Don't know nothing

The inpatient psych hospital is located on Hellman Ave. God, please don't let that be foreshadowing.

The higher-ups in our psych department apparently decided that it would be best if everyone was paired with someone else on each rotation. Makes sense. You don't want to be the lone psych resident on pediatrics. Or in the neuro ICU. Especially in the neuro ICU. So having a friendly face roaming the halls, to wave to while rounding with the other team? It's good for support, and it's good for morale. And it's good to have someone to run to when you're not quite sure if your patient is floridly psychotic or delirious, sun-downing, and just plain old old. Because even though I'm basically just a glorified fourth year med student, people seem to expect that we know everything psychiatry. So yes. Co-interns on the same rotation? That rocks.

Max is my partner in crime.

It's just...those same upper-ups decided that we would have the same co-intern for the entire year. For every rotation. For every month. You can imagine how horrified I was when I found out about this plan. I mean, it could be bad. Really bad.

Luckily for me, Max seems like a pretty awesome person. He's laid back, funny, and just a little bit clueless. All right, fine. He's a lot bit clueless.

Case in point, we had drinks with the attending who interviewed us during our departmental happy hour -- 

ATTENDING

I'm so glad that the two students I recruited ended up coming to our program!!

MAX

You mean you actually wanted us? And we weren't just one spot above scrambles?

ATTENDING

Of course! I mean, I figured it'd be better to have you two yoohoos than some random unknowns that I've never met in my life.

ME

That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

ATTENDING

But you guys have to know that I kinda have a bad reputation with the admissions committee. So you guys need to do well for me, okay? Show them that I picked some real gems this year.

MAX

What do you mean, bad reputation??

ATTENDING

Well, the last two years, the two people I'd recruited are no longer with the program. They moved on, if you will.

MAX

[genuine horror]
Oh my god! Your residents died?!?!?!

Like I said, I think it's going to be pretty entertaining. So here we go. Three months of being on the psychiatry inpatient wards. Keep your fingers crossed that I don't end up needing a 5150 of my own.

Different names for the same thing

CHRIS

Hey!

ME

Hello! You start orientation yet?

CHRIS

Yeah. It's good. I like most of us.

ME

Haha, only most of them? That's honest. 

CHRIS

Yup. How about you? You still on vacation?

ME

I start orientating tomorrow.

CHRIS

How do you feel?

ME

I am freaking out. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

CHRIS

Hahaha!

ME

[fake indignation]

Why do you laugh at my pain? At my terror?

CHRIS

Because it's not real.

ME

It IS real! I'm awkward and strange. And I give off a terrible first impression. I'm more of a grow on you kinda gal. Like fungus.

CHRIS

Nothing wrong with that. Just don't overtalk like I do when I'm nervous.

ME

Sigh. I overtalk and laugh too loudly and do awkward things with my hands.

CHRIS

No worries, it's endearing!

ME

Chris, you know 'endearing' is just the term friends and families use when they actually mean 'annoying.'

Just can't get enough

Apparently girls do not eat here in Los Angeles.

A couple of weeks ago, my parents and I went out for lunch. I decided to order the grilled cheese and tomato soup. The waitress looked at me sympathetically and commented, "one of those days, eh?" I didn't understand, so I smiled and laughed uncomfortably, "yup, a grilled cheese and tomato soup kinda day!" She came by later to check up on us, and noticed that all the fries on my plate were gone. Admittedly, I ate most of them, but my parents helped themselves to my plate too. But she looked at me, and remarked, "wow, you must be having a really bad day."

I don't think she meant any of it maliciously. She probably thought that by being personable and understanding, we'd increase how much tip we gave her at the end of the meal. Except she didn't quite seem to understand that while yes, I am a girl, I do enjoy cheese and fries.

I figured it was just that waitress.

But today! Today I got a salad from this shop frequented by all the financial district lawyers and bankers, and as I walked out the door, I realized they had forgotten to give me bread. And my dressing. So I walked back in to ask for it.

SALAD MAKER

Oh you want dressing????

ME

Yes, please.

SALAD MAKER

What kind??

ME

Um, I guess thousand island? Or honey mustard would work too right?

SALAD MAKER

Hahahaha, no. I mean, do you want light dressing or 95% fat free dressing? And how much do you want? Spritz, drizzled, or lightly tossed?

ME

Um, I can just have whatever regular dressing normally goes with my salad. And can I have the dressing on the side?

SALAD MAKER

Oh sure!

Let's be clear here - I asked for my dressing on the side so that I could go home and have my salad DUNKED in dressing if I so chose. Spritz? Drizzled? What is this craziness? Why doesn't anyone actually enjoy food in Los Angeles?! But I was super embarrassed by my love of dressing that I didn't bother asking for my delicious piece of bread. Carbohydrates, they're apparently banned in LA.

I'm gonna develop a complex. Might already have. But what can I say? I've spent the last ten years of my life in the Midwest. I'm hearty. And I eat.

The edge of glory

It's here.

Tomorrow is my first day.

My very first day.

Of work!

It's no big deal. Just gotta listen to some administrators tell us about hospital policy, learn the computer system, smile for some IDs, get a couple parking permits, become certified so that I can commit people involuntarily for 72 hours. There's no actual patient contact. And I get to wear jeans.

Like I said, no big deal.

So why the hell am I freaking out?

It's not the excited kind of freaking out. Instead of being all giddy about possibly meeting my new best friend or work husband, I am absolutely terrified. I am terrified that my program's going to realize that they shouldn't have taken me. Terrified that everyone will notice how awkward and klutzy I am. Terrified that I'm going to do something heinously wrong, run through the corridors screaming bloody murder, tripping over patient gurneys, all while completely naked. Oh wait, that's just the recurring dream that I keep having. 

So yeah, anxieties? I've got a few. 

It's like the first day of school all over again. And oh man, high school was not good to me. All the insecurities, all the braces and head gear -- but that's another story. Tomorrow, I meet the other nine psychiatry interns in my class. I meet the other fifty million residents and attendings. I meet my new home for the next three to six years, give or take a fellowship. Tomorrow's the first day of the rest of my life. And I know that phrase is as clichéd as clichés go, and is really some line you'd expect from a Selena Gomez movie, but really. Carpe dium, never say never, just keep believing, and all that other jazz, tomorrow is my first day as an adult. With responsibilities. Holy shit.

Just gotta breathe, smile, and hope that they like me. And pray desperately that they don't notice my knees shaking beneath my skirt. Or my cankles.

Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed that I don't hyperventilate and pass out in front of the entire intern class. Because that's the kind of thing that would happen to me. And while it would make for a very entertaining blog post, I don't think my psyche could recover from something like that.

Shelter

Rome wasn't built in a day, but my apartment only needed three days to put together! I am an IKEA furniture master assembler. Also, my parents are kinda amazing at using IKEA tools. Take that, screwdriver.

The doorway: So, because my apartment is next to the elevators, I have this fabulously large entryway. And I clearly needed to do something with it. Needed an area to tug on shoes, check makeup, chuck keys, and for my superstitious Asian mother, a place to put my money tree.

Continue through the hallway, pass the kitchen, and go into the living room.

I love the openness of it all! And Ami and Jean (and Gelia and Markus, hello Germany!) will notice all of my South African treasures. Including the very large canvas I hauled back from Cape Town, now framed and prominently displayed! True story, it was so large, I had to buy another suitcase in South Africa, just to bring it home.

The bathroom! Small, but cozy.

And, my favorite room of all -- my bedroom! Complete with a brand new memory foam mattress!! I love sleep.

And you might have noticed my fabulous floor-to-ceiling windows in both the living room and my bedroom. Except they aren't actually windows at all. They're doors! Leading out onto the most wonderful balcony ever.  Where I have views of Disney Hall, the Hollywood sign, LA City Hall, the Los Angeles Times, and the smog overlying the city. Because hey, it makes for great sunsets.

Trust me, it's even better in person. So come on out and visit! (I even have free guest parking!)

Follow your dreams...but what if it is a stupid dream?

Stephen Colbert speaking at Northwestern's Class of 2011 Commencement.

Come clean

After being really silly and laughing about something superficial on The Voice:

MARTIN

You're so bright and shiny. I hope you stay that way through residency. [2-second pause] But you won't...

ME

What!? Man, that's so depressing sounding. Thanks for setting me up for failure.

MARTIN

It's not your fault. [The program] is dark and grimy.

ME

Don't worry. I'll make sure I take showers.

Shut up and drive

I know why Asian women have such a reputation as bad drivers.

It's because Asian mothers beget Asian women. And Asian mothers are the ones who sit next to their Asian female offspring as they learn how to drive.

Admittedly, my mom is probably just anxious. I mean, this is the first time in twenty-six years that she hasn't been the the one in the driver seat. And I haven't quite learned how to finesse the gas pedal or the brake, so I've been unintentionally peeling off at green lights and coming to whiplash-inducing stops. Granted, I also tend to stop two car lengths behind the limit line, and then slowly inch my way forward to finally come to a jerking stop, only to look up and realize that in that amount of time, the light has turned green again. So of course, I go peeling off again.

So sure, it makes sense that she's holding on for dear life. Holding on so firmly there are now permanent marks and impressions of her fingers on the car seat.

But hey. I passed boards. I graduated from medical school. I think I'm generally a pretty smart person. So I can do this. I can learn how to drive. I mean, the DMV offers tests in Spanish! If someone who is not English proficient can get a driver's license, I damn well better be able to learn how to operate a car.

But the way my mother talks to me, you'd never know it.

MOTHER

Stop stop!! There's a car ahead!!!

ME

Mom, it's in the other lane. Going the other direction.

---

MOTHER

Slow slow slow! Slow down! Why are you going so fast!!!

ME

Mom, I'm going 50mph and trying to merge. Do you want me to come to a stop on the freeway?

---

MOTHER

Are your lights on?

ME

I think so. Doesn't that light on my dash mean that it's on?

MOTHER

I think you need to click the lights once more.

---

I then proceeded to drive with my brights on for the rest of the night.

The best part of all this? My driving instructor yelled at me a couple of days later, and told me I wasn't allowed to drive with anyone but him, because I was picking up all these bad habits and wrong ways of driving. For example, did you know that you're not supposed to slow down when merging? You're merging lanes, I thought you had to slow down! But no. And also, did you know that when you're doing traffic checks as you cross intersections, you're not supposed to slow down so you can look both ways? Apparently, you're just supposed to keep going at 45mph as you crane your head 180 degrees. Who knew? Thanks, mom.

But you know what, regardless of all that, I gotta say that I kinda love driving. And when my Asian mother isn't yelling at me to slow down or stop, it's kinda really relaxing and wonderful.

I know. No posts in over a week, and the last one was a lame excuse of a South African Idol. What the hell have I been doing?? Well:

1. Learning how to drive like a crazy Asian lady. I am the stereotype. And I fully own it.

2. Failing the driving test at the DMV because I am a crazy Asian lady driver. But also because I didn't want to run over any pedestrians. Who knew? Apparently you're not supposed to yield to pedestrians when they're walking against the light. Thanks DMV. Cue NBC ping. "The more you know."

3. Psychiatry-ing my way into passing my next attempt the very next day.

4. Driving between LA and Diamond Bar to move my fifty million boxes.

5. Moving into my gorgeous new apartment and assembling all my furniture on my own. Without the help of assembly instructions (seriously, it doesn't help if the instructions aren't in ENGLISH). But it's all good. Things might be lopsided and drawers might not open, but hey, it's standing. Now, question: if my couch is super comfortable, do I really need to put together my bed?

It's been a crazy two weeks, as predicted, but I am woman, hear me roar, indeed. Lots of fun posts on the way!

I hate the DMV with a vengeance.

Light up the world

I know we made fun of it a lot. But it was kinda the perfect soundtrack to a most perfect month, cheesy lyrics and introverted homeless men be damned. To my South Africa loves -- I miss you tons. I miss the chivalry, the perfect European manners, the tea, the coffee, and all the wine, and all the traditions you guys showed us uncultured American swine. You know where I've been, and you know where I'm going. Gravity pulls me, you know I can't resist you.

Lighthouse by Elvis Blue, the winner of South Africa Idol Season 6.

ELVIS BLUE "Lighthouse" from Warwick Allan on Vimeo.

But most of all -- to Jean and Ami -- I miss you girls.