A Resurrection, of Sorts

Hey, how's it going? Let's just pretend like I didn't go an entire year without posting, alright? I'll give you a quick rundown of my 2014 (and the tail end of 2013). Here goes: applied to med school, started dating, got accepted to med school, months of just working, went to India, quit job, moved to Birmingham, started med school, got engaged, kept going to med school, got married, back in med school. And that's about it. I have nothing really new to tell you. I just decided to start writing again because I often get bogged down and I think, "Man, I need to write." And then I think, "You know, you don't have to keep saying, 'Man, I need to write.' You could just write." And finally I thought, "Hey, you're right, I'm just gonna write." Are we tracking? Good. If you are reading this, I assume you are either a much more faithful reader than I thought I had or, more likely, you accidentally clicked my link instead of that link about Kanye West at the Grammys. If you are a faithful reader, I thank you for staying with me. If you accidentally clicked the link, I thank you for having poor hand-eye coordination. I hope you will join my other ten (10) followers and bear with me through this. As a thank you for anyone unfortunate enough to be reading this, I'll leave you with this little bit that I just decided to write, just for you.

Worried Will was walking West,
vigorously vexed and in distress.
He'd seen the sun surmount the sky,
and worriedly wondered, "Why, oh why?
Now I know it's nearing noon,
the sun's shine will be stopping soon."
He beat his breast like some brute beast,
and eagerly exited from the East.
For he loved the land's bright light,
but he neglected nebulous night.
He dreamt of daylight's darling dress,
so worried Will was walking West.

Some Thoughts

I told myself I would wait. You can't just write about the application process if you're not accepted anywhere! I mean, I'm not that superstitious, but come on. But I've decided to write about it anyway, even though I haven't--wait, yes I have. I've been accepted to med school! OK, there's my moment of celebration, now onto the fun stuff. Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, wizards and muggles alike, elves, dwarves, dragons, cyborgs, mutants, Caleb Osborne Productions proudly presents:




Thoughts on the Med School Admissions Process.

• The MCAT is stupid. If I had a gun with two bullets and I was in a room with Hitler, Bin Laden, and the MCAT, I would shoot the MCAT twice. This one test somehow had the power to be the bane of my existence for 7 months. First, it was just the annoyance of studying FOR ONE TEST 4-5 hours a day, 5 days a week. Then, it was the agony of waiting for results. 35 days to get the results of an entirely computerized, multiple-choice test. Let that sink in for a moment. Then, it was the thought that my low (ok, average) score would keep me out of a school. But now I know I never have to take it again! I had several people, when I said I was disappointed with my score, ask why I didn't just take it again? Surely I would do better next time, right? I would audibly say something like "Maybe. Hopefully I won't have to," but inside I was laughing and saying...

But now the MCAT is forever behind me. Here's a poem I wrote* to commemorate the occasion.


"MCAT be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
...
The MCAT is no more; MCAT, thou shalt die."
       * ellipsis added for your convenience. We all know you weren't going to read the whole thing. Also,              ellipsis added because there are actually no more line to the poem I (sort of) wrote. It was intended for          humorous purposes only.

• The timeline of applying is dreadful. I would say it's like a roller coaster with all the emotional highs and lows, except there are no highs. It's like the carts that travel through the depths of Gringott's: lows and lower lows. There is the studying for the MCAT (see above, in case you decided to just skip here for some reason), then the waiting for results and filling out AMCAS, then waiting.

Then there are secondaries all coming in at once, and a mad rush to get all these essays done in time to seem like an organized, Johnny-on-the-spot type of person that yes, sir, you would indeed love to have as a part of your medical school. Why should we pick you, why would you pick us, what's your favorite color, what experiences do you have with Native American culture, why do you want to live in West Virginia, why do you want to live in Louisiana, how will you help rural communiies, how will you help urban communities, wait, what was your name again????? Then you wait.




























And you wait.




































And then (hopefully) interviews.












































And maybe, just maybe, an acceptance (or multiple? Who knows? Come on, Wake Forest!)
. And that's the process.
But really, what you need to know is this:

       the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light,
       and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death,
       on them a light has dawned. (Matthew 4:16 ESV)

I've just realized that I ran out of steam halfway through this post. I apologize if you lost interest halfway. I'm surprised if you maintained interest even to halfway. God is good, but even better, God is God, and that is not dependent on any scores or acceptances or rejections or career path. May we always be mindful of the gifts he has given us, and wise to use them for the advancement of His kingdom. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Here are a few I wrote today. Nothing special. Enjoy.

"College Acceptance"

The mail! The mail! It's finally arrived!
The moment of truth is here, it's now, the moment of my life!

They said 3 weeks, but it's actually been 24 days, 17 hours.
But it's here now, all is forgiven, my mood is far from sour.

What a moment, what a joy, the college of my dreams! 
We were a match made in Heaven, the perfect pair, it seems.

Volunteer work and leadership roles, top of my class in school.
All that hard work, now I can attend this very prestigious school.

The interviews came and I wowed with my charm, I knew they couldn't say no.
I could see myself ten years down the road, doctor or lawyer or CEO.

I tear open the envelope, unfold the letter for a view.
 I take a deep breath and read, "Dear Applicant: We regret to inform you..."

Wait, what did that line just say?! Surely not what I think!
My eyes must be playing tricks on me, so I blink and blink and blink.....

But I open my eyes and the words are still there,
it was almost too much to bear.
I couldn't believe the choice they had made, 
my dreams of glory began to fade:
Rejection, clear as day.
I stand up straight and say in a loud voice, 
"Good thing this wasn't my first choice.
This school's certainly not for me,
there are bigger fish in the sea,
I didn't want to go there anyway."

"Couplet"

This couplet's artistic and edgy because
it doesn't rhyme.

"Limerick"

There once was a man in Hades
who had asked permission to sneeze.
The devil said no,
but still he let blow,
and gave Hell a refreshing breeze.

Everybody Dies, But Not Everyone Lives

The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

My sister's birthday is today. We should be around the table, singing poorly and eating cake and taking pictures. But we're not doing any of those things, because my sister hasn't aged a day in over 7 years now. Even typing it now, it seems wrong. 7 years? No, that can't be right. But indeed it is. It has been over 7 years since Rachel left this world. 7 years of no singing, 7 years of no cake, 7 years of no pictures. It's hard to believe that much time has passed in such a hurry. I remember waking up, astonished to discover that Life, in its great apathy, had decided to go on without her. Surely Time would stop at least for a while to grieve? But it did not. It just continued marching, eyes ahead, while we were left behind to go about our own business. That was the day that I learned, not just in theory but in practice, that Life goes on. It's such a simple concept, isn't it? Life goes on. But we always, at one point or another, expect it to make an exception, just this once. It never does. It's odd how life now is, in essence, exactly the way it was before. I never saw that coming. I just knew that I would live forever with a leaden heart, heavy every hour of every day. But I have not. Life, as it is wont to do, went on. The pain has not necessarily subsided. At times, such as today, I feel it as fresh as ever, tearing again what I had so carefully mended. But I have learned that Life goes on. I miss Rachel very much. I still grieve for her. Well, really, I grieve for me. She is far better off now, there is no need to grieve for her. My grief is a selfish one, as I grieve for all the jokes I'll never hear her tell, all the smiles I'll never see her smile, all the laughs I'll never hear her laugh, all the sorrows I'll never hear her share. But Life goes on. Rachel loved Life, and she lived the one on earth as well as she knew how. In moving on, I acknowledge that she is gone for now, but I also know that she would find joy in my joys, sadness in my tears, and just maybe, laughter in my crappy jokes. She is gone, yes, but she still lingers, like after the pianist has left the room but you could swear you still hear that last note hanging in the air. As I live my life, I am experiencing things Rachel never got to experience, and going places she never went. It is odd, being older than my older sister. But today, I celebrate her Life. Not just the one I grieve for, but the one that Death has already tried and failed to steal from her. More than just her smile or her laughter, I am thankful for her (eternal) Life, and today, that is what I celebrate, for if there's one thing that Life has taught me, it's that it goes on.

Hey, how's it going? Long time, no see. Let's just pretend we're still friends, act like nothing happened, ok? So anyways, here goes. Let's start out with a little story. When I was 3 or 4ish, my dad offered me some ice cream. Being the trusting little child that I was, I eagerly accepted, took the biggest spoonful I possibly could, gobbled it up, and instantly realized something had gone amiss. Instead of the smooth, sweet vanilla flavor I had come to expect from ice cream, I was met with a harsh, sour taste...and then my dad started laughing. My poor little head couldn't quite figure anything out... eww what is this why doesn't it taste good eww why is daddy laughing this is bad can i spit it out whats going on????? It was around this point in life that I suddenly realized things are not always as they seem, and careful discernment must be used (also, that my dad and I share a sense of humor, though at the time I didn't think it was very funny. If you ever hear me voice any sort of cynical statement, blame my dad and his little joke. The world is not to be trusted). I also realized that I did not care much for sour cream. I tell you that little gem to lead into this... 
   But Jesus called them to him, saying, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder              them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly, I say to you, whoever does not                receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it." (Luke 18:16,17 ESV). 
I have heard people say before that there is nothing better than "a child being saved," and I agree that a young person coming to accept the love of Jesus is a beautiful, remarkable thing. However, yesterday I saw a 46-year-old woman get baptized. While I'm not generally much of a sentimentalist, I'll admit I did tear up a little get something in my eye watching it, and I'll tell you why. At the church I attend, before every baptism, the pastor reads a "statement of faith" that the new Christian has written. And yes, the statements written by second graders are adorable. They are full of "Jesus loves me, and I love Jesus" and "I prayed and felt better" and such. But this woman's statement caught me. The last sentence, in particular. "I am 46 years old... and I stand before you today, amazed and undeserving of the love of Jesus Christ." See, for a child, it is easy. You tell a child something, and they believe you. But this woman is no child. She has lived life. She doesn't have to be told that it's not all ice cream out there. She knows life is hard, and she knows that prayer isn't a magic trick, and she knows what it's like to have dreams and doubts and joy and trouble and ecstasy and pain and love and heartbreak. And she knows what it's like to feel and accept grace. She has seen and felt the hardships and pleasures of the world, and she has decided that the love of Christ is better than any of it. She has overcome 46 years of mistrust and insecurity to come like a child, arms open wide to accept the love of Christ. And that is one of the more remarkable things I have ever seen. 


p.s. - not too long ago, I gave one of my sisters Biofreeze (think IcyHot) and told her it was roll-on deodorant. And I have to admit, standing on this side of things, it was pretty darn funny.

Eat mor hate

Though I generally try to avoid being serious at all costs, humor me for a moment here. No, not that sort of humor. There will be none of that today. And besides, that joke is so old. Today is all serious. Sort of. Maybe not entirely. But I digress. In order to progress. So, there's this little company called Chik-fil-A that makes the greatest chicken sandwiches in the known universe (and, more than likely, in all the unknown universes as well). There's a situation, I won't waste my time explaining, I'll just assume you know (you know what they say happens when you assume, but I can safely assume that won't happen here). (I love parentheses). Anyways, the 2 most common words I've heard/read to define CEO Dan Cathy are "hate-monger" and "homophobe." This is the issue I wish to address. Stay with me here for a minute - let's assume I'm taking a written test in school. I'm expected to correctly answer the questions asked, right? So how do i know what the answers are? Easy - I know what is correct based on an objective reality (i.e. textbook,lecture notes). If the textbook says it, it's correct. Now, if I take a test and answer questions incorrectly, do I accuse the teacher of being a hate-monger? How dare he/she (we must be politically correct and gender neutral, you know) tell me I'm wrong for answering with what I thought was correct?!? Am I not entitled to believe what I will? This teacher hates everyone who believes that electrons have a positive charge!!! Now, I think we would all agree that accusation would be absurd. Electrons do not have a positive charge, and anyone who believes they do is flat-out wrong. The teacher probably has nothing against them personally, they're just not right. Now, let's transfer this thought into the current Chik-fil-A situation, as well as all the times Christians are referred to as judgmental, which is quite often. Though the current issue is homosexuality, it can be applied to anything the Bible takes a stance on. If Dan Cathy (or anyone who claims to be a follower of Christ) states that homosexuality is wrong, where is he getting that idea? Is it because he's straight and gay people creep him out? Is it because he's already got his marriage rights locked down, and he's so elitist he wants to deny that right to anyone fighting for it? No, it clearly must be because he's terrified gay people will take over the world with their flamboyant pants and their techno glitter parties (take a joke, people). Sadly, these ideas do not seem absurd to many people, as I intended them to be. This is actually what people think is going through Dan Cathy's head. However, his beliefs are actually based on one thing he believes to be objective reality - the Bible. Now, I am not here to convince you that the Bible is an objective reality (though I believe it is), or to explain to you why I agree with Mr. Cathy (I do), but to explain one simple fact - calling a person a homophobe and a hate-monger and judgmental for their belief in an objective reality is, quite frankly, hateful and judgmental. Mr. Cathy, in essence, stated that electrons have a negative charge. The textbook says so. Why is it any less absurd to claim hate from him than it is to claim hate from the teacher with the red pen?

A Jabberwock? Really?

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!"
- or something to that effect.
I half-listened to the cautions
he would always interject.


The old man, I'm sure, is senile -
a bit paranoid, you see.
Always shouting of the horrors
that would somehow befall me.


Today, it's the Jabberwock that has
some evil plan to hatch.
Last week it was a JooJoo bird,
or some frumious Sanderbatch.


The old man's claims didn't scare me;
a man in the prime of my youth.
That these creatures even existed
there wasn't a shred of proof.


Besides, he didn't understand
the power of the vorpal sword -
with the hilt of it in my hand,
foes were nothing but a bore.


So off I went in search of food,
walking easily as could be.
I set the snares then sat to think
beneath the Tumtum tree.


Suddenly a horrendous burbling
came crashing through the woods.
I'd never heard anything like it,
but I knew it couldn't be good.


Eyes of fire! Claws of steel!
House-sized leather wings!
My heart pounded as I pondered
the challenge he would bring.


I feinted right, he called my bluff
and caught me on the shoulder.
The pain, far from holding me back,
served only to make me bolder.


No greater foe have I ever fought,
each time I slashed he came right back -
until, with a final effort,
my blade went snicker-snack!


The beast was dead, I had his head
held proudly in my hand - 
never again will I fail to heed
the warnings of that wise old man.