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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Most medical students are defined and characterized by type A personalities – the people who sat in the front of the classroom in college and pestered the teacher with useless questions (and God knows how many annoying emails).

They, and I suppose by association, we, continuously strive for perfection. The application had to be perfect. Medical students went through college with relatively pristine GPAs, took a Kaplan course to get a high MCAT score, participated in various research projects on shit they weren’t interested in, volunteered handing out water bottles, saving kittens from trees, and other shit like that. All so that they could one day adopt the idealized prestige of the title, doctor. Perfection is the goal of all medical students.

I am no such person. Calling me imperfect would be an understatement – while I display academic success, I am prone to doing some incredibly stupid things. You win some, you lose some.

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Recovering from a respiratory infection and three days before an exam, shadowing a doctor for one of my required clinical experiences was the last thing I wanted to do.

Per protocol, I called the doctor a day in advance to confirm our plans. Usually I was calling a receptionist at the office who would instruct me to report to the facility at a certain time and hang up the phone. When I dialed the contact number of this physician, I was greeted with, “Hello, Dr. S”. A little taken aback to be reaching the doctor’s personal number, I said, “Hello, Dr. S. I’m student doctor Soze. I’m calling to confirm my scheduled Clinical Experience with you tomorrow afternoon”. Expecting a quick “okay, great, 1pm 555 State Street”, Dr. S engaged me in conversation, asked me how my day was, and ended the talk by giving me his cell phone number, instructing me to text him my name and email. I texted him and later that night he replied, “Hey Soze, busy night here at the office. We’re running late. I’m going to send you an email as soon as I’m home! Email me outlining your personal goals, what you hope to learn from our experience, and tell me a little bit about yourself”.

I found this a bit strange and over-the-top, but I emailed him. Later that night, he replied with several paragraphs, detailing his numerous awards, his life story, with his CV attached as well as documentation of “best physician instructor of the year award”. Fucking great. I’m sick, I have to study for an exam, I just want to go in, do my time and go home, but I’ve got to work with Dr. Enthusiasm for a day, who would undoubtedly be expecting a lot from me.

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A rant for the weirdos of the world… 

As a disclaimer, before I delve into my seemingly pretentious stream of conscious about music tastes, know that I would never judge someone for what they enjoy. I am friends with liberals and conservatives, heavy metal headbangers and classical music aficionados, straight edge people and hippies alike. While it is somewhat immature to ostracize and judge folks with different opinions, every human being likes people who agree with them. We surround ourselves with people who have similar mindsets, interests and values. A dedicated bodybuilder will seek out gym partners to discuss training techniques and diet. A stoner will hang with others who smoke. A medieval historian will have long discussions with colleagues who share knowledge and interest in that era. An animal lover will be drawn to others who have a similar passion for animal protection and rights. It’s human nature. Our passions define us, they give us life, and often, they even give us purpose.

You can strike up conversation with random passerby’s on the street about the weather. You can go to work and talk about Tom Brady’s legendary comeback in the Super Bowl. These are examples of topics that just about everyone can relate to and share their thoughts on. But what happens when you have a burning passion, or an interest that you’re dying to discuss, but no one shares your interest? It is frustrating, and at times isolating.

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If you have a pulse and a social media account, you already know that music festivals are widely gaining more and more popularity around the country.

Coachella is the first name mentioned – That girl you know from college will see that Beyonce is headlining and heard that Radiohead is good so she’ll tweet a picture of the lineup captioned, “OMG dying. Going to Coachella this year” (spoiler alert: she doesn’t end up going). For most, Coachella isn’t feasible logistically unless you have a few G’s to blow.

On the east coast, we’ve seen the emergence of many new festivals in an already oversaturated festival market. Governor’s Ball seems chill and usually puts out a solid lineup. While the brand new Goldenvoice New York City product, Panorama, has put together some smaller outstanding lineups over the past two years, they don’t really tap into the “Mumford & Sons was the best concert I’ve ever been to” crowd. Firefly does an excellent job at that – like a PG-13 rated Bonnaroo. Or an edited rap album. Similarly to Panorama, Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago seems to put out smaller, yet potent festival lineups yearly.

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