Monday, April 28, 2008
Admissions committee
Yay, I just got the email today that I got the position on the upcoming year's admission committee at GW! I'm so excited:)
The complexity of the heart
What makes the heart grow fonder?
Is it really time that makes it flutter?
Each beat strengthened more than the last
Its rhythm purposeful until it reaches fast.
Should we suppose this pattern is genius science?
A crippling reflex to feel compliance.
This tug and pull towards obligation
Because you become captured, body and soul, and stationed.
But what if one day the clock stopped ticking
The juice behind the wheel runs dry...the wheel goes creaking.
You feel like the blood of life is not flowing
For your heart has stopped, it no longer is glowing.
That love you once felt has changed to something else
An infection has seeped through and no intervention can help.
You reason why because that person, your partner, is still the same
But you don't recognize evolution, its hand difficult to tame.
For that person has changed as much as you,
Your steps away from each other, they weren't exactly a few.
Then desperately, you wonder, what is the cure to give this love its pulse
You will take any pill or syrup at whatever dose.
The many years gone by...this cannot be it
You’re in now and always
And your heart, you know is fit.
But your heart IS tired and old and weary
And the blueprint created this perfect fit in your lover’s hands…
…the problem is they know this clearly.
Is it really time that makes it flutter?
Each beat strengthened more than the last
Its rhythm purposeful until it reaches fast.
Should we suppose this pattern is genius science?
A crippling reflex to feel compliance.
This tug and pull towards obligation
Because you become captured, body and soul, and stationed.
But what if one day the clock stopped ticking
The juice behind the wheel runs dry...the wheel goes creaking.
You feel like the blood of life is not flowing
For your heart has stopped, it no longer is glowing.
That love you once felt has changed to something else
An infection has seeped through and no intervention can help.
You reason why because that person, your partner, is still the same
But you don't recognize evolution, its hand difficult to tame.
For that person has changed as much as you,
Your steps away from each other, they weren't exactly a few.
Then desperately, you wonder, what is the cure to give this love its pulse
You will take any pill or syrup at whatever dose.
The many years gone by...this cannot be it
You’re in now and always
And your heart, you know is fit.
But your heart IS tired and old and weary
And the blueprint created this perfect fit in your lover’s hands…
…the problem is they know this clearly.
Life Unwanted
Hey there, yes you
I saw you from across the room.
With sunken eyes, deep and sorrowful
Did you not know this plan came with a tomb?
The room seems cold to you
It does for me too
The only sound separating your world from mine
Changes your life as it does mine.
Where did you come from? How did you get here?
Questions that don't matter, for they are here to allay your fears.
Meet the 12 week mark and sign the dotted line,
The only thing against you here is time.
Protesting: WE WANT LIFE, WE WANT LIFE!
Their cadence unwavering, it pierces you like a knife.
This is the right thing to do, you think over and over.
...A boy, he could be named Trevor..and for a girl, maybe Serah.
Those thoughts pushed aside for the millionth and one time,
For you've opened their door..you're sure they heard the chime.
It's too late to rethink, you have made your choice.
You spoke up for the one who had no voice.
I saw you from across the room.
With sunken eyes, deep and sorrowful
Did you not know this plan came with a tomb?
The room seems cold to you
It does for me too
The only sound separating your world from mine
Changes your life as it does mine.
Where did you come from? How did you get here?
Questions that don't matter, for they are here to allay your fears.
Meet the 12 week mark and sign the dotted line,
The only thing against you here is time.
Protesting: WE WANT LIFE, WE WANT LIFE!
Their cadence unwavering, it pierces you like a knife.
This is the right thing to do, you think over and over.
...A boy, he could be named Trevor..and for a girl, maybe Serah.
Those thoughts pushed aside for the millionth and one time,
For you've opened their door..you're sure they heard the chime.
It's too late to rethink, you have made your choice.
You spoke up for the one who had no voice.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Ingrid Michaelson on Friday
Yeah, so that was a quick rebound from depression in the last post. I just wanted to mention Ingrid's awesome concert this past Friday night. It was for the Music Inspires Health concert series that was hosted at Lisner Auditorium at GW. I was actually surprised that it didn't sell out because Ingrid is HUGE! But, I'm not complaining because we got great seats and the tickets were 15 buckaroos. The opening acts were April Smith and Ari Hest. Ummm...tell me why I came home and downloaded their music??!! I'm currently obsessed with Ari Hest because 1. He's hot, 2. He sounds like Elvis with his deep voice 3. Although he has a deep voice, he has a beautiful falsetto and 4. He's hot. So yeah it was an eventful night because I got to finally see Ingrid live and I must say she's amazing and so lovable! There was some malfunction with one of her guitarists so she proceeds to play the piano and has the crowd singing with her on her version of the Intro song of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Amazing:) Musicians have the best job in the world. They play music all day everyday. What could be better than that?
Home
I have 4 weeks and 6 days left before I'm home. I don't know why but I am really homesick! It may be the everyday drone of medical school that is getting me a little down. I wish I can get on a plane and fly home even for a day. But, that isn't practical. To me the money would be worth it, but it's way too expensive right now. Anyways, this is a waste of a post..
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Clorox bottle
Today is Saturday and the image of a large clorox bottle has been burned in my mind since Thursday. I went out to Virginia to shadow my CAP physician while he worked at a women's clinic for the afternoon. I knew before hand what type of clinic this was, but I really did not realize just how this visit would affect me.
In summary, I saw nine abortions in the span of an hour and a half. Virginia law allows only first trimester (12 weeks) abortions. I believe the District of Columbia allows abortion up into the second trimester. The latest term I observed was 11 weeks and 2 days.
I will not go into too much detail here just because I do not feel like reliving that 2 hour span just yet. My CAP physician is an amazing individual, I must say. After the day was over, we had a recap session and he asked me if I had any questions. Of course I had a million questions at this point, but I filtered my questions to just those I won't be able to find on my own. This narrowed it down to one important question, which centered around how he felt after doing his first abortion on a woman and how he deals with it emotionally patient after patient. I asked this because almost every woman was crying during and after the procedure was done. Their tears may have initially been spawned by the brutal clamping of the cervix but may have been exacerbated by the finality of their decision with the last pressure sucking sound of the vacuum. Do you know that sound a vacuum makes when it is struggling to suck up an object from the carpet or floor and then when it finally gets it up through the tube and the object makes its way into the vacuum container, it makes that strong pressure releasing sound? Now imagine me intently observing my CAP right behind him and underneath the hot lamp waiting to see what was to come out of this woman and into the clear vacuum tube. It was as expected. Slowly at first, clear fluid came out and then bright red blood and then a dark red mass. The pressure within the tubes then increased to get the large dark red mass into the vacuum container. The sound I was describing earlier happens right before you see the dark red mass. I'm assuming this dense material was the target of the vacuum tube. Finally, a quick dip into the clorox bottle to disinfect the tubes from HIV and other viruses and the switch is turned off from the vacuum.
I just could not help but imagine myself in the place of any of these women and how this two minute procedure could change the course of their life. I understand that abortions are necessary to give women options. Like my CAP physician says, "Everyone makes mistakes but I'm not that person to make them live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. I give them options." I'm still contemplating on his words as I think about the events of that Thursday afternoon.
The problem here is not understanding the necessity of abortions in women's health. It's more my problem in dealing with them emotionally. I imagined myself in the place of these women, but I also imagined myself not being able to go through with it. I also imagined myself as my CAP physician and turning the machine off before I inserted the tube into the cervix of the patient.
But I'm trying to reason this out. I want to go into public health. I feel that my education teaches me to be objective and to see it from my patient's point of view regardless of how I may feel about the situation. This is a conflict...a conflict between what my brain tells me what is right and what my heart and soul says is right.
I see a young girl who may have just finished high school and may not have the resources to rear a child on her own and I see how this procedure can help her situation because who knows? She may be on her way to college or she may be one of the sole earners in her household and may not afford for another mouth to feed. Whatever the reason, there is one. But... all my little heart sees at this point is the little 11 week fetus with a head and hands and legs and feet all on a petri dish submerged in clorox.
In summary, I saw nine abortions in the span of an hour and a half. Virginia law allows only first trimester (12 weeks) abortions. I believe the District of Columbia allows abortion up into the second trimester. The latest term I observed was 11 weeks and 2 days.
I will not go into too much detail here just because I do not feel like reliving that 2 hour span just yet. My CAP physician is an amazing individual, I must say. After the day was over, we had a recap session and he asked me if I had any questions. Of course I had a million questions at this point, but I filtered my questions to just those I won't be able to find on my own. This narrowed it down to one important question, which centered around how he felt after doing his first abortion on a woman and how he deals with it emotionally patient after patient. I asked this because almost every woman was crying during and after the procedure was done. Their tears may have initially been spawned by the brutal clamping of the cervix but may have been exacerbated by the finality of their decision with the last pressure sucking sound of the vacuum. Do you know that sound a vacuum makes when it is struggling to suck up an object from the carpet or floor and then when it finally gets it up through the tube and the object makes its way into the vacuum container, it makes that strong pressure releasing sound? Now imagine me intently observing my CAP right behind him and underneath the hot lamp waiting to see what was to come out of this woman and into the clear vacuum tube. It was as expected. Slowly at first, clear fluid came out and then bright red blood and then a dark red mass. The pressure within the tubes then increased to get the large dark red mass into the vacuum container. The sound I was describing earlier happens right before you see the dark red mass. I'm assuming this dense material was the target of the vacuum tube. Finally, a quick dip into the clorox bottle to disinfect the tubes from HIV and other viruses and the switch is turned off from the vacuum.
I just could not help but imagine myself in the place of any of these women and how this two minute procedure could change the course of their life. I understand that abortions are necessary to give women options. Like my CAP physician says, "Everyone makes mistakes but I'm not that person to make them live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. I give them options." I'm still contemplating on his words as I think about the events of that Thursday afternoon.
The problem here is not understanding the necessity of abortions in women's health. It's more my problem in dealing with them emotionally. I imagined myself in the place of these women, but I also imagined myself not being able to go through with it. I also imagined myself as my CAP physician and turning the machine off before I inserted the tube into the cervix of the patient.
But I'm trying to reason this out. I want to go into public health. I feel that my education teaches me to be objective and to see it from my patient's point of view regardless of how I may feel about the situation. This is a conflict...a conflict between what my brain tells me what is right and what my heart and soul says is right.
I see a young girl who may have just finished high school and may not have the resources to rear a child on her own and I see how this procedure can help her situation because who knows? She may be on her way to college or she may be one of the sole earners in her household and may not afford for another mouth to feed. Whatever the reason, there is one. But... all my little heart sees at this point is the little 11 week fetus with a head and hands and legs and feet all on a petri dish submerged in clorox.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Sunday, April 6, 2008
status updates
Nothing stresses me out more than status updates. Not even med school. These bastards who create functions like these drive me nuts because they really don't understand how it affects innocent people like myself! First off...status updates expire. Is there no way to just keep the status you chose a week ago..the one where you spent hours agonizing what to put there in the first place??!? For those who are lost to what I'm yapping about..I apologize. Sometimes, the faucet of words in my mind is on full blast and my fingers can't keep up with the typing. Stalker websites like facebook and myspace and bebo and gchat (yes, I have them all) will ask you what "your status is" and it usually will start with the words, in my case, "Annabelle is..." in which you fill in the rest of what you're currently up to.
The thing is, it's just absolutely boring when you put something like "tired" or "hungry". No one cares about those updates. They want something juicy like "..angry about something he/she just read" or "..thinking something dirty" or whatever. These updates are great because all the obsessive stalkers will be prompted to ask "what the hell kinda dirty thoughts you have?" And then life can progress as normal beyond that. The problem is thinking about things to write as the status update. In my case, great and spontaneous ideas come at the worst times! Like when I can't get to a computer fast enough because I'm stuck in a claustrophobic room listening to a biochem professor for more than 3 hours...or..this is even better..when I'm SLEEPING! I would be tucked oh so peacefully in my wonder bed when wham! A status update just appears and I'm forced to debate with my better half "myself" whether I should get up and turn on the computer or just give up on possibly the best idea of what a status update should be.
*Sigh* This is what I struggle with everytime I log into any of these accounts and see the words "PLEASE UPDATE ON YOUR STATUS" because my last update expired. So what does a girl do? Give up and resort to putting b.s. like "tired" and "hungry". B-O-R-I-N-G!
The thing is, it's just absolutely boring when you put something like "tired" or "hungry". No one cares about those updates. They want something juicy like "..angry about something he/she just read" or "..thinking something dirty" or whatever. These updates are great because all the obsessive stalkers will be prompted to ask "what the hell kinda dirty thoughts you have?" And then life can progress as normal beyond that. The problem is thinking about things to write as the status update. In my case, great and spontaneous ideas come at the worst times! Like when I can't get to a computer fast enough because I'm stuck in a claustrophobic room listening to a biochem professor for more than 3 hours...or..this is even better..when I'm SLEEPING! I would be tucked oh so peacefully in my wonder bed when wham! A status update just appears and I'm forced to debate with my better half "myself" whether I should get up and turn on the computer or just give up on possibly the best idea of what a status update should be.
*Sigh* This is what I struggle with everytime I log into any of these accounts and see the words "PLEASE UPDATE ON YOUR STATUS" because my last update expired. So what does a girl do? Give up and resort to putting b.s. like "tired" and "hungry". B-O-R-I-N-G!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Restless....
Tell me why I have a biochem and physiology exam coming up in a week and all I can do is dream about summer vacation?? To make matters worse, I'm counting down the days already...7 weeks and 2 days exactly! This is when my happy ass will be on a plane to the city of sin to visit my familia and sit on the couch and wait for my 10 hour trip to Samoa, a place I still consider home after moving away 9 years ago. Gosh, it's going on ten years now that my family moved from a tiny little island in the South Pacific to Las Vegas, Nevada. It still feels like yesterday when I first walked into a Wal-mart and was absolutely amazed at how many cereal brands they had! I was used to choosing between corn pops, frosted flakes, or raisin bran.
So, yeah, it should be interesting to go home and see how things have changed. I'm sure there are many things that haven't though and these are the things I look foward to. For instance, there is this particular aroma that permeates the villages on Sunday morning. It smells like burning leaves mixed with a rich "green" smell. I know it doesn't make sense because green leaves don't really burn that well but that particular smell reminds me of home because every Sunday right after church at about 8 or 9 in the moring, you will see a haze of smoke all over from families making their sunday feast or toona'i. Samoans still cook through traditional means with what is called the "umu", an outdoor makeshift oven that uses hot stones to steam cook food under a blanket of banana leaves. This is where the smell of burning leaves and green leaves come from because you start burning dried leaves to make the stones hot and then with the food underneath the hot stones, you cover the whole spread with fresh green banana leaves.
Every Sunday, this toona'i marks the end of a long hard working week where extended families get together, eat good food, and spend quality time together. The only establishments open on Sundays are churches (of course) and a few mom and pop shops. What I remember most about Sundays is the ride home, on the back of my dad's pickup truck, from spending the afternoon at the beach. Before heading home, we would stop by the bakery to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread...the kind that you have to slice yourself. Me and the little sister would just pick out the center of the loaf and squish the bread between our fingers and mold it into little bread balls. These were the good old days of having salty fingers molding hot bread on the back of a truck and not looking forward to getting home to prepare for school the next day. This memory just makes me smile at how simple life was back then. Now, it's medschool stalking me to get off the computer to get back to studying....
So, yeah, it should be interesting to go home and see how things have changed. I'm sure there are many things that haven't though and these are the things I look foward to. For instance, there is this particular aroma that permeates the villages on Sunday morning. It smells like burning leaves mixed with a rich "green" smell. I know it doesn't make sense because green leaves don't really burn that well but that particular smell reminds me of home because every Sunday right after church at about 8 or 9 in the moring, you will see a haze of smoke all over from families making their sunday feast or toona'i. Samoans still cook through traditional means with what is called the "umu", an outdoor makeshift oven that uses hot stones to steam cook food under a blanket of banana leaves. This is where the smell of burning leaves and green leaves come from because you start burning dried leaves to make the stones hot and then with the food underneath the hot stones, you cover the whole spread with fresh green banana leaves.
Every Sunday, this toona'i marks the end of a long hard working week where extended families get together, eat good food, and spend quality time together. The only establishments open on Sundays are churches (of course) and a few mom and pop shops. What I remember most about Sundays is the ride home, on the back of my dad's pickup truck, from spending the afternoon at the beach. Before heading home, we would stop by the bakery to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread...the kind that you have to slice yourself. Me and the little sister would just pick out the center of the loaf and squish the bread between our fingers and mold it into little bread balls. These were the good old days of having salty fingers molding hot bread on the back of a truck and not looking forward to getting home to prepare for school the next day. This memory just makes me smile at how simple life was back then. Now, it's medschool stalking me to get off the computer to get back to studying....
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Colors
I learned today that Orange is NOT my color. It's just bad no matter how I put it on. I got an orange scarf as a thank you gift and although it may look fabulous while I'm holding it in my hands, it looks horrendous on my neck. I guess I shouldn't complain because I got it as a gift. Not to say I haven't not worn it because I did, and this is how I know I don't look good in orange. It looks a little on the tragic side on me. What a waste.
Well, maybe I'll try it on again sometime..maybe the shade wouldn't be so tragic and it will be doable.
Well, maybe I'll try it on again sometime..maybe the shade wouldn't be so tragic and it will be doable.
Sara Bareilles
GOD! I love her music! Sometimes I really wish I could write songs. In another life, I would be a total hippie with an el camino and a guitar in the trunk driving to a different gig every night. What a great life:) I'm saying this with a smile on my heart..
A tour of our Capitol
My sister Deidre came into town a couple days ago and today I scheduled a private tour of the Capitol. Since I have an immunology exam on Monday, I figure the best way to study and be a diligent medical student was to act like a tourist while my sister is in town! So, here's the secret to getting a great tour of our nation's capital...email your congressman/woman and arrange for a free private tour of the Capitol and the White House. The White House tour takes up to a month in advance to plan, so I opted for the Capitol tour only.
So we got to Rayburn building a little after 10 am and immmediately got lost finding the office of Congressman Eni Faleomavaega, the incumbent of 20 years for the territory of American Samoa. When we finally found this office, we were greeted outside by a poster of all of our fallen soldiers. A little tidbit of trivia: American Samoa has the highest per capita deaths of soldiers from the war in Iraq. Seeing the face of Tina Time, a high school classmate of mine, made my eyes watery and insides feel queasy. War took her at such a young age. Before I write another line, I must say that I'm proud of Ms. Time. She makes us all fellow Lions very proud for her courage and valor while she helped fight for our freedom. Irregardless of how I feel about the war personally, you must know that I will forever be thankful and proud of our soldiers fighting for the freedoms I use and abuse everyday. Thank you!
Back to the tour....
So we started our tour with a very nice and articulate man named Joseph who loved to use the "forte". I cannot remember the names of all the rooms we visisted and saw but a few of the highlights are as follows: the original Supreme Court chamber, the door to Speaker Nancy Pelosi's office, the Dome, the Rotunda, and the room where amendments to our laws are made...the one we usually see on C-Span with the democrats sitting to the left of the room and the republicans to the right. I'm not sure if the Rotunda is the room where Thomas Jefferson used as an office and brilliantly used the acoustics of the floorings to his advantage and eavesdrop on the opposition. You can feel the conspiracy floating through the air in these buildings.
Well, after the tour, we went back to the Congressman's office and guess who we met? Yes, you guessed it! I finally got to meet Congressman Faleomavaega. In actuality, I lost count on the number of times I emailed his scheduler for a possible meeting, but I won't mention that to him. I'm just glad to meet the man, and he was great! Such a nice man! We could tell he was busy as he had his next appointment sitting and waiting on the couches outside his door, but he pretended not to notice and conversed with us about our backgrounds, schools, interests, etc. The man even offered me an internship to work with him in his office this summer. But....that's another story.
All in all, we had a great day! I love it when you don't expect anything to happen and great things happen. It's like planning a last minute roadtrip to Vegas and you come to find out your hotel room was upgraded, you won big at roulette, and got comped a great dinner at a fancy restaurant. Great stuff.
Thanks to Joseph for our fabulous tour today! Totally your forte dude:)
So we got to Rayburn building a little after 10 am and immmediately got lost finding the office of Congressman Eni Faleomavaega, the incumbent of 20 years for the territory of American Samoa. When we finally found this office, we were greeted outside by a poster of all of our fallen soldiers. A little tidbit of trivia: American Samoa has the highest per capita deaths of soldiers from the war in Iraq. Seeing the face of Tina Time, a high school classmate of mine, made my eyes watery and insides feel queasy. War took her at such a young age. Before I write another line, I must say that I'm proud of Ms. Time. She makes us all fellow Lions very proud for her courage and valor while she helped fight for our freedom. Irregardless of how I feel about the war personally, you must know that I will forever be thankful and proud of our soldiers fighting for the freedoms I use and abuse everyday. Thank you!
Back to the tour....
So we started our tour with a very nice and articulate man named Joseph who loved to use the "forte". I cannot remember the names of all the rooms we visisted and saw but a few of the highlights are as follows: the original Supreme Court chamber, the door to Speaker Nancy Pelosi's office, the Dome, the Rotunda, and the room where amendments to our laws are made...the one we usually see on C-Span with the democrats sitting to the left of the room and the republicans to the right. I'm not sure if the Rotunda is the room where Thomas Jefferson used as an office and brilliantly used the acoustics of the floorings to his advantage and eavesdrop on the opposition. You can feel the conspiracy floating through the air in these buildings.
Well, after the tour, we went back to the Congressman's office and guess who we met? Yes, you guessed it! I finally got to meet Congressman Faleomavaega. In actuality, I lost count on the number of times I emailed his scheduler for a possible meeting, but I won't mention that to him. I'm just glad to meet the man, and he was great! Such a nice man! We could tell he was busy as he had his next appointment sitting and waiting on the couches outside his door, but he pretended not to notice and conversed with us about our backgrounds, schools, interests, etc. The man even offered me an internship to work with him in his office this summer. But....that's another story.
All in all, we had a great day! I love it when you don't expect anything to happen and great things happen. It's like planning a last minute roadtrip to Vegas and you come to find out your hotel room was upgraded, you won big at roulette, and got comped a great dinner at a fancy restaurant. Great stuff.
Thanks to Joseph for our fabulous tour today! Totally your forte dude:)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Disease specific or Infrastructure
Today's blog is written in reponse to an article I read in an email titled "A unified effort on AIDS, Global Health Crises". Supposedly Bush just introduced a Bill urging Congress to approve an additional budget of $30 billion over the next 5 year targeting AIDS. Although I think this is awesome, especially coming from our current President, shouldn't there be diversity in how this type of funding is allocated? We have $30 billion here going specifically to AIDS in developing nations. What about other diseases that are constantly foreshadowed by AIDS and cancer like infectious diseases (ex: worms, malaria, dengue fever, etc.)? Some of these diseases are caused by poor health infrastructures within these nations. There are millions of people who do not have access to clean water, which is a major concern. Not only that, there are millions upon millions who do not have access to simple healthcare to address the rising problem with chronic diseases that are affecting the developing world. Chronic disease rates like heart disease, diabetes, and cancers used to be considered a problem seen mostly in developed nations but studies now show rates of these diseases increasing in populations in Africa and Asia.
My only problem with disease-specific programs like this budget targeting only AIDS is that a big concern is directed towards AIDS, which does affect millions of people, but is nowhere near being the top cause of mortality in the world. There are many other "killers" that need to also be addressed. I guess any money going into global health is better than none.
My only problem with disease-specific programs like this budget targeting only AIDS is that a big concern is directed towards AIDS, which does affect millions of people, but is nowhere near being the top cause of mortality in the world. There are many other "killers" that need to also be addressed. I guess any money going into global health is better than none.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
To conduct or not to conduct
Original date: 09-06-06
I was walking through the hotel (venetian) this morning to the cafeteria and was suddenly struck with how loud the "hotel" music was playing. Mind you..it's like elevator music, but ALL classical in the early mornings. It was a group of violinists going full swing...would that be called a symphony? Anyways, I just couldn't help myself but proceeded to flick both my hands in rhythm to the music like a conductor. The music just consumed my every being and I could not, for the life of me, help myself from doing this. Oh and I got pretty serious at it too and proceeded with the violent head movements that conductors do when changing his instructions to the different groups of instruments. I realize that I'm sounding like a "music idiot" right now because I have no idea what the correct jargon is for all this. But yeah, that's my story for the morning.
I was walking through the hotel (venetian) this morning to the cafeteria and was suddenly struck with how loud the "hotel" music was playing. Mind you..it's like elevator music, but ALL classical in the early mornings. It was a group of violinists going full swing...would that be called a symphony? Anyways, I just couldn't help myself but proceeded to flick both my hands in rhythm to the music like a conductor. The music just consumed my every being and I could not, for the life of me, help myself from doing this. Oh and I got pretty serious at it too and proceeded with the violent head movements that conductors do when changing his instructions to the different groups of instruments. I realize that I'm sounding like a "music idiot" right now because I have no idea what the correct jargon is for all this. But yeah, that's my story for the morning.
How do you take your...
Has anyone noticed how terribly stressful it is to order breakfast? In all honesty, I never noticed this until just the other day, mostly because I am too distracted from the delicious food on the menu. Usually, people order breakfast food during breakfast hours (duh!) and maybe after a long night of drinking (a must!). In both of these occasions, the individual may not be fully prepared for the stress that the waitress/waitor is about to bombard them with. Good god! For instance, I was at a diner the other night and this really nice waitress came over and first asked me for my beverage of choice. After she retrieved my iced tea, she whipped out her pen and the little pad of notebook paper and started....
W: What would you like?
me: umm...well, corned beef hash and eggs please.
W: How would you like your eggs?
me: scrambled
W: How would you like your hashbrowns?
me: uhh....cooked? oh, but not too crispy please:)
W: What kind of side would you like? Toast, which comes in white, wheat, rye, or mutli-grain...English muffin..or you can choose from our assortment of fresh oven-baked muffins, which are blue-berry, bran, banana nut, cheesecake pumpkin, cornbread, or poppyseed???
me: (While she was going through this long list of delicious choices, I just could not handle the fact that in point two seconds she will require an answer and I lost her at the blue-berry muffins! What the hell am I going to do? I want her to repeat the muffins, but she looks like she's going to sit on me! At this point, I am so frail from starvation that I know I won't be able to defend myself if she were to sit on me so I proceed with my answer..) I will have the english muffin please...toasted.
W: What kind of jam? Strawberry, grape, marmalade.....
me: (Thinking...why can't you have the assortment on the table like most restaurants do in those cute little caddies?) Umm...strawberry...
W: What kind of syrup?
me: syrup?
W: For your pancakes.
me: (Thinking...I get pancakes! I kind of missed that on the menu. What kind of syrup? Is she really serious?? What would she say if I said "maple syrup from the deep forests of New England"??) I laugh and she gets annoyed...oops. Umm...maple please.
W: Is there anything else you would like?
me: (Thinking..NO...THANK GOD!) No that will be all thank you!
W: Your order will be up soon.
OMG! See how stressful that was?? All these choices put in all those questions! Mind you, she was talking uber fast. I was completely sober and wide awake during this specific interaction, but I can't imagine successfully ordering food when I am either just waking up or completely trashed! Not only will I be completely stunned if I was in either of the aforementioned situations, but I will be left to starve from not completing my order... This is tragic. We all know how important breakfast is...
W: What would you like?
me: umm...well, corned beef hash and eggs please.
W: How would you like your eggs?
me: scrambled
W: How would you like your hashbrowns?
me: uhh....cooked? oh, but not too crispy please:)
W: What kind of side would you like? Toast, which comes in white, wheat, rye, or mutli-grain...English muffin..or you can choose from our assortment of fresh oven-baked muffins, which are blue-berry, bran, banana nut, cheesecake pumpkin, cornbread, or poppyseed???
me: (While she was going through this long list of delicious choices, I just could not handle the fact that in point two seconds she will require an answer and I lost her at the blue-berry muffins! What the hell am I going to do? I want her to repeat the muffins, but she looks like she's going to sit on me! At this point, I am so frail from starvation that I know I won't be able to defend myself if she were to sit on me so I proceed with my answer..) I will have the english muffin please...toasted.
W: What kind of jam? Strawberry, grape, marmalade.....
me: (Thinking...why can't you have the assortment on the table like most restaurants do in those cute little caddies?) Umm...strawberry...
W: What kind of syrup?
me: syrup?
W: For your pancakes.
me: (Thinking...I get pancakes! I kind of missed that on the menu. What kind of syrup? Is she really serious?? What would she say if I said "maple syrup from the deep forests of New England"??) I laugh and she gets annoyed...oops. Umm...maple please.
W: Is there anything else you would like?
me: (Thinking..NO...THANK GOD!) No that will be all thank you!
W: Your order will be up soon.
OMG! See how stressful that was?? All these choices put in all those questions! Mind you, she was talking uber fast. I was completely sober and wide awake during this specific interaction, but I can't imagine successfully ordering food when I am either just waking up or completely trashed! Not only will I be completely stunned if I was in either of the aforementioned situations, but I will be left to starve from not completing my order... This is tragic. We all know how important breakfast is...
A Halo at the Entrance
Dated: 10-5-07
Before I go into the topic of this particular blog, I just want to say hi to all you people out there. Yes you! The one reading this public service announcement. The one I want to talk to but just can't seem to find the time to because of a contract I signed about a month ago...the one involving me to hand over my soul while writing out a check with an ungodly amount. Yes you. I just want to say hello. Oh and maybe I should wish you happy birthday, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukah and Happy New Year while I'm at it. Who knows when my next public service announcement will be:)
Okay so the title of this blog is appropriate to the situation I was in and you will see why in just a moment. A couple days ago, a couple friends from my med school class were discussing about going out to Virginia to go grocery shopping. I chimed in that I needed to go grocery shopping as well but since I was just going to wait until the weekend to do so. They immediately stopped their conversation to tell me about this grocery store they were going to. Long story short, it was absolutely necessary that I accompany them to this store named Wegman's. Funny name, you think... (chuckles to self). You just have no idea just yet what this place entails but I will tell you.
So we drove about 45 minutes out into Virginia where there are trees and fresh non-city air that pumps regenerative life into my lungs and therefore my soul. (There is something about fresh air that when breathed makes colors seem more vibrant and people seem more friendlier...to a point where you just want to give them hugs with substance). This was after class, by the way and it was almost dinner time so my tummy was starting the intro to the jungle thunder drum roll. Needless to say, I needed food and it was appropriate that we were going to a grocery store. I foresaw myself munching through a bag of cheetos selecting fresh fruits and vegetables from the produce section.
We then parked the car and were ready with our check cards and appetite to tackle "The Wegman's". To me it's called heaven, but the store is called Wegman's...a chain us westcoasters have no idea about. But as we walk through the front doors, words cannot accurately describe what happened to me. It felt as if a divine spirit filled me up and I heard angels singing in the background. (I love background music by the way). The gates were opened and they were letting me into heaven, I thought! "Are you sure I should be here, I asked". I thought I said it in my head but maybe I thought a little too loudly because my friends were like..."dude just grab a cart and let's go". This snapped me right out of my divine experience and straight back to business. Grocery shopping is fun but let me tell you. I get downright in the zone with my cart. My mind is focused on that grocery list and mapping out the aisles so no distractions are allowed on this journey. Nope! It's all business. Our first stop, though, was food. And I didn't even realize what that meant until we stepped foot into the foodcourt. That's right, folks! There is a FOODCOURT in the grocery story. Genius! Whoever thought this up was no fool.. People are always on the brink of starvation when they go grocery shopping...well at least I am. That's why I go grocery shopping...BECAUSE I'M HUNGRY! I don't want to be in there after eating a buffet. I feel nauseous at that point and cannot even think of food much less buy some for later. But this was no ordinary food court. There was a buffet line but there were also lines of those glass cases that usually holds meat and fish products at grocery stores...you know..the kind where you have to ask the meat or fish guy to weigh some shrimp or cut meat in a particular way for you. Yes, those kind! But there was cooked food in there instead! And there were "food guys" waiting to help you make your selection. "Just let me know what you want, miss, and I will get you whatever you want". Such magical words. I stuttered then stumbled into confusion. Where has this place been all my life? Am I dreaming? I was in the middle of checking by pinching myself when I stumbled into cookie corner. I nearly fainted. They had a "COOKIE CORNER"! All that flashed through my mind were screaming fans at an N'Sync concert........way back in the day. Cookies of all shapes and sizes were available to you, the grocery shopper. So you can munch on them while you select your fruits and vegetables in the produce section. This place is a caveat to grocery shoppers. You will spend extreme amounts of money in this store because of unforeseen spending through aisles such as the cookie corner.
After recovering with a plate of Chinese food (remember the buffet line), we finally got to do what we came for and hit that grocery list. So we started with the produce section. But all of you who know me well, knows that my relationship with produce entails apples and cucumbers...maybe you can throw in some lettuce and the occasional tomatoes (only for cooking) but it's pretty standard and nothing too fancy. In other words, I do NOT have butternut squash EVER on my list. With that said, this should be a quick affair in getting through the produce section. BUT NO! I was surrounded in glory and unconsciously I started putting fruits and vegetables in my cart...things I never really heard of. When am I ever going to use string beans? It requires boiling and I don't have time to boil water...it takes forever! I barely have time to do laundry! In reality, I am not this incompetent but you get the general picture of this situation. Asian pears, check. Purple garlic, check. Baby bok choy, check. A suspicious looking bunch of green leaves, check. I really had to take that bunch back when no one was looking...I sort of felt sophisticated in a healthy way by putting it in my cart, but in reality it would just have grown into something else in my fridge. And so reasoning kicked in and I put it back. Sad. But, I cheered up knowing our next two destinations were the dairy section and the cereal aisle. (Speaking of which I'm getting hungry and am going to get a bowl of cereal...be right back!)
Back. So now we are in the dairy aisle. This section of the grocery store gets quite complicated. In my opinion, no one really knows how much milk is left at home. I try to guess that I might have just enough milk to last me through a couple bowls of cereal so I may need to get another half a gallon...but come to find out at home that my estimation was under by about 2 more bowls of cereal which means I need to compensate by eating cereal twice a day for a couple days to catch up to my milk intake regimen so that carton 2 doesn't go bad by the expiration date. It really does get this complicated. And no one ever remembers about the cheese situation at home....especially because there are so many to choose from! You eat provolone or swiss with sandwiches, then maybe some sharp cheddar with the dish that needs baking and then some mixed cheese packets for the occasional mexican dinner night. It's endless. So, yes, I get stuck in the dairy aisle for quite some time. But that's okay. I needed some milk anyways.
We then moved on to the cereal aisle. Mind you....I'm just piling things into my cart on the way to these aisles. Pretzels, toilet paper, dishwashing liquid, pasta sauce...they all just appeared in the cart at the end. I don't quite remember how this happened but to tell you the truth, I was fully focused on these 3 aisles only. Cereal is next....and yes....I saw the box all the way from the end of the aisle. Two words...Honey Smacks. Yes, my friends. I almost fell on my knees to kiss the ground. This store carries Honey Smacks. You just don't realize how important this fact is! Not many stores carry this cereal! First of all, the stores in DC do not carry too many products because they usually carry convenience items...not thinking that maybe some poor soul out there just dreams of buying honey smacks. But that's just minor detail. This store carries Honey Smacks and I'm elated. At this point, I'm already formulating a letter to the company stating how they rock my socks in the grocery shopping experience. And as we proceed to the checkout line, my eyes scope out the scene one last time to find a huge section of the store that we missed....the organic section. As in, everything organic from clothes to tea bags. We didn't have time and the resources to hit this section up (mind you, we are on a medical student budget which is pretty damn near poverty) but I felt surge of happiness for the hippies out there who need products like these. (Disclaimer: I do use organic products and feel a little too cool using them for some reason).
And this was my shopping experience. I'm still in awe that something like this exists. Hardwood floors, high ceilings, perfect lighting.....and let me tell you...lighting is everything in a grocery store. We do not need people squinting at the bunches of green leaves trying to decipher which one to take home because there is not enough light. That would be a disaster in itself.
Before I go into the topic of this particular blog, I just want to say hi to all you people out there. Yes you! The one reading this public service announcement. The one I want to talk to but just can't seem to find the time to because of a contract I signed about a month ago...the one involving me to hand over my soul while writing out a check with an ungodly amount. Yes you. I just want to say hello. Oh and maybe I should wish you happy birthday, Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukah and Happy New Year while I'm at it. Who knows when my next public service announcement will be:)
Okay so the title of this blog is appropriate to the situation I was in and you will see why in just a moment. A couple days ago, a couple friends from my med school class were discussing about going out to Virginia to go grocery shopping. I chimed in that I needed to go grocery shopping as well but since I was just going to wait until the weekend to do so. They immediately stopped their conversation to tell me about this grocery store they were going to. Long story short, it was absolutely necessary that I accompany them to this store named Wegman's. Funny name, you think... (chuckles to self). You just have no idea just yet what this place entails but I will tell you.
So we drove about 45 minutes out into Virginia where there are trees and fresh non-city air that pumps regenerative life into my lungs and therefore my soul. (There is something about fresh air that when breathed makes colors seem more vibrant and people seem more friendlier...to a point where you just want to give them hugs with substance). This was after class, by the way and it was almost dinner time so my tummy was starting the intro to the jungle thunder drum roll. Needless to say, I needed food and it was appropriate that we were going to a grocery store. I foresaw myself munching through a bag of cheetos selecting fresh fruits and vegetables from the produce section.
We then parked the car and were ready with our check cards and appetite to tackle "The Wegman's". To me it's called heaven, but the store is called Wegman's...a chain us westcoasters have no idea about. But as we walk through the front doors, words cannot accurately describe what happened to me. It felt as if a divine spirit filled me up and I heard angels singing in the background. (I love background music by the way). The gates were opened and they were letting me into heaven, I thought! "Are you sure I should be here, I asked". I thought I said it in my head but maybe I thought a little too loudly because my friends were like..."dude just grab a cart and let's go". This snapped me right out of my divine experience and straight back to business. Grocery shopping is fun but let me tell you. I get downright in the zone with my cart. My mind is focused on that grocery list and mapping out the aisles so no distractions are allowed on this journey. Nope! It's all business. Our first stop, though, was food. And I didn't even realize what that meant until we stepped foot into the foodcourt. That's right, folks! There is a FOODCOURT in the grocery story. Genius! Whoever thought this up was no fool.. People are always on the brink of starvation when they go grocery shopping...well at least I am. That's why I go grocery shopping...BECAUSE I'M HUNGRY! I don't want to be in there after eating a buffet. I feel nauseous at that point and cannot even think of food much less buy some for later. But this was no ordinary food court. There was a buffet line but there were also lines of those glass cases that usually holds meat and fish products at grocery stores...you know..the kind where you have to ask the meat or fish guy to weigh some shrimp or cut meat in a particular way for you. Yes, those kind! But there was cooked food in there instead! And there were "food guys" waiting to help you make your selection. "Just let me know what you want, miss, and I will get you whatever you want". Such magical words. I stuttered then stumbled into confusion. Where has this place been all my life? Am I dreaming? I was in the middle of checking by pinching myself when I stumbled into cookie corner. I nearly fainted. They had a "COOKIE CORNER"! All that flashed through my mind were screaming fans at an N'Sync concert........way back in the day. Cookies of all shapes and sizes were available to you, the grocery shopper. So you can munch on them while you select your fruits and vegetables in the produce section. This place is a caveat to grocery shoppers. You will spend extreme amounts of money in this store because of unforeseen spending through aisles such as the cookie corner.
After recovering with a plate of Chinese food (remember the buffet line), we finally got to do what we came for and hit that grocery list. So we started with the produce section. But all of you who know me well, knows that my relationship with produce entails apples and cucumbers...maybe you can throw in some lettuce and the occasional tomatoes (only for cooking) but it's pretty standard and nothing too fancy. In other words, I do NOT have butternut squash EVER on my list. With that said, this should be a quick affair in getting through the produce section. BUT NO! I was surrounded in glory and unconsciously I started putting fruits and vegetables in my cart...things I never really heard of. When am I ever going to use string beans? It requires boiling and I don't have time to boil water...it takes forever! I barely have time to do laundry! In reality, I am not this incompetent but you get the general picture of this situation. Asian pears, check. Purple garlic, check. Baby bok choy, check. A suspicious looking bunch of green leaves, check. I really had to take that bunch back when no one was looking...I sort of felt sophisticated in a healthy way by putting it in my cart, but in reality it would just have grown into something else in my fridge. And so reasoning kicked in and I put it back. Sad. But, I cheered up knowing our next two destinations were the dairy section and the cereal aisle. (Speaking of which I'm getting hungry and am going to get a bowl of cereal...be right back!)
Back. So now we are in the dairy aisle. This section of the grocery store gets quite complicated. In my opinion, no one really knows how much milk is left at home. I try to guess that I might have just enough milk to last me through a couple bowls of cereal so I may need to get another half a gallon...but come to find out at home that my estimation was under by about 2 more bowls of cereal which means I need to compensate by eating cereal twice a day for a couple days to catch up to my milk intake regimen so that carton 2 doesn't go bad by the expiration date. It really does get this complicated. And no one ever remembers about the cheese situation at home....especially because there are so many to choose from! You eat provolone or swiss with sandwiches, then maybe some sharp cheddar with the dish that needs baking and then some mixed cheese packets for the occasional mexican dinner night. It's endless. So, yes, I get stuck in the dairy aisle for quite some time. But that's okay. I needed some milk anyways.
We then moved on to the cereal aisle. Mind you....I'm just piling things into my cart on the way to these aisles. Pretzels, toilet paper, dishwashing liquid, pasta sauce...they all just appeared in the cart at the end. I don't quite remember how this happened but to tell you the truth, I was fully focused on these 3 aisles only. Cereal is next....and yes....I saw the box all the way from the end of the aisle. Two words...Honey Smacks. Yes, my friends. I almost fell on my knees to kiss the ground. This store carries Honey Smacks. You just don't realize how important this fact is! Not many stores carry this cereal! First of all, the stores in DC do not carry too many products because they usually carry convenience items...not thinking that maybe some poor soul out there just dreams of buying honey smacks. But that's just minor detail. This store carries Honey Smacks and I'm elated. At this point, I'm already formulating a letter to the company stating how they rock my socks in the grocery shopping experience. And as we proceed to the checkout line, my eyes scope out the scene one last time to find a huge section of the store that we missed....the organic section. As in, everything organic from clothes to tea bags. We didn't have time and the resources to hit this section up (mind you, we are on a medical student budget which is pretty damn near poverty) but I felt surge of happiness for the hippies out there who need products like these. (Disclaimer: I do use organic products and feel a little too cool using them for some reason).
And this was my shopping experience. I'm still in awe that something like this exists. Hardwood floors, high ceilings, perfect lighting.....and let me tell you...lighting is everything in a grocery store. We do not need people squinting at the bunches of green leaves trying to decipher which one to take home because there is not enough light. That would be a disaster in itself.
A new hobby
Earlier this week, a classmate invited me to play squash with him. I, being up for anything other than mindlessly pumping on the elliptical, was ecstatic to learn a new sport and getting some cardio in at the same time. This was a Tuesday after I endured an hour and a half of Extreme Training class on Monday night. Let me paint a picture for you: It's Satuday and I'm still sore from Monday. Needless to say, on Tuesday I was barely surviving walking up a flight of stairs. But, I wanted to play squash anyways. This turned out bad because I didn't know the court rules and didn't have the proper shoes on. Supposedly, Nike Shox aren't allowed on the squash courts because they're dark soled shoes. Boo.
So Friday came along where we had a grueling 3 hour immunology exam. After, we decided to pick up some games of squash. There was me and three other guys from class. I was quickly taught the rules and then we were off. Two on one court against each other, and then the other two were on the court next door. Let me just provide you with some background. I played tennis for almost 15 years. And if anyone reading this knows what tennis is all about, it's all about memory muscles. After playing the sport for that long, you just know how to do certain things like strokes, swings, volleys, and footwork like the back of your hand. It's almost like riding a bike, where you do everything really thinking about it, but the only real thing that leaves your memory is the feel for the ball when you hit it and maybe your reflexes. I've been hit too many times by the tennis ball so reflexes are not a concern for me anymore. Just hit me already.
So anyways, we start playing and I'm getting my ass handed to me game after game. Mind you, hitting the ball isn't a problem...well...let's just say that I started hitting the ball with the strings after a long warmup. Disclaimer: the head size of a tennis racket is considerably larger than a squash racket. So I'm hitting the ball, but I'm just not getting the angles of the court! What's so frustrating is that you can hit every possibly wall in this little room just as long as the ball hits the front wall before it bounces on the floor. What kind of jacked up game is this?? And me being spacially retarded, I was getting killed by these guys! And I mean slaughtered. Zero points. Bagels. Donuts. Nada. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I ran into the wall! Yes. Your girl here collided into a non-moving wall like a train on tracks going full speed with nothing able to stop it. Good thing the wall was sturdy. If it was glass, we could have had some major problems there...like that one time back in tennis camp where I ran into a glass sliding door. Such bad memories resurfacing.
So, yeah. You could say I had a little adventure learning a new hobby. But, I must say that even though it's probably the most frustrating sport I have ever played, it's definitely a lot of fun and I'm already hooked. I need to go buy a racket of my own now.
So Friday came along where we had a grueling 3 hour immunology exam. After, we decided to pick up some games of squash. There was me and three other guys from class. I was quickly taught the rules and then we were off. Two on one court against each other, and then the other two were on the court next door. Let me just provide you with some background. I played tennis for almost 15 years. And if anyone reading this knows what tennis is all about, it's all about memory muscles. After playing the sport for that long, you just know how to do certain things like strokes, swings, volleys, and footwork like the back of your hand. It's almost like riding a bike, where you do everything really thinking about it, but the only real thing that leaves your memory is the feel for the ball when you hit it and maybe your reflexes. I've been hit too many times by the tennis ball so reflexes are not a concern for me anymore. Just hit me already.
So anyways, we start playing and I'm getting my ass handed to me game after game. Mind you, hitting the ball isn't a problem...well...let's just say that I started hitting the ball with the strings after a long warmup. Disclaimer: the head size of a tennis racket is considerably larger than a squash racket. So I'm hitting the ball, but I'm just not getting the angles of the court! What's so frustrating is that you can hit every possibly wall in this little room just as long as the ball hits the front wall before it bounces on the floor. What kind of jacked up game is this?? And me being spacially retarded, I was getting killed by these guys! And I mean slaughtered. Zero points. Bagels. Donuts. Nada. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many times I ran into the wall! Yes. Your girl here collided into a non-moving wall like a train on tracks going full speed with nothing able to stop it. Good thing the wall was sturdy. If it was glass, we could have had some major problems there...like that one time back in tennis camp where I ran into a glass sliding door. Such bad memories resurfacing.
So, yeah. You could say I had a little adventure learning a new hobby. But, I must say that even though it's probably the most frustrating sport I have ever played, it's definitely a lot of fun and I'm already hooked. I need to go buy a racket of my own now.
Can I have my cake and eat it too?
Last night me, my roommate, and eight of our friends from med school went out for sushi at a place in Dupont called Sushi Taro. My roommate raves about this place constantly. The girl eats sushi like its a normal occurrence, so her word that this place is "amazing" is credible. So we went. The great thing about dinner was that we didn't have to wait for our table. Thumbs up! With a party of ten, you can imagine what type of time chaos this could have been considering it was peak dinner time on a Friday night in DC. But, my roommate being the clever girl that she is, also called ahead to give them a window of when we would arrive even though they don't take any reservations.
With that said, we were seated almost right away when we got to the restaurant. The place is cozy. And I mean slightly low celings, semi-claustrophobic atmoshphere that you get from Chinese restaurants when they fill and occupy every possible space they can. I am surprised that these same "filled beyond capacity" restaurants don't get a fire hazard violation for exceeding the number of people that can fill the restaurant at any given time. Coming back to the point of my blog, the restaurant was cozy and inviting and I was excited about eating sushi...well eating anything for that matter. I really didn't eat anything all day and when I found out dinner was at 9pm, I started gnawing at my fingers thinking it was food. Long story short, I ate a snack to curb my hunger until sushi and when we finally got seated, I was beyond excited for din din.
After ordering, me and two classmates, Catherine and Roshni, got into a discussion about the service industry in DC. This was right after our waitress came by our table because we had asked for more plates. (There weren't enough on the table for all ten of us). She then proceeded to argue that she brought out enough plates for us all and actually counted the number of plates we had! I'm sorry...but if a customer asks for another plate, shouldn't you just get another plate for them? I'm not trying to be a brat here, but come on! What are you going to do eventually? Say "no, you have enough plates". This makes me laugh actually. Hahaha.
But, that's the thing about service in DC. It totally sucks donkey balls! I'm so serious! Coming from Vegas, which is a total service indutry city, I guess I'm spoiled to what you need to get in terms of service. And this is because you need to work hard for those tips! Don't just expect it without providing good service. No! No! No! I'm not even hard to please when it comes to good customer service. I can make your food at home and it probably would be cheaper. But I decided to come to your restaurant and buy an overpriced cheeseburger and iced tea because I want to have food prepared for me instead. But, a good attitude may be too much to ask for in this city.
Take for example, the safeway next to my house. If I had a choice, I would never step foot in that grocery store EVER! The cashiers are rudest people I have ever come across. They don't acknowledge you are even there. The girl who usually stands on checkout aisle two is texting on her cellphone while scanning the grocery items. She should get promoted with her obvious multi-tasking skills, seriously. And then, the cashiers are yelling at the stockboy who is at the back of the grocery store. Most of the sound has probably failed reaching him considering that they're yelling right into my ears. I hate it there, but what can you do when the next grocery store is another ten blocks away? Suffer.
I really don't think I've had good service anywhere in DC. Everyone seems to have something shoved way too high up their ass so I'm not surprised to not get good customer service. I shouldn't say that though. Maybe it's because people here don't care to what type of service they get. They put up with it because they don't care either way. As long as they get their cup of coffee or cheeseburger eventually, they just don't care how it's prepared and presented. This is sad because preparation and presentation are key elements with food. You want that cake beautiful and you want to feel good about eating it too.
With that said, we were seated almost right away when we got to the restaurant. The place is cozy. And I mean slightly low celings, semi-claustrophobic atmoshphere that you get from Chinese restaurants when they fill and occupy every possible space they can. I am surprised that these same "filled beyond capacity" restaurants don't get a fire hazard violation for exceeding the number of people that can fill the restaurant at any given time. Coming back to the point of my blog, the restaurant was cozy and inviting and I was excited about eating sushi...well eating anything for that matter. I really didn't eat anything all day and when I found out dinner was at 9pm, I started gnawing at my fingers thinking it was food. Long story short, I ate a snack to curb my hunger until sushi and when we finally got seated, I was beyond excited for din din.
After ordering, me and two classmates, Catherine and Roshni, got into a discussion about the service industry in DC. This was right after our waitress came by our table because we had asked for more plates. (There weren't enough on the table for all ten of us). She then proceeded to argue that she brought out enough plates for us all and actually counted the number of plates we had! I'm sorry...but if a customer asks for another plate, shouldn't you just get another plate for them? I'm not trying to be a brat here, but come on! What are you going to do eventually? Say "no, you have enough plates". This makes me laugh actually. Hahaha.
But, that's the thing about service in DC. It totally sucks donkey balls! I'm so serious! Coming from Vegas, which is a total service indutry city, I guess I'm spoiled to what you need to get in terms of service. And this is because you need to work hard for those tips! Don't just expect it without providing good service. No! No! No! I'm not even hard to please when it comes to good customer service. I can make your food at home and it probably would be cheaper. But I decided to come to your restaurant and buy an overpriced cheeseburger and iced tea because I want to have food prepared for me instead. But, a good attitude may be too much to ask for in this city.
Take for example, the safeway next to my house. If I had a choice, I would never step foot in that grocery store EVER! The cashiers are rudest people I have ever come across. They don't acknowledge you are even there. The girl who usually stands on checkout aisle two is texting on her cellphone while scanning the grocery items. She should get promoted with her obvious multi-tasking skills, seriously. And then, the cashiers are yelling at the stockboy who is at the back of the grocery store. Most of the sound has probably failed reaching him considering that they're yelling right into my ears. I hate it there, but what can you do when the next grocery store is another ten blocks away? Suffer.
I really don't think I've had good service anywhere in DC. Everyone seems to have something shoved way too high up their ass so I'm not surprised to not get good customer service. I shouldn't say that though. Maybe it's because people here don't care to what type of service they get. They put up with it because they don't care either way. As long as they get their cup of coffee or cheeseburger eventually, they just don't care how it's prepared and presented. This is sad because preparation and presentation are key elements with food. You want that cake beautiful and you want to feel good about eating it too.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
My First LTE
This is a letter to the editor for a local newspaper in American Samoa I wrote in response to an article written by one of my new favorite people, Amata Aumua. She is currently running for Congresswoman of American Samoa against the incumbent, Congressman Eni Faleomavaega. Her article can be found here: http://www.amata.as/cgi-data/news/files/284.shtml
Dear Editor,
This is a response to Amata’s Pacific Notebook titled “Bread and Circuses” published on January 10th. As a young adult who was born and reared on the islands of Samoa and am currently pursing a graduate degree, I feel a need to throw my two cents in. I stumbled on Ms. Aumua’s Pacific Notebook article online and digested what I thought was a fresh breath of progressive ideas for the New Year. I have a deep love and respect for the Samoan way of life. To many, this way of life is considered simple and compared to the unyielding and sometimes unforgiving competitions of life that was mentioned in the article, I would agree without hesitation that this is true.
As Ms. Aumua pointed out, those in professional sports should be highly acclaimed for their accomplishments in making a name for themselves and putting Samoans on the map, especially with football. However, athletic accomplishments should not be the only thing prized in our society; not when a huge majority of college athletes do not go on to play professional sports. We all know the advertisement the NCAA plays during commercials of big sporting events. It goes like, “90% of our athletes become pro in something other than sports”. Although it is unknown how accurate that number is, it is substantial enough for us to enlighten the future college athletes from Samoa to have a definitive back up plan. This comes in the form of their education.
Mentioned in the article was a Samoan college student from San Francisco who wondered why our culture emphasized achievements in sports at the expense of other achievements, especially in academia. My question is who does the Samoan youth look to for aspirations and guidance in pursuing the arts or the sciences or in becoming a CEO of a major company or a professor at our country’s elite institutions? I found this quite difficult in that for most of my formal education, I did not have a mentor who looked, talked, and understood my island roots. This is not surprising in that I am entering a profession in the United States in which Samoans are poorly represented. I guess the task at hand should be to get more of our people into these positions of leadership who can inspire and instill thought into those of the coming generation.
Speaking of generations, every spring sees students from high school that all have important decisions to make in creating a world with their footprints on it. My opinion on sports should not negate any aspirations of our island’s students in becoming student athletes in college. In contrast, I am trying to highlight an important point that Ms. Aumua expressed in her article. The fact remains that our world is complex and challenging and highly competitive. This brings to mind an article written in the New York Times earlier this year about girls at some of the best public high schools in the United States. As a product of the feminist movement and being told all their lives that they can become anything they wanted to, they not only are the best students of their class at the best public high school in the country, but they are also well versed in different languages, can play musical instruments, are considered competitive enough to be recruited as a college athlete, act in plays, and have enough time to even be leaders in their church youth group. The list of achievements of these young individuals are extensive but what’s daunting here is that these impressive resumes still may not be enough to get into the elite colleges of America because there are thousands of these prototypes. The youth of today no longer sit on the sidelines. They are out taking charge of their future no matter what age, sex or race they are and the competition to get into the “Harvards” or the “M.I.Ts” or law school or medical school is getting stiffer and stiffer. These kids are out there because they have people telling them their whole lives that anything is possible and that any goal is attainable and that being only an athlete is just not good enough. The whole package is now needed to succeed, whatever package that may be.
Ms. Aumua’s article drove home an important theme that needs to be addressed and that is to better equip our youth for their future. For most of my life, I was also an athlete and had a very difficult time as a kid deciphering whether education or sports was more important. This decision was ultimately up to me to make but what infuriated me as a high school student was a teacher who unjustly presumed that because I was an athlete, I did not have to worry about my grades in school. I felt I was placed in the “dumb jock” category automatically by a person who was supposed to mentor and encourage athletes to not only pursue but also excel in both sports and academics. Instead, she closed off the idea that maybe one day after my time as a college athlete had expired, I would be interested in getting into medical school to become a doctor. Now in this profession grades really do matter.
As I look back to that time when I was in the middle of high school and not really knowing where and what my future was going to lie in, I did take those words to heart. But this teacher's ignorance of the importance to strive for excellence in education now just reminds me daily of how essential it is for Samoa’s youth to “stand on the shoulders of mentors” as Ms. Aumua puts it. The more variety of mentors they have, the more options they get for their future in knowing that there are many, many fields to pursue other than the ones filled with grass and painted lines.
Sincerely,
An inspired student
Dear Editor,
This is a response to Amata’s Pacific Notebook titled “Bread and Circuses” published on January 10th. As a young adult who was born and reared on the islands of Samoa and am currently pursing a graduate degree, I feel a need to throw my two cents in. I stumbled on Ms. Aumua’s Pacific Notebook article online and digested what I thought was a fresh breath of progressive ideas for the New Year. I have a deep love and respect for the Samoan way of life. To many, this way of life is considered simple and compared to the unyielding and sometimes unforgiving competitions of life that was mentioned in the article, I would agree without hesitation that this is true.
As Ms. Aumua pointed out, those in professional sports should be highly acclaimed for their accomplishments in making a name for themselves and putting Samoans on the map, especially with football. However, athletic accomplishments should not be the only thing prized in our society; not when a huge majority of college athletes do not go on to play professional sports. We all know the advertisement the NCAA plays during commercials of big sporting events. It goes like, “90% of our athletes become pro in something other than sports”. Although it is unknown how accurate that number is, it is substantial enough for us to enlighten the future college athletes from Samoa to have a definitive back up plan. This comes in the form of their education.
Mentioned in the article was a Samoan college student from San Francisco who wondered why our culture emphasized achievements in sports at the expense of other achievements, especially in academia. My question is who does the Samoan youth look to for aspirations and guidance in pursuing the arts or the sciences or in becoming a CEO of a major company or a professor at our country’s elite institutions? I found this quite difficult in that for most of my formal education, I did not have a mentor who looked, talked, and understood my island roots. This is not surprising in that I am entering a profession in the United States in which Samoans are poorly represented. I guess the task at hand should be to get more of our people into these positions of leadership who can inspire and instill thought into those of the coming generation.
Speaking of generations, every spring sees students from high school that all have important decisions to make in creating a world with their footprints on it. My opinion on sports should not negate any aspirations of our island’s students in becoming student athletes in college. In contrast, I am trying to highlight an important point that Ms. Aumua expressed in her article. The fact remains that our world is complex and challenging and highly competitive. This brings to mind an article written in the New York Times earlier this year about girls at some of the best public high schools in the United States. As a product of the feminist movement and being told all their lives that they can become anything they wanted to, they not only are the best students of their class at the best public high school in the country, but they are also well versed in different languages, can play musical instruments, are considered competitive enough to be recruited as a college athlete, act in plays, and have enough time to even be leaders in their church youth group. The list of achievements of these young individuals are extensive but what’s daunting here is that these impressive resumes still may not be enough to get into the elite colleges of America because there are thousands of these prototypes. The youth of today no longer sit on the sidelines. They are out taking charge of their future no matter what age, sex or race they are and the competition to get into the “Harvards” or the “M.I.Ts” or law school or medical school is getting stiffer and stiffer. These kids are out there because they have people telling them their whole lives that anything is possible and that any goal is attainable and that being only an athlete is just not good enough. The whole package is now needed to succeed, whatever package that may be.
Ms. Aumua’s article drove home an important theme that needs to be addressed and that is to better equip our youth for their future. For most of my life, I was also an athlete and had a very difficult time as a kid deciphering whether education or sports was more important. This decision was ultimately up to me to make but what infuriated me as a high school student was a teacher who unjustly presumed that because I was an athlete, I did not have to worry about my grades in school. I felt I was placed in the “dumb jock” category automatically by a person who was supposed to mentor and encourage athletes to not only pursue but also excel in both sports and academics. Instead, she closed off the idea that maybe one day after my time as a college athlete had expired, I would be interested in getting into medical school to become a doctor. Now in this profession grades really do matter.
As I look back to that time when I was in the middle of high school and not really knowing where and what my future was going to lie in, I did take those words to heart. But this teacher's ignorance of the importance to strive for excellence in education now just reminds me daily of how essential it is for Samoa’s youth to “stand on the shoulders of mentors” as Ms. Aumua puts it. The more variety of mentors they have, the more options they get for their future in knowing that there are many, many fields to pursue other than the ones filled with grass and painted lines.
Sincerely,
An inspired student
A new friend
I know it's been a while since I last posted. Med school just took over my life last semester. I really was planning on diligent writing throughout school but I succumbed to the shedule overload and the writing inevitably was pushed to the curb. But, I'm back and with a vengeance. I attended a lecture today and speaker gave some casual advice to the eager ears of medical students of writing in a journal to keep note of important events through this period. I'm assuming we will all eventually become senile at one point in our lives and a journal would be nice to look back with painful but fond memories (talking about med school here).
I'm off-topic already and I just started writing this post about meeting a new friend. I met a classmate of mine today. Weird, I know. I'm in my second semester of school, which is six months into knowing my peers and yet I am still meeting people from my class! I met one yesterday too on a squash court! It amazes me that I haven't met everyone yet but what can you do? Actually, I take that back. I've met people in my class more than once...maybe more than three times. You know how it goes. You meet people and you forget their names so when you pass in the hallway, you're sort of embarrassed to admit you forgot their names after only meeting them the night before at so and so's party. And before you know it, three months have passed and you're meeting the same person AGAIN at some other person's party. This time you may have had a few drinks in you so the name slips for the second time! So you end up meeting them, this time sober, when you're in conversation with mutual friends and get introduced AGAIN. Hopefully, this doesn't happen too often or you'll be one of those people with no friends because you can't remember any of their names. You'll be a "smiley"...aka..the person who you always see in the halls smiling at you and you casually say hi because you know they're one of your peers but the conversation doesn't go beyond that.
I'm off-topic already and I just started writing this post about meeting a new friend. I met a classmate of mine today. Weird, I know. I'm in my second semester of school, which is six months into knowing my peers and yet I am still meeting people from my class! I met one yesterday too on a squash court! It amazes me that I haven't met everyone yet but what can you do? Actually, I take that back. I've met people in my class more than once...maybe more than three times. You know how it goes. You meet people and you forget their names so when you pass in the hallway, you're sort of embarrassed to admit you forgot their names after only meeting them the night before at so and so's party. And before you know it, three months have passed and you're meeting the same person AGAIN at some other person's party. This time you may have had a few drinks in you so the name slips for the second time! So you end up meeting them, this time sober, when you're in conversation with mutual friends and get introduced AGAIN. Hopefully, this doesn't happen too often or you'll be one of those people with no friends because you can't remember any of their names. You'll be a "smiley"...aka..the person who you always see in the halls smiling at you and you casually say hi because you know they're one of your peers but the conversation doesn't go beyond that.
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