A friend of mine. A brother, a father, a son, a licensed physician. A man who never takes himself too seriously, a man who is always making a joke, and always bringing positivity into every room he steps into. He seems at peace. He lives a nice life. He has a nice home and car. His nonchalant demeanor and light-hearted attitude make it hard to believe that he could have ever been anything other than what he is now. Through my experiences with him, I imagined he had always been this jovial and care-free human being, taking life day-by-day, devoting his time to his hobbies, as well as seeing the occasional patient.

But before, he was known as the surgeon.

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When I’m not studying, perusing random crevices of the internet, or listening to music, I love to unwind and watch a movie. Who doesn’t?

Like music, motion pictures have always been a strong passion of mine. I vividly remember the wondrous awe and giddy expectation of walking into the Star Wars prequels as a young boy.  When I was fifteen, I’d sometimes ignore my friends’ invites to bonfires or hangouts to stay at home and tear through Quentin Tarantino’s filmography in my basement. Call me old-fashioned or lame, but when I started dating my favorite PG (occasionally PG-13) thing to do with a girl was to pick her up and take her to the local cinema to enjoy a new movie on the big screen. Something about the red curtains, the smell of popcorn, the previews, and the feature film evokes a strange nostalgia in me, like revisiting a childhood home.

Throughout my development, my tastes shifted from Pixar, Lord of the Rings, and Adam Sandler flicks towards a more refined taste (I almost want to throw up saying this) which accompanied my deeper understanding and appreciation of the art.

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