Riding home on the el...

...and two college students sit behind me, one of whom is obviously visiting his friend because the whole train/public transportation thing is just a bit more than he can take it at once (it is for everybody at least once, me included). What was annoying was the friend who apparently lives here (and goes to Loyola) felt the need to announce every stop to her companion. And she talked like she had marbles in her mouth...likkeee...yeahhhhh.
I like...reallllyyyyyy wanted to turn around and ask her to stop raping the English language in my presence. Kthnxbye.

Job security?

I ran 4.5 miles and had no problems at all breathing...until I got into the elevator with you, the human ashtray...jerk. People like you are walking public service announcements....and ensure I will at least have a few more patients when you get old.

Back into the fray

Since I've been gearing up to go back into the hospital and clinic, I am reminded of one of my least-favorite aspects of medical school: the self-important medical student. I call him Mr. Narcissist. We all know the type. It's the guy (or gal) who thinks he's hot-stuff. He thinks he knows everything, that nobody else should know something that he doesn't, that his problems are the only one that matter (yeah dude, I'm so terribly sorry you're one of FIVE HUNDRED PEOPLE trying to get hospital assignments, I really want to hear about your particular crusade trying to get into a hospital that accepts five people, meanwhile over a hundred of us who submitted our paperwork on time, and before you, are still waiting...), and that his problems are also of WORLD-ENDING-CONSEQUENCE if they don't get resolved RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE. I just want to tell these people--hey, sorry to inform you, but the sun did not wait until you woke up to start shining...and it certainly did not slide out of your hind parts in order to do so!

No words...

As I'm walking back from the bus...this late 20's something black guy had dropped something and was calling to his, erm, elderly white companion (he's 60 if he's a day)...so the black guy is calling..."Hey booboo...you just gonna leave me here and not help me? That's not very nice booboo!!" The older guy just looks at him and nods and smiles. "Come here booboo Imma pinch you!"
I wasn't sure whether to wretch or fall to the sidewalk in fits of laughter.
...so I just did nothing and walked on. Things that make you want to go BLEGH (and NOT because it was two men!!!) I just wished that booboo could've taken that inside...and kept it there, haha.

Kitchen delight...

I noticed a funny smell coming from the kitchen. Initially thinking it was something in the garbage (Brussels sprouts go from green to rank in the blink of an eye) I threw out the garbage bag...but the smell was still there. Apparently potatoes can and will explode...even when just sitting there on your counter...Potato: 1, Me: 0

Ache

Had a long discussion with the ex. All I can say is it just aches. From deep within it aches, and nobody or nothing but time will make it go away. Although maybe Adele or Patsy Cline would help?

Mostly settled in...

It's been about a week since I left Atlanta for Chicago, and it has taken several days to get everything into some semblance of order. By order I mean unpacking the dozen or so boxes that accompanied my heavy-butt furniture. It would've easily taken an extra day had we schlepped the furniture up here ourselves.

As for my apartment so far I'm very happy with it. It has three large closets, all of which I have filled up with crap. One of the projects for the next few days is to get some semblance of organization into at least one of them, and hopefully throw away a good bit of the useless junk that I'm sure made it in there. I have an amazing view, unobstructed from a very high floor. From my bedroom I have a particularly excellent view of the downtown skyline, which is about three miles away, and Wrigley Field, which is about three blocks away. We'll see if that gets annoying during baseball season. I have been trying to get out of my apartment at least a few hours every day, and get comfortable with the various bus routes and train stop (colloquially called the "el"). So far I haven't really had many issues.

I am, however, NEW to Netflix (I know, luckyone bounds into the twentieth century), and already have a queue longer than FDR's tenure in office.

Big People Stuff

Considering most of the logistics and details of obtaining a lease to my new apartment (UNDER BUDGET, beat that House Hunters!!) have had to be carried out via email I must say it has gone rather smoothly. My realtor has been incredible. She has been very hands-on and her communication is top notch. She was very receptive to my needs and wishes--and I will admit I am picky. Several things about my move made her job a bit more difficult I'm sure:
1. I am out of town
2. I almost insisted on a dishwasher (hard to find sometimes in older buildings)
3. I had a limited viewing time
4. I had incredibly short notice -- but then again I gave her what I got!

I have tried to make the best out of a stressful situation, and I realize I am certainly not the first person to go through this. Just ironing out all the details can seem like a Catch-22 sometimes.

Question of the Day

I've often wondered why people gripe and groan about being asked to follow procedure. Case in point: a student complains about a hospital requiring the student take a (SHORT) test on hospital policy and patient rights. Oy vey. A monkey should be able to pass this test, or alternatively, any medical student with an ounce of sense. *huge-eye-roll*

I just finished reading ...

...The Sun Also Rises. And I could not friggin wait to finish it. It annoyed me almost from the start. I swear if it hadn't been so short I probably would NOT have finished it. I think I have read enough books written at the turn of the twentieth century about disenchanted Bohemians searching for the meaning of life in Paris (ok and Spain). Over it. Paris sounds like a rather miserable place with all these depressed precursors to the emo running around. Of the dozen books I'm sure I've read with that motif, only one can I say I actually enjoyed--Of Human Bondage because the poor fool actually came to his senses that Paris was not the place for him, and left it shortly into the book.

Never believe...

...what internet review sites have to say. I have learned this lesson the hard way over the past few days during my apartment search in Chicago. I have tangled myself into some serious knots about using a realtor, using a particular realtor, choosing a neighborhood, choosing a street, and the list just goes on and on and on all because every stinkin' on-line review about everything I came across was horrible. Then it finally dawned on me that people love to complain (counts my kvetching posts) and complain about the absolute stupidest things. So, I had to let that go. The way I did it was to look up the reviews for my old apartment complex in Miami, that I loved, and see the scathing things people had to say about it that I never had a problem with or even experienced! It's all about preparation, competence, and perspective. And no, there is no perfect situation or place.

I guess I hadn't allowed myself to grasp the magnitude of the situation either because it all just hit me at once. It was a bag of tricks I must say. The whole I-am-moving-to-a-mostly-new-town-where-I-don't-know-many-people-that-has-a-crazy-real-estate-market-that-is-a-completely-different-kettle-of-fish-from-what-I'm-used-to-and-oh-yeah-this-is-a-semi-permanent-move-great-balls-of-fire-I-don't-want-to-screw-up just got the better of me for a little bit and I will admit I spent the better half of this afternoon being a bit panicky. It's not that unheard for me when something completely new comes up. In the summer of 2009, when I had finally wrapped my head around the logistics of moving to Dominica, and everything that I had read (common problem here, eh?), I totally freaked myself out about where I had chosen to rent an apartment because what if there were robbers, or there were bugs, or the colors were just too gosh-darn-ugly or any other ridiculum that one thinks in a moment of panic. I remember taking a very long boat ride one evening and just having to make peace with the situation and it's pros and cons, and had to move forward. It was the same deal today: I had a set budget (that it looks like I'll actually be under in the grand scheme of things, fingers crossed), knew what I needed, and what I wanted (and didn't want almost as importantly) in an apartment, and knew where I wanted it to be. I couldn't go over budget for the obvious reasons, but I could be a bit flexible on location--as in ok so it's not exactly where I'd like but it's only a few blocks away, or a five minute walk. The main thing, I think, for me is that I KNOW I have to move forward, so I rarely consider running or freezing. I do the opposite and barrel through like a bull in a china shop, and then turn around to see if I've made a mess. Both methods have their potential downfalls.

I think I weighed the pros and cons as rationally as I could and I definitely had to compromise. I was somewhat spoiled by my most recent apartment experience in Miami because that apartment was just amazing all-around--the problem was I actually paid less than market value for that apartment because of my student affiliation. I wasn't going to get such a bargain this time around, nor did I really need so much apartment. I literally had an entire room that I just used as a dumping ground. and a computer desk. I had to keep telling myself that I wasn't going to be able to live in a space like that again...no matter how badly I may want! So when I get anxious like that I become more sensitive to everything, and though it doesn't necessarily become "Ahhh, this is awful!" it does become "What if I'm making the wrong choice and what if the other option is better because this train station isn't as big as the other one?????" Stupid right?