(no subject)
A lot of people have asked me what I am planning to do now that I am graduating. My plan is slightly untraditional, but essentially, I will be finishing my biology minor this summer, studying for the MCATs (still, after postponing the test date once more), and taking the test on Sept. 11. Yes, Sept. 11. In the fall, I'm going to take some EMT courses to be certified to work in the following two years, as I study post-bac to strengthen my GPA for my transcript. I'll be volunteering, hopefully studying again to Paramedics, and applying for Med schools to enter in the Fall of 2012. Hopefully I'll also be able to put my English B.A to some use and publish, but I have a few old Moleskin notebooks that will attest against that...
But, anyway, I don't think that explanation nearly suffices in revealing my future plans. It doesn't truly speak to the core of what I want. I am going to be a doctor; I feel passionate about becoming one for personal reasons, and there is just no way going around that. To me, that's a given. But I'm a dreamer, so I'm going to let you in on my dreams, the kind of dream you wish with all your heart will come true and so you end up thinking about it on long nights like these (like this weekend before Finals week...)
One day, I am going to secure my career plans, and I'll land myself enough money for a house. I want to find one that I can pay off soon than later without much worry. But I don't want just any house. I want a house on the beach. I want my backyard to be nothing but sand and the ocean. I want to keep my windows open, I want the off-shore wind to always keep my house cool--and I never want to touch the thermostat, not even once. I don't want a fancy, ritzy, MTV cribs sort of house on the beach. I want an old house with a history, one that is modest and holds minimal things, just my books, my laptop, a piano, but not much else. If anything were to happen to my house, I don't want to worry about replacing the things in it. My dream house is an old house, one that's been well loved, falling apart. We'll fix the house--for what later would seem like--from the ground up. Pipes will leak, we'll figure out step-by-step the repairs at Home Depot and come home to fix it up for however long it takes. Guests will rampage the floor and bathtubs with dirt and sand, and we'll remodel it all, working around the battle wounds for stories later to come. We'll have creaky floorboards, but we won't fix those, we'll keep them, especially for Christmas mornings. The fridge will be well-stocked, my own garden of fruits and veggies will grow along the side of the house, and the kitchen will always smell like whatever is cooking--or burnt food when I cook--and no one will leave my house hungry. In the mornings I want to wake up to the beach, surf, go to work, go home, surf, and in-between those hours, I'll spend all the money I make on food. I want to drive an old Volkswagen bus, painted with happy colors all over it, or a nice, old, shitty pick-up truck. Or maybe both. I want to travel, often. I want to use my extra time and money to give back. I'll be living in my own world, but that's okay. I just want my house, the beach, the handful of friends and family, and that's all I need.
But, anyway, I don't think that explanation nearly suffices in revealing my future plans. It doesn't truly speak to the core of what I want. I am going to be a doctor; I feel passionate about becoming one for personal reasons, and there is just no way going around that. To me, that's a given. But I'm a dreamer, so I'm going to let you in on my dreams, the kind of dream you wish with all your heart will come true and so you end up thinking about it on long nights like these (like this weekend before Finals week...)
One day, I am going to secure my career plans, and I'll land myself enough money for a house. I want to find one that I can pay off soon than later without much worry. But I don't want just any house. I want a house on the beach. I want my backyard to be nothing but sand and the ocean. I want to keep my windows open, I want the off-shore wind to always keep my house cool--and I never want to touch the thermostat, not even once. I don't want a fancy, ritzy, MTV cribs sort of house on the beach. I want an old house with a history, one that is modest and holds minimal things, just my books, my laptop, a piano, but not much else. If anything were to happen to my house, I don't want to worry about replacing the things in it. My dream house is an old house, one that's been well loved, falling apart. We'll fix the house--for what later would seem like--from the ground up. Pipes will leak, we'll figure out step-by-step the repairs at Home Depot and come home to fix it up for however long it takes. Guests will rampage the floor and bathtubs with dirt and sand, and we'll remodel it all, working around the battle wounds for stories later to come. We'll have creaky floorboards, but we won't fix those, we'll keep them, especially for Christmas mornings. The fridge will be well-stocked, my own garden of fruits and veggies will grow along the side of the house, and the kitchen will always smell like whatever is cooking--or burnt food when I cook--and no one will leave my house hungry. In the mornings I want to wake up to the beach, surf, go to work, go home, surf, and in-between those hours, I'll spend all the money I make on food. I want to drive an old Volkswagen bus, painted with happy colors all over it, or a nice, old, shitty pick-up truck. Or maybe both. I want to travel, often. I want to use my extra time and money to give back. I'll be living in my own world, but that's okay. I just want my house, the beach, the handful of friends and family, and that's all I need.