Flip-Flop Weather and a Dreaded Trip

I love this weather. It is 90 degrees out there. Perfect flip-flop weather, and don't think I haven't been rocking the plastic and rubber shoes everywhere I go. I have this massive laundry basket full of them, stuffed in the back corner of the closet, and I have been dying to pull them out.

What else is going on in my world?
School is winding down. Next week is finals week, which I am not exactly excited over. But after burning the candle at both ends for some time now, I finally took a few days off of work. Keeping in mind that I am only obligated to 3 twelves a week, my cashing in some paid-time-off managed to get me off of work for almost 2 weeks. It still isn't a massive vacay. I still have this week left of class, then come back Monday and Tuesday of next week for those dreaded exams. All I know is that for the next 2 weeks, I do not have to do both school and work. Following that, I am off of school for 2 and a half weeks while we switch from Spring to Summer quarters, so then I will only have to do work and not school. Count 'em up! 4 1/2 weeks of one and not the other!

I can honestly say I need the break. For the past month, I have been working all night, then going straight to class the following morning, doing class all day then going straight into work all night. Then I---- you guessed it----head back to campus for a day of class. Finally on the third night, I get a little shut-eye. This is no exaggeration. This is my life. I was actually discussing this with one of the residents at work. He was commenting on my level of tiredness, knowing full well that I intend on heading to med school in a year or so, and said "Just wait until you get into med school!" When I told him I wasn't scared of a med school schedule and explained what I have been doing, his reply was this: "You are INSANE!"

Maybe so. Or maybe it is just determination. More and more people are rallying behind me. To them, I am the one who will make it to the other side. The politics of healthcare dictate that we are the grunts and doctors are the privileged. While I am in no way the poster child, to them I represent the notion that those of us without MD behind our name are still capable individuals. They can say, "Look! She was one of us and she was smart enough to become a doctor, so we can be too." This by no means represents everyone. I still encounter some crap-dishing from some coworkers who think my efforts are directed at proving I am better than they are. The fact that I want more out of my life is a personal assault on their choice of career. Of course this couldn't be farther from the truth. But for the most part, I pass people in the hall, and they will ask me how school is going. When I tell them it is going well, the statement is met with a pat on the back and a hearty "You Go, Girl!".

Part of the plan for my time off is to take John and Evan down to southern Kentucky to visit his family. I am a little nervous about going back there. I am not met by the same resistance I used to face. I've been around for the better part of a decade, and they have realized I am here to stay. But the time we spent living down there is now what I realize to be a different chapter of my life. A chapter full of welfare and stereotypes and North vs. South. I wasn't docile enough. To them, I was the Yankee wife John brought home, the one with the smart mouth who didn't realize a woman's place. While I never played along, I wasn't as out-there with my intentions of higher education and my drive for a career. Now, John and I have returned to my turf where I have adjusted to being myself again. Here, there is nothing wrong with a woman seeking achievement. But to make matters worse, John's sister is having a baby shower, full of church women, and I know it will provoke the inevitable questions about our intent for our family. To them, it will incomprehensible that I want to forgo having other children in order to pursue my education, that I focus on my career instead of perfecting my recipe for the perfect fried chicken. They will never understand that one child, my perfect little Evan, is more than I could ever want, and now that he is in grade school, it is time for me. They will look at me as if I have two heads, and whisper amongst themselves of the brazen woman who thinks she can have it all.

And John. They will, as always, compare John to his brother-in-law. The greatest thing one can aspire to be is an employee at the local electric company. It is not that there is anything wrong with the job.More like what is wrong with John that he wants to skip out on punching a clock in order to support his wife's ambitions? What kind of failure allows his wife to be the breadwinner? We deal with it everytime, and I know they mean well, but I cannot tolerate anyone criticizing my husband because he is helping me to realize my dream.

But nevertheless, we are going. And rude or not, I am taking my study materials and will have my nose in books the entire time. This will evoke the dreaded question: Didn't you already finish one degree? And I will tell them that I am back in school to be a doctor. God help me.

Anyhow...I am wasting too much time here on a computer. It is now time to take the kiddo out and let him get some sunshine while I study with my flip-flopped feet propped up, complete with the hot-pink polish on my toes that I whipped out especially for flip-flop season.

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.