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Pay attention, people, I've got my serious tie on.

A few weeks ago, a blog friend (Mrs. Dr. D) wrote about how much it frustrated her when people learned that her husband was a med student and automatically assumed she was in it for the money and just waiting for the day when she never had to work again. She mentioned that even though she wasn't planning to have an MD after her name, she still planned to make her mark in the world.

I could completely relate. A few years ago I sat down with a friend for dinner, and the first words that came out of her mouth were, "So! Y is in med school now, this means you can stop working soon! That's great!" Aside from all the logistical problems with that statement, I was slightly offended. Did she think I was sitting in my office crossing off the days on my calendar with a giant dollar sign on the day Y graduated? I've known this girl for years, and I think that was a pretty good indicator that she didn't really know me at all.

I always worry that my blog makes it seem like I live and breathe med school and have no life of my own, and I realized after reading MDD's post that a) I don't really talk about my job (mainly because it's not as easily subject to cheap jokes as Y's, and b) I don't know a lot about any of the other medical spouse blogs that I read. I certainly try not to let med school take over my life, and I know most of the other bloggers don't, so I thought it might be interesting to learn more about them and how they will be making their mark on the world. And, maybe, for you to learn more about what I'm doing when I'm not packing Y his lunch and doting on him.

For the past few days I've been out of town learning some skills that will hopefully help me make my mark on the world. So to fill the void of the next few days while I'm still there, I've asked a few of my favorite med school bloggers to weigh in on the subject of not being defined by med school. So stay tuned, and when they're done I'll share with you where I've been hiding.

one of those days

This morning was going perfectly. I woke up to an exciting e-mail, my head was spinning with nervous/excited energy about going out of town, and most importantly, I was having a great hair day.

And then it turned into one of those days.

I'm sure you have them. Everything you pick up falls down. Everything you touch is knocked over. Everything that can get dirty will. Etc.

5 minutes before I needed to leave for work, I made my lunch: a big bowl of Greek yogurt with fruit and granola. The lid on my plastic container wouldn't close right. I pushed. And pushed. I started sweating. The window of leaving the house and getting to work on time passed. I gave the plastic container one more hard push to snap the top into place.

Bad idea.

I'm not going to lie, I may have cried for a minute. Then I looked in the mirror and realized the ridiculousness of having yogurt on one's head. Like, a lot of yogurt. I may have smiled. A tiny bit.

At that point I did what anyone in my situation would have done: collapsed on the ground and let the dog (Chobani's number 1 fan) lick the CRAP out of my face and hair. I may have laughed. Hysterically.

The moral of the story: it's impossible to be sad when you have a dog.

Especially one who poses for you.

(FYI, I took a shower after my Ike bath. Then my car wouldn't start. Then I drove 10 minutes to the hair salon and forgot my wallet. One of those days.)

music memories - a little experiment

Last week when I posted about music as a soundtrack to my life, I loved reading all the comments about songs that recall certain memories for you guys, and how they vary from person to person. I love that while I was breathing in the smell of new construction at my brother and sister-in-law's new suburban California house and listening to John Mayer, Casey was smacking her Discman and breathing in the smell of the seats on her school bus.

So I thought it might be a fun idea to make this a weekly topic, with participation from anyone who wants to share. Once a week, I'll post a song (maybe two) or an artist and write about what rush of senses it brings back for me, or maybe tell you a story about that song. At the bottom of the post, I'll have a widget so you can do the same and paste your link at the bottom. If you don't have a blog, you can write your story in the comments if you want to share.

I haven't thought of a good name (my ideas are tending toward cheesy - Throwback Tunes Tuesday? Vomit.) or a button but hopefully that will come soon if you guys like the idea.

For today's song, I opened my 90s playlist in iTunes and chose the first song I saw that gave me that knock-you-out rush of nostalgia that I love:

No Doubt - Just a Girl

source

Just a Girl -- and the entire Tragic Kingdom album -- revolves around my dad's home office. In the days of one-computer-households, our computer was kept in this cluttered corner of our house. The internet was just becoming a thing, and as a middle schooler whose friend count was slim to none, I graduated from Baby Sitters Club books to websites for products that were supposed to make me popular.

My magazines (I think YM was my publication of choice at the time) were dog-eared; any beauty ad with a URL at the bottom was marked so I could get to the website later. No doubt (ha!) it would have tips on "how to be beautiful in 5 easy steps". Noxzema and Bonne Bell were two of my favorite early websites (and the thought of my favorite sparkly mint chocolate chip LipSmackers chapstick just adds to this whole memory).

A little Lipsmackers and Noxzema and I would have been a beauty queen

For a year, most of my free time was spent in this cold, crowded office surrounded by National Geographic Magazine, marathon memorabilia, and the beeps of the modem connecting. And that entire year, my bright orange No Doubt CD stayed in our CD drive.

Now I want to hear your stories! Add your link below when you post to your blog. And if you have any song suggestions for future posts, e-mail me at werejustdandy@gmail.com.

psychiatry

Thanks to the greatest high school psychology teacher ever, I've always been kind of fascinated with psychiatric disorders and modern psychologists. So, I was kind of excited to hear about Y's psych rotation.

Apparently all I took away from my psychology class was the tragedy of baby monkeys clinging to wire mommies and the fun, harmless vibe of the Hawaiian shirts my teacher wore day after day. I apparently forgot the horrifying nature of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which we watched in class. All I remembered was a lovable group of psych patients -- one of whom was a large Native American man -- who became great friends and lived happily ever after and got front row tickets to Lakers games.

Well, we watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest the other day, and without my funny teacher and her Hawaiian shirts there to distract me, I realized something: psychiatric patients can be, um, dangerous. So dangerous, in fact, that the medical students are advised not to show the patients their names.

As it turns out, the psych ward is a mildly depressing, potentially dangerous place whose purpose is bigger than merely to provide me with interesting stories. And One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is a disturbing movie. Duly noted.

I'll miss you... roundabout

(We've got one year left in this town before Y graduates and we hit the road. For the next 52ish weeks, I'll be taking you through all the things (big and little) I'll miss about this place)

This roundabout is near my house, and each time I drive around it I feel slightly more European than I did after the last turn I took. Even though 9 out of 10 people take it the wrong way and the most time I've ever spent there has been chasing after lost dogs, it's a nice reminder that I'm almost home -- especially when the roses are in bloom.

my soundtrack

I do this thing on trips, particularly when I'm flying, and particularly when I'm flying alone. I listen to one artist the entire duration, over and over again. Amazingly, I don't get sick of the music. Instead, it becomes the soundtrack to that trip and its memories.

I didn't realize I did this until last month's trip to Phoenix. When I uploaded my pictures, Ellie Goulding's "Lights" album -- the music that kept me sane for 10 hours of flying and a 100 degree walk through downtown -- popped into my head.

{I dedicate those lyrics to the cactus who attacked me}

Suddenly it was clear that I've been doing this as long as I can remember. John Mayer's Room for Squares reminds me of something. It's not a smell, a taste, or a touch, but at the same time it's all of those things. I bought that CD at the Irvine Spectrum in Orange County while visiting my brother and sister in law the day after my high school graduation. To this day, that music is a mixture of excitement and terror at the thought of college, the smell of my brother and sister in law's new house, and the predictability and openness of their cookie cutter desert neighborhood.

Coldplay's Speed of Sound is a cold summer day, running through Hyde Park and just making out the top of the London Eye. It's pride at taking a risk and studying abroad and curiosity at what would thrill me next in that foreign city.

She & Him is my perfect winter -- snowed in at a bookstore (Powell's, no less), and seeing the sky open up and just snow for the first time.

Sara Bareilles's kaleidoscope Heart is the first day of fall, walking along Lake Michigan, orange leaves, pumpkin donuts, best friends and spontaneity.

Even our honeymoon had an unintentional soundtrack, thanks to its proximity to the recent death of a pop icon.

I'm flying to Florida next week and now that I'm conscious of my soundtracking habit, I'll probably ruin it. But I'd like to at least do it to some good music, so any recommendations for the album I put on repeat? I'm thinking the latest Deathcab for Cutie or Adele.

note to self: dogs speak English.

Note to self -- When Ike is sleeping like this:

don't say to him, "Awww, look how cute you are curled up in a little ball!"

He might get the wrong idea.