As a grad student, you’re really in a worse position financially than you were even as an undergrad. At least you’re still considered a fledgling. Your parents support you, nurture you, even send the occasional care package every now and then. But then you start some sort of graduate work, and, even though your financial aid claims that you’re a dependent, you’re not. You’re pretty much on your own, digging yourself deeper and deeper into debt every day. Sure, I could ask my parents for support if I needed to, but I’m getting the feeling that I’m old enough to be completely responsible for myself.
I’m basically just alluding to the fact that you could, theoretically, get me to do almost anything (I emphacize the word almost) for anything free. Free food, free office supplies, highlighters. You name it, I’ll probably do it. I’m the king of the psych study. The master of the free lunch. And, it’s in this vein that I note the fusion of the best of both worlds. Free alcohol. From the med school. Since the occasion comes along only twice a year, I tend to embibe. A little too much. And thus, I present my official “2003 Stanford Medical School Stethescope Ceremony” picture featuring yours truly and the Dean, Dr. Phil Pizzo. I normally don’t smile that wide.