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booklogging is an excellent way to avoid study
New book review: Annette Curtis Klause's Blood and Chocolate.
The book I'm now lugging around hospital and reading during breaks is Brave New World, and I'm not very far in but I already have a collection of sentences around which I want to scribble sparkly hearts. I'm trying to read all of those seminal scifi books that I have been vaguely meaning to read for years, and although the Orange Library has so far been very helpful (epic amounts of Le Guin!) they don't have Farenheit 451 :(
Med school news: bluh. Med school is med school. Most of us have the final-year equivalent of senioritis, which is equal parts apathetic burnout and sheer panic that we're going to be expected to be real doctors in a rapidly shrinking amount of time.
Today there was a paediatric surgery list and I got to see what a testicle looks like. (A: white and squidgy.) Medicine makes you blase about almost everything, but there are still those rare moments when you're pressing down on the groin of a sedated child and someone is standing by your shoulder crying "Milk! MILK the testis into the scrotum!" and you think, my profession is a bit weird.
The book I'm now lugging around hospital and reading during breaks is Brave New World, and I'm not very far in but I already have a collection of sentences around which I want to scribble sparkly hearts. I'm trying to read all of those seminal scifi books that I have been vaguely meaning to read for years, and although the Orange Library has so far been very helpful (epic amounts of Le Guin!) they don't have Farenheit 451 :(
Med school news: bluh. Med school is med school. Most of us have the final-year equivalent of senioritis, which is equal parts apathetic burnout and sheer panic that we're going to be expected to be real doctors in a rapidly shrinking amount of time.
Today there was a paediatric surgery list and I got to see what a testicle looks like. (A: white and squidgy.) Medicine makes you blase about almost everything, but there are still those rare moments when you're pressing down on the groin of a sedated child and someone is standing by your shoulder crying "Milk! MILK the testis into the scrotum!" and you think, my profession is a bit weird.
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(And re: your second post, urrgh, my sympathies.)
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