Keep Dancin', Kate Hansen

-->

Since the eighth grade, I have been a devout disciple of Pentel R.S.V.P. 0.7mm fine tip ballpoint pens. After whatever mysterious Writing Implement Dating Service in the sky fortuitously brought the two of us together, not once have I bothered to look for another brand. Anxiety overtakes me if I am forced to cheat on my beloved. When I ask to borrow a pen from someone and they hand me a bland BIC with a 1.0mm tip, my fingers blister with ire as I consider the barbaric marks forced onto my poor, innocent paper by such a ludicrously large tip. Cruelty, I say.

It's So Cute When They Try

“Gordon, why don’t you go and see Mr. M on your own and then we can discuss his case?"

Oh, thank you mystical powers above. It’s finally happening. My longitudinal clinic preceptor is throwing me the reins. I get to stroll in to a patient room with my white coat and my notebook and pretend I’m actually a somebody. I get to try my hand at diagnosing something real. I’m the boss. This must be how the NCAA men’s basketball national championship team feels when “One Shining Moment” blares as the players try to not choke on confetti.

Return to the Motherland, Part II: Conglom-O

Think of the one thing you absolutely cannot live without on a daily basis. It's a hard question, I know. (And no, this isn't the start to some awkward middle school personality test/eHarmony screening.) Is it your smartphone? Your contact lenses? Pepsi? Your morning venti skinny mocha Frappuccino?

Here in Taipei, it's 7-Eleven.

Return to the Motherland, Part I: Nineteen Mosquito Bites and Counting

My old man is sitting behind me, relaxing in his boxers and enjoying a riveting battle in Cowboys and Aliens on HBO. We're doing our best to keep cool in his relatively cramped apartment in the Tianmu neighborhood of the Shilin district in Taipei. The sounds of scooters revving past wailing ambulances and a symphony of cicadas float through the air outside the window.

Eat, Pray For Passing Classes, Love

It's supposed to be spring, and yet we've had four days of gorgeous, warm sunshine followed by a week of hail, sleet, and rain. Come on, Omaha. Pick a season. We can't give out clozapine like candy like the good ol' days anymore.

Summer after the first year of medical school is widely considered to be the last summer of our lives. Many of us will go abroad to do medical mission trips or work in clinics. Others will lock themselves in a lab doing research, gunning for that orthopaedic surgery or anesthesia residency. Some will actually be smart and take the summer off to just travel for fun and chill.

Along with the twilight of every summer, then, comes thoughts of finally cracking open those books that we've purchased but never had the chance (or, more likely, motivation) to read. The sad tomes sit on shelves, collecting dust while you tell yourself, "I'll start reading it tomorrow, I promise - I just have more important things to do." Next thing you know, you've marathoned every episode of Game of Thrones and eaten three quarters of a Domino's pizza. And, sadly, your books remain unread.

Here, then, is my recommended reading list for those of you looking to keep your brains active.

Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James. I personally haven't read it, but apparently it's about a colorblind artist who, despite the odds being stacked against her, manages to paint some of the world's most critically acclaimed works that the critics hail as the most brilliant use of color since Pocahontas did that thing with the wind. Unfortunately, the artist is unable to fully appreciate her own genius due to her condition, and, unable to cope with the stress of her new-found celebrity, eventually commits suicide by drowning herself in a bucket of paint, hand-mixed from various shades of grey lead paint. I think there are also some sex scenes.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Again, I haven't read it, but based on the title, it sounds like it's fairly light reading, perfect for a sunny day at the park. If what the drunk man at the bus stop last week told me is accurate, it's a short novella in two parts. First, Tolstoy describes in intricate yet mundane detail about various weapons of the 19th century. (Now's your chance to learn how to build an old-school crossbow and play The Medieval Walking Dead in your own backyard!) In the second part, he talks about married life in white picket fence suburban Ohio. People walk their dogs in the morning and cordially yet insincerely greet each other as they rush in and out of their houses in their bathrobes to collect the paper. Nothing dramatic happens, everyone is generally happy, and life is peaceful. The end.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. In a wildly creative re-imagining of the popular children's tabletop game Hungry Hungry Hippos, Collins creates a flowing, vivid world of lush jungle green in which intelligent, anthropomorphic hippopotami (hippopotamuses?) with immeasurably high rates of metabolism must eat as quickly as possible on a constant basis. This need for consistent sustenance has created warring tribes of hippos. With gold being a meaningless mineral, currency has boiled down to the number of calories per food item. Underground hippopotamus scientists have found ways to skew the caloric values of certain food items, thus creating a disparate bartering system in which the poor get poorer and the rich get morbidly obese. Among such turmoil and mistrust, two particularly aggressive factions have risen up and begun a war for food unlike any before. Brace yourself for the most thrilling, heart-pounding adventure of this summer as Collins describes in vivid, gory detail of the First Great War of Feasts between the Zimmernians and the Acolytes of Bourdain and their never-ending quest for caloric dominance.