Monster twitch

For the better part of an hour, my arm has been twitching. My triceps brachii, to be a little more exact. And it is driving me absolutely crazy. Doesn't it know that I am busy studying and would be much better off if it would quiet down and cool it with the shenanigans? That's right, I just used some Celtic profanity on your ass, muscle. It's not even rhythmic in any way. I could probably handle regular, periodic twitches, but it's the wild unpredictability of it all that gets my goose all up in a gander. If that's a thing. Come to think of it, the whole thing reeks of brachialis. A notorious diva always clamoring for attention in one way or another. Look, brachialis, we all know that you are the best at flexing elbows, but you can't even pronate or supinate the forearm, so just quiet down and let me get some studying done.

Ok, some stress may be getting to me...

Ironically, I'm trying to study for my stress management class right now.

It's been a week full of tests, secondary applications coming my way, transcript drama, getting back biochemistry tests marked with a solid...C+, and muscle twitches (seriously brachialis, you're the proverbial straw). Secondary applications are sent from medical schools who think that your 19 page primary application was A-Okay and goll-ee they'd sure like to know more. Oh yeah, please send another $200 our way too ok thanks. If it weren't for the near-paralyzing fear of flat-out rejection from every school, I just might tell them to stop sha-noodling (for lack of a non-offensive way to say "screw") money out of poor college students who just want to give you hundreds of thousands of dollars so we can learn to be doctors. So I'm back to the non-stop world of the Medical School Application Process. Seek ye first the good things of the mind, and the rest will either be supplied or its loss shall not be felt, insisted ye olde Sir Francis Bacon. The future does not belong to the faint of heart; it belongs to the brave, quoth my dear friend Ronald Reagan.

The folksy bits of this entry are thanks to the recent reappearance of Sarah Palin back into the news. I am trying to regurgitate (aka vomit) every word I have heard (or read) her speak out of my body. If I do that, she doesn't exist, right? Maybe she is making my muscle twitch.