Things of a toothy nature

School is good. Really good.

This pretty much sums up the joy:

Don't let the exuberant delight deceive you. Our daily conversations go like this:

'Hey! How's life?'

'I want to kill myself. But I don't want to feed into the stereotype.'

I'm starting to think dental schools are run by casinos.

Time doesn't exist here.

11 hours on campus? Whatever. 

You better believe I'm making the most of my 10 billion dollar education. 

I won't bore you with the details of my knowledge packed day, but suffice it to say that I didn't know PowerPoint was capable of handling 426 slides. Go pathology!

You'd think I might be overwhelmingly stressed about becoming magically proficient at deciphering between the bajillion different kinds of necrotic, maggoty, lichenous skin lesions that all look the same (whoever said dentistry was gross never checked out a dermatology book), when what REALLY stresses me out is the conversation I'm going to have to have with a date. 

Hobbies? Interests? 

PANIC. 

Start listing activities that I see listed on rec center flyer.

Don't worry. I am having fun. Between Gangnam Style study breaks and learning how to cook with the 3 ingredients in my home (baking soda, an onion, and a questionable orange), I'm having a blast. Love the people - here and from BYU who have kept in touch through Skype! Love the palm trees. Love my new-found priority skills (case in point: I haven't vacuumed my apartment in 3 weeks and I am blogging.) Love the fact that I studied at the POOL for 2.5 hours in OCTOBER. Love that I can still fit in fun on the weekends. Love that I have committed to reading A Tale of Two Cities so molars don't overrule my life. Love the fact that apparently our professors think we have enough skills to start drilling amalgam preps.

I'll prove them wrong.