Too Close for Comfort

      Tired, sleepy, and delirious. Pick from anyone of those three adjectives and you will have an equal chance at defining me correctly at this precise moment. But at least the choices are not angry, depressed, and cheated out of my forty thousand dollar tuition. That's right. The midterm went, surprisingly, well. For the past week and a half, I've been studying my ass off for this exam and now that it's finally over, I feel free and light as a feather. Temporarily forgetting that in two weeks I will have to take a final, I decided to give myself some well deserved downtime and you know what? I'm going to be productive. First, I'm going to take a well needed power-nap because of the total of five whopping hours of sleep, I was allowed the past two days. Secondly, I'm going to step foot in a place that I haven't been to in months. Let's just say after going to this place and participating with its activities for a good couple of weeks, I'll be able to fit into most of my clothes. God knows that I need to get back into them as quickly as possible. It looks as if I'm wearing the same thing everyday. I'm not going to lie, I've been wearing the same jeans for two weeks. Gross right? Think anybody noticed?
      Allow me let you in on something that happened to me this morning. It's quite amusing. I have been told by previous teachers and college professors to not study on the day before a big exam. Instead, do something to take your mind away from it. For example, go to the theaters with a couple of friends, lay back and relax, and get a good night's worth of sleep. At 4:30 in the morning, I rewarded myself with an hour and a half worth of REM-lacking dormancy. This means at precisely 6:00o'clock, I will be taking a shot of caffeine to keep me alert during the exam. It takes about an hour for the effects of coffee to start stimulating my brain so it's imperative that I have it at about that particular time. Two alarms went off, I rose from my bed, walked over, and beat them to death. Then, I laid back in bed. Next thing I know, I wake up at 7:21! You know when my test begins?! At 7:30AM.
      After exhausting every inappropriate swear word that I have accumulated over the years, I jammed everything I thought I needed into my string bag and ran out the door. Screw brushing my teeth, screw taking a shower, screw breakfast, screw the frappuccino in the fridge, and the belt buckle could have gone and committed leather suicide for all I cared. After parking at my college grounds about six minutes later, I sprinted to the other side of the University in under sixty seconds. After seeing a fellow classmate calmly striding to class, I realized that I had made it on time. What would I have done if I woke up at 8:00, morning or evening? Do you know how that would have destroyed me? No make up tests are allowed for excuses such as, "I'm sorry, I woke up late because I haven't slept like a normal human being for the last week and a half". This kind of sleep schedule is very much expected for us students. If I learned one thing from this whole experience it is this: If you're awake that early in the morning and you have a test in three hours, don't f%$^ing go to sleep.

It's almost here

      I will not be writing much today because  my first Drug and Diseases Midterm Exam will be upon me at 7:30AM sharp tomorrow. I've been studying a lot and I hope all those hours work in my favor. It's definitely a lot of information to retain and I'm sure that I'm going to forget half of it after the exams are all collected. Right now, I'm going to be reviewing everything and drawing countless medicinal structures until they are chiseled into my brain. It looks like it's going to be another all-nighter but never fear, I took a powernap to keep my system in check and able withstand the important hours ahead. Then there's always the Dunkin' Donuts at the end of the street that I will be visiting once my body starts flipping the gratuitous middle finger at my mind. Caffeine, hands down, the greatest of mankind's discoveries and the best of friends to the late night academic.

168th and 77th

Some people call this place home,
Others, just another street.
The name itself is certainly nothing special,
but it is always the first to greet.

It is lined with colored camouflaged trees,
those that seem to be reaching to touch a treasured face.
What a complexion it must have been,
to have accepted to be eternally frozen in place.

Lively voices of little ones sound from the topmost window,
towards their father who just came home.
There it is, a moment savored,
as he will soon be holding his very own flesh and bone.

Turning the corner, I silently bid farewell to 168th and 77th.
I won't walk another path as unselfish as you.
To the open-minded you ceaselessly provide
and even in unkempt shambles, stay true.

Crutch Thoughts

      During my hour ride to "the basement", I was pondering about what it was that I'm going to be writing about today. (Just for future reference, "the basement" will refer to where I live while I'm at college.) So the brainstorming began. Am I going to write about a possible string of all-nighters before the exam? Do I want to even bring up the topic of school? Should I have taken a nap before I started driving? Why is that fool honking at me? Does it look like another rant? Five minutes of this and I had enough. I decided that there will be no more rants about how hard college is or how unmerciful professors can be, simply, because the more I talk about it, the more I will believe it. 

      The more I thought about the coming exam, the more nervous and doubtful I became. So I tried something different. I started digging through my available consciousness to find memories that pushed me to feel peace and hopeful. I started recollecting times I spent with my parents but the only ones I can firmly hold on to, for longer than thirty seconds, are those of verbal fights and empty conversations. Next on the list were the memories of close friends, but even they don't know me for who I am, so their memories are half-hearted. Memories of a past life in high school only brings to mind incomplete actions and fake personalities. So which ones do I turn to? 

      Incidentally, those memories the I find refuge in, are part of events that hurt me the most. Some of you may understand the following sentences but some of you may not. I look to memories of past loves and relationships. Don't worry, I'm at a point where I could look back at these memories and feel nothing for these women. At times, the images of them laughing, smiling, and enjoying themselves makes me feel as if I was doing something right. I believed for those brief months that there was something in me that no one else can provide. Snapshots of held hands, walked paths, and bent grass flood into my mind when I allow them. Yet, replaying times such as these hold a price. I am allowed one steady minute of satisfying images at the fee of  remembering disappointing climaxes. Unfortunately, none of these relationships ended the way I wanted them to, for reasons understandable and some just plain inadequate.

      These are my crutch thoughts. Although they come with restrictions and boundaries, I believe them to be necessary when my mind is in distress. Try isolating yours. They will prove to be an convenient tool of support, just in case you're stuck by your lonesome, with a heavy mind, and in an area where technological devices fail your cause. My advice to you is to try recalling something other than failed relationships. Things will be easier that way. 

Wednesday the Fourteenth

      I know about two hundred students who are exponentially increasing in anxiety as each day comes to an end. Coincidentally, you can count me as one of those students. No, it's not because of either the half-empty threats of the nearing apocalypse or the possibilities of another brutal act of terrorism. The problem is Wednesday the Fourteenth. Curious as to what happens to us students on this particular date at 7:30 in the morning? Listen closely. At this time, renown professors and the doctoral elite of the university gather sleep deprived, fast food-filled, memorized-knowledge-vomiting machines into an auditorium. Here, these students spend the next two hours prying their brains open to complete fifty life-numbing questions. Yes, I know I'm exaggerating a little bit but only by a little.
      Students that came before me warned that the fourth year of the program would be the likes of one I never faced before. Within the first few days of the new school year, I experienced exactly what they were going on about. The Drugs and Diseases Midterm is standing on my doorstep ready to rap furiously at the pathetic barrier in front of it. Isn't it too soon to be having a midterm? It's certainly, not a wrong question to ask but it is a futile question. It will happen, whether I like it or not, on Wednesday the Fourteenth.
      This semester I will be taking three midterms and three finals. Doesn't sound so bad right? Well that's because those exams are contained within one course, Drugs and Diseases. I have five more courses, each with it's own midterm and final. Blew your mind yet? It's something all the graduates before me had to go through. It's only fair that I have to experience it as well. I have been doing pretty well with staying on the same page with the coursework and lecture materials but it feels like no matter how many things I cross away from my list of assignments it's no use. My agenda book is swelling by the minute with projects, group tasks, and projected dates for concussion dealing exams. As we speak, I'm racing to finish off the last of my "never-ending" readings so I could, finally, dive into previous lectures on Medicinal Chemistry.
      Prioritize. I hate the word. Although I should be spending time within the chaos that is Structural Resonance and Mechanism of Action, I'm bombarded with coursework of my other classes. It looks like I'll just have make do with the phrase, "Tough Love." You know what the funny thing is? If I was a Liberal Arts major, this would have been my senior year of college. I would have been a young mind ready to be thrust out into the "real world". Yet next year, you'll find me in a lab somewhere creating assays of drug compounds. Neat huh?

Apollo 18

      I seem to have pulled up to a labyrinthine "fork" in the road. Of course, physically, a crossroad seems to be much too simple to be considered a maze-like experience but when referring to one's resulting mental duress, it is nothing short of one. I am trying to determine whether I want to do one of two things. Should I talk about the jellyfish-shaped cloud structures that were aimlessly floating in the sky? Or, should I help you out in your quest for the perfect movie? Such a difficult choice! Actually, it's a no brainer. I only wrote this paragraph...Yes! You guessed it...to use the word "labyrinthine". 
      Who's up for a movie that will keep you gripped to the edge of your seat and strained with suspicion all the way till the end credits? Well, you won't do either one watching Gonzalo López-Gallego's "Apollo 18". I had to be blunt because I was given no other choice. Gallego hails from Madrid, Spain, and has racked up multiple Movie Festival awards and nominations for his movies: 2001-"Nomadas", 2003-"Sobre el Arco Iris", and finally his 2007-"El Rey de la Montana." Unfortunately, it looks as if this time around, he's going to be walking home empty handed.

      "Apollo 18" was an "account" of the experiences of two cosmonauts who found themselves questioning their purpose in a lunar mission. The word account was placed in parentheses due of the awkward style of shooting that was introduced into this film. At first, I believed that I was participating in a documentary-like production, however; minutes into the movie, documentary melted into what became an "account". The movie was basically a conglomeration of many different angled video recordings of the two astronauts and their surrounding area. To tell the truth, a large portion of the movie was just interference that these two characters faced in both their telecom and visual systems. In other words, I was staring at either a black screen or static. Not much to see there. 
      I firmly believe the film would have been better off and more believable if only one or two focal points were used. That's my two cents. Take it or leave it.  Aside from the director's style, the film was very straightforward. Prior to entering the theater, please check your brain at the appropriate counter. All the answers to any questions that arose were answered almost immediately, allowing the viewer to easily predict both the plot and the ending. However, if you are a person who likes a flick that attracts your attention only fifteen minutes before the cast names starts scrolling, then by all means, watch this movie. I found myself finally interested to what was happening on the screen only to find that there wasn't enough time for something well thought out to happen. Would I watch this movie again? Not even the slightest chance. Even though the movie was only about an hour long, it was approximately forty five minutes of absolute boredom. With that time, I could have done three extended Extemporaneous Compounding problems. I would have hated every minute of it but at least I would have been satisfied after I completed them.

India Day 13 Photos!

      The following photos were those taken during six hours that I will never forget. Most of the lasting  memories that I had collected during this trip originated from these moments. To give you some background information, six hours refers to the duration of a cruise. We traveled to, bear with me here, "Kumarakom Lake Resort", where we rented out a houseboat. There are no limits in this houseboat. One is able to do anything. You want to cool off and take a dive in a pool? You can...into the lake, but the driver's not going to wait for you though. So bad idea. But that aside, you could do anything else. I loved spending these next couple of moments with those that were dear to me.

 This was, undoubtedly, my favorite shot of this whole trip. After taking this, I wasn't able to feel anything else but accomplished. It's no likely that I'll be able to another one that has such aesthetic attraction. 

This is a derivative of a houseboat that we found ourselves cruising in. Who else but me will use the word "derivative" when talking about a "hugeish" transport vehicle? Looks like the studying is paying off.

At this point, I was sitting on the back of a moving "golf-cart" like automobile, taking a tour of the resort. It was difficult to take a good photo due to the cart's choppy movement. But this one seems passable.

All of the houses built within the resort all are of the same imperial structure. Surely, there wasn't any shortage of the land's natural beauty residing here. Actually, if you think about it, the whole resort was flooded with it. Harharhar.

Anyone up for a dive? That the water may seem inviting enough but I'm also positive that there are  probably seventy four different undiscovered species of man-eating aquatic vertebrates down there waiting for you.

The bow of the houseboat. I hope I have the terminology right. What are the car tires for, you may ask? If they're used for emergency extractions, I'll be a little concerned. But I forgot to ask so the answer to your question is strictly up to the whims of your creative mind.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the original creator of this shot. It was my fifteen year old cousin, who was playing around with my cameras, taking pictures of anything that had color to them. The little boy struck gold with this one. The hours flew past us while we sat down and played a few lively games of cards.

To finish off the day, we submerged our feet into the cool sand overlooking the sunset. Such natural beauty will elude my eyes for the next couple of days because I found myself in bed dealing with a nasty cold.