling leaves. There's something very comforting about the sound of the wind gently moving through the leaves and creating a sound. The sound of light rain can sometimes also be nice too.

8. I love to sleep naked when I can (which isn't too often). The only problem is that sometimes when certain parts of me rub against the blanket/sheets, I get excited (if you know what I mean). A quick jacking off immediately prior to getting into bed takes care of that the vast majority of the time.

9. Along those lines, I almost always wake up finding myself idly playing with my morning wood. Even when I'm wearing boxers and pajamas to bed, I'll find one of my hands down there when I wake up. Sometimes the urge to jack off as a result of all this is overwhelming. And sometimes I even have time for it. Though, upon completion, it rarely feels as good as it usually does. Has anyone else experienced this?

10. I randomly came across Wang Leehom's song, 世界的梦想 (shi jie de meng xiang), which means "The World's Dream" or something like that. Here's a YouTube vid of it:

It's one of the songs submitted to the 2008 Beijing Olympics committee to become the theme song or something.

And now, for some pics of Wang Leehom (yeah, I'm occasionally still obsessed with him ::blushes::). I particularly like the last one. :P

The Labeled Masks

I've a feeling that I might potentially be blogging a lot in the next few days. For some reason I get into this "mode" where I just think/muse a lot and have tons of things on my mind. I need to do a mind-dump. Some of it is random, some of it weird, some of it deep, and some of it just stupid.

This has been something I've been thinking a lot lately. I was IMing Mike from Random Thoughts In My Life a week or two ago, or something like that. In short, I had been in a rather depressive mood for weeks, an episode that has been going on and off all of my last semester of undergrad. I confessed to him that I felt very conflicted internally.

You see, when I started this blog I had pretty much settled on that I was bi. But from time to time, I'm just not sure. And I hated myself for this. I don't personally have a problem being bi, or gay, or whatnot. I do, however, have a problem with not knowing with absolute certainty. And there's really no way for me to "find out" during these summer months when school is so devoid of people, and then I'll be home where there's nothing to do. I need to know, and I can't.

Mike brought up an interesting point. Why should I care right now? Why should I confine myself to a label? Why should I call myself bi, or gay, if I'm obviously uncomfortable as such? It's a valid question. Why must we define ourselves? I've read this on almost every blog in my blog roll, the question of identity and labels. Oh how we would all prefer that we wouldn't have to apply labels to ourselves.

Well, I personally think labels can be very important. They are a function of language, of distinguishing things about ourselves and in the world. We have words to describe nearly everything we come across. How could we function as humans in this world if not for some kind of language? Some way of distinguishing things and communicating that to others? Because we're not telepathic or whatnot, language and the labels they create are sort of a necessary evil, if you will.

To that end, each person carries several labels. It's a pretty fundamental concept in psychology and anthropology. The question is, how do these Labeled Masks affect us? They help us orient ourselves in the world, they give us a reference point from which we can relate and interact with others. Lately I've been having a crisis of sorts with my Labeled Masks on a level I never thought I'd ever have to encounter. Let's take an obvious Labeled Mask - I am an American. That is obvious by birth, education, life experience, etc. Another one, for example, is that I am male. That is obvious by anatomy, activities (many/most of them), gender role, blah bah blah.

A more ambiguous one is that I am Chinese. What does this mean? What does "Chinese-ness" mean? I am Chinese by ethnicity, Chinese by language (but not fully?), Chinese by cultural heritage. But I am not Chinese by birth, education (for the most part), and life experience. I've never set foot on mainland China. How Chinese could I be? For example, would - let's say - an African by "race" who was born in China, raised in China, is more fluent in Mandarin than I am, is more literate in Chinese than I am, be considered "more Chinese" than me?

There is also an interesting thing to be said when things cross languages and cultures. For example, I could call myself a 中国人 (zhong guo ren), which means "Chinese person." I could call myself a 海外的中国人 (hai wai de zhong guo ren), which means "foreign-born Chinese person." Or I could call myself a 华人 (hua ren), which is the term Chinese people give themselves. Which Labeled Mask would be most accurate? Which one should be worn more often? In another sense, should I be Chinese American or American Chinese? Is there even a difference or not? This is but one of the many thoughts that plagues me from time to time. I suppose language here is inadequate to explain my frustration on this issue.

Again it brings me to the question, why should it matter? Would "allying" myself with one Labeled Mask or another cause me to behave any differently? Would it cause me to act sympathetic towards others of the same group? Would there be a kind of kindred spirit between others who wear the same Labeled Mask and myself?

Going full circle, to this end I am still not fully sure whether I would feel more comfortable wearing the Labeled Mask of bisexuality or homosexuality. Currently I wear no such mask, at least not publicly. To the best of my knowledge, except those I've explicit told, no one knows anything. And so it defaults to straight even though I don't actively wear this mask. Truth be told I am completely cut off from the bi/gay world. I know abysmally little about it. Because in truth, it's not a world I had concerned myself with for the vast majority of my life, it's not a world I had ever sought. And now, without a base to set off from, I feel like an isolated island.

Of course, the argument goes, why should it matter? Sexuality is almost certainly a spectrum. Why limit yourself to either "extreme" or the center? Why apply a Labeled Mask at all? I would counter - we call north, south, east, and west directions. These are arbitrary applications. When does north become northwest? When does south become southeast? There is nothing on earth that definitively says "This is northeast." However, without these it would be very difficult to find our way around. We could wander lost for a long time without knowing which way to go.

And so, a Labeled Mask for sexuality might do the same. At least, I hope it would achieve to this effect for me. With it, I could begin to progress towards a more open and happy life. But first, I must figure out which way to walk. Until then, I will wear none.

---TANGENT---
I've done a lot of reading on others' blogs lately. Here are 3 more that I'll add to my blog roll:

Just me
charlie's blog
Tranquil Time

Enjoy! More to be add soon hopefully.
---END TANGENT---

Ode to the Cello

I've played the cello for so long I too often forget why I play it, what it was that drew me to this instrument, and that feeling of "oneness" I get. I mean, I've talked about it before in a previous post here, but this time I feel it coming from a different angle.

I remember in 5th grade when everyone had to choose an instrument to play. At the time I had pretty much no idea what I wanted to play, but I knew what I did not want to play. Most of them were brass and wind instruments (sorry brass and wind players). Of those that I did have an interest in were the French horn, the flute, and the bassoon. I couldn't play the French horn. I mean, I physically couldn't get a sound out of the mouthpiece - I lost my breath and almost blacked out from the effort. I couldn't get a controlled sound out of the flute mouthpiece and I felt like I was hyperventilating. And the bassoon . . . we weren't even "allowed" to try out that instrument in 5th grade.

So stringed instruments were the way to go. Now, every Asian and his mom plays the violin. I liked all the sweet solos one could do on a violin but I hated the range of the instrument - it was way too high. After it exceeds a certain pitch, the tones it produces hurt my ears as it tends to create an almost piercing and shrieking sound. Also (and this reason's a little lame), violinists had to stand. I didn't want to play an instrument that would require me to stand. Furthermore I didn't want to jam an instrument against my neck. So the violin was out. The viola was next. I liked its sound MUCH better, but it suffered some of the minor annoyances with the violin (that is, in the way it's played). Later I would find that violists don't get very good parts in pretty much anything. Poor violists.

So then there was the cello and bass. The bass was too large for me, I mean the instrument's about as big as you are. The cello seemed good enough. I really liked the sound range and I loved the fact that I always had to be seated while I played it. So in 5th grade I was the only person in my entire elementary school who chose to play the cello. It made me unique, I stood out, and I was proud of that.

Years later as I moved on to better and better cellos, I would realize the full weight of my decision. In a way, choosing an instrument, sticking with it, and liking it, is almost like finding and realizing a part of your soul. You choose the instrument that best fits you. And in almost every way, the cello fit me. The cello was me.

The cello is satisfied to play the parts in the limelight, the foundation of every ensemble. At the same time, the cello is capable of such wonderful melodies and solos. Of all the stringed instruments it has the greatest range. It can even trespass in the violin's territory (though not their upper territory, as if we cellists would want to). Then there is the deep resonance of the instrument. I know my cello's in tune when I play a note, for example the C on the G string, and the C string vibrates in resonance with it. And it can also vibrate all other C notes, producing a very interesting harmonic effect. I know when my cello's happy when it even vibrates another person's instrument, so that they can feel the vibrations of my cello through their violin or viola. The violin and viola, to the best of my experience, is incapable of this feat.

On certain floors one can feel a cello's resonance through the ground, as the vibrations are grounded through the end pin. It's weird to talk about my instrument in such a way, personifying it, but not really I suppose. It's a reflection of myself in a lot of ways, a mere extension. One channels himself through his instrument, and the instrument reciprocates. I mean, my cello can be moody and uncooperative. In any case, when my cello's happy, I can't help but also be happy. My cello exalts in the resonance that fits into the gaps in the music, and I follow it there alongside. I can feel the vibrations going around and through me, and I remember, "This is why I play."

Also, the very nature of being a cellist is different from many other instruments. Cellists must, on one hand, be the beat keepers in many cases. But not so inflexible that the adhere to the beat rigidly to the detriment of the ensemble. So cellists also have great listening skills and can here where they need to play out more, where they need to back off, where they need to be another instrument's backup, and where they must shine. I've a feeling that violinists tend to be a bit too egotistic as they only care about their own parts, as all other parts are "below them." So they can do whatever they want and almost ignore the rest of the ensemble, but the cellist must support everyone. The violist are sometimes too timid and uncertain, they also tend to resent their parts a lot. A cellist can't afford to be timid or uncertain, as the very fabric of the ensemble often depends on them (unbeknown to the listener).

Interestingly enough, I've come to realize that my cello will very rarely sound the same way twice. Every time you tune a stringed instrument, you're competing against 3 "entities." The first is yourself, your own ears as they listen to the sounds. The second is the wooden body of the instrument, which changes depending on temperature, humidity, and location. Wood will contract or expand accordingly, so that affects sound. And the third are the strings themselves. When all three of these cooperate and are in harmony, then the sound that instrument is capable of producing is rather remarkable.
-----
Now on to an interesting (and somewhat related) story.

My friend, TR-M, who I haven't seen or talked to in almost a year, randomly called me today. It was really good talking to him after such a long time. We have been friends since we were about 7-years-old, so it really was great to hear from him.

He called to tell how he had been listening to Yo-Yo Ma (the famous cellist) and the group Apocalyptica (4-member cello group that plays rock music with cellos). Apparently he's been thinking a lot about the cello lately and wanting to pick it up. Also, his younger brother, JR-M, just finished a movie where I played the cello part for the music score. So TR-M has been listening to that too. So, as logic follows, he thought of me and decided to call me and tell me about this.

He's really considering picking up the cello. He's always thought that stringed instruments were more refined (he played the trumpet in middle and high school) and that he always had an appreciation for the cello. He also said how he came to like the cello more and more as he's matured and as his tastes mature. So he called me, and now he (and his JR-M) might visit me on Sunday! It'd be great to hang out here, as I'm not sure he's ever been to this city as we would normally hang out occasionally when I went home. So this is all very exciting and I really hope he does come out to visit me. He also wanted some pointers on how to play a cello, which I would gladly give him.

Completely unrelated, this would also be a great opportunity for me to come out to the both of them, as I've no idea when I'll be able to see them next. Hopefully I'll be able to do it this time. That is, if they come out here to visit me. I mean, it's only about an hour's drive away.

P.S. Okay, I don't do this often, but I've edited this post like 3 times already as I keep thinking of things I want to put in it. This is a bit weird for me.

Some Articles

I try to read the news as much as possible. Too bad a lot of things don't really interest me, so I tend to read that which I personally find interesting. Here are three:

1. Essay - Eyes Bloodshot, Doctors Vent Their Discontent
An article I fully sympathize with. I shadowed a doctor last May, and this article brings up all the crap he had to put up with. And what I witnessed was only a fraction of what it must really be like. I mean, the current health care system does rather suck right now. Few understand how much paperwork doctors have, even with a secretary, and how restricted they are when dealing with insurance companies and reimbursements. On the one hand, you want the best medicine for the patient. On the other hand, you want the patient to be able to afford it by making sure it's covered by their insurance. And every insurance is different. So you need like, a chart with all the different medications on it. It's rather insane. Oh yeah, and malpractice insurance.

I hate it when people make the claim that a doctor always makes a good living or always makes money. That's simply not true for many doctors, particularly the primary care ones. And yeah, doctors don't get laid off, but one successful lawsuit could be the end of their entire career. And yeah, they do make a fair amount of money, but they have to pay back at least half a million dollars in debt, plus malpractice and such. As a result of the intense training and extensive time they must go through, doctors better damn earn what they deserve. I mean, how many people spend almost their entire 20s still in school and learning and such? Non-stop, without break.

At times like this, when I read such articles, I wonder why I ever really wanted to become a doctor. It would be easier if I just finished my Masters in public health (MPH) and just stop. But right now, I feel like that won't satisfy me. It doesn't feel like one of my end goals in life. So yeah, maybe I'm still hopelessly optimistic. But maybe, just maybe, there will be some amazing health care reforms by the time I'm a resident. When I'm 27. I'm going to be SO old when I start practicing medicine . . .

2. Why Gays Don't Go Extinct
To be perfectly honest, I take offense to this article a little. It doesn't seem to be very all-encompassing. It's an interesting theory, but it's a population study. They haven't located these genes, they can't test it. It also suggests this as one of many possibilities. I still hold out for sexuality to be an additive genes trait (explained in one of my early posts here).

Still, it's an interesting possibility. Too bad it doesn't apply when one's an only child, or most/all siblings are also male.

3. Spore
I want this game SO bad. You have no idea. I think the biology geek in me is showing. I mean, you get to create a unicellular organism, and have it evolve into a creature. And have that creature eventually evolve into a a society and such, and then launch into space.

So I downloaded the trial version to the Spore Creature Creator. I was hoping for something that'd allow me to do really interesting things. Sad to say, the trial version is pretty limiting. Of course there are tons of options that aren't available. Yet, judging from what I've seen, the full version has its limits too. And here is where my biology really starts to show.

You see, whatever you make has to be a vertebrate. There doesn't seem to be an option for a non-vertebrate creature. And this vertebrate can only have one vertebrate - that is, only one backbone. So I can't make an invertebrate like, for example, a land-based octopus or something. Or if I did, I'd have to "hide" the vertebrae of the creature I create. And I can't make like plant-animal hybrid things. So no photosynthetic creatures, I think. Then again, maybe all this IS an option in the full Spore Creature Creator (that I didn't buy).

Regardless, within the range of possibilities for vertebrates, this game allows for tons of creativity. And it has cute-ish graphics too. I think it's targeted for a younger audience, but it still looks like so much fun! I hope to get it when it comes out in the fall.

The Pre-freshmen are Here

Sigh, first I must express my odium for the construction on the dorm across the street from me. They start sometime between 7:00am and 7:30am, and work Monday through Saturday. This means I can almost never get enough hours of sleep as I tend to go to bed after 1:30am at the very earliest. Today it sounded like they were breaking glass (which they probably were, destroying the windows). I got up around 7:30am and put my ear buds in my ears, hoping to dampen the construction noise. Didn't do much. So I just got out of bed around 8:15am. I was not happy.

For a while I walked around campus, rather aimlessly. I then settled and sat under a tree in the very heart of central campus. I sat at one of the benches and read more of Xenocide for an hour or two. And then I saw them. The "pre-freshmen," the summer orientation people.

This reminded me of the other day when I went to eat lunch with AG-F, my friend from the lab. As we walked across campus, we saw several orientation groups. They all had on name tags or the student ID cards about their necks. They were walking across the fountain, as is the tradition here upon becoming a freshman. You're supposed to walk across the fountain in the other direction upon graduation, but I haven't done so yet and I forgot which direction that is now . . .

Anyway, we saw them and we started to reminisce about freshman year, the good and the bad, what we liked and our regrets. In retrospect, there were many things I wish I could've done differently but I'm not sure things would've worked out the way. For one, I would not know many of my current friends had I not taken the classes I did in the order I took them freshman year. That's when I made the vast majority of my friends here - as freshman year forces you do make friends as few people know each other.

My other friend, JW-M, works summer orientation for the poli-sci peer advising, or something like that. So he gives his little talk to all the pre-freshmen. He calls them "freshman embryos" or "freshman larvae" (a reference to Starcraft, lol), but I'll call them pre-freshmen. They're not really freshmen until they've selected their classes and started the school year. Sometimes I think I might've liked to work as a summer orientation peer adviser. Except I wouldn't make things as rosy as they kind of require. Even JW-M had to resist the urge to say that some things just didn't matter, though the speech he had to give said it did. In private I would just be like, "Yeah, that's good" or "Ugh, that sucked. Avoid it."

Back to this morning. I was reading on a bench under the shade of trees and several orientation groups came by. They all seemed to have cameras with them. And I thought, "You're going to be spending at least 3-4 years here, why take pictures now? That's a bit touristy." And they all had their name tags on that just made me laugh inside because it looks so, um, freshman? They all seemed to be lost and only a few of them had maps. They seemed to be on some kind of scavenger hunt to look for things around campus in order to become familiar with the area. There were also some Campus Day tours, and I knew a few of the people giving them too. It's funny listening to the stuff they say: it all sounds so rehearsed, the parents judging the place, the students already knowing whether or not they want to come - so some seemed to have eyes that glazed over with boredom.

In any case, what really hit me was the excitement all the orientation people seemed to have. I miss that excitement - being in a new place, around new people, no one knows you, discovery. If nothing else that's what I missed about freshman year - the fresh start. Making friends from scratch, meeting people who know nothing about you, getting lost and then finding your way. Now there's something I wish I had done differently, but at the time I just didn't know (about myself like I do now). But do I regret? No, not really. If I were to go back in time and let events play out de novo, I'd probably end up pretty close to where I am now.

Still, what I wouldn't give for a taste of that excitement again . . . I don't think grad/med school can provide that on the level that undergrad did.