Insight into Madness

This past week, I gave a three-minute speech to my medical school class about futility in medicine, Greek mythology, and Camus. Although it went well(?), I realized that my notes for the talk appeared to be the handiwork of a madman.

Pictured above: My actual notes. NOT a threatening letter from a serial killer.

Dude, It Was Just Hamlet With Lions

People are always asking me, "How do you stay so skinny after you eat so much?" After I explain my high parasite load and internal rumen system, I just show them a picture of my typical breakfast.

Pictured above: Lemon-meringue pie, apple fritter, and half a sticky bun. Well, sorry, I needed a snack if I was going to take the time to get a photograph.

Despite my love of refined and other sugars, I often sample the non-desserts other cultures have to offer. For example, just this weekend I explored Chicago's Greektown.

Pictured above: Moussaka from the Athena Restaurant. Not only was it delicious, it was also a perfect topographical replica of the cliff where Moussaka was dropped to his death by Jeremy Irons.

To help me better appreciate the Greek atmosphere, I brought along a companion familiar with the intricacies of the culture and language, as she had once lived in a "sorority." Though every time I inquired as to which one she belonged, she refused to tell me.

Pictured above: "Look, I don't want to ask your friend 'Delt.' Why can't you just answer me?"

Poseidon Was Pleased and Appeased

Medical school, as it turns out, is becoming more and more like high school. We are a large class, all attending the same lectures, and I'm pretty sure we're on the brink of just founding a Medical Student Gossip Club. I can only hope that there is a medical school prom, where I can ask out that cute girl who is in the "cool" histology lab group if she wants to match her corsage to my boutineer.

But as we revert into our adolescent selves, not unlike the last 30 minutes of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (slightly more tragic and just as never-ending), we have begun to embrace all things juvenile. Therefore, we all participated in the delightful medical school Olympics this weekend.

Pictured above: A team of brilliant doctors to be, who will eventually hold someone's life in their hands, about to carry a large, wet sponge in their mouths to a bucket.

At first, I was excited to compete in these Olympic events. I had arrived to the park just as the ancient Greeks intended, fully nude and ready to wrestle. However, it appears that tradition means nothing to my peers, and they instead wore matching society t-shirts. Despite these setbacks, I did manage to convince my society, Thompson, to sacrifice a large bull to seek Poseidon's blessing for victory in the games.

Pictured above: The classic egg-on-spoon race. The ancient Greeks invented this event, but later had it banned from the games. This is not because of its trivial nature, but rather because of its violent enforcement. The Greeks penalized a dropped egg with a swift death by fire ants instead of the more standard 20-second-wait we enjoy today. This is why Plato never published his lesser-known "Allegory of the Egg-on-Spoon Race." (Spoiler Alert! The fire ants symbolize human knowledge!)

Ultimate Frisbee was also an event, so I was quick to put my gangly, awkward frame to work. With years of frisbee experience under my belt, I kept us undefeated. If I believed any of my classmates actually read this blog, I would feel bad in saying that I was one of the star players. But since my Mom and Nicole are my only readers, I'll go ahead and show some uncharacteristic hubris.

Pictured above: I did not, however, participate in the sponge-biting contest. I had made a fool of myself in front of my classmates so many times before, I felt it would only be fair to give others a chance to do so as well.

But after the crabwalking, bearwalking, and crip-walking relays were done, it came down to the final event: human pyramid building contest. I expected that this event was secretly the "emergency treatment of falling-trauma victims contest," but unfortunately no one was injured. There will always be next year.

Pictured above: Their cheers during their pyramid were good (something about Cooper society being the best), but I always prefer more honest yelling. Something along the lines of "We're really cold out here!" or "We really should be studying right now!" would have been much more engaging.

In the end, my society won. Like the victory I secured for Krehbiel during my tenure as President/King for the Scholarship Hall Olympics back at KU, the air was filled with our classic team chant: "Cheat to win! Cheat to win!"