Monday . May 19 . 2003 . 8:04am macrowaves Several people have directed this article to my attention, which I'd already read online. Fairly interesting--I had no idea that online journaling was so insanely prevalent. As I've mentioned before, I started keeping this journal my second year of medical school basically for my friends and family, so that people that I don't get a chance to talk with everyday could keep up with what I was doing. I never expected that anyone else would read it because--why? Who wants to read about some whiny 22 year-old kid go on about her upcoming Immunology test? What could be more boring to follow than the life of a medical student? (Except for the life of a dental student. Ha! I kid! I kid because I love.) Of course, thinking that no one would ever read this page was just an exercise in naiveté. If you put things on the web, people will find them, and I've had too many people come up to me in the intervening two years saying, "Hey, you know what? I found your website!" to think that I can ever write anything about anyone without it eventually getting back to them. Which is a good thing to learn, really, because, hey, watch your fool mouth. I only wish I would have known that when I started writing "The Underwear Drawer." It's not that I ever wrote anything really nasty, or incriminating (aside from several rather scathing reviews of a former roommate, entries long since pulled from the archives) but there have definitely been things I would not have posted if I'd ever suspected that people would read them. It's like talking behind people's backs, and how even if they're not mean things to say per se, you wouldn't necessarily say the same things if they were standing right there. Well, maybe in some ideal world of the Very Nice People, you wouldn't say anything behind people's backs that you wouldn't say to their faces. But we don't live there, now do we? Sometimes I go back and read some of my very old entries--written when I had no consideration for the very open nature of the internet, and written about people I didn't know terribly well at the time but with whom I've since become good friends --and I cringe. How could I say that? How could I post that? It's like looking at school pictures of yourself from the seventh grade, with your poodle perm in a side ponytail, turquoise capri leggings, braces gleaming in the photographers flash, and you just wonder how you could have possibly not known that was all just a very bad idea. Anyway, live and learn. * * * I spent most of yesterday morning still wringing the booze from my brain. It's not even like I drank that much, it's just that I'm a total pansy and there was barely any food in my belly to sop it up. At least I don't do the Asian Flush thing, glowing like a little pink light bulb after downing half a beer, broadcasting my inebriation to the world. Instead, I keep that knowledge to myself, like a little vertiginous secret. In the afternoon, we piled in the car and drove over to Brooklyn, to see Dave's new apartment and drop off his housewarming gift. (Somewhat insider knowledge: while eating burritos on the streets of Park Slope, we bumped into Pavani, taking her bike to the shop. Hello Pavani, and friends of Pavani! I swear, I bump into her at the most random times. I think the last time our paths crossed, I was walking crosstown to meet some friends, and she called out to me from the curb in the middle of parallel parking her car. Weird.) Anyway, Dave's housewarming gift was a microwave. We felt this was a primo gift for a swingin' single gent in his first post-med school apartment, and Joe, who had been Dave's roommate for two years (before I assumed that responsibility), and who had helped Dave move into said apartment last weekend, was certain that Dave did not have a microwave. Toaster oven, yes. Microwave no. So we went to Kmart to pick one up, and lugged all 35 pounds of it home on the subway. (OK, Joe lugged it, but I held the doors open for him.) So anyway, yesterday, we drop off the microwave. Dave's all polite, like, "Wow, thanks guys, this'll really do a doozy on popcorn," but all quiet and shifty-eyed. I'm looking at his kitchen, and am saying something like, "Gee, I'm really glad that we got a white microwave, because it looks like it'll match your kitchen." His kitchen is all white counters and cupboards and appliances. Everything is white...except for the big black microwave affixed to the wall across from the sink. MICHELLE You said he didn't have a microwave! JOE I know he didn't buy one! MICHELLE It came with the apartment! JOE I didn't see it! MICHELLE Not even when you helped him move in? JOE No! Gah! MICHELLE Gah! So now we have to return the microwave. Dave says that he needs floor lamps in his place, so maybe we'll exchange the microwaves for a couple of halogens or something, but it just doesn't have the same kind of flair, gift-wise. We should have gotten him the RonCo Showtime Rotisserie Grill. * * * Tomorrow is Class Day, a ceremony the day before graduation that they devised to debulk graduation day itself, when they give out student awards and our Teacher of the Year speaks to us, dispensing all manner of sage advice. I'm sure, like in college, that I'm not up to get any sort of award (my academic history is characterized not by being particularly gifted in any one subject, rather by being rather mediocre in all of them), but there's no way we're going to miss the ceremony, because Dr. Garvey is our speaker, and she is my hero. Then, as Joe's parents are in town, we'll probably go out to dinner. I'm pushing for City Crab, because I want another shot at tearing apart that lobster with my bare hands. It's definitely not a first date kind of meal, because it's on the messy side, so I'm not sure if it's the ideal in-laws kind of meal, but they're fun people, so we'll see if they go for it. Finally, a Cooper update: she chewed off her own wart! Or pustule! Or whatever it was, she chewed it off. Just like the guy who sawed off his own arm after it got caught under a rock. Thanks for saving us the vet bill, Coop! xo Michelle |
the underwear drawer. every day of the week. |
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sunday |
Monday . May 19 . 2003 . 8:04am macrowaves Several people have directed this article to my attention, which I'd already read online. Fairly interesting--I had no idea that online journaling was so insanely prevalent. As I've mentioned before, I started keeping this journal my second year of medical school basically for my friends and family, so that people that I don't get a chance to talk with everyday could keep up with what I was doing. I never expected that anyone else would read it because--why? Who wants to read about some whiny 22 year-old kid go on about her upcoming Immunology test? What could be more boring to follow than the life of a medical student? (Except for the life of a dental student. Ha! I kid! I kid because I love.) Of course, thinking that no one would ever read this page was just an exercise in naiveté. If you put things on the web, people will find them, and I've had too many people come up to me in the intervening two years saying, "Hey, you know what? I found your website!" to think that I can ever write anything about anyone without it eventually getting back to them. Which is a good thing to learn, really, because, hey, watch your fool mouth. I only wish I would have known that when I started writing "The Underwear Drawer." It's not that I ever wrote anything really nasty, or incriminating (aside from several rather scathing reviews of a former roommate, entries long since pulled from the archives) but there have definitely been things I would not have posted if I'd ever suspected that people would read them. It's like talking behind people's backs, and how even if they're not mean things to say per se, you wouldn't necessarily say the same things if they were standing right there. Well, maybe in some ideal world of the Very Nice People, you wouldn't say anything behind people's backs that you wouldn't say to their faces. But we don't live there, now do we? Sometimes I go back and read some of my very old entries--written when I had no consideration for the very open nature of the internet, and written about people I didn't know terribly well at the time but with whom I've since become good friends --and I cringe. How could I say that? How could I post that? It's like looking at school pictures of yourself from the seventh grade, with your poodle perm in a side ponytail, turquoise capri leggings, braces gleaming in the photographers flash, and you just wonder how you could have possibly not known that was all just a very bad idea. Anyway, live and learn. * * * I spent most of yesterday morning still wringing the booze from my brain. It's not even like I drank that much, it's just that I'm a total pansy and there was barely any food in my belly to sop it up. At least I don't do the Asian Flush thing, glowing like a little pink light bulb after downing half a beer, broadcasting my inebriation to the world. Instead, I keep that knowledge to myself, like a little vertiginous secret. In the afternoon, we piled in the car and drove over to Brooklyn, to see Dave's new apartment and drop off his housewarming gift. (Somewhat insider knowledge: while eating burritos on the streets of Park Slope, we bumped into Pavani, taking her bike to the shop. Hello Pavani, and friends of Pavani! I swear, I bump into her at the most random times. I think the last time our paths crossed, I was walking crosstown to meet some friends, and she called out to me from the curb in the middle of parallel parking her car. Weird.) Anyway, Dave's housewarming gift was a microwave. We felt this was a primo gift for a swingin' single gent in his first post-med school apartment, and Joe, who had been Dave's roommate for two years (before I assumed that responsibility), and who had helped Dave move into said apartment last weekend, was certain that Dave did not have a microwave. Toaster oven, yes. Microwave no. So we went to Kmart to pick one up, and lugged all 35 pounds of it home on the subway. (OK, Joe lugged it, but I held the doors open for him.) So anyway, yesterday, we drop off the microwave. Dave's all polite, like, "Wow, thanks guys, this'll really do a doozy on popcorn," but all quiet and shifty-eyed. I'm looking at his kitchen, and am saying something like, "Gee, I'm really glad that we got a white microwave, because it looks like it'll match your kitchen." His kitchen is all white counters and cupboards and appliances. Everything is white...except for the big black microwave affixed to the wall across from the sink. MICHELLE You said he didn't have a microwave! JOE I know he didn't buy one! MICHELLE It came with the apartment! JOE I didn't see it! MICHELLE Not even when you helped him move in? JOE No! Gah! MICHELLE Gah! So now we have to return the microwave. Dave says that he needs floor lamps in his place, so maybe we'll exchange the microwaves for a couple of halogens or something, but it just doesn't have the same kind of flair, gift-wise. We should have gotten him the RonCo Showtime Rotisserie Grill. * * * Tomorrow is Class Day, a ceremony the day before graduation that they devised to debulk graduation day itself, when they give out student awards and our Teacher of the Year speaks to us, dispensing all manner of sage advice. I'm sure, like in college, that I'm not up to get any sort of award (my academic history is characterized not by being particularly gifted in any one subject, rather by being rather mediocre in all of them), but there's no way we're going to miss the ceremony, because Dr. Garvey is our speaker, and she is my hero. Then, as Joe's parents are in town, we'll probably go out to dinner. I'm pushing for City Crab, because I want another shot at tearing apart that lobster with my bare hands. It's definitely not a first date kind of meal, because it's on the messy side, so I'm not sure if it's the ideal in-laws kind of meal, but they're fun people, so we'll see if they go for it. Finally, a Cooper update: she chewed off her own wart! Or pustule! Or whatever it was, she chewed it off. Just like the guy who sawed off his own arm after it got caught under a rock. Thanks for saving us the vet bill, Coop! xo Michelle |
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