my classmates

in a word: f—ingbrilliant.

There are students here who have just turned 20, are set up to have two doctorates before they’re 28 (MD-PhDs)–but, who knows, they completed both high school and college early, why not round off two doctorates in five or six years?–and have already made notable contributions to their fields of interest (through research, publications, scientific discovery, etc.).  And then there are others who have had entirely separate careers, who have climbed the ranks of their respective profession, built families, and have completely overthrown that stability in order to pursue an either new or previously dormant passion for medicine.  Some come from different countries, many speak multiple languages, tons have worked abroad.  We have Fulbright scholars and Division I NCAA athletes.  51% are women; nearly a third were non-science majors.

They are all wicked smaht.

I want to say this once and be done with it: I have fear.  Not fear that I won’t make a good doctor, fear that, at least in the first couple months, I simply won’t be able to keep up with these brainiacs.  Human beings experience fear.  I won’t dwell on it, and I will absolutely not be crippled by it, but I believe that to deny it would be disingenuous.  And it will certainly help to light a fire under my ass.  Okay, I’m done ranting and raving.

Instead of studying yesterday, I read the end of Eat, Pray, Love (thanks Liz).  Jury’s still out on the book as a whole, but these words from Elizabeth Gilbert’s guru spoke to me: “Fear–who cares?”