The Phoot-Phoot of Little Feet

I have resolved to not let Gunther sleep on the bed, except on Fri & Sat nights. Gunther is a nervous pooch. Doesn't like it when things don't go as planned. Consequently, when I implemented the new "weekends only" rule for mattress time, he was disconcerted. Such emotions generally manifest in pacing and huffing. So, I'll often find myself in bed, reading, and be jolted from my storyline by the persistent scuffing of his feet on the carpet ("phoot-phoot-phoot-phoot") that may or may not be accompanied by heavy breathing.

Example: phoot-phoot-phoot-phoot-phoot (pause--by this time he's circled the bed--insert heavy breathing here); phoot-phoot-phoot-phoot-phoot (with continued heavy breathing). This will go on until I make eye contact with him and say, "Gunther. Go to bed." At which point he'll either flatten himself out belly-down on the floor and scoot under the bed, or he'll wad up whatever towel or blanket is handy and lay on it. This process repeats itself every night.

I'm now finished (for better or for worse) with Week 2. I am now 1/3 of the way through my class. I have to say, that despite the amazing volume of information that I've absorbed, I feel profoundly retarded next to everyone else. There are a lot of advanced degrees in the house. Then you get certain people who know everything. There are a few guys who I'll call "Mark", "Kiff" and "Ryan" (because those are their names), who are those guys. Guys who can read it once and know it (in fact I've decided that Ryan's new name is "Sponge"). Guys who like to teach (and have professionally). Guys who already have Ph.D.s. Oh, man do I feel dumb. But I still try to hang around them as much as possible to absorb their smarty.

This persistent sense of "damn, I feel dumb" is a tough transition to make after years of pre-med where I was pretty good at everything and many people went so far as to refer to me as "smart". Suddenly I'm thrust into this world where I'm working harder than I ever did in pre-med for fewer results. Ick.

Also noteworthy regarding medical school: Vivien has stunningly perfect fingernails. My fingernails look like crap and I'm alive. Some of the other specimens smell very sweet--we suspect they were diabetics in their former lives. Vivien, however, has a unique aroma, such that when we see into her abdomen, I suspect there might be some cancer-related necrosis. Poor Vivien.

We took our first exam today. 1/3 of my grade. All I care about right now is to follow the class median. Everyone else is freaking out about getting an "A". Nerds.

Regarding nerds, however, I have realized a very important thing: we are nerds. All of us. I am so happy to be among fellow nerds. I never knew it could be this awesome.

I am also profoundly happy with my school, and regarding information recently come to light from a pal at UW school of medicine, as well as a couple D.O. schools in both CO & NY, I cannot underscore how glad I am that I chose Western. I am so comfortable with my peers, I enjoy the faculty, and I feel welcomed by the administration. I've never really felt proud of my college before. It's nice.

It's officially the start of "The Brown Season" down here. Trees are starting to drop leaves, birds are becoming scarcer, and it's getting increasingly hotter. The San Gabriels (breathtaking!) are more often masked by haze, and I've noticed that the light down here is much much brighter than in the Northwest. I need sunglasses every day for the glare. Maybe it's the dirt, or something. It reflects more light? I don't know. Ask your friendly local geologist.