Someday, when we're rich, this'll all just be a hazy memory

Joel has been spending every stray second of the past month applying for med school. No jokes.

UBC? They want to know everything about you. They want to know every experience you've ever had, and they want a contact name, number, and email address to verify that experience. Took guitar lessons when you were eighteen? Track down that mid-twenties Bible-school student who taught you, because you'll need his contact info. Hiked up Mount Cheam and want to put it under Outdoor Activities? It best not have been with a sibling, because family members aren't legitimate contacts. Don't remember the name, course number, and grade you received in every post-secondary education class you've ever taken? You'd better unearth that information, friend, because they need to know.

The University of Alberta is the application Nazi. You must complete the application within seventy-two hours of having begun. If you make a mistake, it is irreparable, and you must start a new application. The application will time out after ten minutes, so you must log out every nine-and-a-half minutes, and log back in, which severly cuts into your seventy-two hours.



The Dalhousie (Halifax) application can't be filled out online. You have to copy it onto a sheet of papyrus, put the completed form into a wineskin, and dangle it from the post-hook outside the general store. The CN Rail will grab it on their way by.

The University of Toronto...well...it's in Toronto, and we're not applying there.