I can't write these days; actually, I can't do much of anything that involves not sitting down, reading, or writing out something. MCAT year is a lonely year. My world has been reduced to an apartment, three bus routes, four or five Easton Avenue restaurants, and a martial arts class. Oh yeah, and how could I forget: a shitty prep class that is making me hate the concept of, well… learning.
The high point of my day is finally getting home, usually at around 11 pm, and smoking ghallion for a solid 45 minutes. I lean my head back against the wall and just kind of sink into my chair and stare at whatever my stoner roommate is watching, and I think about the retarded amount of work I have to do in the next three days in order to prevent committing suicide the next week. Work piles up.
Picture this: even when you finish all your homework (which you cut all kinds of corners to accomplish), you're supposed be studying for the medical school entry exam. If you get done studying your test material, you're supposed to study it some more. This, of course, makes you even less motivated to do work. Today you get your organic chemistry laboratory work out of the way, but you have maybe six hours between tomorrow and Sunday to finish what should take ten. Did I mention that there is a serious shortage of hot girls in your classes this year? WHAT THE FAAAAAAAKKKK?!
Tomorrow, I'll be standing up for eight hours at my job in the hotel, and I'll think about two things, the same two things that I think about every week. First, I'll be hoping that a beautiful woman will check into the hotel, call me up to her room to check her plumbing, and receive me at the door with some crazy ridiculous, scandalous, un-Muslim lingerie. Second, I'll be thinking about how much work I have to do the next day, just to be able to have a reasonable schedule next week. And the whole “Someone call a plumber?” thing just takes a complete backseat to my obligations, so the fantasy never gets the just amount of attention and imagination it deserves.
Goddamnit… Even as I sit here trying to finish my thoughts, my dad just rolled up and said, “You should go to bed. You have a lot of work to do.” I should go to sleep. That way I could wake up before noon (a Saturday tradition) and get some work done, so Sunday won't be so chaotic. Whatever. I'm going to sleep. To be continued, I guess… but I will say this: the MCAT can't stop me from working some plumber-style hedonism into my weekly routine. I'll figure something out >>> Go to Part 2