The Finite

So I’ve tried to put on a brave face and stay positive, but I’d be lying if I claim to not have noticed any cracks in the facade. It’s kind of really discouraging watching all my friends go off and move the industry forward, or if not that, get paid gobs of money, while I’m here in my underwear at 2PM.

Let me clarify: I’m wearing other clothes, too. It’s been getting colder unfortunately. Which is SADdening. Made worse because I’m already baseline bummed.

Then I got the student loans hovering over my head and the first grace period expiring in November. So… yeesh. That’s a part of the reason I’m selling anything I can’t find a use for. But mostly its the aforementioned Transcendentalist life-marrow-sucking reasons.

What I want right now is a job that won’t break me. That won’t push me off the edge into cynicism. I didn’t cross the ocean and do all I did so that I could come back here and be a part of the problem with this nation’s healthcare. The people I met over there were the best kind of health professionals. They did what they did with no expectation of compensation, nothing but compassion to drive them. It’s what health care should ideally be. It keeps you human. You are not just a cog in a machine. You are a positive force in society. Espousing the scientific triumphs of medical science to assuage the suffering of your fellow man.

And the backup plan? Well, if no one’s going to hire me. Uh… Air Force. Three branches of the military need pharmacists and there’s less running in PT for the AF. And, hey. Free Lasik. I only have to give up a few years of my life.

At least I got the Hilly Hundred coming up to cheer me up. It’ll be good to see old Purdue friends again. And possibly die with them.

Things I learned:

• The Teal bus is not evil.
• Cravings is the oddly named awesome Chinese food place.
• Fat Company™ sandwiches should be federally mandated to be sold in every state, province and territory.
• Korean burritos are the best thing to happen to tofu since oyster sauce.
• Rice Garden sucks (and this isn’t at all because my cashier greeted me with “Hola”).

My days are spent in JY, Neal and Patrick’s apartment and my nights are spent at Schmitz, Kwiatek’s and David and Anna’s house. That is not including the afternoons in the UG library trying to un-re-un-learn the stats material that my new professor has hopelessly muddled.

I’m trying to catch up on my movies and TV shows in the evening. (There’s too much sex in this House! This is an anti-dramatic season premiere!) Between wildly boring classes and sampling the local dining, I’m also attempting to get as much done as possible before the upcoming “Hell week” once I return to Purdue.

I see everyone after literally years, and everyone is different, yet more or less the same. They look and act the same and have the same haircuts and flat feet (+1 beard). But we’re all more “mature” now, which means we can hold onto our liquor better and since we’re also mostly 21, we can actually hold onto and accumulate liquor. And I suppose we’re all closer to adulthood with our over-caffeinated, hard-studying, popcorn fueled lifestyles. I know this doesn’t need repeating, but high school was a long time ago.

And now some of us perch on the cusp of the real world; 40% of the math team is graduating in May. The Fellowship of the Scholastic Bowl team will soon be broken and scattered across the state, maybe across the country.

I will not visit the Schol Bowl again. I can’t. There will be nothing left to see.