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I promised you a post with substance
My posts for the past few months have been quite shallow, I must admit. I've been stressed, and one of the key points of my personality is that when I'm stressed about something and feel out of control, I compensate by ramping up the control on other things; in this case, my inner life, which I've never been fantastic at sharing anyway.
So, a sitrep: I'm done with exams, I'm done with 99% of medical school. What I'm doing now is called pre-internship, and it's an eight week term of learning how to do the things that aren't found in textbooks: writing in charts and writing up meds, bloods and cannulas, consults, phone calls, orders for lab tests. I'm doing it in geriatric medicine, which is equal parts good general med exposure and very confronting. A large proportion of the patients are demented, lots of them have complex family/social situations, and a fair few of them die. I'm really liking my team and the work, which bodes well for next year. It's certainly a hell of a lot less stressful than medical school so far.
I'll be done at the start of December -- then six weeks off -- then I start work in Canberra in mid-January.
In terms of writing: I'm still waiting for my brain to adjust to the new timetable and decide that it's prepared to function in the evenings. The X-Men project is still on the go, Ji & I have a grand ambitious idea for the next eyai story we want to write, I am determined to participate in Yuletide despite feeling fannishly uninspired on the whole, and some of my original ideas are becoming more insistent. All of this urgency crowding at the back of my thoughts hasn't yet made the actual writing appear yet.
In the meantime I'm watching lots of TED talks and reading a lot of books.
This whole process of fannish disengagement is distressing me, though I do think a large part of it is the less-than-mature urge to be Part Of Things, the worry stemming from childhood that if you turn your back for a moment then everyone else will have life-changing fun without you. I miss the sense of community that comes with connecting gleefully about a canon. I'm envious in a way of the people who tweet and tumbl and seem to read prodigious amounts of fic, the people who can keep up with kinkmemes. I'm definitely upset about the fact that a 7am-6pm daily time commitment more or less wipes out those hours of the day in which it might have been possible to communicate in real-time with some of my best friends.
You know me. I have to be able to do everything. I have to read all of Shakespeare, all of the Booker, ALL OF THE BOOKS EVER, I have to write fic, I have to write novels, I have to improve my French and update my book review blog and teach myself about politics, I have to convince myself that I'm not. just. medicine, and all the while I have to achieve decently in the field of medicine as well, and put my fingers in my ears to block out the voice that suggests I should also be achieving in the field of romantic relationships, what's going on there you MISERABLE FAILURE.
I don't know which fictional character -- because I'm pretty sure that's who's to blame -- gave me the idea that one person can throw themself into ten directions at once and somehow give 100% to every direction, but a) they were no good at maths, and b) I'd sort of like to punch them in the face.
So, a sitrep: I'm done with exams, I'm done with 99% of medical school. What I'm doing now is called pre-internship, and it's an eight week term of learning how to do the things that aren't found in textbooks: writing in charts and writing up meds, bloods and cannulas, consults, phone calls, orders for lab tests. I'm doing it in geriatric medicine, which is equal parts good general med exposure and very confronting. A large proportion of the patients are demented, lots of them have complex family/social situations, and a fair few of them die. I'm really liking my team and the work, which bodes well for next year. It's certainly a hell of a lot less stressful than medical school so far.
I'll be done at the start of December -- then six weeks off -- then I start work in Canberra in mid-January.
In terms of writing: I'm still waiting for my brain to adjust to the new timetable and decide that it's prepared to function in the evenings. The X-Men project is still on the go, Ji & I have a grand ambitious idea for the next eyai story we want to write, I am determined to participate in Yuletide despite feeling fannishly uninspired on the whole, and some of my original ideas are becoming more insistent. All of this urgency crowding at the back of my thoughts hasn't yet made the actual writing appear yet.
In the meantime I'm watching lots of TED talks and reading a lot of books.
This whole process of fannish disengagement is distressing me, though I do think a large part of it is the less-than-mature urge to be Part Of Things, the worry stemming from childhood that if you turn your back for a moment then everyone else will have life-changing fun without you. I miss the sense of community that comes with connecting gleefully about a canon. I'm envious in a way of the people who tweet and tumbl and seem to read prodigious amounts of fic, the people who can keep up with kinkmemes. I'm definitely upset about the fact that a 7am-6pm daily time commitment more or less wipes out those hours of the day in which it might have been possible to communicate in real-time with some of my best friends.
You know me. I have to be able to do everything. I have to read all of Shakespeare, all of the Booker, ALL OF THE BOOKS EVER, I have to write fic, I have to write novels, I have to improve my French and update my book review blog and teach myself about politics, I have to convince myself that I'm not. just. medicine, and all the while I have to achieve decently in the field of medicine as well, and put my fingers in my ears to block out the voice that suggests I should also be achieving in the field of romantic relationships, what's going on there you MISERABLE FAILURE.
I don't know which fictional character -- because I'm pretty sure that's who's to blame -- gave me the idea that one person can throw themself into ten directions at once and somehow give 100% to every direction, but a) they were no good at maths, and b) I'd sort of like to punch them in the face.
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And, y'know, don't worry so much about the relationship thing. No one as fabulous and gorgeous as you can be single for long. :*
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And that's very sweet of you, but the problem seems less to do with my fabulousness and more to do with my pathological inability to go on more than two dates with one person before a little voice pops up and says 'Woops, changed my mind! You don't actually like this guy! Abort, abort!' and I have to awkwardly break things off. My mother's theory is Commitment Issues.
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That is actually a really good question... and I don't know the answer, unless you wanted to be the ENTIRE Babysitters Club!
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Let's run away and form a WRITING COMMUNE. With... magical internet access.
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