I began this incarnation of the weblog with the expressed intention of remaining as anonymous as possible, both for its own sake and for the sake of my future career as a professional. Appropriately, I have been tagged by those crazy Canucks of the bayblab to divulge parts of my life story and, insofar as doing so will completely negate these efforts, I have decided to expand upon some of the snippets about me on the About page of this site (look up) and offer up some other such miscellany.

First, The Rules.

1. I have to post The Rules before I give you the facts.
2. I start with eight random facts/habits about myself.
3. As I have been tagged, I need to write my own blog about my eight things and post The Rules.
4. At the end of my blog, I need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. I mustn’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read my blog.

I’ve never been one to follow The Rules too closely, so unfortunately I’ll be breaking most of these as well.

Let’s begin.

1.
When I was a wee munchkin, I received a pair of rollerblades for my birthday after a drawn-out campaign to all my friends, whom I instructed to tell their mothers to tell my mother that I wanted them. I don’t recall ever telling her that directly, but in retrospect that would have been easier. In any case, the campaign worked, and I was instantly the coolest person around. Rollerblades were quite new back then, and given that I’d never encountered a fellow owner of rollerblades in my town, I immediately concluded that I had to be the first person to possess rollerblades probably on the planet.

In due time, I became quite adept at skating around, once challenging a friend to a race down a large hill in my town on his bike. This was a monumental challenge; who would stand a chance? Given those stakes, the race drew large crowds of elementary-aged onlookers excited by the possibility that some kid on rollerblades could beat another on a bike. (In reality, it was maybe 9 of our usual gang of friends, but honestly, back then, there were so many people there.) Shortly after beating him by a nose, making me a town hero for approximately 15 seconds until I ran into a tree on account of having had severely worn-down breaks, and also on account of the fact that no one really cared in the first place, I decided that yes, professional rollerblading was my calling. The race outcome was merely confirmation of this.

Unfortunately, I ended up in medical school and now graduate school. Where did I go wrong?

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2.
In college, after being merely a fan of the art for two years, I decided to audition for an a cappella group on campus just before my junior year got underway. I somehow made it in, and it was one of the best experiences of my life.

At various points throughout the academic year, we’d put on large concerts attended by actual large crowds of people, which required large advertising efforts on the part of the group collectively. After a while, the typical poster could only go so far, even in all its various forms: bigger sheet sizes, colors, large fonts, block fonts, humor, simple and informative, covering 100% of some corkboards at the expense of every other groups’ posters, posted in weird locales like ceilings and floors and urinals and statues and coffeeshops. It just wasn’t getting the job done.

Logically, we opted to take the next step up: We’d employ fruit costumes. For audition recruiting purposes during a campuswide, all-student-group recruiting event, we went with the grapes, which was nothing more than a purple felt outfit with purple felt-covered styrofoam balls sewn to it. Not a good choice for a late summer midday in central Illinois. During subsequent events, we sometimes went with the banana, and when we really needed attention, we had both the banana and the grapes on hand. There’s just something about a banana and a bunch of grapes walking down the street and doing somersaults that makes people yearn for a cappella.

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3.
My father is an esteemed surgeon at the school I attend. He went to medical school and was a resident and fellow here, and trained here under his uncle-surgeon, who was also highly regarded and respected. I fear I will never abandon the notion in the back of my head that these are the only merits upon which I was accepted. Thankfully, no one here who knows about these familial relationships has ever so much as alluded to it, not even people I know quite well on the admissions committee, which is constantly reassuring.

My lab is perhaps 100 yards from his office now, which lies in a gorgeous suite of surgical offices where the secretary population rivals that of the surgeons themselves. I visit him much too infrequently.

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4.
Once, while in college, I decided to go as Mr. Peepers for Halloween. (Mr. Peepers, for those unfamiliar, was a popular character in Saturday Night Live skits several years ago played by Chris Kattan. Go here, here, and here for a more thorough background.) During rehearsal for the a cappella group that night, we pretty much were incapable of getting anything done; everyone was laughing at each others’ costumes. In an effort to get us back on track, our director turned off the lights so we could settle down a bit. That didn’t work—he was wearing glow in the dark hair.

Afterward, we all went to a bar on campus, and in order to maintain costume integrity, I humped various things like bar stools and peoples’ food. When a guy dressed as a nun walked in, he immediately became the next target, and everyone shared a hearty chuckle. Then he she humped me, I think.

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5.
My parents divorced when I was 4. They remarried into separate marriages three years later on July 8 (dad) and July 15 (mom). It was an interesting week. My mom divorced again in 2002.

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6.
In college, I hated research. I was a member of three different labs, all at different times, and got zero data over the collective 2-year stint. Literally, zero data, although I somehow scraped an abstract out of it. It was monotonous and unstimulating. You might imagine the shock I commanded when I announced to friends and family, after a recent 3-month-long lab experience, that I’d be pursuing a PhD during medical school. It was a shock to me, too. So far, no regrets, but I miss my old classmates enormously.

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7.
I have been to 28 states (driven through 6 others) and 11 countries (and counting).

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8.
I crack my knuckles, drink too much coffee, and eat too much junk food. I am forgetful, especially regarding laundry, cleaning, and most other things I for which I have no natural affinity. Some days I am extremely productive, and some days I do absolutely nothing. I physically cannot study that which needs to be studied until the point when I feel as though if I do not start studying at that instant, I will fail out of school. I have not yet failed out of school, and I am an expert of remembering things on the short term, but my long term memory for factual and emotional information is very poor. I often sweat excessively, and I think this may be due in part to some social anxiety and confidence issues. I believe I am correct too often. I drive much too fast, and I read much too slowly. I do not believe in God whatsoever, I positively abhor smoking, and I am too judgmental of others who feel differently. I correct others’ grammar, sometimes to their face and sometimes in my head, and then I judge them. I am almost never serious, which is a strange loop, but true. I am trying to change all of these things.

Also, I am a Mac evangelist, about which I am wholly correct and do not wish to change. My apologies in advance if you encounter this side of me.

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I hereby bestow almighty hallowed tags upon the authors of Peters Digest, Vanity Fairest, Terrae Filius, one version of things, MSaGSAIC? (yes), TRWT, Signout, and Serendipity. You’re it.