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Nov. 16th, 2011 | 08:03 am

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Pediatrics

Oct. 10th, 2011 | 02:22 am
mood: accomplished
music: Andrew Bird - Imitosis

About a week ago, I participated in a mandatory activity known as "PCOV" which stands for "Primary Care Office Visit." Essentially, every student is assigned a date (once each semester) to visit and shadow a primary care physician from around the area. Depending on how nice the doctor is, and how comfortable you are, sometimes they let you interact with the patients a little, like taking patient histories or vital signs or whatever.

Anyway, so last week for my PCOV, I had to drive about 25 minutes to a neighboring town called Adjuntas. When I arrived, I was excited to discover that the doctor assigned to me was a pediatrician, since that is the specialty I am most interested in.

Additionally, this particular PCOV was especially cool for me, because the doctor was also training some of the third-year students who were doing their rotations in pediatrics. So I was able to work with them and see the types of things I am going to be doing next year. The doctor was really helpful, I learned a ton, and it was definitely one of the best shadowing experiences I have had yet. 

Sometime during that afternoon, I was suddenly struck with an epiphany. I realized exactly why I like little kids so much: it is because I honestly relate to them a hell of a lot better than I do to people my own age. Little kids don't need to make small talk about the weather or detect sarcasm or worry about finding the right thing to say. Instead, they just outright STARE AT YOU until they decide whether or not they like you (a decision that is mostly based on whether or not you give them what they want). Usually little kids and I form a sort of symbiotic relationship because (1) I don't like to talk much either and (2) I like to give people what they want. So it works out; they stare, I stare back, we don't talk, I give them candy, and they decide to like me.

If only dating were that simple...

There was this one particular three-year-old girl who literally would NOT stop staring at me the entire time she was in the office. Even while the doctor was doing her physical exam on the stretcher, she did not take her eyes off me. It was a little bit unnerving, kind of like she was looking deep into my soul and telepathically communicating with me ("I sense that you are one of us!"). But mostly, I think it was because she could relate to me too; when I think about it, I was the only other person in the room who really didn't know what was going on either.

In fact, the ability to stare at people like that is probably one of the things I miss the most about being little. Nowadays, I find myself looking at the floor a lot, or avoiding eye contact with people because sometimes I'm not all that certain where it is I'm supposed to be looking. It would be a lot easier if we could just communicate by staring at each other. Talking just seems so overrated sometimes.

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A Tour Of PSM

Oct. 1st, 2011 | 11:10 pm
mood: happy happy
music: Héctor Lavoe - La Banda

A quick update while I am still motivated about writing!
 
So…
 
For those of you who are not familiar with my school (and even for those of you who are), I would like to present:
 A Tour Of PSMCollapse )
 
 

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My tweets

Sep. 29th, 2011 | 08:04 am

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DeadJournal Reincarnated

Sep. 28th, 2011 | 05:46 pm

So after my loooong hiatus, I decided that I think I would like to start writing in this thing again. Which is an empty promise that I have made many times in the past, but hopefully I will actually do it this time. I even reformatted my journal so that you can actually read it now, even if it is disgustingly girly and pink.

I would like to go back to using this journal, because not only is it a good way for old friends to keep in touch with me (since I never answer my phone), but it will also give me an opportunity to keep writing, and to reconnect a little with my creative side (I was disappointed to hear that they don't offer art classes in medical school... who would have thought?!). And also because... well, as my classmate Paula put it today, maybe I need to break out of my shell a little bit... and maybe expressing myself, even if it's just to an empty audience, will help a little.

Anyway, I linked this account to automatically post on my Facebook and my Twitter when I make an update. Hopefully it will not be annoying to those of you who don't really care and don't want to read it, because obviously you don't have to read this. But in case you're bored and are interested for some reason in my incredibly mundane life, it is open to everyone. Don't be shy about commenting either... part of the reason why I like to share it is that I love getting feedback from people, and hearing other opinions and stuff.

But yeah, just wanted to let everyone know.

Margarita

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I I Were God...

Sep. 28th, 2011 | 05:24 pm

I decided today that if I were God, the very first thing that I would do - besides eradicate poverty and cancer and delegate all world power to the stray cats of the world - is completely abolish early mornings.

And I would also like to find the idiot who came up with the idea of getting up before eight o'clock AM and condemn him to hell for all of eternity.

Because... seriously. Why would that EVER be a good idea?

First of all, there's that terrible sinking feeling of disappointment when your alarm clock goes off with that HORRIBLE annoying beeping sound, because not only is your bed SO WARM and SO SOFT, but you were in the middle of this INCREDIBLE dream involving Matt Damon, and it's just a miserable reminder of all the stuff you have to do today, and why am I still bothering with this whole medical school thing anyway, since Matty-poo and I already agreed to run away together to live on the beach?

Wait, Matt Damon was just a dream. Damn.

Worse yet is when you have to wake someone else up and subsequently ruin their beautiful dreams, too.

For example... my roommate Camila and I have developed a teamwork system of checks and balances on the weekdays in order to make sure both of us get up on time; if one of us sleeps through her alarm, the other one takes responsibility to wake her up. Usually I wait until 7:30 AM. If Camila's light isn't on by then I go knock on her bedroom door.

In July, we both woke up easily every morning. And we were damn cheerful about it, too.

In August, it got a little harder. And not as cheerful.

And now... this morning.

I knocked on Camila's door at 7:32. I really hate doing it. So I try to make it as quick and painless as possible. Two knocks first, and if she doesn't reply, I knock two more times, a little louder, until she says "voy!" which means she's awake.

So. 7:32.

Knock knock.

Silence.

Knock knock. A little louder.

Still silence.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

And then finally, she said "vooooy" in this heartwrenching exhausted broken voice that sounded to me like I was splitting her very soul into two pieces. Or like she was a ruthlessly tortured war prisoner. In that single word, she somehow communicated to me that "I-haven't-slept-in-a-week-please-leave-me-alone" and "I-sort-of-want-to-kill-you-but-I-really-don't-have-the-energy-right-now."

I felt so GUILTY, like I was some sort of sadist or something. Poor Camila.

I also think that many of the world's major problems could be solved if we were all just given a few more hours of sleep every night. Maybe people would make fewer careless mistakes at work. Maybe people would care more about world issues. And maybe people wouldn't do stupid things like invade Russia in the winter, or enslave an entire race of people, or elect George Bush as president.*

Although then again, that's probably too much to hope. Some people are just stupid to begin with, and no amount of sleep will ever help them.

ANYWAY, my point is...

I am not a morning person. And in my hypothetical Ten Commandments, nothing would ever start before noon. Amen.


*Sorry, Republicans. I couldn't help it.

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Midlife Crisis at 22

Feb. 22nd, 2011 | 01:20 pm

I'm having a crisis.

Never mind that I'm in the middle of exams. I've picked the absolutely worst time possible to write in this thing, but I have to because I'm UPSET, and my state of mental well-being and self-satisfaction is in severe peril.

So:

I realized today that my life is completely meaningless.I feel like I have no purpose on this earth because I have not changed anything, and I'm never going to.

I think the problem is that I'm just SO non-confrontational that I've completely shunned away from everything in my life that has ever presented itself as a confrontation.

Let me explain.

I like to run, but I hate competing. As a result, I go for a "pleasant jog" by myself two or three times a week, at a very steady pace that has not changed one iota in over FIVE YEARS.

FIVE. YEARS.



I play the flute, but only recreationally. I joined the marching band in college, but only because there was no audition. I never practiced and ended up quitting my senior year because rehearsals were too long.

I have a "pretty voice" when I sing, but there's no way I could belt out like Mariah Carey or anything. I had potential, but I never took voice lessons, and I've even stopped doing it for fun.

I also like to write, but I never finish anything I start, and I get far too frustrated to attempt anything worthwhile.

I stopped going to church.

I don't make follow-up phone calls.

I procrastinate everything.

So you see what I'm saying???? I have no PASSION, no incredible talent that I've had to use along with sheer wit and cunning to drag myself out of the slums of the earth and overcome my dark past. I am mediocre to the core.. and, even worse, I'm not doing anything to try and change that. I'm just another useless piece of shit lazy American trying to live a pathetically normal life.

And I mean, what is "normal" anyway? It just means I want to do exactly what everybody else is doing. So how can I "make a difference" when I'm trying to avoid anything that's different?

I'm such a go-with-the-flow kind of person that I've dropped the paddles, and I'm not even steering my own boat anymore.

So what do I do?

Ultimately, I think one of two things can possibly happen:

1. Inspired by this realization, I will drastically change my life... set the world record marathon time, take up the flute again and practice until I'm a professional, perform three miracles and become canonized, and find the cure for cancer.

...In other words, not particularly likely.

Or...

2. Change nothing, amount to nothing, accomplish nothing. Die completely alone, surrounded by cats and abandoned by all my friends because I NEVER CALL.

So that is why I have this dilemma. I've discovered that I have nothing to show for in my life, and who the hell can study with that in mind???

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Obligatory Corny Graduation Post

May. 8th, 2010 | 06:41 pm

A few days ago, I completed the very last final exam of my undergraduate college career.

It wasn't nearly as climactic as I expected it to be (much to my chagrin, the sun did not explode just because I am graduating).

However, it did make me think a lot. As always.

I came to the realization that UNC has become extremely dear to me in an unexpected way. When I look back to my freshman year (ah, reminiscing!), it occurs to me that it took me a really long time to feel comfortable here. From the very beginning, I was an outsider in every way. I was an out-of-state student in a school of mostly in-state students. I did not know a single other person, and I was completely apathetic (at best) about college basketball. I felt like I was the only person in the entire school who did not already know the words to the alma mater. Big lecture classes made me feel lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I didn't dress like anyone else. I didn't talk like anyone else. I missed my family.

As time has passed, though, this place has grown on me so subtly that I haven't even realized it. I made some of the best friends and created some of the best memories a person can ask for.

Instead of writing about all of them and putting everyone to sleep, I think it would be more effective to demonstrate with some old photos. A picture is worth a thousand words, right?

My favorite UNC memoriesCollapse )

And on that note, I just want to say

GOODBYE UNC!!!!!!



I will miss you and always remember you.

With love,
Margarita

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Insomnia

Apr. 6th, 2010 | 03:35 am

Can't sleep yet again.

It's strange. I've never had this problem before, and yet I have had difficulty falling asleep quite a few times within the past couple of weeks.

It's not that I'm stressed out. In fact, I would venture to say that this semester has undoubtedly turned into the least stressful semester of college that I have had so far.

I think it's because I'm just thinking about so many things. Right before bed is when I like to evaluate my life, and I guess that just gets really complicated.

I've tried to empty my mind and relax. Then I got up and warmed up some milk in the microwave. But still nothing. So I'm hoping that I'll tire myself out by finally updating this piece of shit, because maybe I'll purge myself of all my damn complicated thoughts and GO TO SLEEP.

My latest philosophical thought came to me while I was out running the other day (as most of my philosophical thoughts do). I was thinking about this project I had to do for my Anthropology class. The class is called "Expressive Cultures," and it's very interesting, if a little corny at times. I like to refer to it as my "Hippie Class" because we discuss lots of abstract social themes such as "sexuality" and "culture" and "dichotomies."

Anyway, for our project we were told to explore any topic of our choosing and create a piece of "expressive culture," then present it in front of the rest of the class. Inherently, I think the nature of the assignment and the class content resulted in a series of presentations that very scathingly criticized society. After watching the presentations each day, I left class feeling depressed about the world, because most of the themes centered around racism, sexism, desire for money and power, inhumane treatment, global warming, etc.

One of the presentations, however, was very different. It was a really simple PowerPoint presentation full of pictures of mothers and their children from all over the world - complete with sappy music and everything.

As soon as the PowerPoint finished, I couldn't help myself. I burst into tears, right in the middle of the classroom. Most likely it was the result of raging PMS and a recent hyper-emotional sensitivity. But I just kept thinking about how it's so true that motherly love is a universal phenomenon. And it made me feel so good to watch it after seeing nothing but disturbing images of African genocide and the objectification of women in the media.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes I feel like I have to be an idealist to live in this world. Hearing about all the terrible things that are wrong with the world make me want to just throw the towel in and give up. I've heard almost all of it before. But sometimes I think the only thing that keeps me from getting completely depressed is the ability to see the best in people. LORD KNOWS WE ARE NOT PERFECT. And of course I know it's important to raise awareness about the world's problems and such. But I also think that the problems do not come from faceless, evil people with lots of money and power. I like to think that people aren't trying to hurt each other, they're just mostly not aware of what they're doing, or at least unsure of what they can do to change things realistically.

I know, I know. I'm naive and completely innocent, and I still have stars in my eyes about living in an ideal world. Maybe in ten years I'll laugh at myself. But I still think that the best way to go through life is with a positive perspective. Even if it is sappy.

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R.I.P. Skunky

Oct. 7th, 2008 | 02:22 pm
mood: sad sad

On Sunday morning, my dad told me that my cat, Skunky, had died. Ariana found her in the basement curled up on the couch. None of us can figure out what happened, she was only like five years old, and she seemed relatively healthy.

Ultimately, I know that it's not a really big deal. It's just a cat. I know lots of people who have lost family members, so I know I shouldn't make a huge thing out of it or anything.

It still feels kind of like I've lost a friend, though. I keep thinking about how she used to sleep under the covers of my bed and steal socks from the laundry and leave them outside of my door. And how she was constantly in need of attention and chewed on everything and woke me up at night by meowing until I let her in.





Rest in peace, Skunky. I hope you are happy in cat heaven.

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