Dear Lecturer,
The slot for that incredibly difficult biomedical lecture is from 12pm - 1pm. You delivered it in under 30 minutes. Most of this is completely new and unknown territory to us and hard to understand as it is. Talking completely in acronyms and metaphors while going through the lecture slides faster than the speed of light is not conducive to effective learning for potential doctors: there's not even enough time to speedily jot down the lecture title before you've gone three slides of important information along. There is a reason you are inundated with questions from your students after every slot. Please stop trying to kill us while trying to teach us how to save others.
Best Wishes
Screwed.
Monday, 27 September 2010
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Transitions
Dear Friend,
Are you resistant to change? I am. In fact, being out of my comfort zone in general terrifies me. It's the reason why I used to refuse relationships: there was too much of myself in uncertainty and at risk. Moving house, changing shampoo, living with someone new or having a close loved one move away. All of these things stress me out. In the past two weeks, all of these things have happened, at the same time.
Kincaid's Court
So, after a whole year of working, making up my own schedule, being free, not having to study and living comfortably, I'm finally here: at university. Again a huge change, and one I was incredibly anxious about. What if the flatmates were all too quiet? What if the flatmates were all 'too cool' for me and shunned my geekiness? What if I just got on their fucking nerves all the time? What if I got placed in an all-male flat? What if I didn't manage to get the money together for the deposit and had to live at home instead?
None of the above are true (or at least I hope). Flat 9, Block 4 has more hilarious memories from the past two weeks as I have had for months. There's 12 of us:
Are you resistant to change? I am. In fact, being out of my comfort zone in general terrifies me. It's the reason why I used to refuse relationships: there was too much of myself in uncertainty and at risk. Moving house, changing shampoo, living with someone new or having a close loved one move away. All of these things stress me out. In the past two weeks, all of these things have happened, at the same time.
Kincaid's Court
So, after a whole year of working, making up my own schedule, being free, not having to study and living comfortably, I'm finally here: at university. Again a huge change, and one I was incredibly anxious about. What if the flatmates were all too quiet? What if the flatmates were all 'too cool' for me and shunned my geekiness? What if I just got on their fucking nerves all the time? What if I got placed in an all-male flat? What if I didn't manage to get the money together for the deposit and had to live at home instead?
None of the above are true (or at least I hope). Flat 9, Block 4 has more hilarious memories from the past two weeks as I have had for months. There's 12 of us:
- Sean secondnameican'tspell. He's friendly, sociable, and takes responsibility for things: his, Chris' and Gregor's friends trashed the flat and they all cleaned up and took responsibility for the damages. Nice guy; though slightly obsessed with darts.
- Gregor and Chris. Twins, from the same school as Sean and they're pretty nice guys. They love the gym, though not as much as Mark (see below) but not gym-goers in that agressive-type way. From what I know of them, they're nice guys and intelligent. It's strange seeing both "lad" and "intelligent" together since I'm from Leith. Intelligent and Masculine were complete opposites where I come from. Oh, and Gregor tried to wrestle Billy to prove his strength. Billy kicked his arse in.
- Claire. I knew her at first as Evil Claire because when we moved in, she wouldn't speak to me and made fun of me for having a coffee maker. She then disappeared for the weekend and no one knew where she was, so those first impressions were quite set. She reappeared on Monday - turns out she was working back in Kirkcaldy and is in reality Not-So-Evil-Claire. She's a great laugh, especially when we're all just hanging out in the flat.
- Sascha deserves her own blog entry. Seriously.
- Me.
- Lyndsey. I'm never quite sure how her name should be spelled since everyone seems to be telling me it differently. She's from Dundee and definitely the dark horse of the flat. She seemed the quiet estudious type at first, but after a few drinks on the first night, she barged into a flatmates room without knocking, screamed everyones names excitedly for two hours and made out with Creepy Colin. She is absolutely hilarious drunk.
- Billy. Bless his little soul to pieces. Before I came, I wondered I would be the token gay of the flat, but thank god Billy made sure that didn't happen. Since we moved in, we've bonded quite a lot as gays (I think) and are really comfortable with each other. With two gay people becoming friends there's always the bridge you need to cross: fuck or friend. That sounds seedy, but gays ARE seedy and it is the reality of most gay relationships. Whether you are honestly attracted to them or not, it could just as easily go either way during freshers week while everyone is horrendously drunk. Thankfully, I have my beautiful Daniel which instantly gave me crossing to the side of friend and that is that. It set the tone, and the tone is supportive, friendly, caring and the Jack to the Will and the Will to the Jack.
- Rachel. The other Medic in the flat and the (barely) more responsible one out of the two of us. We both wake up at 8.55am for 9am lectures, but only because she is the one who comes into my room shaking me awake: "SEANN! WE AH LATE FO LEKTCHAA!" Yes, she's from singapore. Her accent is this strange mixture between American English and Chinese. At first we thought she was really antisocial: keeping all her food in her room and not ever coming out; but she's actually a lovely, friendly girl.
- Mark. All I can say about him is "Alreet", "Gym" and "Byee" because that's all I've really heard him say. I'm not saying he's boring or a bad guy, because I don't actually know him. He doesn't seem mean or nasty whatsoever apart from complaining furiously all the time about Katie and I doing cancer out of the window. I can see his point though: is IS a non-smoking flat, but it's a student flat. This isn't Bannatynes finest.
- Sheen. Or Shiying Zhang. I'm not sure what she prefers to be called. She's from China in the same place as Alpha and Zoe, and is friendly, but keeps to herself and other Asians. One morning after a particularly intense flat party, someone had thrown her rice ALL OVER the livingroom and she was devastated; but Sean gave her money for more rice, so all is good.
- Last but not least: Katie. Jean-Luca, an Italian boy in my Medicine classes would describe her as "an absolute psychopath." But not in a bad way. She's absolutely out of her mind and it's fantastic. Every second sentence from her has me in fits of laughter. An absolute legend overall.
So that's us. There are a few other people that come round to the flat (constantly): Caroline the Sex-Addict, Creepy Colin, Finlay from Stornoway, Catriona from Flat 7, Morven who pissed in the stairwell and many more. It's a good flat and I like it. I just hope I don't get on their nerves anytime soon ;)
Katie and I have our first properly cooked meal in the flat. Well Romantic.
This photo is distinctly lacking Sascha. Me, Katie, Lyndsey, Billy.
Rachel from downstairs and I doing the "Call on Me" exercise dance
We have defaced the flat a ridiculous amount. Broken 2 windows, smoked and left evidence,
almost broken the hoover, defaced the couches, broken one of the couches and countless other
things. We are SO not getting out deposits back.
Billy and I "kissing". We've ALL "kissed" each other. FUNNY TIMES.
Don't Even Ask: Me, Rachel and Billy.
Keep Holding On
So Daniel has finally gone and I can't put into words how much I miss him. Over the past few months, I've spent so much time with him, getting to know him and how amazing he is. You might have read my last blog about trust and cheating: I have faith in Daniel even though it was hard to achieve. The difference is, he has made me feel like something I've never felt before: special, cared about and as if I matter to him genuinely.
Now he's gone, and apart from missing him and all his amazing quirks and perks I feel like a big part of my self-worth, self-esteem, happiness and strength has been shattered into pieces. He was there, a constant reminder as to what I am worth and without him, it's difficult to keep that mindset alive. 6 months... I'll keep holding on as long as it takes. I just hope he doesn't let go.
I've written far too much for this entry, so I'll catch up more in a few days.
Ciao
xxx
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (old draft I'd like to post)
Dear Friend,
Any person who has studied biology (or actually has an ounce of common sense) knows that learned behaviours are essential for survival on this earth. If you cut your foot on a piece of glass that one time you walked along the beach barefoot, you'll be unlikely to do it again; if you do, and you get cut again you'll likely never walk barefoot again. When we are hurt by something we learn to avoid it, or at least, be extremely cautious in situations where it could occur. Most people have their one quirky thing like this - what's yours? Mine: Dogs. Reason: I was attacked by one when I was 4. Logical, yes?
However, things stop getting entirely logical when they get human, naturally. The human mind, complex as it is, at some point began to adapt and apply learned behaviours to avoid emotions and emotional pain too. Perhaps the most blatant example of this is cheating... or rather... if you've ever known someone who has been cheated on.
So you're in a relationship - say for the purpose of my point this is your first - and as part of the unspoken rules of a monogamous relationship, you trust your partner. You trust your partner to be there for you, faithful, caring, kind and all of these things undoubtedly. Of course now and then something might give you a doubt but you dispel it as uncalled for paranoia or are so in love - first love: the blindest love - with this person you just can't take it seriously or believe they could ever do anything to hurt you. After all, you know them so well, they wouldn't, couldn't. Isn't life in love fantastic?
A week later when you're sobbing onto your best friend's shoulder, two empty bottles of wine on the table, a chipped front tooth, a broken heart and ex-boyfriend sleeping with someone else, it's an entire different world. When someone cheats on you, they not only steal your dignity, but they also steal something so much more precious. They also steal your ability to trust someone that fully again. You can tell yourself it's a different person, a different situation and a different type of relationship, but you can never entirely get that complete unbounded trust back. A lot of people try to beat the paranoia, fear and internal questioning down inside their head, but when you do, it's something that will eat away at you inside until you're a quivering wreck. It's like a starfish having an arm chopped off: it can regrow, but it's never quite the same as the original. Scar tissue can't be perfect.
Getting over it is a hard and arduous process by which you need something which is very difficult to develop: faith. I'm an atheist and have never believed in any deity: belief without proof is completely illogical to me. Getting that faith in someone else is like trying to force yourself to believe in a god you've got proof probably doesn't exist. You keep trying, but that poisonous memory keeps stabbing you. So you keep trying to forget, and become hardened to the pain. It's all you can do.
Love
Sean
xxx
Any person who has studied biology (or actually has an ounce of common sense) knows that learned behaviours are essential for survival on this earth. If you cut your foot on a piece of glass that one time you walked along the beach barefoot, you'll be unlikely to do it again; if you do, and you get cut again you'll likely never walk barefoot again. When we are hurt by something we learn to avoid it, or at least, be extremely cautious in situations where it could occur. Most people have their one quirky thing like this - what's yours? Mine: Dogs. Reason: I was attacked by one when I was 4. Logical, yes?
However, things stop getting entirely logical when they get human, naturally. The human mind, complex as it is, at some point began to adapt and apply learned behaviours to avoid emotions and emotional pain too. Perhaps the most blatant example of this is cheating... or rather... if you've ever known someone who has been cheated on.
So you're in a relationship - say for the purpose of my point this is your first - and as part of the unspoken rules of a monogamous relationship, you trust your partner. You trust your partner to be there for you, faithful, caring, kind and all of these things undoubtedly. Of course now and then something might give you a doubt but you dispel it as uncalled for paranoia or are so in love - first love: the blindest love - with this person you just can't take it seriously or believe they could ever do anything to hurt you. After all, you know them so well, they wouldn't, couldn't. Isn't life in love fantastic?
A week later when you're sobbing onto your best friend's shoulder, two empty bottles of wine on the table, a chipped front tooth, a broken heart and ex-boyfriend sleeping with someone else, it's an entire different world. When someone cheats on you, they not only steal your dignity, but they also steal something so much more precious. They also steal your ability to trust someone that fully again. You can tell yourself it's a different person, a different situation and a different type of relationship, but you can never entirely get that complete unbounded trust back. A lot of people try to beat the paranoia, fear and internal questioning down inside their head, but when you do, it's something that will eat away at you inside until you're a quivering wreck. It's like a starfish having an arm chopped off: it can regrow, but it's never quite the same as the original. Scar tissue can't be perfect.
Getting over it is a hard and arduous process by which you need something which is very difficult to develop: faith. I'm an atheist and have never believed in any deity: belief without proof is completely illogical to me. Getting that faith in someone else is like trying to force yourself to believe in a god you've got proof probably doesn't exist. You keep trying, but that poisonous memory keeps stabbing you. So you keep trying to forget, and become hardened to the pain. It's all you can do.
Love
Sean
xxx
Saturday, 28 August 2010
What's more difficult to clean up than Semen? Wax.
Dear Friend,
Candlelit baths are romantic.
Cuddles in candlelit baths are romantic.
Kisses in candlelit baths are romantic.
Smooth jazz to accompany kisses and cuddles in candlelit baths is romantic.
Cleaning up all the spilled wax after is not.
Note to self: Invent wax candles that never spill AND/OR easy-clean wax.
Ciao
xxx
Candlelit baths are romantic.
Cuddles in candlelit baths are romantic.
Kisses in candlelit baths are romantic.
Smooth jazz to accompany kisses and cuddles in candlelit baths is romantic.
Cleaning up all the spilled wax after is not.
Note to self: Invent wax candles that never spill AND/OR easy-clean wax.
Ciao
xxx
Thursday, 26 August 2010
Night Shift
Dear Friend,
So, it's 3.22am and I'm at work, which in itself isn't the worst thing in the world - it is a nightshift after all. The staff are nice, the patients are co-operative (mostly) but there are many reasons why it is crap:
It's fine though, because according to the nurse I'm on with, I'm a fruit loop.
She just corrected me: "bonkers". Same difference.
Nighty-ho!
x
So, it's 3.22am and I'm at work, which in itself isn't the worst thing in the world - it is a nightshift after all. The staff are nice, the patients are co-operative (mostly) but there are many reasons why it is crap:
- I am tired.
- I am ill, but at work anyway because I'm poor and need the money.
- I am tired.
- I probably have bronchitis and cannot breathe.
- I am tired.
- Covonia tastes like bile.
- I am tired.
- It is only 3.22am (as I said above), I'm on first break and so have have them all, and the though that I still have about 4 hours to go (without a cigarette makes me want to cry).
- I am tired.
- Daniel is home (yay) and is out tonight (yay) but because of a misunderstanding, I am working (nay!).
- I am tired.
- Pokémon is not keeping me amused anymore.
- I am tired.
- It is FREEZING even with a cardigan on.
- I am tired.
It's fine though, because according to the nurse I'm on with, I'm a fruit loop.
She just corrected me: "bonkers". Same difference.
Nighty-ho!
x
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
"Thank you for not participating in unprotected anal intercourse. But stop smoking."
Dear Friend,
Firstly, you might be wondering I'm addressing you as friend, and if I'm quite honest it's a stupid reason. Basically, I started a new diary once just after reading 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' by Stephen Chbosky and became obsessed with the idea of calling a diary 'friend'. Though the situation of the novel was different, it seemed appropriate: what do you call something that you can share all your innermost thoughts and feeling with without fear of judgement or chastisement? A friend. It's silly, yes, but it's a sort of blog tradition for me now. So secondly, I will keep calling you friend and you will frankly like it. Or else I will delete your google ass from the ether. Ya hear?!
Day 1 of 4 with Daniel in Slovenia.
As if the rain, lonliness, GUM clinic and cold at night weren't bad enough while he was gone, just before he lleft Daniel decided to become a spectacular incubus of viral plague; a status he decided to share this fabulous identity with me, leaving me riddled with rhinoviral disease and feeling like shit. I hope he's at least having a wonderful time there (from caralibro (injoke from Madrid) I am assuming so) to counteract my misery. Oh, wonderful. I just got a phonecall from work to do a 13hour nightshift in an MS/Huntington's disease ward tonight. Could it get ANY worse? Why yes, we don't have any food and I cannot roll smokable cigarettes from the tobacco I have.
Pokémon in the Gum Clinic
So, the GUM clinic is scary - we all know that. However, what few people know is that is is perhaps the best place ever to have a nervous laugh with your best friend. While I sat, clutching my coffee and shaking in the waiting room, Leia brandished a Nintendo DS in my face, commanding that I pwn the world with her stolen games. This I did, and we managed to get a few lols from it:
"Blissey should just fuck off and die. Honestly."
"Sean! Please! Fainted"
"What the hell - did you see that move animation? That was more a sexual invitation than a normal move - come catch my chlamydia!"
The stuff itself wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be though - perhaps in the past I've been too nervous. Blood tests which the doctor incompetently couldn't do properly because she went THROUGH my vein, but through my gritting of teeth and almost-fainting she managed to get enough blood. Then onto the grotesque swabs from various places including the throat. Ew. How dignified.
Almost as Dignified as Leia's doctor who used a TOO BIG speculum and almost killed her, then peered up there with about 5 medical students who all exclaimed excitedly, "Oooh! It seems that your cervix deviates to the left!!!" All in all we didn't have it too bad as it could have been in there, some people I know have fainted before. The lovely doctor I got shook my hand and said as I left, "Thank you for not participating in unprotected anal intercourse. But stop smoking."
I was slightly speechless.
After, Leia and I decided to commiserate the experience with Rosé and Mini-cheddars (Now with MORE cheese!! - they keep saying that... soon we're going to have half of the dairy produce of europe in there) on some steps near the brass monkey, smoking like chimneys and having a laugh.
Hasta luego, mi amigo. Me tengo que ir a cocinar. Work tonight... my soul is dying at the mere thought.
xxx
P.S. Do you think that anything in the courier font looks 34% more boring? Douglas Coupland does and I kind of agree...
Firstly, you might be wondering I'm addressing you as friend, and if I'm quite honest it's a stupid reason. Basically, I started a new diary once just after reading 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' by Stephen Chbosky and became obsessed with the idea of calling a diary 'friend'. Though the situation of the novel was different, it seemed appropriate: what do you call something that you can share all your innermost thoughts and feeling with without fear of judgement or chastisement? A friend. It's silly, yes, but it's a sort of blog tradition for me now. So secondly, I will keep calling you friend and you will frankly like it. Or else I will delete your google ass from the ether. Ya hear?!
Day 1 of 4 with Daniel in Slovenia.
As if the rain, lonliness, GUM clinic and cold at night weren't bad enough while he was gone, just before he lleft Daniel decided to become a spectacular incubus of viral plague; a status he decided to share this fabulous identity with me, leaving me riddled with rhinoviral disease and feeling like shit. I hope he's at least having a wonderful time there (from caralibro (injoke from Madrid) I am assuming so) to counteract my misery. Oh, wonderful. I just got a phonecall from work to do a 13hour nightshift in an MS/Huntington's disease ward tonight. Could it get ANY worse? Why yes, we don't have any food and I cannot roll smokable cigarettes from the tobacco I have.
Pokémon in the Gum Clinic
So, the GUM clinic is scary - we all know that. However, what few people know is that is is perhaps the best place ever to have a nervous laugh with your best friend. While I sat, clutching my coffee and shaking in the waiting room, Leia brandished a Nintendo DS in my face, commanding that I pwn the world with her stolen games. This I did, and we managed to get a few lols from it:
"Blissey should just fuck off and die. Honestly."
"Sean! Please! Fainted"
"What the hell - did you see that move animation? That was more a sexual invitation than a normal move - come catch my chlamydia!"
The stuff itself wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be though - perhaps in the past I've been too nervous. Blood tests which the doctor incompetently couldn't do properly because she went THROUGH my vein, but through my gritting of teeth and almost-fainting she managed to get enough blood. Then onto the grotesque swabs from various places including the throat. Ew. How dignified.
Almost as Dignified as Leia's doctor who used a TOO BIG speculum and almost killed her, then peered up there with about 5 medical students who all exclaimed excitedly, "Oooh! It seems that your cervix deviates to the left!!!" All in all we didn't have it too bad as it could have been in there, some people I know have fainted before. The lovely doctor I got shook my hand and said as I left, "Thank you for not participating in unprotected anal intercourse. But stop smoking."
I was slightly speechless.
After, Leia and I decided to commiserate the experience with Rosé and Mini-cheddars (Now with MORE cheese!! - they keep saying that... soon we're going to have half of the dairy produce of europe in there) on some steps near the brass monkey, smoking like chimneys and having a laugh.
Hasta luego, mi amigo. Me tengo que ir a cocinar. Work tonight... my soul is dying at the mere thought.
xxx
P.S. Do you think that anything in the courier font looks 34% more boring? Douglas Coupland does and I kind of agree...
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