I will not overthink this

My mother’s tax preparer better get her a lot of refunds; I spent two hours printing and filing dis shit. I got injured too! I’d like to say it was a paper cut, but glass was involved in this somehow. (I was preparing it under this sheet of glass covering a collage of pictures on the counter…it’s a long story)

My mother told me her friend got 100k in refunds off this tax preparer (after going over 10 years of tax history— the tax preparer used to work for the IRS  and works on commission so homegirl is legit), and I’m like, shit, son, that’s my master’s and maybe the first year of my clinical doctorate right there. I love that I develop necessary life skills in my function as my mother’s personal assistant. lol

Speaking of my mother and my academic plans, I have, more than ever, been getting peer-pressured into considering med or pharm d school. Friends, classmates and professors have been telling me that mah brainz is meant for more than just what I am pursuing, but the MCATs and my life-satisfaction projections might beg to differ.

Fortunately, my interactions with my mother has trained me to at least justify why I would rather not pursue medicine. In a nutshell, I’ll become like Gregory House except with less intelligence and even less propensity for drug abuse. (Hello, Medical and Pharmacy board from the future!) Unfortunately, I have no defense against Pharm D except that it would make the post-secondary teaching route impractical and/or long-winded (less so than med school, which borders insane) although I suppose I could at least become a preceptor for a pharmacy school.

I hate/love that the potential twofold increase in salary should I get a Pharm D isn’t enough to get me sold on it. I mean, I figured I could just get a clinical doctorate— which should let me earn as much as a pharmacist— on top of my masters should I decide to make bank at some point in my glorious dream of achieving college tenure.

I’m hoping they don’t change the requirements for an entry-level tenure track from an MS to a PhD in my field because, I mean, my insanity has its limits.

 Y’know though— and this seems like uncommon knowledge— professors can make bank to the tune of close to 200k, although, really, I’m cool with 50k full-time for a job that doesn’t suck all the time out of you. It still probably will, but I’ll do it out of my own free will and not of my master’s bidding because I am a free man! The only person allowed to make my life unnecessarily hard and complicated is me, m’sieurs et m’mselles!

This is because I intend to make my exams essay-heavy, which will be a bitch to grade, but will fairly appraise comprehension of the material. Appropriate enough, methinks, since comprehension can mean life and death in dem medicinal matters.

“So, is my answer right?” my Physiology study groupmate asks me.

“Hmmmm,” I take a couple seconds, “yeaaah I guess.”

“What do you mean ‘you guess’? Do you know what the answer is?”

“I mean, it’s not exactly accurate. Okay, so actually, technically, this should be…”

“Oh god,” she says, exasperated, “just assume it’s the same thing. That’s what they are to me.”

“Welp, too bad I’m a pedantic bastard. I mean, I guess in this case they are kind of the same.”

 ”You’ll be such a hard teacher.”

“Hey, I’d still give you credit for it! I mean, I’d probably give more credit to an exact answer, but I’ll still give you credit. I’ll probably scribble stuff on your paper just to make sure you know what’s what though. For larnin’, y’know.”

Heck, I’d teach part-time as a lucrative hobby and general life-satisfaction index booster.