No Summer

Okay. I have been through hell and back over the past few days. It all started with physics. As in I dropped it. After 3 days of studying non-stop, I was not at all ready for the first exam. We were to have an exam every 3 days over 10 chapters each. Nope. Not happening. I decided it would be better to take the class during a traditional quarter instead of the 4 week long summer sessions. So.....
I went online to look at my account for UC to see what this would do tto my tuition. This is when I found out that I would not be getting my S.M.A.R.T. grant. Uh-oh. Furthermore, they did not kick-in my metropolitan tuition rate that I became eligible for when I changed majors then picked up the double major. Big Uh-oh. The grant left me about $1300 short, then I was assessed a $4800 surcharge for being out-of-state. The moral of the story is that I ended up owing UC over $2K. Lovely.
First they told me that it had to be paid this week or my classes not only for summer, but for fall as well, would be cancelled. I asked about what would happen if I just dropped the rest of the summer courses, and that was no good either. In stead of owing $2K, all of my loans would drop out because I would no longer be enrolled, so I would owe 50% of my tuition with no aid. About $7K. What to do? And regardless of what I do with UC, I cannot just transfer to Northern Kentucky University (with their much cheaper tuition, but much lower academic standards) because until I satisfy this debt, there will be a freeze on my transcripts. Grrrr.

So the plan is work. Work. Work. Work. And save. No more eating out or quick trips for coffee. No more of going to the video store and renting literally piles of movies. No more. Thanks to UC, my summer has turned into nothing more than work and school, school and work. Not that this is a change from previous quarters, but I was hoping to find some time for at least a little bonding with Evan while he is out of school for the summer. Instead I have to be content with just going to work. I did finally speak to someone in the collections department, and she said what the university did to me is ridiculous, and has set me up on a payment plan. 2 payments of $1000. Thank God I have the type of job with the type of pay that I can work about 3 extra shifts to make $1000. Well, maybe 4 or 5 if consider how my dear Uncle Sam rapes my overtime pay. I've already made a start. Instead of being off from Monday through Thursday this week, I have picked up shifts on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Which has the added benefit of putting me in overtime by the time I get to my scheduled shifts on the weekend. If you consider that The 4th of July is this coming weekend, and that will be holiday pay AND overtime, so double overtime for those 2 nights, I may be able to satisfy the first part of that $2K obligation this coming payday.

Physics

My summer, as I know it, is ruined.

2011

After a long overdue meeting with my advisor, it appears that this will be the year that I enter medical school, if all goes as planned. I am a little bummed that it is not going to be 2010. I have to keep reminding myself that, while I am a senior, I have only been in college for 2 years, then transferred. I am actually right on track with the pre-med issue. It is just that I completed a senior-level's worth of courses in two years. And (phew!) I can postpone my MCAT until next spring.
Next fall is going to be brutal. I start my Biochemistry sequence ( 1, 2, 3), my Organic Chemistry series (1, 2, 3), and my final math for all time, Calculus series ( Calc 1, 2, and 3). Somewhere along the way, I need another lit course, and another phiolsophy course (planning for "Ethics and Medicine", even though I have had a Bioethics course). In spring of 2010, it is all about my MCAT and applying to med schools. Somewhere in this journey, I need to move across the river so I am more likely to get an in-state seat at UC COM. (And a $60K discount on medical school.)

Everything I have planned, worked for, dreamed of is laid out right before my eyes. For the first time, I am starting to believe I am really going to do this. My dream is coming true.

On a separate note, Evan is dying to see the new Hannah Montana movie. He's got the soundtrack, and forces us to listen to it in the car. Instead of being irritated, I heard this song and cried.

Miley Cyrus - The Climb (Rockamerica) @ Yahoo! Video

School Days, Schoooooool Days.....

oh screw it! I don't know the rest of the words!

I am procrastinating. I have to do the following:

Chem Lab Report
Study for Bio Exam
Study for Chem Exam
Study for History Exam
Study for Bio Lab Practical
Prepare for this week's Chem Lab (We have an exam over required reading before each lab.)
Prepare for Bio Lab (Same as above)

I have not slept since 2 PM on Sunday. Somewhere in this mess, I must close my eyes. I need to motivate myself.

This is my reminder of why I am insistent on putting myself through this torture:

Learning About Oneself

I learned something new about myself this week. I think I may be a feminist. Now before you go thinking I am some tree-hugging, hairy-legged, militant lesbian, let me inform you of a few things: Pink is my favorite color. I love having sex with my husband, who is very male. I do not think I own anything that is camoflaged, and I drank my coffee out of a styrofoam cup this morning on my way to my biology lab. So why do I say I am a feminist? Simply because I am sitting in my Women's History lecture room on Tuesday, and my professor is showing these images of women in history, and when she got to this one, I litterally gasped. As in disgust. As in "Hells-to-the-nah!"

Then she got to this one, and I smiled a great deal. I like this one. This one speaks to me of who I am exactly.

Then we started doing this exercise where we divided a sheet of paper with "Masculine" on one side and "Feminine" on the other. The intent was for us to write a few adjectives to describe each. We were prohibited from using terms of biology. For example: penis, testosterone, androgens, testes were all prohibited words. I struggled. I started to describe women first, and the first thing I put on the list was "strong". As I started to think of more, I realized that I was using words society would typically use to describe a man. Did she want the way society would describe each, or did she want my description, or did she want the truth??? As I sat there puzzling over this, she announced that time was up. I looked down at my paper and saw the word strong, in my handwriting, scribbled out. Women aren't supposed ot be seen as strong. The entire thing became a metaphor for me. I know I am strong. It has nothing to do with gender, but more to do with me as a person. But I also know that because I am a woman, I am not supposed to be. Which direction do I go???
But then I became angry. She asked some of the members of the class to call out some of the things on their list. For men? Capable, provider, breadwinner, strong, tough, intelligence...

For women? Pretty, dainty, emotional, submissive, passive...

Seriously? I am a wife and a mother who is several years older than the young women in this class. I grew up in the day where it was still mainstream for mothers to stay home and care for their children. In fact, that is what I came from. These younger women should be even more progressive than I am. They didn't see the trap? They didn't see that they were falling directly into the stereotype society has placed on women? Even the word "feminist" brings on its own stereotype. I am not immune to it. I am reluctant to openly admit this view. If you ask me about the capabilities of women, I will tell you there is nothing a woman cannot do that a man can. Even in regard to physical strength, I think it is less about nature and more about nurture. Boys grow up being told that bigger is better, more muscle is more strength. Girls are told the complete opposite. If the two were told the same things from the beginning, both verbally and nonverbally, I see no reason why women could not be as physically capable as men. So these are my views, and they always have been. I am not one to play the giggling, blushing girl, who is silently cpable of performing neurosurgery while orbitting the Earth. If I have the answers, i will tell you I do. If I excel in a subject, i will be honest ans say that I do. If I can kick your ass, you will know that too. But to use the word "feminist"??? I am reluctant to do so because I do not want to commit to the stereotype we have of the word. I like smelling like my Gucci No. 2 instead of patchouli. I like being heterosexual, that my husband likes to look at my boobs. But I also like that my husband knows my mind as well, and loves that too. See? I cannot get past the stereotype...

My level of disgust increased tenfold when the professor started to speak of the contributions of women in medicine. She actually was referring to nursing, and how nurses helped doctors and continue to do so today. What? You can be damned sure that my contribution to medicine will not be as a nurse. Not that there is anything wrong with nursing. But to insinuate that this is the only way women have left a mark in medicine is to imply that women cannot be influential physicians. Bullshit. Here, let me show you.

So I knew I wanted to blog about this. It has had me fired up ever since I left the class, and so I was searching the internet for the exact images she used in the lecture, and I found many more I love. I'll show them to you now.

I guess I am a feminist after all.

I should have known...This has been my favorite son since high school:

Just A Girl @ Yahoo! Video

I Did it Again

Our chem professor was pacing back and forth in front of the classroom in front of the 16 of us that are remaining in the course at the end of the quarter. We are approaching final exams, have not yet been given our last exam grades or report grades. (Keep in mind that this was a course so jammed full of bodies at the beginning of the quarter that I had to beg for a seat.) He was speaking of how he will be computing our final grades so we would know, after being handed back our graded exams, if we would need to drop or not. He was saying how the trend is usually that he sees students bring up their final grade within one letter grade of the score they received on their first exam. He said he has never seen a student pull themselves up 3 whole letter grades by the end of the quarter, except for one. "And she is sitting in this room", he said.

I do not know how I did it, when there is no extra credit or curves or any other little nudges, but I managed to get an A in chemistry, so long as I keep my final exam grade above a 60%. I am so glad I did not give up.

Hope and Frustration are the Words of the Day

W.I.S.E.= Women in Science and Engineering. This is a program UC has that allows undergraduate uperclassmen females to gain research experience in the form of a 12-week research position over the summer, assisting with one of the numerous projects the university has going on at any given time. I'm a woman. I'm in science. I am senior molecular bio major. I threw my hat in the ring for this. I was turned down because I have a job. Seriously. Despite the fact that I work my full-time obligations over the weekend and am free around the clock Monday through Friday, I am not permitted to have outside employment for the internship. And while there is nothing wrong with any honest job these days, I had to explain to them that this was not a "job" as in minimum wage at McDonald's for gas money while in college. I have a career that supports an entire family. The director wasn't hearing any of it, and actually made some snippy comments about how I manage upperclassman level work while having a "career". That my grades must reflect it. This was my opportunity to say, "Actually, I have a 4.0 GPA, and that is not all. I am married with a child as well." Translation: I can manage my time, and nothing falls by the wayside in the process. Her response? "Well, we all have a lot to learn from your example." Yes, despite your Ph.D. overshadowing my attempts to gain entry into medical school, you do.

Later that night, I went to my biology lecture. My professor there is like a rock star in my eyes. 28 years old and has a PhD in molecular biology. I was talking with her about the "no work" guideline before class as we waited for the rest of the class to arrive. This is when she told me that, if I am just looking for a research internship and not an actual paid job, she is sure her boss would love to have me. She is going to reccomend me for an internship there. Where is there? Hahaha. University of Cincinnati College of...........Medicine. Yep, that's right. So when I finally complete the application for med school at UC, I could actually put this internship with them under the "Experience" category. Sweet.

As for the rest of my education....We are 3 weeks from the end of the quarter. Wow that went fast! I was wondering why my course load seemed to be taking so much work. I mean, yes, I do work full time now, which is a new factor in this. When I was taking 24 credit hours a semester, I was busy, but it never seemes this overwhelming. Well, I thought about it. Does me working on the weekends have that much of an impact? The answer to that is yes. Those are three full days that I could have to study if I didn't spend them working. Unfortunately, work is not optional. But is I am used to managing 24 credit hours, then 13 should not be that hard during the week. The answer to this problem: the quarter system. I was foolish to think that the courses would compensate for the lack of time. I was thinking that UC would be easier because of the quarter system. After all, you have more chances to earn the same amount of credit hours as a semster would provide, but you get three quarters instead of one semester. Ha! I was wrong.

The courses cover the same amount of material a semester-long course would, but in about 8 weeks less. They move fast, and if you fall behind in one little aspect of any class, you are lost for good.

So here I am, three weeks from the end of my first quarter back to school. My grades are intact, and I am passing everything. I am sure I am going to get an A in biology and it's lab. I think I will get an A in my chem lab as well. My chemistry course may be a B. I asked my prof yesterday if it was still possible for me to pull out with an A, and he said absolutely yes, I could. But he looked me straight in the eye and said that I needed to allow myself more time. He says I know the stuff, and the nights before the last two exams, he doesn't want me to look at the book at all. That all of the mistakes I made on the last exam were silly ones to questions he knew I knew how to answer. He's right. When I went to do my self assessment on the exam to recover the points I lost, and I had to provide the correct answer, there was only one question for which I had to physically look up the answer. For the rest, I was able to just provide the correct answer from the knowledge I already have. That tells me I should have only missed one question out of the 200 points. But more time? How? Where is that to come from?

I actually took some vacation time the week of my finals. I have no intention of answering my phone that week. I work the Friday night prior to my exam week, but then am off of work until the Saturday of the next week. My latest exam is on Tuesday of that week. I was thinking I would pick up some overtime after I am finished with my exams that week, but now I am thinking that I am just going to use those extra days off to relax. To be nice to myself as I wait for my grades. I will have earned it.

Satan's Horns Have Icicles on Them

I am a good student. The day I allow myself to get less than an A is the day Hell freezes over.

Welcome to Hell. Hope you brought your mittens. Blame Chemistry.
I have already been traumatized by the homework software. Everything we submit is online, through this website. It is the most horrible thing. I can have the completely correct answer at my fingertips, and enter it into the little box it provides for your answers. Then there is this little "submit" button that you click and it tells you whether your answer is correct or incorrect. Pretty standard for online homework. Except clicking the little button is kind of the equivalent of pulling the lever on a slot machine. The other day, I entered this big elaborate chemical equation, which was the correct answer by the way. Submit. Answer Incorrect. Then this little purple box pops up and tells you what you did wrong. I entered spaces between the compounds and the plus and yield signs to keep them separate. On another question, the compounds it was asking me about would not react. I entered "No Reaction" in the box. Answer Incorrect. they were looking for noReaction, exactly as it is typed in this sentence.

Needless to say, my homework grades have never been lower. And no amount of preparation can fix it, because it is not about understanding the material. It is about figuring out the little quirks with this software so it counts the answer correct.

(Side note: I love my husband, who just delivered breakfast to me in my office without me even having to ask.)

So I am having trouble with the assignments. So is everyone else in the course, but I don't sweat it. The prof is going to take the best 10 scores at the end of the quarter, and disregard the others. I can do okay enough, I suppose. What is important is that I have absolutely no issues comprehending what is going on material-wise. My brain is right there with him as he lectures. No Sweat. This will allreflect in the exams, whiuch make up the majority of my grade anyway.

So we report for an exam last week. I studied just like I do/ have done for every other bit of college work I have completed. I feel confident. I am not overly anxious. I've got it under control. I put my things away, except for my cute pink calculator, a pencil for the Scantron and a pen for the written short answer section. He hands out the test and I immediately get to work on it.
The beginning questions were kind of difficult. Some words were familiar. But it was like this exam was prepared for a bunch of PhD's. Not for an undergraduate, though upperclassman, molecular bio major. Are you fricken serious? But I hold it together and wade my way through the questions and try to answer them as best I can. I am fully immersed until He starts parading around the room, announcing that we have 30 minutes left.WTF????

Let me just explain something: I take tests in record time. I always have. Usually, I am very well prepared and know the answers without more than a simple recollection. I have been told by classmates that I am at fault for their poor exam performance because I get up and hand my exams in so quickly that it makes them anxious, as in "Andrea is done and she gets good grades so why is it taking me so long-i must be failing." And the lowest exam grade I have ever received was a 95%. Out of all of my college work. I don't get test anxiety. I don't have to study insanely. I just do my thing. Even for my credentialing RT exams. It was supposed to take 8 hours for both exams and I got them both completed in less than an hour and a half. You know I passed those because I am a practicing RT.

So for me to take this long for an exam is unnerving. And this shit is hard. Why is this shit so hard? I am thinking this as I try to answer the questions. I am actually starting to tear up as I see my 4.0 swirling in the toilet bowl in my imagination. This is not good. This is disastrous. Wtf is the carbon-12 atom used to define? It's atomic weight is exact by definition but why? I should know this crap. I cannot be logical when I am about to fail an exam. After I complete the last question, I flee as quick as I can. Marlboro is the only thing to make me feel better after that. I really want some Grey Goose to go along with it, but alas I have a lecture to get through.

Over the week I keep my cool by hoping that this is typical Andrea: That I did better than I thought, that I am being over-critical of myself. But the problem is that I have this philosophy: there are no bad grades that are surprises. Either you know the answers on an exam or you don't. If you don't, then you can expect a bad grade. If you do, then you can expect an A. Simple, really.I did badly. Everyone had horrible scores, so it wasn't just me. In fact, I had the highest grade in the class. I actually got a 55%, while evryone else actually got thess that 50%. Are you fucking serious?????? The only non-A I have ever received in my entire college career, and it isn't even a B. It is such a non-A that it is an F by normal standards (this class is hard and thus has a slightly different grading scale so in the world of UC Chem, it is a D). This isn't a non-A. This is the Anti-A.

I have been so distraught by this grade that I almost asked a resident at work for a script for some Xanies. Seriously. This is enough for me to abandon all hope of ever becoming a physician. I want to scream at the rooftops that I am Andrea-Fucking-Ferguson! That I do not get anything other than A's. Yes, this sounds cocky and arrogant, but facts are facts. I do not even get B's. 4.0. Perfect. That's me. Until now.

I would say it make me feel better to know that evryone else in my class had issues as well. These are some really bright people. This class is designed expressly for science majors. Everyone is pre-med, pre-pharm or something similar. I am not the only one who already has a degree. As a matter af fact, there is a group of about 6 of us who have already completed at least one degree. We are not stupid people. And we all failed. This tells me there was something wrong with the test, not us. But then again, I have never been the type to judge my success or failure by comparison to the performance of others. I know what I can do, and so I have high expectations for myself.

Chemistry is going to break me.

The Word of the Day: Juggling

Busy, busy, busy me.

John and I have this little thing going. There will be a show coming on the tv at night that I want to see. I will be posted up in my office, studying, and he will let me know when it is coming on. He then helps me transfer my pile of books and notebooks into the living room, where I will lay on the floor while he rubs my back and I study while absorbing the show through osmosis. Ivariably, after about an hour, I will tell him that I need a little nap, and will instruct him to wake me after about one hour of sleep. No matter what I say or how much I gruble or what name I call you, WAKE ME UP! I have x, y, and z to get accomplished because this is my only night to do them. DO NOT let me sleep all night. The problem is that once I am asleep, being as sleep-deprived and busy as I am, he cannot get me to wake up. It is like I go into a coma. After several nights of this same thing, he has finally wisened up a bit, and when I say "let me go to sleep for an hour", he responds with "Hell NO!".

The moral of the story is that I have this laundry list of tasks that must be completed and since I snoozed all of those nights, I have to get them done NOW.
But...

Today is my Monday. I work 12's the next three nights. Monday night I have biology and its lab. I literally have to make use of every free hour I have to get this crap done.

As soon as I log off, I plan to study until 2:30-ish. Then I plan to go to sleep for a couple of hours so I can function at work all night. If I wake up by 1:00 Saturday and Sunday, I can get a few more hours in each of those days. Monday will start with the completion of my night at work, followed by calculus and a meeting with my Pre-med advisor. If I hustle, I can get a few more hours in there before I have to head to Biology. If I stay up till 1:ooAM Monday night (normally I would say 2 or 3, but since I would have worked the night before and not slept, I am being nice to myself), I can get more done then. Thank God that my Chem lab is cancelled Tuesday morning. I don't have class until 2 PM as a result, and if I take all of my stuff to campus with a packed lunch, leaving the house at the normal time, I can get most everything else done with no distractions. Or interruptions. Or temptations.

This is what I mean by "juggling".

So I am left with this question for myself: Do I really want to be a doctor? Is it worth it to torture myself like this for many years to come?

The answer, after some thought: a resounding, unwaivering, Earth-shattering YES!

Call Me Ed. Special Ed.

Evan and I have something in common. We both hate MATH. We both can do rather well at it, but hate it nonetheless. I was just about to blog about my calculus experience today. My innocent little boy is sitting beside me at my desk, working on his math homework and muttering of his dislike for the subject and it hit me that it is precisely what I am going to tell you. Evan is not Special Ed. I, however, most definitely am.

I love a good challenge. But, while it seems completely snotty to say, I have never failed at anything. Give me chemistry and biology and physics. Bring it on. Math? While I do okay, I do have to work at it just a bit. I don't like that. I like it when things are so easy for me I can do them in my sleep.

So I have this calculus assignment. There are only 3 questions, but these are the types of problems that take 30 minutes and about 5 sheets of scratch paper to complete, so it is more than it seems. I am armed with my pink calculator (see the pic, it is too cute and just screams ANDREA!) It is early in the morning, and thus quiet in the house. I am ready. And I get every damned one of the problems wrong. This is for two reasons (actually more, but I am getting to that): A) I cannot work my cute pink calculator I bought specifically for this class. B) I didn't convert my answers back to fractions, and left them in decimal form, which was not how they wanted to answers to be formatted.
Truthfully? Math psychs me out a bit. I know I have to work at it a little more than I do the sciences, and therefore it fills me with terror. I could make some huge political statement about this, if I were the type. I am a woman and society has programmed me to believe that I am inferior to men in the arenas of math and science. I won't do that. That is utter bullshit. I am a woman, and I will kick ass in science any day of the week. Math? Not so much.

So I go to my Calculus lecture this morning, ready to talk to my professor about this issue with the homework. I am armed, ready for him to tell me that I am semi-retarded and do not belong in a Calculus course. That there is some sort of Fundamentals of Addition course that is more my speed. 1 + 1=2 sort of thing.
He tells me to meet him in his office after class.
I do.

I get there, and I sit down across the table from him and pull out a fresh sheet of paper. He gives me a sample problem. I do it. After every step or so, he stops me to check my calculations. I was right.

He gives me another sample problem. I do that one too. I am right again.

He continues to tell me that I am smart. That I am much better off than my classmates. That I need patience. That if I can do chemistry with such ease, then I can do the math. Since I consider myself a science geek, he reminds me that math is a science. That I am a whiz at the sciences, and therefore a math whiz too. He completely gets in my head. The man is brilliant.

Calculus is no longer my kryptonite.

Hello!

My name is Andrea, and I am a senior at the University of Cincinnati!

Yep, that's right. I said Senior. S-E-N-I-O-R! Ha! I love it.

I got my credit evaluation in the mail Saturday. Apparently, it has been finalized. The initial evaluation, as in the one I got immediately after enrolling, only gave me credit for an English course and a history course. For a whopping total of 9.5 credit hours. Wow! (Dripping with sarcasm right now, of course.)

Well, the one I received Saturday was significantly different. As in 136.5. And I am enrolled in 16 credit hours now. There truly is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Which is good...and bad. Very, very bad. Before you are thinking I am insane for thinking being closer to the end of my undergraduate education is terrible, let me explain a little bit. Well, not a little bit. There are two words to sum it all up for you:

MCAT

Applications


I have not even looked into the med school application process. Well, I have, or I wouldn't have a clue what I am doing. Since I do most definitely have a clue, let me rephrase that: I have only taken a gander at it to ensure that I am on the right track. What I have not done is start the process. And while I have been looking at the MCAT for some time now, I am in no way ready for it. I still have the chemistry and physics to get through, and while I have had some, I have not had the quantity I would like.

So yes, the news is good and bad.

The Verona

After the drama with the neighbors, I started looking on Craigslist. I wanted to see what was out there. Do I want to move again??? Hell no. But I refuse to live like I have been living over some pettiness. I called this lady about these apartments, and they were cheap and right around the corner from campus. Out-of-state tuition?? Ha! Yet still close to work. I am pumped. I am psyched. I am ready. She knows I am a UC student. She knows what I am looking for. We meet to see the apartment. It is way too small for us. I think she homed in on the "student" part of our conversation more than she did the "Respiratory Therapist" part. As in I am not on a student's normal budget, nor is a tiny shabby apartment going to do for me and my family.
She can tell by the look on my face that I am not thrilled, and asks if I have time for one more. I tell her yes, but am really reluctant. If it looked like that, I really would have rather gone home to my mounting pile of schoolwork.

We follow her through this really horrible area of town, and I am chain-smoking, getting scared of the place she is going to show us. We end up parked on the street on this corner, and I look all around us at the different buildings.Which one. I see this one out of the corner of my eye, and don't really look that way because I couldn't bare the disappointment if she told me I was wrong. John is sure it is fate because in the courtyard, there is a flagpole. Underneath Old Glory is none other than the flag of the United States Marine Corps.

I ask her which building we are going to, and she points. I am sold.

We walk through the wrought-iron gate, past the fountain in the courtyard. The looping driveway, where others are not allowed to drive cars unless moving in, is the perfect opportunity for my son to have a place to ride his scooter and bike this summer. It is beautiful. My breath catches in my throat. My eyes cannot leave the arches on the balconies.
We enter the building and climb the marble staircases to the first condo she wants to show me. It has old-world charm. But it is not perfect. In its state of oldness, it looks kind of shabby. I am thinking is we can make it work with decor. I love the building. She can tell by the look on my face that I am not completely in-love with the living quarters, and says she has another.

We climb three flights of the marble staircase, my hand brushing the mahogany banisters and get to the very top floor. We pass through the beautiful front door. My heart melts.

There are two closets in every room, with custom cabinetry and chests in each. I can see my purses lining the shelves. There are enough that I could have one for shoes, one for handbags, and one for clothes, and still leave enough for John and Evan. I actually open the leaded glass French doors and step onto the arched balcony I was admiring from the courtyard. My office in this little house??? No. I can see myself out on this stone and brick balcony with a cup of coffee, studying or reading, or just getting peace from the chaos of my life. It is a cocoon for me. But alas, I must go inside and see the rest of the space.

The bedrooms are enormous. The hardwood floors in much better repair than the house we are in now. There is a huge dining area between the kitchen and living room with a gorgeous view of the street. My office. Built-in bookcases line the walls in several of the rooms. The future home of anatomy/ physiology, biology, chemistry, pharmacology.

We pass under the antique light fixtures, through the scullery that she calls a "pantry" (a long narrow room lined with cabinetry and counters on both sides, with a bracket for hanging pots and pans, into the kitchen with the worn floor, enough to look rustic and weathered, but nothing I would change. There is this huge cabinet mounted under the window, and she explains to Evan that this is where the milk man used to deliver fresh milk to the families who lived there. I love that is still there. Evan pokes his little head inside, fascinated that there used to be a day when you could not pick up a plastic jug of milk at any store.

I wish I had the words to capture the beauty of the place. Although it is in this enormous building, the space is huge. Our place now is huge, and you could fit three of this one in it. Even though there are many other tenants, it feels like a safe haven. Like we are removed from the rest of the world. Quiet, secluded. Home.

Now for the logistics of the thing. I developer bought the building. One by one, he is gutting the old and remodeling them into modern, gorgeous condos. The new is just as beautiful as the old. The new are selling for about $200K. We can rent one of the old because he is in the process of selling the ones that have already been flipped. He is not flipping any more until he sells what he has. The rent is about $20 cheaper per month than what we are in now. In the long run, with me paying out-of-state tuition, it will save me about $18K in the next year alone, without putting me too far from work. The downside is that, if all goes according to plan, the condo would only be available to rent for about 2 years.
But there is a kink in the works. The new ones he is selling for $200K? They are condos, as in divided into rooms. There are a couple that are loft-style. No room divisions. The same size, but other than the bathroom, no walls. The same finishing touches otherwise. The lofts that he has have roof access in addition to the balcony (the same balcony I love). There is one that has no roof access. He is selling that for a disgustingly cheap rate. As in my car was vastly more expensive than this piece of property. With that being said, if I hired a contractor to create rooms out of the vast empty space, I could still have this gorgeous $200K condo for about the cost of having a nice vehicle. And it would be mine. If I keep my payments about the same as my rent is now, it would be paid off within a year or so. In other words, by the time I finish my undergraduate work and face entering med school, the burden of paying for housing would no longer be mine to bear. I could stop the insane hours at work at the exact time when I needed to. This falls into my plan perfectly. And we would be owners of a luxury condo in my hometown, Cincinnati, right around the corner from UC College of Medicine. You see where I am going with this.

Worst case scenario is we apply and get to rent one of the beautiful places until they are ready to do the work to flip it. My fear is that if I do this, I won't want to leave.

Noooooooooooooo!

I enrolled in my biology course for this coming quarter. (I find the whole quarter system bizarre at a university. It is supposed to be semesters, and the quarters are more expensive: 3 quarters a year as opposed to 2 semesters in a year, and the quarters are as expensive as a semester, and alas you have 3 to pay for. Unfair, but that is neither here nor there...) As you know, I bought my books the other day, and started the beginning ritual I have of studying the first 3 units of a text before the class even starts. I find this gets me prepared for the first lecture, leaves me ahead of the game from the start, so I can continue to study the units ahead of time throughout the course. This way, all I have to do come time for the lecture is pay attention, instead of trying to scribble down everything the instructor is saying. I get more our of the lessons this way, and it is why I have aced every college exam I have ever taken.
But Wait!
There is a problem. Because I am a Bio major, they make me start all over with the bio courses. Okay, I can roll with that. Maybe the courses start at a higher level than normal. Or this will make sure my previously completed bio courses will have me on the same level as the other students who took all of theirs from UC. I can manage this setback, and I am not having to do this for any of the other courses I have previously completed. Okay, so the problem is manageable.
Until I remove the shrinkwrap from the glossy new book and start to read.
Seriously? The first unit is on the relation between chemistry and bio. The next speaks of carbon's realtion to living things. WTF????? We are fricken made of carbon. This is absolutely ridiculous. Between 3 years of high school biology, including a college course in it my senior year, even more college biology as a respiratory student, enough a&p to write a textbook, microbiology, MCAT prep, and more, I think I have this crap covered. This is not cool. This a backpedaling. This is boring.
Yet I have to take this course. I never thought I would actually say that one of the courses for my major would be my fluff course for the semester. Maybe I will get lucky and she will start at the end of the book. Or maybe she will tell me that I bought the wrong book (that would be good, but also bad as I have already unwrapped the $459 tome.) I am disappointed. Where is the meat? The challenge I have been waiting for? Is it going to be like this for the rest of the duration? Molecular Bio is not supposed to be a cakewalk, I don't think. Should I change my major to chemistry? If I am going to have to go backwards and review anything, it should be chemistry. I barely got my A in that.
Too late. I will have to chalk this up to a review. If anything, the Biological Sciences section of my MCAT should have a perfect score....

The To-Do List, $1200, and Taking the Bait

Yay! IAMOFFWORKTODAY! I have not had a day off since before Christmas!

Of course there is a myriad of things to accomplish today. The first on the list is to get my husband to wake up and move my car. For the past 2 days, there has been a sign on the street that there was to be no parking on the street that runs alongside the house because the city is conducting some sort of leaf removal. Ahh, city life! Why do I have to wake him up? I cannot parallel park very well, and I do not want to conduct an experiment in my newish car.

Next is the lovely task of securing a decal for my car, enabling me to park at the university. Apparently, you must have one for each campus you visit for classes. For me, there are two. I could've done this the other day, but the school had to make my life difficult. I could get them all from one campus, but no! If I go to the Clifton campus (home of calculus, biology, etc. for me) it is $150 per quarter to park my car. If I go to the Blue Ash campus (Site of History and chemistry), the parking decal is free with proof of enrollment, and all I have to do is show them my schedule of classes in Clifton, and they will give me a sticker for that campus as well. Free. SCORE!

Unfortunately, this is the only thing associated with my pre-med BS that is free. I next head to the bookstore to buy my books for the classes that will start in 4 days. Keep in mind that I just finished my respiratory degree in 2006. I had a 4.0 GPA, and thus people were willing to give me large sums of money to pay for everything. The small college I attended allowed us to charge bookstore items to our financial aid, so really, all I had to do to get everything I wanted (textbooks, school supplies, college sweats, bookbags, and even novels) was to sign my name on the line. I am sure I have spent 1000's of dollars each semster, but it wasn't like it was my money. Other than that, the last time I bough textbooks was as a freshman at Ball State in 1995. I took $500 in cash, along with my debit card in case I went over alittle bit. I only have 4 courses, and figured that if I buy used, I should have more than enough. I hand the man my schedule and tell him I need these books. He starts grabbing them off the shelves, and I pay no attention to the prices of each. I mean, I have to have them, right? We get to the register, and he starts ringing everything up. I am still not paying attention, as Evan is cruising the snack aisle, looking for junkfood after I told him he could pick out a snack. I am more worried about hurrying him up. Then I hear something that makes me pay attention: "That will be $998 please." Huh? Excuse me? I have more than that in my bank account, plus the $500 cash. I could cover it, but I had plans for the money. Bills to pay. Groceries to buy. Wtf? I had to call my bank. I was pissed. I got ahold of the VP of lending at my bank, the same lady who gave me my car loan. I told her the situation, and she replied that it would take her time to get me approved for a loan, that it was New Year's Eve and they were closing at noon, not to reopen until Friday. Could she do it then? That would mean the money would be in my account Friday night. No good. Classes start on Monday, I am working almost everyday, and the bookstore will also be closed over the weekend. She tells me to let her see what she can do and she will call me back. God bless her. I have no idea what she did, but within 20 minutes, she called me back to tell me that not only was I approved for the loan, but that the money was already in my checkjing so I just had to use my debit card to pay for anything I needed at the bookstore. All I had to do was go to the bank before noon to sign the paper for the loan. By the time I bought all of the books, then headed to Staples for all of my supplies (including a $200 calculator required for my calculus course), I had spent over $1200. Why did I do this to myself? I am a grown woman with a family and an established career. I don't need to go back to school. But then I remind myself: Dr. Ferguson.

What is next on the agenda? Well, I will give you a hint: John fed Evan mac and cheese for dinner last night. Yes, I must get groceries. This is the task of which I am most frightened. I found this video of a commercial, and I will show it to you, because it sums up exactly why I hate the grocery store!

Best Comercial - watch more funny videos

I splurged on something for myself for my B-day: I bought myself the 4-book Twilight series. Apparently there is this craze over it, so I was reluctant to even try it. I usually try to keep away from those. But then I saw a coworker reading one of the books at work. The whole series was apparently marketed for young adults, and thus was too young for me older self, but then I remembered that Harry Potter was originally for children. So I snagged myself of some copies of the books and started to read the first one on Thursday, between the end of my 12-hour shift and the beginning of my 4-hour shift later that night. I found that I actually am very into the story, and could not wait to get home from work later that night to continue reading. Now, I am almost finished with the first book. Very interesting.

The Smell of Citrus is in the Air

This is the commercial for UC to air during the Orange Bowl on Thursday. I am a big 'ol sap. I got a little teary-eyed watching this earlier this afternoon. This is my school. This is my hometown. It's great to be back, doing what I have always wanted to do, in my hometown. I will not leave again.

I Am A Bearcat...

Okay, so this is home. I saw this video and couldn't help but smile.

This one too...

Where Do I Start???

I am home. As in I can walk outside in the brisk winter air and see the skyline. It is so surreal.
The new house, well it has been interesting. Cable hook-up was an adventure, and my phone and internet were installed before Thanksgiving and we never knew it because apparently the phone jack was not hooked to anything other than the wall. But all is well now. I am back where I have always belonged. Cincinnati.

So I am here in my new office, just off of the kitchen. It is very drafty in here, but I like things cool anyhow. I can see cozying up in here with thick socks and cozy sweats with a piping hot cup of coffee, studying away. The house, or better yet, the part of the house we are renting, stretches straight back. In order, it goes like this: Our bedroom, Evan's bedroom, the living room, the bathrooms and pantry, followed by the kitchen. My little area is at the very back, and all I can hear are noises from the street. Absolutely perfect.

Okay so what next? Evan's school...We started my baby boy in his new private school. It is amazing how they treat the children when you are paying them large sums of money. His first day was consumed by testing. He did very well, scoring 92% overall for the tasks he should have mastered for first grade. On many of the sections, he scored 100%. The principal said he is "exceptional". There are some areas that need work, such as handwriting, so they kept him in first grade. But because they have such small classes, they were able to tailor-make a curriculum just for him, so the areas in which he excels will be handled differently for him than they are for his peers. When we went to pick him up from his first day, his teacher actually walked him out to our car and told us how he did that day. Our only main obstacle is that we need to find uniforms for him. Nothing major: a baby blue polo with navy blue khakis. No problem, right? Wrong! Have you ever tried to find a little boy's baby blue polo in the middle of winter? I am hoping that now that I am back online, I will be able to find what I need via the internet.

I guess the only item left to update is my great return to a higher learning environment. I have officially been admitted to the University of Cincinnati as a Cell and Molecular Biology major. I just officially accepted my small fortune in student loans to pay for this next step in reaching my goals. The stage is set. I'm ready.

Little Fires Everywhere

In healthcare, we have this saying. We call it "putting out fires". This is when you run around like crazy all day, attempting to get something accomplished, and never seem to succeed or make a dent in that to-do list because of little things that crop up randomly. Yet you work your arse off that day. Mr. X's SPO2 has dropped and you need to tweak his oxygen. Patient A calls saying she is short of breath and you must stop and give her a PRN treatment. Mrs. Y's ventilator keeps setting off crazy alarms, to which you must be attentive, even though she is ventilating well and everything seems to be in order. So you put out these fires all day, and when your twelve hours are over and you look back at the day, with feet that are screaming and a level of mental exhaustion you thought impossible, you wonder why you were so damned busy in the first place.

We put out little fires at home to, I suppose. With the upcoming move, I have been busy organizing and checking off tasks from my mental list. I was so releived after Monday night, knowing I had days off, thinking of all of the time I would have to accomplish these tasks, and even planning on getting some other stuff done as well. Well, here it is: Friday night. I am off tomorrow for the much-anticipated OSU/ UM game (Go bucks!), but then I report back to work to start a 72-hour work week on Sunday night. What in the blue hell did I do withh all of that time?

Yes, I did manage to arrange the move. The surveyor from the moving company came by today, so that is done. I have placed orders for the new phone service and internet access (Zoomtown, Yay! It has a very good rep). I paid the deposit on the new property and have the old electric bill paid so we just have to make a call and it will be transferred to the new address. The packing crew is coming by on Tuesday to pack, then the stuff will be delivered to the new address on Wednesday. I guess I did get some stuff done. It just doesn't seem so.

But then little fires kept cropping up. My husband, my soulmate, my light of my life, was to call the phone company and let them know we were to be moving no earlier than December 1st to ensure that we would have telephone service for the duration of our remaining time here. He did call the company, but failed to mention the date, so suddenly we were without home phone service. We tried to get the account reactivated, because at the time, we had no idea we would be moving this week. They actually expected me to pay an installation fee and everything to get it started again, with a new nyumber and everything, as if I have never lived here. For one week??? I don't think so. So I figure for emergencies, I always have my cell. Wrong answer! I forgot that when I activated my cell account, it was mainly intended to be used for the days I work (weekends/ nights), plus I could pick 5 numbers I could call at anytime. So basically, my phone was free to use at the times I needed to use, and I did not need the expensive plan withan enormous amount of anytime minutes. So...Without a home phone, with only my cell with a pitiful number of available minutes, we ran through that resource within 48 hours. Sad...Mainly, right now we are relying on email to communicate. I am praying that the new phone is activated early.

So we go to pay the deposit on the property, and the owner mentioned that there had been missed deliveries. Huh? It seems that the day after I ordered the new phone service, Cincinnati Bell decided to deliver the phone I ordered. But UPS did not leave it. So I was left with this tag that was dated 3 days earlier, letting me know that in 5 days, my package would be returned to the sender. It was 2:00 and John and I had to be back in Indiana by 4:00. But there was no way in hell I was going to make a special trip to Cincy just to pick up this phone. We were 10 minutes away. So we head across the river....

Holy Crap! John is driving because I still am not completely used to driving the new car in close traffic. I can, but judging distance has never been my thing, and cars zipping by me, close enough for me to reach out and touch, in a brand new car kind of freaks me out a bit. As is ohmyGodtheyaregonna sideswipemynewcar! So John drives. Did that fix it? Not really because John is not as accustomed to downtown Cincinnati as I am, and he had trouble negotiating the grid of one-way streets, and I could see his blood pressure rising as I was thinking ohmyGodtheyaregonnasideswipemynewcar! All to pick up the new phone. Not even a cool new wireless phone, but instead, just a boring new cordless for the house.

So then UC decides to mess with me. About a week ago, after making sure I had met the deadline and getting my official transcript sent, I started checking the status online. And it kept telling me the same thing: my file was incomplete. So I would call and check, and the people in the transfer office kept reassuring me that all was golden, and they just have not put it into the system yet. So I wait... Then I call 2 days ago just to be sure. That is when I find out that they need the transcript from a college course I took in high school. Way back in 1995. Are you kidding me? I completed 98 credits in 4 semesters with a perfect GPA as recently as 2 years ago, and they are worrying about one class from over 13 years ago???? Seriously? But it gets better. She then tells me that that day in particular is the very last day to get anything in, and I can have it faxed. So I call the college. I get lucky because they don't purge their electronic files until after 15 years have passed. Yes they can fax it, but they need a written request with a signature! The only way to do that is by snail mail. I have no scanner. My digital camera died about 3 weeks ago. What am I going to do? Then I spy my phone laying on the table. I quickly scrawl my signature on a piece of paper and snap a picture. Then I email the picture to myself so I can save it to my computer and insert it into the typed email to the registrar. An hour later, UC has the needed transcript. Now I play the waiting game for them to put it into the system as well.

So tonight, I have ditched the clothes I have been wearing throughout the day in exchange for the most worn-out comfy sweats that say "Diva" across the butt (which I refuse to wear in public. The person responsible for that trend should be shot!) and I plan to tackle the very last bit of Molecular Genetics, followed by a chapter on Evolution in my MCAT review. Once I get that finished, I will have polished off the entire Biological Sciences portion and can start on my Chemistry review. But Chem will have to wait, as I have purchased a copy of Phillipa Gregory's The Boleyn Inheritance, the sequel of sorts to The Other Boleyn Girl, which I loved. I bought the book expressly for my vacation, and have only read a small bit of it. It is calling my name in a chorus with the comfy spot on the sofa.

What I Should Have Been Doing All Along???

Okay, just hear me out. John and I have not had an easy row to hoe since we got married in 2000. Things just do not go right for us. We are always fighting against the grain. (Let's see how many cheesy cliches I can use in this post!) Some of the struggle has been the direct result of some really unfortunate events. Some of it, because I am an adult and not above admitting this, were the result of our own poor choices. But regardless of the precipitating factors, we have had a struggle. And we have fought and fought and fought. And some of it has been recent, as recent as this past summer.

So we decide that we need to move closer to my work, which just happens to be in my hometown. We tell ourselves that we are going to take our time and find a place that is right for us. We realize it will be difficult. The events of our lives have left our collective credit in a pretty crappy state, and all of these rental properties will look at credit.

We find this place that sounds great by description over the telephone, so we take a day to go and see it. It is not great. It is a dup of such proportions that we do not even pause as we are driving by. We merely look at each other and say a resounding "No!" in unison. We get turned around on a one-way street, and we see it. An old mansion, like I love, that has been converted into rental units. John reads the phone number off of the "For Rent" sign in the front yard, and I hastily jot it down. We go to a nearby friend's house and we call.

It sounds perfect. Huge rooms, hardwood floors, fireplaces. Completely remodeled kitchen and bathroom. And rent cheaper than we are paying here in Indiana. So I explain that we have some issues with credit, but I have a great job and great ability to pay. I explain that I am in the process of completing the requirements for med school, that we need to be closer. He says he is not concerned with credit, so long as we are good people and can afford the property. We make arrangements to meet, and John and I love the old house. It is in a historic district near downtown, on a street filled with character that you cannot find in any modern neighborhood. We can see ourselves there.

I contact my employer, and they agree to cover my relocation. I call the utility people and the phone people, and no one needs deposits or anything. We tell the landlord that we would like to move in around December 1, but he had other plans and would like to rent it sooner than that. He says he needs to speak with his wife, and he will call back. An hour later, we get the word that they would really like to rent to us, that they would rather wait for us to be ready to move than to rent to one of the others that have shown interest in the property.

We are about 2 weeks away from D-Day. It is all falling into place. I have the new number, have signed the lease. The relocation company has called and we are sure that we can arrange the move without me even missing a beat at work. John took one afternoon and went and applied for jobs at any place he thought he would be qualified to work, and within the week, he already has had some bites. This is way more than he has accomplished within 2 years in Indiana. We met with the administration of a private school for Evan, and within 2 minutes of the conversation's start, they said what I have been wanting the school he attends now, the people who have known him for 2 years, to say all along. "It sounds like he really needs some extensive testing before we place him in a grade level." And should they not deem it appropriate to place him in second grade, to skip him to the next level, the classes are very small and they insist that they can give him more advanced work in the areas in which he needs a challenge.

So what am I getting at with all of this? For the first time in a long time, it is all falling into place for us. I'm not even going to have to pack. Hired men will do that for me. And it all makes me wonder.

The pessimist in me wonders what is gonna happen to wreck this. Things just do not go this easily for my family. But the other part of me, the one who believes everything happens for a reason, is left to look for the hidden meaning in all of this.

I left my hometown in 2001. I remember the tears as I watched Cincinnati disappear through the passenger side window of a U-Haul. I was scared, and I felt this sense of dread, even though I truly thought I was doing what was best at the time. Time marched on and we stayed gone for a long time. We would come up to Cincy and spend long weekends during those years. We would spend our visit doing things tourists normally don't do. Instead of visiting aquariums and zoos and amusement parks, we spent our time visiting our favorite stores and restauraunts. We would get our fix of home, then go back to our residence in Kentucky or Indiana or wherever we were at the time. And everytime I left, I felt like I was leaving the city all over again.

When I graduated from college,and I started to look for work, I loked up here. When I got an offer from a hospital in Southeastern Indiana, I figured that would be close enough. But Indiana has not felt right to us. We would still go to Cincinnati to do things like shop or go out to eat. And we would cross the Brent Spence bridge, where you can see the skyline with such clarity, and I would feel that tug on my heart: This is home. This is where you always will and always have belonged. Where people think like you and talk like you, while still being so different.

So are things going so easily for us because this is what I should have been doing all along? For the past 7 years? Because this will be the place where John and I can be a normal couple again? Because this is the place that has everything I could possibly need to live my life and achieve my dream? I cannot help but feel as if someone is trying to tell me something.

Baby Steps Toward My Dream

I started the process today. I completed my online application to the University of Cincinnati, arranged for my official transcripts to be sent for my transfer, and am working on the financial documents as we speak.

I am petrified. It seemed almost surreal as my mouse pointer hovered over the blank space on the application for admission where I was to indicate my career objective. P-H-Y-S-I-C-I-A-N. As I typed out the letters associated with my lifelong dream, a montage played through my head. Mom telling me all those years ago that "Medical school is for the rich, Andi". The choice I made an age ago to major in music instead of Biology, based on my love for music. Years and years of wondering if I was wasting my life and my abilities. The day I surrendered my higher education when my mother died. Going back to school after all of those years away,only to complete my respiratory education with such ease that I knew, just knew, that I could be doing more. Tearing up after a conversation with the Dean of Admissions for UC's College of Medicine, when he told me I was the perfect candidate for med school. And the struggles...all of the strugglees John and I have faced together. This is my dream, not only for my career, but it is also my way away from all of it.

It all seems so scary to me right now. When I had to select my major, I sat there staring at the "Molecular Biology" link. It seemed to taunt me, as if to say "You think you can??? I dare you to try."

Before you think I have crossed that line, that I am going insane, let me say that I know the link was saying nothing more than "Molecular Biology". But clicking on it, adding it to my application, and then finalizing the app was the scary part. The little ominous window popped up to let me know that that was the point of no return.

I want this more than anything. Every fiber of my personality screams "Medicine". If I could not go to medical school, I do not know what I would do. I cannot see myself doing anything else. I can't even see doing what I currently do for the rest of my life.

So here we go.