I used to think I had little free time in medical school, but clearly I'd forgotten what it's like to have a real job with a fixed schedule. This month, I haven't had time to do much outside work, except try to maintain my skeletal social life with a couple of friends, one of them from work. I'm more-or-less satisfied, but I can't imagine what residency would do to someone more outgoing than myself. Or someone married with kids.
Anyway, since this blog has an audience of maybe ten people, I'm keeping it as a project for my future self. It's something for sixty-year-old me (hopefully I make it that long to peruse if she wonders what her twenty-something self was doing. So here goes:
1. Work: lots of cancer, and becoming more independent. Three autopsies so far. Learning to recognize simple things under the microscope:
Epithelial inclusion cyst of the ovary; from before I worked out how to use the microscope camera
Hyperplastic polyp of the colon, after my picture-taking skills improved
I didn't watch the original Ghostbusters. Not the movies, the cartoon, or any of the other stuff that was apparently a huge part of so many people's childhood. Apparently. I don't now if it's because I'm too young, or because I wasn't in the US during the nineties. Either way, the new Ghostbusters movie didn't mean much to me. I was vaguely aware of some hoopla going on online because the new movie has women on it, and that's like destroying the original film with feminism and social justice. Or perhaps attacking men and boys with. . . something. I learned long ago not to pay too much attention to any random thing the internet decides is significant.
Still, as I sat at the theater, musing about the ridiculous internet flamewars about this film, I couldn't help but remember that one of our many mass shooters attacked a movie theater during a genre film. For a moment, I considered leaving the theater to sneak into Star Trek, a film that I hadn't heard any "controversy" about. I didn't do that, but at the second I had to exercise a degree of courage to sit down and watch a dumb movie. I don't know when we got to this point as a nation, but it depresses me.
Anyway, Ghostbusters. The trailer. . . well, it starts with the thirty years ago Ghostbusters thing that I don't care about:
Worst, I didn't laugh once. For something that's trying to be a comedy, that's a pretty bad sign. So why did I watch it?
Because Chris Hemsworth is hot. I wish I could say that I was making some kind of feminist political statement, but the truth really is that simple. He's my favorite Avenger. Because he's hot. He had like one shot in the trailer and didn't get to say anything, and he's probably the least cool part of this poster:
