i know, I promised

Okay,

I've been chastised enough. Today is the day.

A brief recap: Montreal was spectacular. I will always love that city, at least until my liver tells me that enough is enough and shuts down my fun zone. As expected, the summer was amazing with friendly people coming out of the woodwork for a whole plethora of good times.

But that is the past. Now is medical school time.

I arrive back in Vancouver just in time for a torential downpour. Not an auspicious beginning, but I powered through. Settled in at Azim's beautiful house (right next to the ocean! I took my mug and book to the beach yesterday to "study"!) and almost immediately started school.

Orientation week was a lot of obvious stuff mixed in with invitations to drink. 256 med students plus 50 odd dental students makes for a massive class with plenty of people to meet. Three weeks on and I am still struggling with names (and faces). Friday of orientation week we were thrust into action: Gross Anatomy lab.

You could see the fear on almost everyone's face as they prepared to enter the lab. It was a low lying fear and I think for most people the excitement was overcoming any anxiety, but the fear was there. Inside the lab were 50 bags, one for each group of 6 students, zipped up though the outline of the body was obvious. These bags contained people who had given their bodies to science and to medicine and who knew that they would be dissected by first year students with no idea what they were doing. I still struggle with faith and belief and all that and I have great respect for these people who, in the face of the unknown, were willing to put their faith in science.

The professor opened his bag and, while our bags remained firmly shut, began his lesson on the dissection. This was the hardest part of the whole lab. The fumes in the lab were extremely strong but I think it was the anticipation of how one would react to seeing and touching their first cadaver that got to most people. I felt a few times like I was getting light-headed and had to hold on to the wall. Then the lesson was finished and we were invited to see our cadaver.

It was a pretty intense moment, one that I am not likely to forget. After the initial rush, we got down to the dissection and really never looked back. I don't want to go to much into it here, mainly out of respect for the person and their family.

The following Monday the lectures started for real. The lectures are fascinating, of course, though I am already amazingly behind.

No inadvertently funny profs yet, though most, if not all of the profs are hilarious is they want to be.

And UBC is really pushing the wellness front. They have about 40 of us doing yoga and mindfullness meditation. But they suckered us it - they presented a scientific paper that said we would do better in school if we meditated. They know our only weakness ... marks.

it's done!

Thursday morning I received a wonderful email telling me that I had been accepted to UBC medical school.

Barring any upsets (like Calgary giving me money) I will be in Vancouver come September, busy as all hell.

So yeah, expect this blog to become more of a place to vent and to talk about all the disgusting things I will get to see. Like Sam does. Mmmm, syphilis.

future shock

I am in a terrible purgatory.

Montreal slowly emerges from its winter-y cocoon, occasionally regressing but generally moving forward, and people seem happier. Last night, all over town, hopeful youths tested out their spring clothing (read: short skirts and striped shirts) and blessed the warmth that is 8 degrees Celsius.

I'll admit that I fell into the trap: after a delightful final four beer tasting championship at Dieu du Ciel I convinced the group to head to Casa de Popolo in the hope that the patio would already be open. It wasn't. It is still cold. We are fools.

Fucking Squirrels. Ate my bike seat. That is what long winters lead to: Desperation. I should blame winter. I should blame me - we could have fed those squirrels and they wouldn't have needed to resort to faux leather. I am sure there is a lesson here somewhere.

Back to purgatory. First, an introduction:

I have finished my med school interviews. Halifax, Calgary, Vancouver and Winnipeg. Here are my thoughts:

Halifax:

First interview so I was nervous. Stayed with Ian and saw Halifax though him and his girlfriend. The school seemed nice and the medical students, like all the students, seemed to like their school. Still, it lacked some energy. The city was damp and slushy. Ian was a little bitter. Lael and Sean bad mouth the city all the time.

I'll be honest: the city is important. I know that medicine will be pretty encompassing but still, I want to enjoy my city. I am not sure that I would enjoy Halifax.

But Dalhousie does have some interesting ideas about combining medicine and the arts/music and they are devoted to global medicine.

Calgary:

This place was surprisingly great. The school is only 3 years which I appreciate and they really pushed the PhD/MD route as an option and were not opposed to my suggestion of mixing the MD with a humanities PhD. The students were the best of any school that I had been to.

This city is maybe not that great but again, the only cities I really, really want to be in are Toronto or Montreal and that is not in the cards, at least for the next 4 years. Calgary is close to Banff and the Rockies and the students seemed to bond over hockey with is my new favorite sport so it would probably be fine.

Hung out with Grant and Sara and went to bars that I didn't really enjoy (though I loved the company). I think that my life in Calgary would certainly involve avoiding the bar scene and that cannot be bad. I would spend a lot of time skiing and heading to the mountains.

Vancouver:

I do love Vancouver but I am afraid of it now. I don't know why. This confusing fear is warping my feelings on the medical school. I didn't go on the tour nor meet many students but I feel like I know that UBC is good. It is a big class and I may have to be at UVic but still, it would be a great place to be at school.

Winnipeg:

I had a great time in Winnipeg but that may not be representative of Winnipeg in general. That said, the people who love Winnipeg love it a lot. But I am reading a Miriam Toews book that speaks on a sign on the outskirts of the city that cheers the mosquito bite rate decreasing from 48 bites per minute to 2 at the end of the rainy season. I hate bugs. I may hate bugs more than anything. Plus, can you imagine how rural the rural component would be at Manitoba. Jeebus.

The medical students were, for the most part, in Cuba so I couldn't interact with them all that much but the education centre was amazing. New next year and incredible. And I guess that the fact that all the students were together in Cuba means that it is a close knit group. I understand that there is a lot of drinking ... and I like drinking.

Those are my four options. McGill and Toronto rejected me and I hate them. I could reapply next year to McGill as an in province student (with the concurrent increase in likelihood of acceptance) but it is risky and the application process sucks.

So, here I am. I have 4 potential schools but I will not know anything until May 15th. Until then, I know nothing and I can decide nothing. I feel like I am in purgatory.

sometimes I feel like this

The Impostor Syndrome, or Impostor Phenomenon, sometimes called Fraud Syndrome, is not an officially recognized psychological disorder, but has been the subject of a number of books and articles by psychologists and educators. Individuals experiencing this syndrome seem unable to internalize their accomplishments. Regardless of what level of success they may have achieved in their chosen field of work or study, or what external proof they may have of their competence, they remain convinced internally that they do not deserve the success they have achieved and are really frauds. Proofs of success are dismissed as luck, timing, or otherwise having deceived others into thinking they were more intelligent and competent than they believe themselves to be. This syndrome is thought to be particularly common among women who are successful in their given careers and is typically associated with academics.

It is rather unpleasant feeling, to be sure that you are fooling others into thinking you are good, but to have no confidence that it is in fact true. Obviously, I don't feel it all the time, but sometimes and it especially worries me in light of my chosen career path. I am freaked right out. I hope they teach confidence.

Kerria is reading a book called The Road, about the apocalypse (I think), and is frightening herself. She reads it immediately before bed and last night questioned me on whether I would eat her if I was desperately hungry. I said that I was 99% sure that I wouldn't, which I thought was pretty good. Apparently not. Apparently I am not allowed to eat her at all. The conversion continued into the next evening and we finally got things sorted - I promised that I wouldn't cause her demise so that I could eat and she gave me permission to eat her if she died of natural causes, given that I did everything in my power to ensure she survived. I think it is a pretty good deal.

Which leads me to: Holy Fuck! Apocalypse!

You know me (right?). I am a scientist. I heart science. And, moreover, I heart the ability of science to make everything right. Tippi tried arguing with me about how that idea was stupid and that our desire for the new, the better, etc. was insatiable and dangerous, but I brushed him off - I read the singularity (well, I didn't, but I get the gist), I know that science will be the one ring to rule us all (but, like, in a good way).

But now Kerria and her education are really getting me down. I stand outside, waiting for the bus and think "Wow, I would die really quickly if I didn't have a warm bath waiting for me at home." I am spoiled and weak and totally can't deal with things. I would probably fall apart. Occasionally, I imagine myself in the apocalypse and think that I would do well. I imagine myself building a commune, good at "things", natural. You know. But it is a pipe-dream. I need skills.

I talked to an "older person" and they told me that every generation has their fears of apocalypse, and this is true what with world wars and cold wars and depressions, but our problem, the whole drastic environmental change, is not human-fixable. Human caused, sure, but not fixable. We can disarm bombs but we can't restart the thermohaline cycle. And I am not sure we can live without it.

shnow

it has started to snow here ... it really takes me back.

I have a diary/sketchy-book thing. It is unbearably lame, festooned with things that were definitely not festoons, and includes plenty of lists, badly designed desks and clothes that no man or woman could ever possibly fit into as well as an occasional entry.

I made this diary/sketchy-book thing the first time I was in Montreal (2003?) and then did not use it again until I came back for the summer of 2006. It was weird reading the entries from the first time and realising that my fears, desires, goals (or lack thereof), etc. were pretty much the same. three years had passed and some of the new entries felt verbatim to the old entries.

I didn't feel the same, but when I wrote I apparently was the same. It was disconcerting but a little reassuring. I could be pretty sure that I was still me.

I am aware of it now and, like that dalmatian appearing in the splotches, I can't not be aware of it. It informs any personal writing I do - I always wonder if I am thinking the same and, being inherently contrary, it causes me to try and think differently. Or at least fake it 'till I make it.

The point: the writings were always about finding some purpose. I seem absolutely addicted to purpose, to moving forward, to tangible accomplishment. I hope one day I can not feel that way. can a goal of mine really be to become goal-less? is that allowed?

maybe goal-less is the wrong sentiment. maybe it is content where I am, rather than content in my ambition. endless streams of frailty make me question ambition. ambition may have failed us. but I so desperately want to go into space.

Done

After about 2 and a half months of applying and another 2 months of MCAT preparation, I finally submitted my last application. It was to McGill and in typical Matt fashion, was submitted at 11:54pm for a deadline of 11:59pm.

Right down to the line. Now, I feel much more relaxed. It is, to some extent, out of my hands. I have to interview still, but that seems less important than actually getting the interview.

Anyway, today I just wandered around, ecstatic in my freedom. I didn't do much of anything. I bought two pairs of shoes.

I also came across a major Christmas parade, forcing its way through the most busy shopping street in Montreal. It is, in case you were unsure, mid November. I had just wrapped my head around the Christmas decorations replacing witches on November 1st and now this. Woe is me.

I am sure the reason is to save the poor little fingers of the baton twirling elves, but still, they should suck it up for realism. Elves die in snowless conditions. It is their cross to bear.

The reason that I actually came on here is to discuss waving at parades. Why do people on floats feel the need to wave? How has this come about. In original parades, I assume based on pretty much no knowledge, were for famous people who had, you know, done something interesting. All people on floats have done is to be on that float. Why are they waving and why do we feel like waving back?

I think that people on parades should do their dancing and singing and whatever, but they should not wave unless they see someone they actually know in the crowd and only if totally necessary (waving to a single person in the crush of a crowd could lead to a misunderstanding, a returned wave from a confused bystander, prompting its own return wave from the float person, who is now some distance down the road and thus presenting the wave to a whole new set of potential mis-wavers. It could result in disaster. Actually, that is probably what always happens. A parade starts, someone in the parade recognises someone in the crowd, an errant wave results in mass waving that only ends days after the parade is over).

umm, yeah.

baa!

I feel a little sheepish.

feelings, nothing more than feelings

Originally Posted by LavenderDoll88

Is anyone else trying desperately to convince their loved ones that the test was impossible, they had to guess on half of the questions, and that they did terrible...... and keep getting the reply "You always say that, I know you did awesome." ????

No one understands the horror that was the July 24th MCAT.

I keep saying nooooo I know I always think I did bad on tests, but this time I REALLY did bad on a test!!!!! I'm the girl who cried wolf, and now I'm going to be eaten alive and no one believes me

now approaching midnight

Can I go on a rant? Thanks.

I spent a significant potion of my summer holed away in an increasingly disgusting room (psychologically disgusting more than dirty) memorizing facts about the body. To be fair, I found much of it quite interesting, but still ... summer. it is a time for reckless abandon, for adventure, for testing one's physical limits for doing and not doing.

but, okay, for the sake of my glorious future, I sacrificed some of my summer, but I did so with the understanding that my sacrifice would result in some sort of benefit.

Rather, coming out of the MCAT, I felt that the test could have been done with no outside knowledge. It felt like the test was completely different from what I was expecting.

I am a tad upset, but am not going to do anything rash until the results come out. Until then, I want my summer back.

More cliff jumping. more lakes. more abandon.

a resounding crash.

Via: VideoSift

posting with gremlins

i don't have much to say, but I certainly am freaking out ... which is always enjoyable. more on this later.

there was a fashion show a few days ago, at which I was tricked (yes, tricked) into performing. I expected to be one of a crowd, but with the exception of a group of semi-professional hip-hop dancers, I was the sole (i believe) person to do anything other than just walk (sashay?) down the 3 dents.

What was great, though, was that even though I was barely able to practice and even though I was surrounded by people that I could confidently assume were judging me (and my distinct lack of model physique) and even though there was a good chance that I was going to back step my way off the catwalk, I felt surprising calm.

Now, back in high school I desperately wanted to be in one of the plays but was completely unable to even try-out. My fear of being judged (and found lacking) was debilitating. So, what am I to make of my latest foray. As I came out into the crowd, Harmonkey's mom told me I should be in theatre. She seems to have a way of saying what people want to hear but I wonder.

My four goals, then: perform surgery, act in a play, design my own clothes, work for the UN.

those seem like achievable goals now.

good.

studying goes slowly. that causes the freakouts.

erg, spaggle-fook.

eep! its been months.

do not despair. facebook will loosen its hold eventually ... I'm sure.

anyway, we all know that summer causes electronic doldrums. Why post here when I could be in the sun, getting that all important vitamin D? that was rhetorical.

excuses, excuses.

well, if anybody is left:

i am reading an absolutely mesmerizing book by Stephen Lewis who was a UN special envoy on HIV/AIDS. He writes passionately about his time in Africa and with the UN as he tried to overcome the terrible bureaucracy of the organisation.

Anyway, it seems I have to cut this short but the fact that this one man is not afraid to face the problem of HIV/AIDS in Africa and the world is amazingly encouraging and inspiring.

whore.

I am a whore. why didn't I realise this before?

BRAINS!!!

chatting with k.gray this evening made me realise that I can be a tad argumentative. Also, I am very guarded with my opinions ... well, maybe just my true opinions ... I am completely not guarded about random and useful-for-the-argument opinions.

Actually, what may be more accurate is to say that two aspects of opinions serve to make me wary of discussing them. Firstly, some opinions are so obvious that I just don't want to talk about them - for example: "sex with prepubescent children is bad". I will argue against this conclusion if anyone brings it up just because I hate conversations where everybody is obviously on the same page.

The second problem is that issues that are not obvious are pretty much very complicated. I feel, in many situations, that I tend in one direction but I am not willing to become complacent nor dogmatic. So, I argue or pick holes and definitely choose the side of the issue that others aren't taking. I always thought it a good thing, a selling point, if you will. I was the guy who sought out the quirks of a issue, made sure it was presented fully.

But, I probably should present myself as the agreeable person I am. I mean, I usually agree with my friends. Sure, there are probably some good things about the seal cull, which I will certainly bring up, but in general I am against bludgeoning seals to death. Yeah, there is something to be said about higher education being made more inaccessible, which you can be sure I will argue vociferously for, but I really believe that education should be freely available. I'll write an essay stating that the point of human evolution is for us to go faster and harder until we build that fucking tower and shake God's hand, but I also really enjoy relaxing with friends by a lake roasting potatoes over a scavenged wood fire (the ashes scattered in the forest, of course). And, as time goes on, I appreciate the latter more and more.

Anyway, the main point of this is to say that I have become accustomed to being the foil and if it bugs you, just tap me on the arm and tell me that now is not the time for me to be pointing out the flaws in your premises and I will back off and just enjoy the sunset or baklava or whatever. I was enjoying it before, believe you me, but I can shut up so we can enjoy it together. But be aware that, every now and then, I may need to explore an issue in its minutia. This goes for all of you. Except my argumentative friends. We can continue on in the same vein until we are old and arguing about ... I don't know ... whether virtual reality is good or not (it isn't but I will argue that it is).

The conversation that K and I were having was about the 100 mile diet. The idea, which may or may not be a good thing in itself, is more important, as K pointed out, as a catalyst to encourage one to recognise the importance of food in one's life, to develop a sense of place and a sense of attachment to your food which nourishes and sustains you. It sounds hippy-dippy, and it probably is, but it sure resonated last night (it did, I swear K!).

That said, I thought I would throw a couple of links from metafilter, which is a community blog populated by people like me, about that issue, about how to improve one's relationship to food and about a recent article stating that even skinny people are fat . Then I can remain neutral and still get my kicks.

comments on the 100 mile diet
comments on the relationship to food
article
comments on the article

whoa ... neo style.

I finally opened the MCAT study book. Crikey! (damn you sam).

It is a massive amount of information to absorb, running the (science) gamut of chemistry, physics and biology. I expected to have to know much, but I was still a little shocked by what one is expected to have memorized.

Anyway, I should start studying about 4 hours a day. And just when I expected school and studying to be finished. blah. On the other hand, I love it. That, I guess, is a good sign. I am fixed on org chem right now, which is ironic(-ish) because I thought I hated that subject.

But this summer still will give me what I need. This weekend is a climbing trip to Strathcona that I am super pumped about.

Anyway, I need encouragement and plans. Give me both.

blast, damn, etc.

it seems that I have decided on montreal, for a whole year, starting in September.

The joy of that is that this summer is mine and mine alone. I may work, but I probably won't.

Anyway, all you west coasters who love and adore me should get their matt on very soon (although if all goes well I will be back in September). We can do the folloying this summer: camping, climbing, clamboring, canoodling, cloistering, cowering, coveting, (a)costing, cayaking, (c)hiking. Also, I am open to suggestions.

Suggestions people! I finish my last undergraduate exam tonight and then I am (somewhat) free. Let us experience the finest that the west coast has to offer, in all its bug-free goodness. I don't have a car, but I do have a bike. I want to bike to Whistler. who is in?

I also want to kayak the islands. Again, who is in?

Lastly, the ferry trip up the coast. Never done it, always wanted to. Who is in?

more. more more more more. I want to be tanned and healthy before descending into the bacchanalian drink-fest that is montreal. be crunchy before i turn pretentious.

understandable

woo. tired.

You know, I have often argued that choice is a strange bed-fellow. We all want choice, hate being told what to do, aggressively assert our desires and occasionally buy the walnut burger when we know that we like the regular veggie burger. Life on the edge, etc.

And, despite the upcoming rant, I do like choice. I think.

rant: fuck choices. fuck them outrageously. fuck signing up for a career. fuck paths. fuck hand forcing and fuck symbolic gestures. fuck mandatory exams and the agencies that (sometimes) provide them. fuck funding. fuck economic downturns and litigious societies. fuck dark windowless rooms and fuck iterative research. fuck student loans. fuck being afraid of not being able to pay for school. fuck deferrals and definitely fuck not knowing. fuck stretched out degrees. fuck limitations. fuck fine print. fuck salesmanship. fuck pretty binders.

okay, I finished my last class of undergraduate studies today and am fully sober. This is a bad sign. I feel ... uneasy.

I have so many good options and I am completely stressed out. This is the opposite of what should be happening. Options should relieve stress. blah.

Anyway, New York was good, marred slightly right at the end, but that probably had more to do with a lack of sleep than anything else. People were friendly, although we didn't have the mind-blowing, earth-shattering, radical discussions I expected. Still, I can imagine it would be a fun city to be in, especially once I found that free stuff. But, it was busy, pushy, focused and aggressive. Fine for a while, but for at least 3 years plus however many years of indentured servitude I would have to endure. And NYU was exciting. Full of people doing things. I like things.

Oh, who am I kidding. I am full of fear.

Deadlines approach and people expect me to tell them things and I just keep stalling while somehow concurrently increasing my options. Most recent idea: 1 year masters at UVic. Got offered it today. The prof thinks we can push it through. Yay! Options!

The natural history museum in NY is the most amazing place ever. I truly believe that one could spend a year reading every sign in that place and come out as well educated as any university graduate. Schools should set up comprehensive exams at the exits, multiple choice with scantron machines waiting and hand out degrees to hardcore New Yorkers who just want to learn "outside the system, man." These hardcore New Yorkers are apparently also hippies. We went and spent two hours checking out rocks before Colin pointed out that we hadn't even seen all the rooms on the first floor. Near closing time, we were literally running through the exhibits trying desperately to find the dinosaur room. Stegosaurus used those fins for heat dissipation, not protection. And there was a big note about how we don't know the colour of dinosaurs, so now I imagine them in terrifyingly vibrant colours trying to hide behind shrubbery. Pink Rexs hunting bright blue beasts. No more subdued natural colours for you, suckers. Colin is still mad that we looked at rocks for so long. my bad, sorry. Why were dinosaurs so big? Someone explain that aberration.

I have much more to say, but it in midnight and I must sleep. I will rant more later.

Wait, something good (besides the obvious: communists):

I love my volunteer job so much. I love interacting with people I normally wouldn't have a chance to. I love hearing the students say "I hadn't thought of that." I love when I see one of them sat at the edge of their seat absorbing what the professor is saying. I hate saying this sometimes, because it makes me feel like an entitled jerk (I have a definite belief in respecting ones elders, wisdom and all that), but I really like helping people learn. Education, dudes - it rocks. And yet, I have no real desire to be a teacher. Well, maybe a small desire to be a teacher. which is another big reason why I shouldn't go to various law schools.

nervous

very nervous.

but baby is cute (youtube).

to be fair, the baby did come into contact with kryptonite during birth. I was bound to lose.

late

jebus. it is late. encore.

I am in the middle of a hectic time, mainly because I decided to compact all of my classes and assignments into two weeks instead of a leisurely three so that I could head out to New York and figure out if NYU will be intellectually rigorous enough for me! That and I couldn't pass up an almost fully subsidised trip to NYC.

The upshot is that my last semester of undergrad is turning out to be uber-busy. Love it.

This week consists of finally finishing my program (which I shunted into a 498 class - my only 400 level class in 6 years of university!), after just recently figuring out the problem that had plagued my supervisor and me for a few days (I emailed my supervisor at 11:13pm to advise him of my success while he was concurrently emailing me to send his regrets!), and writing lab after lab after lab. I will be avoiding the "final pub crawl of my undergraduate career," as is often exclaimed by my wide-eyed fellow students, so that I can finish all this stuff. Of course, I may still meet the crew later just to revel in their drunkenness.

There are a few other things going on, interviews and the like, so I am trying to learn french this weekend as well.

On a much more pleasant note, I finally got out on the water this past weekend. K came out and, on a spur of the moment decision, we decided to rent a boat to row around in the harbour. We wanted to go friday evening but we were too late, so we booked ahead for saturday afternoon at 1pm. The day started out dreary but bright and we convinced ourselves that the weather would conform to our desires. At 12:59, totally appropriately, the rain started falling, slowly at first, taunting us, before pouring down mockingly.

I think I may have yelled (just a litte) and perhaps cursed someone or something. We ended up huddling under the tiny canopy at the marina debating whether we should go or not - the employee suggested no. We wavered but our adventurous spirit prevailed ... we would go out for 1 hour (instead of the planned 3), freeze to death, get completely soaked, return miserable but triumphant in our sneering at the element and then tell all our friends that it was totally worth it! The 4 of us (harmony and alan came too) boarded tentatively and, paddles knocking against each other in a distinctly non-rhythmic pattern, we steered into the harbour avoiding watertaxis as best we could. Success! The rain stopped soon after we got out in the water and we called the marina to extend our trip - no one hour pathetic circle ... we were going on a three hour tour.

We found an island and I know where you think this is going. We had our own Ginger Grant, so we decided to send Alan (Gilligan?) onto the island. He stole a flower and angered the natives. It started to rain again. Correlation or causation? What more can an angry spirit do than cause rain? We bailed, bailed, bailed, drank beer, ate food, struggled vainly against surging rapids, and, against all odds, discovered ourselves. It was a teen dream cruise. So much sex.

And at the end, we totally tried to chase and board a watertaxi. The occupants looked frightened ... or maybe happy ... some emotion that involved showing teeth. Anyway, I just note this to show how much we changed in those three hours. When we first came out we were sheep, fearful of taxis and their terrible wakes. At the end we were sharks. Watertaxi chasing sharks.

god it's late.

Alors, parce-que en seulement 5 jours je devrai parler avec deux Quebecois au sujet du gouvernement, je finirai cette lettre en français. J'espere qu'il tu as rendu heureux.

K: any good?

merde.

now you know ... you big baby.

from here:

As onions are sliced, cells are broken, allowing enzymes called alliinases to break down sulfides and generate sulfenic acids (amino acid sulfoxides). Sulphenic acids are unstable and decompose into a volatile gas called syn-propanethial-S-oxide. The gas dissipates through the air and eventually reaches the eye, where it reacts with the water to form a dilute solution of sulfuric acid. This acid irritates the nerve endings in the eye, making them sting. Tear glands produce tears to dilute and flush out the irritant.