Why am I smiling?

WYNANT, MARVIN A. --- FAILED

That was the verdict of my remedial exam in Behavioral Medicine 2, posted on the bulletin board on the 2nd floor of the medicine building.

I went through a mini stage of shock.  I thought I had passed until I realized that the alphabetical list should have had "Zuniga" after my name.  I found out that Ms. Zuniga rounded out the list of passers of the exam, and the list (a long list of three) of failed examinees followed.

This is the first semester in my life where I will be getting a failing mark on my transcript.  I'm already a year behind my original batch mates in medicine, and now I'll be another year behind.

But I'm smiling.

While others may be hanging around the bulletin board waiting for the world to change, or perhaps rallying at the department's office to recheck their grades, I left the building with a little hop in my step.

I know I didn't do my best in this subject.  Hell, I barely even did anything at all in the second grading period.  I deserve this, but I'm not taking it hard on myself.

I have been looking for a sign.  I know for myself that if clerkship were to come in the next year, I wouldn't be ready.  I feel selfish on my parents' behalf for wanting to be delayed and having another year to put me through school, but I'd never want to risk patients' lives if I wasn't ready.  I need another year, and I think I got what I asked for.

I also believe this will give me the chance to grab some opportunities that I've let pass by.  Throughout school I have always been hindered in many things I have wanted to do--- learn more in dance, teaching, modeling... But it's always been forgotten because of school.  Perhaps now those lost opportunities will appear again.  Maybe even new opportunities, such as European tours and competitions of recent gossip, are in store for me.

The future is so unclear, frightening, but above all else exciting.  I got a failing grade, so why smile? ...Why not, Wynant? :)

Half-assed smirk. Bagsak? So what.

Why am I here?

I am Marvin A. Wynant, M.D.   <--- That's something I'd like to say confidently in a few years time.  However, now at 25 years of age, I can only simply say that I am a 3rd year medical student at the University of Santo Tomas (the royal and pontifical Catholic.. yadda, yadda... alam niyo na 'yan)

By the way this is me

I like taking stupid pictures of myself.  So don't worry, that's not my everyday look.

I'd like to say that I'm not your ordinary medicine student.  While most medicine students rush home after classes (some after spending a couple hours at the gym or playing DOTA), I rush to rehearsals.

I dance.  It fuels me.  I come home tired and worn out, but always alive and fulfilled.  I've been taking dancing seriously since I was a freshman in college (2005) and although other passions should take a backseat to medicine, dancing has always been there trying to grab ahold of the steering wheel.

While my classmates have their noses stuck in their books or their highlighters giving life to their handouts, I can be found stretching, spinning, sauté-ing.

Honestly, my grades do suffer from this. I should be on semester break now, but I didn't do well enough in Psychiatry and Radiology to completely pass the subject.  I have to take remedial exams to get a passing grade.  (Radiology exam will be later by the way, and yet here I am creating a blog)

But could you live without passion?  In a world where everyday drains you emotionally, mentally, physically (the true life of a medicine student), what would you run to?

Forget smoking (trying to), forget drinking (that's only for the weekends).  Do something that can tap into your deepest emotions.  Do something that allows you to physically release what's been weighing down on your soul.

So with medicine and dancing taking up my time and my spare time, why write a blog? Inggitera ako eh.  Haha.  No, but really, in high school, I wanted to be a broadcast journalist.  I was part of the school newspaper and the yearbook staff, and took up college english in my junior year of high school.  (So where'd medicine come into play?) I developed an ardor for writing.  I felt a certain warmth when I wrote.  It's something I'd never want to let go of.

Just as the audio and visual aspects of dance can affect the emotions, the written word has its own immense power.  A power to move; a power to influence.  I have already moved through dance.  Maybe this time I can move through words.

So why am I here?

...why not, Wynant?