Tuesday, May 27, 2008

A few things I've learned in the last few days

As much as I told people I had a good weekend, really, I spent quite a bit of it feeling really rather blah. Which was rather unpleasant. But it showed me a few things:

* Watching Torchwood, oddly enough, is not a mood lifter. In fact it is pretty much the opposite. Especially because I accidentally know how some of it is going to end. At least I had the sense not to watch the last two episodes, and to switch to Daria instead.

*As mentioned previously, Daria is a much better alternative to Torchwood when feeling blue. I'm not sure why. Surely all the sarcasm and angst can't be conducive to a good mood? Oh, wait. This is me we're talking about. Moving on...

*When you are blue, it is really hard to eat just one chocolate frog...

*Other people's blogs are far more interesting than mine. This probably explains why, as far as I am aware, no one actually reads my blog...

*The one things that is better than Daria when you feel blue is watching QI on youtube. Ah the hilarity. Laughter, as they say, is indeed the best medicine.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Sometimes governments get it right...

I was hugely excited on Saturday to hear that after years in Baxter followed by community detention, my friend Giwa has been granted a visa to live in Australia, providing he passes a health check and a police check back in Nigeria.

Which is awesome. But I must ask, why does it take so long? Giwa is a teacher, and a christian. It confuses me as to why it takes so long to work out that someone like him is not in anyway a threat to this country. I get that we don't necessarily want people associated with terror cells or other such nastiness to live here permanently. But how hard is it, seriously, to run background checks. I don't buy it.

In other news, I'm trying a new made up recipe tonight, involving rum, bananas and other goodness. Hopefully it goes well and the kitchen doesn't go up in flambe...hmm...

Sunday, May 18, 2008


Here's something that occasionally surprises me: the fact that I seem to be turning into some kind of old git. I get crotchety at the littlest things...although maybe they aren't so little. It bugs me that people I'm studying with aren't as passionate as me. Or maybe even passionate at all. I realise that it is quite unique to have formed a dream some 6 or 7 years ago and still be pursuing it with only minor alterations. But seriously. If you want to be a health profession, have a little passion. Have some fire. Don't be all 'well if I don't get in, I'll just do such and such'. Screw that. I have all sorts of (meaning, OK, maybe 1) contingency plans in place in case I don't get into physio. I'm prepared to somehow work my way overseas if needs be, where I can buy myself a place if I have to. For godsakes, don't whinge about why you have to learn something that seems irrelevant, and please, if someone points out it is actually relevant, have the respect to accept that and move on. Be educated about what it is you actually want to do.

To sum up, whatever you do, do NOT piss me off. I will totally diss you in my blog. Bitches. Grow up, get a life, realise that the world will not, contrary to popular opinion, hand you everything on a plate. You have to work, you have to learn some mind numblingly boring things, as well as some hard things, and you have to accept them and accept that some things don't change. Above all, do not argue with a Choleric-sanguine type personality when she knows she is right. Trust me. She won't argue unless she knows she is right. Which means you are wrong. Accept that and move on.


Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother's Day?

Ugh. I feel like a bad person, because sometimes, I get totally sick of my family. Not my own mother, at least most of the time, but my extended family. It feels like they organise my life, or at least my special occasions, and just generally make me not look forward to family celebrations. Which seems contradictory. Family celebrations should be good, right? Yet they are about my least favourite thing to do. I have my small cousins thrust in my face constantly as small people who are far better than I'll ever be (note: everything these supposed prodigies can do, I could totally do at their age. Except crossover skipping. But who cares about skipping, anyway. I could, like, count to 100 and beyond when I was 4. Beat that, bitches). Clearly, whatever I do will never be good enough, as either Ann or Barbara could do it better than me. I eat the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, do the wrong subjects. I hate it. I shouldn't care but I do. This is my family. Of all the people in the world, your family should be the supportive, nurturing ones, right? Ha. Clearly you have the wrong family.

The problem is, if I rebel against it all, it just makes the situation worse. And yet I don't want to just pander and smile and do what I'm told. What the hell kind of life is that? Bastard catch 22...I don't want them to hate me, yet to do what it would take to please them would be unbearable. Gah.

Screw this. I don't need it anymore. But as they say, you can't choose your family. Which, as I'm seeing more and more, is a tremendous pity. On days when you are supposed to celebrate family, I find myself hating mine. Does that seem right to you???

Wednesday, May 7, 2008


Have I ever mentioned how much I hate studying for anatomy tests? It makes me blog, for instance. This must be serious...

The thing is, I am not a rote learner. I don't believe in rote learning. If there's some important fact to know, well, that's what google is for. I am a girl who makes up half her exam and gets 80%. Because I study biology and that's what you do, isn't it? Make it up but try to sound halfway intelligent?

Except anatomy doesn't work that way. It might, if I knew slightly more latin and could make up awesome names for things when I can't remember what they are actually called. Hmm...perhaps I should just hit the latin section of internetbumperstickers.com and see what I can glean.

Or, you know, I could actually study properly. Bwa ha ha...

Saturday, May 3, 2008


Tomorrow marks one year since my Nan died from cancer. One whole year. Which means it's also nearly a year since I decided to stop wallowing in my self pity and dwelling on how ridiculously unhappy I was and to basically get over myself. It actually worked, too, for most of the last year. I was happy, even though things still weren't great, I was able to deal with them better. Somehow, though, in the last few months or so I seem to be sliding back along the path of self pity. It sucks. I hate who I am when I'm all mopey and depressed. It's not the 'me' that I'm used to. It's definitely not a nice person to be around. So I guess I need to try and remember that I have defeated this before and I can do it again.

It doesn't help, though, that nearly a year to the day that my grandmother died, my best friend faces the same reality, telling me today that her grandmother has the big 'C' word. Pancreatic and liver. Which is not a great prospect, really. I guess it surprised me (see? I can keep on topic occasionally...) how much that effected me, because I've been all teary and mopey and generally sad all day, and I'm sure it's not really about Ria's grandmother, who I've never met, but it's more about me. Which is an utterly selfish response but there you have it. But I thought I was past all this grief stuff. Acceptance, etc. But today I have been a total basket case. I cried during an episode of Gossip Girl, for crying out loud. That there is surely an indicator of some major problems...

I suppose it doesn't help that this morning I woke up suffering some kind of allergy to the eye makeup I was wearing last night, and my right eye was nearly swollen shut and I kind of looked like Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Or like I got punched in the eye whilst wearing a rather stunning shade of pinky-red eyeshadow. Maybe it's karma getting me back for laughing at Wez for managing to twist his ankle and cut his eyebrow open when he passed out Thursday. But seriously, when someone hears you coming and goes 'Don't laugh', surely it's the natural response, when you see them hobbling on crutches with stitches in their face to laugh in a somewhat maniacal way. That's not just me, right? Cause I don't really believe in Karma anyway...because I've seen enough even in my short life that makes me believe that the worst stuff always seems to happen to the best people, and not the other way around.