I got an invitation for an interview at Northwestern Medical School today. I'm excited because after all the worrying, I have some hope that this whole process will work out fine. After hearing all the horror stories about kids with great grades, test scores, extracurricular activities, and personalities not getting into medical school, it's good to know that at least I'm on the right track. Knock on wood...this is the only interview request I've gotten, but it's also the first application I sent in. At any rate, going to school in the heart of downtown Chicago could be a great experience. Harvard and U Pitt still haven't even sent me secondaries. And I thought I read somewhere that they send them out to everyone. Has anyone gotten secondaries from either of those schools? Maybe I'll just have to call.

This weekend, by pure coincidence, I ended up watching two movies about quadriplegics. The first, The Sea Inside, was the story of a man completely paralyzed from the neck down. He wishes for someone to help him commit suicide, as he has been in that state for over twenty years. One memorable line is "Life is a privilege, not an obligation." The other movie I saw this weekend was Murderball. It's a documentary about quadriplegics who play wheelchair rugby. The difference is that these quadriplegics aren't completely paralyzed in all four limbs. Most have enough control of their hands and arms to throw and catch a ball about the size of a volleyball. Rather than pity themselves, these men have dedicated themselves to a sport. They train hard for the Paralympics, and there's even a strong rivalry between the U.S. and Canadian teams. I was originally going to right about how the characters view their situation so differently. In The Sea Inside, the main character wants to kill himself. In Murderball, one of the main characters has gone on a talk show saying the accident that left him paralyzed was the single greatest thing that has ever happened to him. But their situations are completely different. One can't move anything but his head. The other is able to play a competitive sport full of rivalries, comradery, and fun. Maybe a message in both movies is to withhold judgement, and give respect. A grown, competent, man may have the full capabilities and rights to bring about his own death. And there's no need to pity these quad-rugby players because they obviously don't need or want it. What they do seem to want is respect for their accomplishments. Both movies are very good.

Euthanasia is obviously complicated. Is suicide (and some forms of euthanasia) illegal because it hurts those around the "victim," or because the law is grounded in some kind of religious belief? Of course, it seems kind of silly to have a law that can't be enforced. After all, I imagine the last concern on someone's mind who may commit suicide is the possibility of jail time. Is the law just there as a formality so that society is more comfortable in not condoning something that goes against deep religious beliefs? Maybe an overly simple thought: If you are allowed to go to war as an adult, in a sense you are given the permission to decide if something is worth dying for. By prohibiting suicide, is the government then saying that same adult does not have the right to decide if something is worth living for? Even if you don't agree with the accuracy of the first premise, the second part is still a valid question.

The more I learn about my job, the more I thank Ali Z. for helping me get it. Today was my second full shift at the coney island. So far, it's been a walk in the park. I almost feel bad for the owners that I've been hired. However, it seems that the job market isn't so good, so I'm feeling very lucky to have a job right now. Today was a bit slower than normal, but I did much of the same thing today as I did yesterday during my first full shift. Basically, I sit in the back of the restaurant and wait until people are done with their meals and want to pay. I take care of that. And I am learning to take care of the carry-out orders (maybe two per shift). Other than that I sit around, chat with co-workers, and eat my large free meals, drinking free soda pop. Oh, and get paid. At the end of the night I, the person with the least experience, will just make sure everyone else has done the hard work of cleaning up. Then I lock up and go home before 10 PM. Not bad at all.

The reason I haven't been posting much is because, other than the new job, almost nothing worth noting has happened to me in the last week or so. I'll try to think harder. Maybe I need to buy a new book.

It appears I am now a working man. Research at the pulmonary immunology lab has slowed down abruptly because the experiments should all be done. Now my supervisor will write up the manuscript and send it in for publication. Anyhow, I can't just be sitting around Ann Arbor; now I have time to try and help pay the rent. I applied to a few places, but only two showed any interest. I might be working 10 hours a week posting fliers for Kaplan Test Prep (we'll see on the 25th). More certainly, I'll be working at a coney island. I applied for waitstaff, but given my complete lack of experience in waiting tables and my stunning looks, I was hired to host (apparently, it's because the interviewer thought I "looked responsible"). This isn't bad. $8 an hour, no tips, but it should be a pretty easy job. I think my only obligations are to seat people, close the restaurant at night, and make sure things run smoothly. And bring in the ladies. Hah. I'm looking forward to the job, as I'm optimistic about new experiences, and I've never had a job. I think it'll be good for me to experience a little more responsibility or pressure than a volunteer job before I set off for med school. Training starts after this fiasco called an Art Fair is over.

The break is welcome though, I've been working on secondary med school applications. I think I'm ready to send off Northwestern and close to sending off Baylor. It's going to be a bit of work, writing all those essays. And it's going to be a lot of money, paying about $90 to submit each secondary, and paying for flights out to interviews. Another reason I've got to start working...

Dubai, an emirate in apparently the richest country in the world per capita, the United Arab Emirates, has been coming up in conversation and the news lately. On the northeastern part of the Arabian peninsula, it is on the Persian Gulf coast. The oil money that's being pumped into the area is tremendous. Some of the more stunning projects are a collection of 300 man-made islands for sale that look like the globe when viewed from above, the only seven-star hotel in the world, an underwater hotel, islands in the shape of palm trees, the largest mall in the world, and numerous amazing-looking buildings, including the world's tallest. The crown prince also apparently owns the world's largest yacht. This place seems to be exploding. Maybe the next celebrity vacation spot? Take a look.

The other night, we were sitting outside a local bar, the Brown Jug, enjoying some drinks, when something interesting happened. The bar serves patrons that sit on the patio, with a public sidewalk running between the patio and the bar. A table of girls was next to ours, and an older black man (possibly drunk, certainly obnoxious) stopped on the sidewalk in order to start a conversation with them. The girls were polite, though a bit nervous, and he ended up walking around the fencing separating the patio from the sidewalk, and squeezing into an extra chair at their table. By now, the discomfort on the girls' faces was obvious while the intruder was thoroughly enjoying himself. A few of his friends walked by and they greeted each other quickly. The friends disappeared inside the bar. Finally, one of the bartenders came outside.

Sir, do you know these girls?

No, I'm just talking to them.

Sir, if you weren't invited to their table, and you don't know them, we have to ask you to leave.

At this point, the man started getting belligerent and refused to leave. Disrupting the entire patio, he started cursing at the bouncer and bartenders as they coolly and politely asked him to leave. Finally, the police were called and he walked off, loudly swearing and threatening consequences when he returned. About this time, the two black friends of his are escorted out of the bar. They hadn't done anything and were obviously mad at being kicked out of the bar because of their friend's actions so they started an argument with the police and the bouncer near us. From what I heard, the bouncer told the police that the guy who'd already left had told him that the two friends were with him. The two friends protested, saying they barely knew the guy. The police continued to ask the two men to leave. Finally, the two men went over to the girls' table and, to prove a point, asked the girls if they had bothered the girls at all. Of course, the girls said "No." At this point, I believe the police were not insisting that the two men leave anymore. I think they had been convinced the two friends weren't causing any trouble, but the damage had already been done. Mad because they thought they had been singled out due to the color of their skin, they left angrily. Racism? Or was it just a bar exercising its right to ask anyone to leave, in the interest of safety in a typically volatile environment (how many senseless bar fights have you seen)?

The way they do it at Wrigley Field should be the only way to do it. No other baseball game experience I've had even comes close to the one I had at Wrigley field this last Saturday afternoon. Danny (my roommate who lives in Evanston) and I hopped on the red line and headed South from Evanston at about 1:00. About 20 minutes later, we stepped out onto the platform with a number of other Cubs fans and descended the staircase onto Addison St. It was about 75 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. So far so good. We took a quick stroll around the outside of the park, and I took in the sights. Thousands of people were everywhere, most in a blue cubs hat or some other Cubbies gear. All the girls were tanned, blonde, and wore sunglasses. Everyone looks better on a day like that. We snatched up some of the few remaining tickets to watch them play the Washington Nationals, and began looking for some food. Surrounding the park in all directions are a multitude of outdoor bars, consistently packed 2 hours before gametime with excited people. Where there aren't bars, there are vendors hawking Cubs t-shirts, and apartment buildings with people on the rooftops, getting a view of the field from across the street. We decided to eat at a random diner next to the stadium: "Salt and pepper Diner." It was fabulous. I had a greasy angus steak burger with onions and cheese on toasted rye bread and a bud light. Even the beer tastes better on a day like that. Satisfied, we left and headed towards the stadium. As we entered the bustling stadium, I had a perfect view from home plate looking into the outfield. An old-time park, the seats feel much closer to the field than most of the parks today, and there's something to be said for the humbling feeling of history that the park has. Makes me wish the old Tiger Stadium was still where the Tigers played. Being so close to the sunlit field, the greens seemed greener and the red clay I swear was the exact same shade as when I used to play in Little League. The ivy along the outfield, I've seen on TV, but I wasn't prepared for this: the beautiful green wall with a few bleachers above it, and across the street apartments looking down with spectators on the rooftops. As the Cubs took the field, a roar rose from the sellout crowd. The cubs do it right. It's not like they're one of the best teams in baseball either. With an atmosphere like that, I wonder if any major league team would have attendance problems. Anyhow, it was a wonderful afternoon. The game? Oh. The game wasn't important. Cubs lost. But what a day at the park.