Geriatrics

I've made it through three days of this intensive biomedicine class. It feels like a lot longer than that though. After day 2, I remembered that I don't really like studying dense science-y stuff. Especially after a full day of class. It made me miss work life even more, especially the part of not having to study when I got home, and even more so the part about unwinding with a glass of wine. One glass of wine after school and there's no way I'd get any of the reading done. But yesterday, after day 3, I remembered that a) this course is pass/fail, b) I was pre-med once upon a time and vaguely remember a lot of this stuff and c) I really don't have to do all the reading since we divide it up among our study groups anyway. So, last night, I did a few hours of my part and then settled in for Olympics watching and an early night sleep.... and it totally made a difference in my happiness, which really is the most important, don't you think? No point in killing myself. I'm not in med school after all.

On to another topic. Age. The other day my study group divulged our ages. I admit, I was the one who brought it up when we were discussing how uncomfortable the chairs we have to sit in for seven hours a day are. I interjected with "But, it's probably because I'm old." Great springboard for bringing up age. Real slick. It turns out, that-- surprise-- I was indeed the oldest at the table. And not just by a few years. The rest of my group's ages are: 23, 24, 24, and 27. It's not a huge deal... It's just different from what I'm used to working in TV where I was on the younger, if not youngest, side of my co-workers. I liked being younger for many reasons. It's a new perspective now. I'm getting used to telling people here that I had a whole other career before this.... and the kids love the mention of having worked at Comedy Central. (Although when I said that I worked for Colin Quinn, no one at the table had heard of him. I don't know if that's a testament to their age or to Colin's dwindled fame or to them just being unaware of pop culture, but come on, he was on SNL, people.) Yesterday I did bring up a "Friends" reference (from the last episode-- where Pheobe calls Rachel and starts a rumor that the plane she's on has a broken phalange. We were learning about phalanges... and fyi-- they're bones in the hand). Anyway, no one knew the episode I was talking about, but at least they had heard of "Friends." At the very least, I'm learning to curb my pop culture reference more toward mainstream for this crowd. As their elder, it's the least I can do.

Public Health Humor

I finished two days so far of the Biomedicine class and even though I learned from my reading last night that there are no pain receptors in the brain, my brain hurts. Yes, I defy science. The class has been fairly straightforward. We read a section, discuss it with our assigned groups, take a quiz, hear a lecture by different Hopkins researchers on a topic related to the section. This happens twice a day... making for a very long day... with about five hours of reading at night.

Thankfully, a good chunk of the learning comes from group discussion. We're teaching ourselves basically, which I like. Listening to hours of power point lectures in the dark is a sure-fire recipe for nappy time for Jackie. Here we only have two separate hours of lecture and so far they've been pretty interesting (i.e today we heard one lecture about neurological effects of HIV and one on spinal muscular atrophy) . We're moving pretty fast, (learning the nervous system in two days), but it's basically so we are familiar with the terms by the end of the two week. Even still, there's a lot of shit to know...

But onto the good part! The professor/doctor who's running the class apparently discovered the concept of autoimmunity. (There are some very hitters at Hopkins... and they are not shy about reminding us that across the street is the world's best hospital). So, on the first day as I was getting up for break, I asked this doctor whether it was okay for us to leave our computers at out seats during lunch... and he said that it was fine, but "don't leave them overnight because the cleaning people think that everything in this building is infected with AIDS and they won't clean anywhere near anything that's left." Wait. Did the grandfather of autoimmunity just make an AIDS joke? I think he did! (Okay, we're defining "joke" loosely here)... But still, are AIDS jokes fair game even at public health school? I tried one out later on my classmates... oops! It wasn't really a joke but I was talking about what I want to do (combine entertainment and health communications), I gave the example, "you know, try to make AIDS funny." Crickets. Yeah, apparently, not funny. I got a lot of eye rolls and gasps... no laughs. It made me miss the good ol days of working in television, where AIDS is hilarious! Oh well. Maybe I'll become humorless, too, eventually. Or just more sensitive. But, I hope not.

Back to School!

After a long weekend (just in feeling, not in actual time), I'm back to school for my first day since college. So far so good. I made it here via the Hopkins Shuttle which arrived 30 seconds after I did at the stop a block from my apartment, then 15 minutes later at the school. Fifteen minutes door-to-door. Not bad. And thus, I am now 45 minutes early for the "welcome breakfast" which starts half an hour before the orientation (which starts two weeks before actual classes start. I'm just here for my Intro to Biomedicine for Dummies class). Shit. I could have still been at home watching five more replays of the USA swimming relay photo finish and Michael Phelps's full-body scream. Oh well. Here I am.

Being that I'm 45 minutes early for the breakfast (and I already had a (publicly) healthy breakfast at home), I am very thankful that there is non-secure wireless internet here. Otherwise, I'd be wandering around this place reading the public health oriented posters verrry slowly. And luckily, there are plenty of couches (this building overall is ridiculously nice. Thanks, Bloomberg!), and a cafe with the comforting smell of toasting everything bagels. Although the shuttle was full of male doctors, the people at the public health school sitting around me are all women, who pretty much look like me. Little do they know I'm blogging about them (heh heh heh). I probably should be reading something related to my class today, but I've already read the chapter on the integument system and wounds and frankly, I'd rather figure out what the hell is going on before I read anymore.

If I didn't make this decision to go to grad school, I'd (well, I'd be sleeping as it is 5:20 am in LA), I'd be waking up to a day in Glendale, CA at the Style Network. But here I am in Baltimore at the Bloomberg School of Public Health. Weird.

I'm Huge in Baltimore

I experienced an ounce of glory yesterday back at Wachovia where I met a fan of the show I just worked on in LA. I had to go back to the bank and speak with a real person because my ATM card hasn't arrived yet and I needed either cash or a money order to pay the movers, who also have not arrived yet. Bastards. (Stay away from Ben-Hur Movers. They take their time and are assholes about it.) Anyway, I was in Wachovia where the people are beyond friendly (I learned that they take a class on customer service), depositing my final paycheck from E! Entertainment and getting a money order, when the bank teller struck up a conversation regarding my California drivers license. When I handed her my paycheck, she asked what I did there and if I was still able to work from Baltimore. I told her I was a writer for Clean House Comes Clean and that no, I'm not working for them anymore. Then she said, "That's so cool. I'm a huge Style Network fan and I love that show!" What? Not only had she heard of the show, but she also loved it. Like Clean House Comes Clean, not just Clean House. Crazytown, USA, I'm in. A fan of the show? It was very cool. I told her I was a huge fan of Wachovia (actually, I didn't, but I am) and I high-tailed it back to my air-conditioned apartment.

See, I was affecting people's lives working for reality TV. Who needs a public health degree?

Now with pictures!

Yesterday I went beyond my neighborhood of Mt. Vernon and explored downtown Baltimore and the Inner Harbor-- the touristy area. On a map it looked kind of far, but it took me a whole ten minutes to walk there from my apartment. Before I set off in that direction, I decided to check out my local communist cafe, Red Emma's, and get some iced coffee... 'cause it's damn hot in Baltimore.

Thinking maybe this could be my very own Marxist Central Perk, I was excited to check it out. The coffee was good enough, but the presumptive communist kids working behind the counter enjoyed hearing themselves wax ironic too much for the place to be conducive for studying or even tolerable for more than ten minutes. I felt like I was waiting in line at the UCB Theater... one of my least favorite things to do... where everyone is trying to one-up each other with how damn ironic they could be. Overheard at Red Emma's:

Presumptive Communist Barista #1: "Will you nominate me for a Nobel Prize?"
PCB #2: "Why?"
PCB#1: "Because it would be dope."

Also overheard:
PCB #2: "What should we listen to?"
PCB #1: "How about NPR?"
PCB #2: "Okay, I guess that's in keeping with our belief system."

I don't think I'll be returning to Red Emma's anytime soon.

Back to my exploring. I walked down to the Inner Harbor which I hadn't been to since my 6th grade graduation field trip... which, going to a Jewish day school, I thought must have included a visit to the nearest Holocaust museum, but I couldn't remember. Anyway, the Inner Harbor looked pretty much as I remember it. There were boats.

Big boats... (the USS Constellation)

paddle boats... and of course, dragon boats...

If you visit me in Baltimore, I promise I'll take you dragon boating and I'll steer clear of the docks (see: The Wire Season Two).

And speaking of The Wire. The night before my exploring, I was watching The Wire, Season Three and there was a scene (not a spoiler) where McNulty was hitting on a woman. She asked him where he worked and he responded "Legg Mason... Or I'm a Baltimore cop. I can't remember." (And I can't remember the exact phrasing). But it was something like that. And after I heard it, I thought "Legg Mason. How random." But not so random when I looked up behind me from the Inner Harbor and saw this:

Since it was so hot, I decided to head home, using a different route. It's true what I've been told about Baltimore. That the safety/crime/poverty changes block to block. One second I was at the Inner Harbor, the next I was passing by a Hustler, Lush Gentleman's Club, an adult video store, etc etc, and then next, I was back among office buildings. (I later found out I was on "the block"). As I continued my stroll, I tried to remember if my 6th grade field trip did indeed include a visit to a Holocaust museum, when, lo and behold, I passed by a Holocaust museum. And right outside the museum, sure enough there was a group of Jewish boys and girls on a school trip. Although on second glance, they could have been Mormons. Ahh, the memories.

A little bit beyond the Holocaust museum, I passed by two men asleep on a stoop, their shoes off and gangrene ablazin'. Very Bubs on a bad day (if you're going to follow my blog, you might want to brush up on The Wire). Although it was probably slightly inappropriate (but hey, I'm documenting), I snapped a picture... albeit not close enough to get a good look. But I thought the image captured what, thanks to The Wire, I imagined Baltimore to be like.

And since I'm revisiting my 6th grade field trip memories, the 6th grade sense of humor in me can't help but mention that those two men were asleep on a stoop on Gay Street. Hey, it can't all be high-brow.

And one last pic for good measure. McNulty, is that you?

Paris Hilton of Baltimore

So now that I've gone public with my public health blog it seems I have to, um, maintain this thing. No, this is good. Pressure. Getting me ready for school.

Day four in Baltimore. I found a supermarket in walking distance. Not as exciting as yesterday, however, when I opened up a bank account at Wachovia. Sadly there are no Washington Mutuals in Baltimore. (There is a Washington Monument though, which I can see from my window right now.) Anyway, the woman at Wachovia who opened my account for me was lovely, as most people I've met here are... but she came with the added bonus of making me feel like a gazillionaire. First of all, she was shocked when she checked my credit and told me that she NEVER has people come in with credit good enough that they don't require further background checks. And this is a Wachovia, not some tiny-ass local bank. But, it's a Wachovia in Baltimore, so there you go. She also took the time to explain the various account options, using the example "let's say you have $20 in your account and you charge something for $21, and then go to Taco Bell and use your debit card again before noticing your account is below zero, you'll get fined twice." Fair enough. Note to self: Stay away from Taco Bell. She also advised me against buying checks because at the steep price of $18 dollars a box it's not worth it. When I finally gave her two checks to deposit, she told me one wouldn't clear for a few days, but by looking at the large amount of the other check, I should be fine... at which point, I was thinking, "All right, lady, let's do without the judgment and just deposit my money."

I'm telling this story not to let you know that I've got mad bank, as the kids say, ('cause I don't). I'm telling it because it's pretty indicative of the way things are in Baltimore. I guess. I've only been here for four days. But, it's all about perspective. In L.A. I was just another TV writer, complaining about spending fourteen bucks to see a movie at the Arclight and five dollars in gas to get there. Here, I'm the richest person around. And if you've read my last post, also the skinniest. I'm Paris Hilton of Baltimore.

Off to do laundry...

Culture Shock

I've been back on the East Coast for a little over a week and have spent the last two nights in beautiful Baltimore. After four days at a health spa with my mom last week, I've got my mind on health... more on my own private health. Not so much on the public's. But, that will all change next Monday when I start school.

Coming from LA to the health spa in the Berkshires to Baltimore is so far quite a shock. After spending six hours a day at the spa exercising along side thin Long Island mothers trying to convince their slightly overweight daughters that exercise is fun (!), I'm now in Baltimore, reminded that yes, there are fat people in this country, and no, they probably don't care about Yamuna foot fitness. I forgot about that. Sure, the news talks about the obesity epidemic, but I couldn't find any sign of it at the spa or in LA. But here in Baltimore, poverty and thus fatties are all around.

Yes, this is one poor city. Noticeably poor. And, in contrast to LA, as far as I can tell at least, the poor people live amongst the not-so-poor. Poverty is out in the open here. It's quite different from any place I've ever lived, including New York, and I must admit, I'm not used to it yet. But, again, I've only been here for two days, so I've got a lot more to see. My Biomedicine for Dummies class (not its actual name, thank you very much) starts next Monday, so I have a week to figure out which cafe has the best coffee, where the closest bank, yoga studio, and bodega are, and how the hell the so-called Hopkins shuttle works.

So, stay tuned for more adventures in Baltimore. I plan on taking my camera with me on my explorations and uploading pictures soon. That is, if I don't get mugged and have my camera stolen first. (insert nervous laugh).