Plan F

Sometimes I let myself get a little bent out of shape about how far my life has deviated from my original planned course. Let's recap the plan, shall we?

The Original Plan:
-Go to BYU.
-Major in art.
      a) never take another math class. ever.
      b) avoid science classes like the plague.
-Travel the world (most specifically, go to London).
-Get married.
-Graduate.
-Start a family.
-Stay home. Raise children. Be an artist.

How It Actually Went Down:
-Go to BYU.
-Major in Physiology and Developmental Biology.
      a) take calculus. get first ever B. but not last.
      b) 83.5 science credits and counting.
-Decide to go to medical school.
-Change mind about medical school. Decide to go to PA school instead.
-Travel the world (study abroad to London. trips to Paris and Barcelona).
-Change mind about PA school. Decide to work after bachelors degree.
-Change mind about working. Apply to physiology masters program.
-Break up with boyfriend of 3.5 years.
-Graduate.
-Get accepted to physiology masters program.
-Break up with pre-med boyfriend.
-Break up with civil engineer boyfriend.
-Decide all boys are lame.
**Present Day**

A recent lament of mine prompted my roommate to post the following on my facebook wall:

So I counted. And I'm officially on Plan F. I'm actually feeling pretty excited about Plan F.

(Which is one of the reasons that I have this ominous feeling....like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. If it sounds good and I feel excited about it, historically speaking...it's not for me. When did I become such a cynic?)

So here it is.  Plan F:

I am going to get a PhD.

I'll be spending the summer investigating labs around the country that do obesity/metabolism research and deciding where I want to apply/who I want to research with. Applications are due in December. The goal is somewhere East Coast.

Maybe when I get there I'll meet Mr. Right. Maybe not. At this point, I don't really care because I'm just psyched at the idea of a doctorate. I haven't decided whether or not I want to do a postdoctoral fellowship (necessary if I want to have my own lab someday) or just be done after PhD. I've got plenty of time to decide though.

So there you have it. My new life plan. I think (hope!) it's a keeper! And with it, my new motto:

The calendar hanging in my bedroom. Design from here.

Dear Guy in Endocrinology,

As the semester has progressed, it has become increasingly evident that you are an intellectual. How accomplished you must feel. As your fellow student, I am continually humbled by the breadth, depth and scope of your knowledge. I feel especially impressed when you correct the professor. He probably doesn't really understand endocrinology, despite his being a pioneer in the field. Your year of experience working in a pharmacy makes his 40+ years of science look pretty pathetic, if you ask me.

One of my favorite things is when you ask questions for the sole purpose of emphasizing your astounding intellect. You know the ones; they usually begin, "Dr. W____, given A, B and C, we must surely be able to conclude Y and Z. Isn't that correct?" On the rare occasion that he disagrees with your conclusions, I am glad that you spend our class time arguing with him. How dare he insinuate that your knowledge and critical thinking skills could be fallible? What does he think, that you're grasping at physiologic straws in an attempt to demonstrate your superiority to your peers? Oh the audacity. Who does he think he is anyway, the department chair?

But the very best part of associating with you is when you condescend to correct my physiology. I always feel so star-struck when you do that, so honored that you would even consider my blunders (numerous as they are) worth taking your precious time to correct. Like today, for instance. The magnanimous way that you set me straight as we discussed the etiology of type I diabetes was art. Pure art. Especially when one considers that just one semester ago, I was teaching you the basics of diabetes as your pathophysiology TA. I happily consider myself surpassed.

My hat is off to you, outspoken endocrinology guy. I cannot help but be secretly jealous of your awesomeness. I suspect you run into this secret jealousy often, and it's probably the reason you're the only unmarried male in the class.  Your receding hairline, smug self-assuredness and repellent personality probably have nothing to do with it.

Let me know when you cure cancer.

Sincerely,
Melissa

Spring is Coming

Spring is most definitely on its way. The signs are unmistakable. Its always the same, year after year.

No, it's not this:

I always know it's spring time because of this:

My apologies, people sitting near me in seminar today, for my incessant sniffling punctuated by the occasional sneeze. I can't decide if it would be more rude to climb over all of you to go replenish my kleenex supply or to sit here sniffing obnoxiously.

I even took allergy meds this morning. Promise.

Old Friends

Lately I've been trying lots of new recipes, and it's been a lot of fun. But some days just call for those old, familiar friends that have been with you through thick and thin.

We all learn that it's important to develop our talents. One of my best talents is chocolate chip cookies. I attribute this to the fact that for the last twelve years of my life, baking cookies has been my quintessential de-stressing technique. And some of those years were pretty stressful.

Today I baked cookies.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 lb. butter
1 c. sugar
1 1/2 c. brown sugar
3 eggs
2 T. vanilla
1 1/2 t. salt
1 1/2 t. baking soda
6 c. flour
12 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mix sugars together. Add butter and cream. Add eggs and vanilla and mix well. Sift dry ingredients together and add slowly to butter mixture. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto cookie sheets and bake at 350* for 8-10 minutes.

Usually I don't even eat the cookies, although they are delicious. There's just something about the mixing process that makes me feel better.