http://observer.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,,1784869,00.html
It was reported last week that hundreds of junior doctors in Scotland, who have spent up to £100,000 on their medical education and could have taken some of the hard-to-fill consultant posts, may be deported within months.
As for the final two paragraphs:
100,000 ? Nah. Double that.
That's why I'm going to sit the USMLE...
Monday, May 29, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Rigor mortis
Life is just a long, drawn out process of having all your emotions, hopes, dreams and any goodness you might ever have possessed crushed and blended away with each passing day. It all comes unstuck in the end. More's the pity because I can faintly remember, once, long ago - clinging to hope. What a lie. What a sham. What a shame.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Drawing blanks
It has taken me twenty years to realise the value of doing nothing. I shall endeavour to spend some quality time this summer ... doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not easy, you know. Not easy at all.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Cute?
Some kind soul posted a comment on the posting 'Los Angeles to Mosul for 140' - it's been about 10 years since I was last called that and - boy does it feel good... Jason the little munchkin...a stodgy, podgy, inky-dinky plippety-ploppety happy blobby cutey-pie with not a care in the world. Like a jolly pork pie just before he gets eaten!
Friday, April 14, 2006
Saturday Lamentation
I canter between the posts of buoyant optimism and bleak pessimism at the whim of the wind. It's awful to be pinballed like that, knowing that just as you reach the next marker all you have to look forward to is the fleeting sensation of something you'll forget before you could even wonder what had just happened.
Over the years I have come to realise something terrible. It has turned life into one long, sick, disgusting parody of a prisoner's worst nightmare.
I call it the 'downhill slide.' Each moment is the best moment of the rest of your life. Every passing second is better than the one following it because life is simply a downhill slide into oblivion and impending doom. As each day gets worse and worse, the realisation that each passing moment is better than the one following it becomes stronger and stronger. Nevertheless, a person's outlook on life can follow different patterns. Either:
You dread the next day, knowing that whatever the future holds, it can only get worse.
OR...
Paradoxically, you live each moment gleefully acknowledging that it is the best you're ever going to have.
Perhaps it doesn't make much difference because either way, each night one silently prays to have a really massive subarachnoid haemorrhage and not have to wake up the next morning.
Carpe diem, etc. You begin to die the second you're born, etc. D'oh. Whichever way you picture it, I think it's a cruel joke that a human being has to plumb the depths of despair to find some reason to make the most of each passing second of this moribund existence to which we're sentenced.
A good shot of diazepam would be very welcome right now.
Over the years I have come to realise something terrible. It has turned life into one long, sick, disgusting parody of a prisoner's worst nightmare.
I call it the 'downhill slide.' Each moment is the best moment of the rest of your life. Every passing second is better than the one following it because life is simply a downhill slide into oblivion and impending doom. As each day gets worse and worse, the realisation that each passing moment is better than the one following it becomes stronger and stronger. Nevertheless, a person's outlook on life can follow different patterns. Either:
You dread the next day, knowing that whatever the future holds, it can only get worse.
OR...
Paradoxically, you live each moment gleefully acknowledging that it is the best you're ever going to have.
Perhaps it doesn't make much difference because either way, each night one silently prays to have a really massive subarachnoid haemorrhage and not have to wake up the next morning.
Carpe diem, etc. You begin to die the second you're born, etc. D'oh. Whichever way you picture it, I think it's a cruel joke that a human being has to plumb the depths of despair to find some reason to make the most of each passing second of this moribund existence to which we're sentenced.
A good shot of diazepam would be very welcome right now.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Los Angeles to Mosul for 140
Well, there you have it. Four rounds and a knockout.
It was fun while it lasted. I hope that's true for other things, too.
It was fun while it lasted. I hope that's true for other things, too.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
78-75 Blindspots
I saw the cherry blossoms on Thursday and a few green leaves on Saturday. Spring has come.
I have reached the terminal phase of this odd stage of life but the rate at which the days fly past makes it difficult to stop and smell the roses. Before you know what's happened - it's over. A cliched revelation that has to be experienced. You look backwards at your own peril; it's so easy to trip over the stepping stones of tomorrow. Rather like reversing around a bend.
Empty patches demand a faith and persistence to bridge those gaping chasms we face from time to time. Amidst the emptiness we somehow have to stand firm and not be bowled over when the strong winds of uncertainty blow.
I have reached the terminal phase of this odd stage of life but the rate at which the days fly past makes it difficult to stop and smell the roses. Before you know what's happened - it's over. A cliched revelation that has to be experienced. You look backwards at your own peril; it's so easy to trip over the stepping stones of tomorrow. Rather like reversing around a bend.
Empty patches demand a faith and persistence to bridge those gaping chasms we face from time to time. Amidst the emptiness we somehow have to stand firm and not be bowled over when the strong winds of uncertainty blow.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
On a wing and a prayer
I have only myself to blame, I have a million people to thank.
I have a million obligations to fulfill, I have only one chance.
I have to concentrate while multi-tasking, I have to focus without blurring the bigger picture.
I have one life and a million ways to live it.
That is why ignorance is bliss. What about non-existence? Perhaps that's not even a valid question.
I have a million obligations to fulfill, I have only one chance.
I have to concentrate while multi-tasking, I have to focus without blurring the bigger picture.
I have one life and a million ways to live it.
That is why ignorance is bliss. What about non-existence? Perhaps that's not even a valid question.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Litany
All or nothing, almost there.
Pity for the tired wayfarer, shelter for the weary.
Does dawn break over night's dark stillness?
Can the stale air drift away with the angry grey clouds?
The memory of things past falls away with the footsteps, we cling to them fervently until they almost dissolve into thin air.
Hope - remains. Hope for another chance, another day, another way to claw our way back to the happy golden hill on that far and distant shore, the coastline of faded memories.
Is all lost? Where did it perish - in which empty sea? The sea of emptiness can never be drained and its waters are bittersweet.
Bend over the edge and peer into the depths that mirror the hidden recesses of a fractured mind. Search for those lost longings and cling to them.
Once more into the breach, dear friends...
Pity for the tired wayfarer, shelter for the weary.
Does dawn break over night's dark stillness?
Can the stale air drift away with the angry grey clouds?
The memory of things past falls away with the footsteps, we cling to them fervently until they almost dissolve into thin air.
Hope - remains. Hope for another chance, another day, another way to claw our way back to the happy golden hill on that far and distant shore, the coastline of faded memories.
Is all lost? Where did it perish - in which empty sea? The sea of emptiness can never be drained and its waters are bittersweet.
Bend over the edge and peer into the depths that mirror the hidden recesses of a fractured mind. Search for those lost longings and cling to them.
Once more into the breach, dear friends...
Monday, February 27, 2006
Almost home
There are some words whose meaning stretches far beyond the intended definition; such words provoke emotions and touch raw nerves that somehow seemed rather sclerosed on the surface but remained just as tender below. Some words are almost causalgic; they short circuit their regular meanings and take on new ones, opening the floodgates to memories that don't seem to fade with time - each time you polish away the dirt the memory seems to reflect your inner thoughts more vividly than ever before.
'Almost' is one of those words. When you 'almost' made the grade, 'almost' finished the task, 'almost' stopped the bullet. Almost - but not quite. Just not quite there. Never quite enough.
'Home' is another one that weighs on the mind heavily. Life is an adventure but home is where the heart is. Sometimes 'home' and 'the past' seem to get confused with each other, especially with the passage of time. I would give a king's ransom (if I had one to give) just to be able to re-live that once again. To sit cross-legged on a parquet wood floor gazing at the thunderclouds pouring heavy drops of rain as the afternoon wind blows. To smell the smell of home once again. The mere thought sends a tingle of ectopic beats slithering through me. Thing is - airline tickets aside - I don't have to pay for the privilege; somehow I'm paying to stay away. Is five years really such a long time? The clouded mind plays cruel tricks but it is no trick to be almost - but not quite - home.
'Almost' is one of those words. When you 'almost' made the grade, 'almost' finished the task, 'almost' stopped the bullet. Almost - but not quite. Just not quite there. Never quite enough.
'Home' is another one that weighs on the mind heavily. Life is an adventure but home is where the heart is. Sometimes 'home' and 'the past' seem to get confused with each other, especially with the passage of time. I would give a king's ransom (if I had one to give) just to be able to re-live that once again. To sit cross-legged on a parquet wood floor gazing at the thunderclouds pouring heavy drops of rain as the afternoon wind blows. To smell the smell of home once again. The mere thought sends a tingle of ectopic beats slithering through me. Thing is - airline tickets aside - I don't have to pay for the privilege; somehow I'm paying to stay away. Is five years really such a long time? The clouded mind plays cruel tricks but it is no trick to be almost - but not quite - home.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo
I am shocked and appalled. Listening to doctors rant about having to meet ridiculous NHS 'targets' is one thing, reading about government learning targets for five year-olds is quite another. Terms like "foundation stage profile" are now in use.
Statistics claim that
52 per cent had not reached their "early learning goals". The Department for Education said that meant that they had "failed to achieve a good level of development" between the ages of three and five and this raised questions about their "future potential to enjoy and achieve".
Who pays people to come up with, enforce and compile statistics about such ridiculous 'targets' anyway?
Somebody ought to launch a common sense campaign...this is just going too far.
Statistics claim that
52 per cent had not reached their "early learning goals". The Department for Education said that meant that they had "failed to achieve a good level of development" between the ages of three and five and this raised questions about their "future potential to enjoy and achieve".
Who pays people to come up with, enforce and compile statistics about such ridiculous 'targets' anyway?
Somebody ought to launch a common sense campaign...this is just going too far.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Something to be angry about
I'm a medical student.
Call me naive - but our little world would be much better off if governments had fewer lawyers/bureaucrats running them (yes, my long-running antipathy/downright hatred for all forms of 'bureaucracy') and more doctors or scientists calling the shots. What I am referring to, of course, ladies and gents, is TOBACCO smoking. It's sooooo very simple. Ban it. Ban it. Ban it. Blah blah blah freedom of expression blah blah blah. You don't allow people to sell ecstasy on the streets because it is a POISON. Likewise, smoking cigarettes is POISONOUS - to you, to others around you and to the environment. Sure - you could be pedantic and declaim conventional medicines as 'poisons' - what is a poison if not something given in a large enough dose for toxic side effects to overwhelm the body? By the same token, alcohol would thus be a 'poison' - but that's perfectly legal. Don't give me that pathetic excse. Your liver metabolises alcohol and detoxifies the products of metabolism, which you then proceed to excrete. Your lungs, on the other hand, are poisoned from the word 'go' the minute you take that first puff. No detox, not cool. Abuse of anything - medicines, fatty foods, alcohol - will make you sick and probably kill you, but they can all be enjoyed within moderation - even to excess, most of the time. Smoking one cigarette probably won't kill you - but smoke one a day, the same way you eat one caviar blini or drink one pint of beer - and you'll definitely mess something up - even if it's 'just bronchitis'...IT'S COMMON SENSE, PEOPLE!!! Alcohol isn't a PUBLIC HEALTH HAZARD (alright, drunks and cirrhosis aside) - banning alcohol won't make as big a difference as banning smoking.
In fact, there's only one way to stop this - law courts don't work (money talks); governments are in the pockets of big tobacco firms - tax revenue, jobs, etc - and smoking lobbies delude the 'free world' into trying to protect their freedoms. Rubbish. Nonsense. What's lacking here is COMMON SENSE. Burn a little stick of poison and breathe in the toxic fumes - poison yourself and fill your lungs with tar (I think you actually have to be quite STUPID to smoke - that too is a 'choice' - one that reflects a depressingly low level of good sense). Just don't fumigate those around you. So, why do I care so much if I'm just a selfish twit who doesn't like smoke blown in his face? Simple - I'm a medical student... patients who, when questioned reply that they smoked 50 cigarettes a day for 42 years are pretty much shifting the blame to the little sticks of poison. If they don't have the will to protect themselves, somebody has to destroy the incredibly intelligent profiteering murdererous manufacturers who hold the smoking world hostage (1 billion smokers...on earth). So - what are we to do? I'm going to keep it secret until I've finally set my little plan in motion...
I'm not motivated by pure altruism - those who know me can testify to my cold-blooded bile-spewing cerebrospinal-fluid-leaking antagonism of 'the great and the good' - but hear me now - it is just SICK and WRONG to sell people poison. "Here - smoke this - it'll make you feel better but will make you suffer and die!" This has got to stop.
Call me naive - but our little world would be much better off if governments had fewer lawyers/bureaucrats running them (yes, my long-running antipathy/downright hatred for all forms of 'bureaucracy') and more doctors or scientists calling the shots. What I am referring to, of course, ladies and gents, is TOBACCO smoking. It's sooooo very simple. Ban it. Ban it. Ban it. Blah blah blah freedom of expression blah blah blah. You don't allow people to sell ecstasy on the streets because it is a POISON. Likewise, smoking cigarettes is POISONOUS - to you, to others around you and to the environment. Sure - you could be pedantic and declaim conventional medicines as 'poisons' - what is a poison if not something given in a large enough dose for toxic side effects to overwhelm the body? By the same token, alcohol would thus be a 'poison' - but that's perfectly legal. Don't give me that pathetic excse. Your liver metabolises alcohol and detoxifies the products of metabolism, which you then proceed to excrete. Your lungs, on the other hand, are poisoned from the word 'go' the minute you take that first puff. No detox, not cool. Abuse of anything - medicines, fatty foods, alcohol - will make you sick and probably kill you, but they can all be enjoyed within moderation - even to excess, most of the time. Smoking one cigarette probably won't kill you - but smoke one a day, the same way you eat one caviar blini or drink one pint of beer - and you'll definitely mess something up - even if it's 'just bronchitis'...IT'S COMMON SENSE, PEOPLE!!! Alcohol isn't a PUBLIC HEALTH HAZARD (alright, drunks and cirrhosis aside) - banning alcohol won't make as big a difference as banning smoking.
In fact, there's only one way to stop this - law courts don't work (money talks); governments are in the pockets of big tobacco firms - tax revenue, jobs, etc - and smoking lobbies delude the 'free world' into trying to protect their freedoms. Rubbish. Nonsense. What's lacking here is COMMON SENSE. Burn a little stick of poison and breathe in the toxic fumes - poison yourself and fill your lungs with tar (I think you actually have to be quite STUPID to smoke - that too is a 'choice' - one that reflects a depressingly low level of good sense). Just don't fumigate those around you. So, why do I care so much if I'm just a selfish twit who doesn't like smoke blown in his face? Simple - I'm a medical student... patients who, when questioned reply that they smoked 50 cigarettes a day for 42 years are pretty much shifting the blame to the little sticks of poison. If they don't have the will to protect themselves, somebody has to destroy the incredibly intelligent profiteering murdererous manufacturers who hold the smoking world hostage (1 billion smokers...on earth). So - what are we to do? I'm going to keep it secret until I've finally set my little plan in motion...
I'm not motivated by pure altruism - those who know me can testify to my cold-blooded bile-spewing cerebrospinal-fluid-leaking antagonism of 'the great and the good' - but hear me now - it is just SICK and WRONG to sell people poison. "Here - smoke this - it'll make you feel better but will make you suffer and die!" This has got to stop.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Round 1b
BBC TWO, 8.30pm, Monday 16th January 2006.
ICSM vs Trinity Oxford.
Firms. Unpredictable.
Food needed.
ICSM vs Trinity Oxford.
Firms. Unpredictable.
Food needed.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Drams of mulled thoughts
Kisses tell, beauty fades,
All dreams are but passionate charades.
Reason fails, Hope's wells run dry,
Evening's wishes are morning's lie.
Never mind - I love you still.
All dreams are but passionate charades.
Reason fails, Hope's wells run dry,
Evening's wishes are morning's lie.
Never mind - I love you still.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
That dim and distant future
Well, the 7-weeks of torture have finally come to a crashing halt. A part of me survived - that die-hard never-say-never bit that shouldn't be left alone for too long.
Anyway - now this sounds awkward - I simply can't wait to get back to firms. Holidays a wonderful, splendid things and seem to be getting fewer and further between; getting to see one's family is a thing to be treasured. They arrived earlier in the evening, just as I was checking on the Mediterranean roast vegetables and Afghan lamb polo. A wonderfully almost-obsessively regimented round of banter didn't quite get to the question of WHERE to go for a short break. I usually return home for Christmas and I'm wonderfully chatty in the car on the way home from Changi airport; somehow that old, familiar element of leaving behind the term is lacking. Then again, the previously 'normal' eventual heartbreak of re-grafting oneself to a semi-independent state of near-self-reliance won't happen in the same way this time. I don't really know what I'm writing about - I'm just still so glad that the awful past is behind me and shan't catch up if I can do anything about it. It's time for mince pies and nothing is going to ruin that.
'The Constant Gardener' is a good film; certainly worth a watch. Don't be too harsh on the drug companies, though...anyway - can't wait for King Kong and Narnia.
Anyway - now this sounds awkward - I simply can't wait to get back to firms. Holidays a wonderful, splendid things and seem to be getting fewer and further between; getting to see one's family is a thing to be treasured. They arrived earlier in the evening, just as I was checking on the Mediterranean roast vegetables and Afghan lamb polo. A wonderfully almost-obsessively regimented round of banter didn't quite get to the question of WHERE to go for a short break. I usually return home for Christmas and I'm wonderfully chatty in the car on the way home from Changi airport; somehow that old, familiar element of leaving behind the term is lacking. Then again, the previously 'normal' eventual heartbreak of re-grafting oneself to a semi-independent state of near-self-reliance won't happen in the same way this time. I don't really know what I'm writing about - I'm just still so glad that the awful past is behind me and shan't catch up if I can do anything about it. It's time for mince pies and nothing is going to ruin that.
'The Constant Gardener' is a good film; certainly worth a watch. Don't be too harsh on the drug companies, though...anyway - can't wait for King Kong and Narnia.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Life's this game of inches
The inches we need are everywhere around us. They're in every break in the game, every minute, every second....
...We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference between winning and losing. Between livin' and dying. I'll tell you this in any fight it's the guy whose willing to die who's gonna win that inch , and I know that if I'm going to have any life anymore it's because I'm still willin to fight and die for that inch!
-Al Pacino, Any Given Sunday. Logan, J & Stone, O.
...We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Because we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference between winning and losing. Between livin' and dying. I'll tell you this in any fight it's the guy whose willing to die who's gonna win that inch , and I know that if I'm going to have any life anymore it's because I'm still willin to fight and die for that inch!
-Al Pacino, Any Given Sunday. Logan, J & Stone, O.
Nearly there
Give me strength - to finish.
To end. To finally bring this whole sorry episode to a close.
To go out with a bang. A big, big, big, big bang.
To end. To finally bring this whole sorry episode to a close.
To go out with a bang. A big, big, big, big bang.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Dribble
It's time to stop when you begin watching Gordon Brown's pre-budget speech online. You should seek help when you find yourself listening to the Conservative rebuttals. However, it's too late when your mouse pointer hovers over the Lib Dem budget comments...
Friday, December 02, 2005
Innominate urge
Well, the longing has come rather early this year; I suppose it's because I shan't be returning until the summer. Just to place that order, "Satu kosong, satu telur" and slump into a plastic chair in my sandals watching the world go by as I wait. Like a turtle, returning to its home shores to lay a motherlode of eggs, year after year after year (what a beautiful analogy).
Life is just one long cover-up strategy, acting out a part you try your best to believe in, trying to remember the script before you mess up your lines. It might seem tired and rotten but, just remember the 'happy' things in those times of deep despair. Deep, deep down, somewhere past the hippocampus.
Find that pot of gold, be it full or simply just faintly fulfilling and hug it tightly, so in the moment of desolation when all around seems bleak and your path is blighted by fiery peril - you can set out firm, square up to it and summon that strength to pull yourself through.
Time to turn the corner, round the edge, cross the drawbridge and bring out the heavy artillery. It's them or me...and if I'm going down, at least I'll go out with a bang. A big one. Explosions always cause fireworks.
Life is just one long cover-up strategy, acting out a part you try your best to believe in, trying to remember the script before you mess up your lines. It might seem tired and rotten but, just remember the 'happy' things in those times of deep despair. Deep, deep down, somewhere past the hippocampus.
Find that pot of gold, be it full or simply just faintly fulfilling and hug it tightly, so in the moment of desolation when all around seems bleak and your path is blighted by fiery peril - you can set out firm, square up to it and summon that strength to pull yourself through.
Time to turn the corner, round the edge, cross the drawbridge and bring out the heavy artillery. It's them or me...and if I'm going down, at least I'll go out with a bang. A big one. Explosions always cause fireworks.
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