Archive for May, 2009

Mid-block blues.

May 24, 2009


Le costumier's rad orange dancing shoes

Le costumier's rad orange dancing shoes



We are halfway through our Identity, Microbes & Defense block, which means I’ve got the mid-block blues. Lately, I’ve been feeling pangs of friend-sickness (as distinct from home-sickness). I really, really, really miss friends that are scattered all over the place. I miss conversations with my brothers. I miss passionate discussions about stupid ‘arty’ things. I miss discussing the nitty gritty of a film, whether a campaign has hit the mark, the cut of a garment, the angle of a photo or the exact shade of blue on a logo.

I do really love the people I’ve met at uni (they make the thought of living on the Gold Coast for four years less frighteningly depressing). But, sometimes I just miss the people that aren’t here. 

A close friend of mine is on the other side of the country following an internationally renowned dance troupe as their costumier. Last summer we were both home at our parents’ places + spent afternoons hanging out in her mother’s art studio, flipping through thick fashion bibles of black + white photos of Jean Shrimpton + Audrey Hepburn. Her mother’s paintings were stacked against the walls next to my friend’s fabric piled high on a dresser, an old singer sewing machine + antique pattern making tools. When she lived in Sydney + I was in Newcastle we used to drive the two hours to each others houses just to hang out, talk about how frigging great buttons are + talk about opening a button store. 

A friend from advertising called me the other day to chat while she was driving to a shoot, bemoaning the weather because they’d had to cancel a scene with paper lanterns. She was stressed, frantic + laughing with despair at how late she was, how she had all the camera equipment in her car. Despite her assertions that her boss really IS Miranda Priestly + how sick she if of working 15 hour days as a production assistant, our chat made me miss the crazy, lead up to getting a project finished. 

There is no crazy, energetic lead up to anything studying medicine. It is a slow, steady plod. It’s eating five pancakes a day, every day. It’s a treadmill of Clinical skills, PBL, lectures, PBL, lectures, community placement, I’ll-catch-up-with-that-tomorrow-oh-shit-it’s-Monday-again-how-could-it-possibly-be-Monday-again-I’m-not-ready-for-it-to-be-MONDAY-AGAIN! It’s de ja vu, every week. It’s a tiny black hole ripped into my diary that has slowly let time drip away (similar to a small gastrointestinal bleed that goes unnoticed until the patient is severely anaemic). 

People say medicine is as much an art as it is a science…

but all I still see is science.

A slow, plodding science. 



May 23, 2009


Unfortunately, I’ve recently reached a new level of veganism for which I was unprepared. Meat + dairy are making me nauseous*. Seriously, freaking nauseous. 

It’s taken a while + I’m disappointed in my stomach. My gastro-intestinal system as a whole, really. I am not a nauseous person. I don’t “do” spewing. Yet, TWICE in the last few weeks I’ve had to really swallow hard on persistent lumps in my throat. The first bout was sitting next to a friend eating a steak in the pub + the second was a small round of brie being passed around during a class at uni (the discussion re: pussy infection didn’t help). These things never used to bother me. I was overpowered each time by the smell. With the steak incident I deadset heard the horror-flick-knife “eeee eee eee eee” noise. It was insane. 

I try to be neutral, deep breathe + think; whatever, maaaaaaaan, food is everyones free choice, DUUUUUDE, only losers spew…are you loser, maaaan (the voice of my conscience is always Otto Man, of Simpsons bus-driving fame)? But it’s hard when you can’t concentrate on anything else but keeping your guts down. 

I used to scoff, but I totally get anti-durian laws now. 

*This is not a subtle lead in to a post about the joys of impending parenthood.