employablog

So, my first and last office job is almost done, and along with it the most intense year of my life.

I studied Hebrew and Judaic Civilization back in collegeschool, it was a lot of anthropology and sociology using the Bible, mostly the first half, as a primary document. What was underscored, was that when times got rough, the Jews were waiting, a long, sad expectancy. Their temple got knocked down, and afer getting split and trampled there was finally the exile, and then waiting, the world seemed as bad as it could ever get, worse even, and getting ever worse.

That’s what this year became. I’d work feverishly on an application, a cover letter, a resume, a phone call, send it, make it, and wait. Hell, I waited so hard that I even waited tables. And now the waiting is over. I archived my med school applications folder, I made copies and filed my immunization records, and I drafted, stamped and sent the last of my “sorry, but no” letters to the med schools I’m withdrawing from.

That’s right, after a year of interviews—job and school—I got to write a few rejections of my own.

And now its done.  There’s no more waiting.

So why can’t I sleep?

And no more snarky Scrubs comments, I buzzed my head and grew a beard, so I in no way look like J.D.

I got rid of my backpack too.

Human Resources gave us nametags for our cubicles. It helps people navigate the fluorescent-lit maze of grey fabric walls with some purpose, but it also brings visitors.
This wouldn’t be a problem, except that I go to work to do work, and if I blow past someone in the hallway, whatever conversation I would have been stuck in automatically gets shunted to my cubicle, where I am even more trapped. Really—this problem has deeper roots, roots that reach down to the fact that when I walk around, I’m going somewhere, and it always to fulfill a basic need.

I don’t want to talk now, I have to urinate.

I don’t want to talk now, I have to poo.

I don’t want to talk now, I’m thirsty.

I don’t want to talk now, I’m hungry.

And as the fates would have it, whenever I’m walking back from satisfying one of the four drives that makes me walk to different places in the office, I never run into people. I like talking, but drives take priority. It’s why you teach children not to pester the dog while he’s eating. And it’s led me to increasingly awkward comments out of panic when someone traps me.

The last time it happened ended with me panicking and improvising.

“What are you up to?”

“Going to the bathroom,” I said, “that time of the week again.”

And I scurried off.

And I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, I think this is something that I should get used to.

I feel like there is something big going on tomorrow, but really there is nothing special — but at time same time, tomorrow is a big day.  Tomorrow is May 15th, the day that med school applicants can only hold one acceptance — mine is to Minnesota.  And so, even though everything finally seems to be in the works, I am marking off another big calendar date, the final end to all this application nonsense that has dominated my life, starting, really, in January 2005, when I realized I needed to make some lifestyle changes, make some knowledge changes and really figure myself out.

I did, and now I’m going to medical school, and I couldn’t be happier, and I think that is a perfect reason to not sleep.

Every once in a while, there have been nights like this over this past stretch (read: the densest part of my likkle life to date). A lot of stuff has gotten shaken up inside of me, and on nights like tonight it settles — hard. And I start to get buried in questions, some menial, some greater, from nit-picky romance to second guessery and happenstance.

But I finally have a solid anchor so it all doesn’t sweep me away into the heart-pounding nervous wreck it could before. So on my insomnia nights I can write, draw, read and … well … enjoy some me time, until … well you know

I took a survey today, about my employment satisfaction. One question was whether I felt that staying at my current career would be a way to advance it, and I marked, “Completely Disagree.”

It was not with any animosity, but my job was a nice stimulating way to pay the rent and add some bulk to my resume while eking last minutes with the people I’ve spent the last 4 to 5 years with. Then there was a bubble to fill, on why staying with my current company would not advance my career. I wrote, simply, that I want to be a doctor, surgery probably, and that I currently am not doing that, but that I am fine not doing it for a few more months, because honestly right now I wouldn’t make a great surgeon, since I have no idea.

But I’m ready to start on the next part of my life. My bags are starting to get packed, whether or not I try, and I can feel that in my stomach.