This post has way more gross references than I originally intended.

I was doing so well. My views were climbing, visitors were getting as regular as bowel movements, and I was seeing legit proof of my existence on the vast expanse that is the internet. And then I disappear for a week and it all goes down the drain.

Utterly devastating.

Now we’re back to square one. The only difference is that I’m no longer on the vacation-rotation that was Community Health. I am on death-to-all-who-enter-here Medicine. I am a zombie programmed to study brains. And hearts. And everything in between.

What options does that leave me with? Pre-writing and scheduling posts.

Call me old-fashioned but I just don’t think scheduled posts have quite the same impact as fresh ones do. I know, readers can’t tell the difference, but I’ve got this gut feeling that the statistics tell a different story. Alas, I have no choice.

So, like a new mother with only three months maternity leave, I’m afraid I’ll be expressing quite a bit.

But at least it’s better than the other stuff.


Can you tell the difference when a writer schedules a post rather than just hitting publish after writing/editing?

When dreams come true (and kind of screw you over)

(This entry mostly humorous. Mostly. :))

Anatomy needs to lose weight to compete with the internet.

I never thought I’d say this, but it seems like life was a whole lot easier when I didn’t have an internet connection at my fingertips. People expected less of me. They were simpler times. I was happier.

Now that I have it, I have to use it to study. The horror! One of the reasons (the only reason, really) I have internet access so readily is that it’s fairly integral to my studies. How integral could it be, you may argue, if medical students ten or twenty years ago didn’t have it and graduated just fine? To which I would succinctly reply, they didn’t have Facebook.

Another thing is that now I actually have to do all those things I told people I couldn’t do because I didn’t have net access that often. Like update WordPress (I like to be meta sometimes), or hang out with my fanfiction peeps, or fangirl over Super Junior. Those are all hilariously unrealistic ideals because we all know the only thing I fangirl over is Doctor Who. And cats. The same goes for ‘things I update’, and ‘people I hang out with’.

The sad reality is that all this newfound net-savvy streak is doing for me is making me a much better procrastinator. That’s why at midnight on a school night, I am typing this entry instead of pre-reading for my lectures tomorrow.

Thank you, internet.


full speed… um, which way’s ‘ahead’?

Blogging once a week in medical school is hard. Dancing three times a week in medical school is also hard. Having practical anatomy sessions in medical school is even harder.

I’m reminded of the joke where the blonde goes to the doctor and says ‘Doc, everywhere hurts. When I touch my arm it hurts, when I touch my knee it hurts, when I touch my head it hurts.’ The doctor says ‘I think I know what’s wrong: your finger’s broken’.

I think my medical school is broken.

Little things have a sneaky way of adding up to big things. It is so with organizing time. I do a bunch of little activities, say yes to practically everything because “it doesn’t sound that hard”. At the end of the day, I’m left with a dozen little things where I’m working my butt off everyday, as opposed to one big thing that I could spread out and deal with in bits and pieces.

I know I need to stop saying yes. Everyone tells you that. The problem is I don’t know how to say no. It isn’t in my vocabulary (unless we’re talking about studying, because that gets said no to a lot). My day usually goes like this:

Today I’m not going to pick up any more responsibilities. I will not pick up responsibilities. I will not –
Person #1: Hey Robyn, can you do an extra-curricular, unrelated to medicine and not at all easy job? It’s going to take all semester!
Me: Yeah, sure!

…Wait. Dammit.

I feel obligated to say yes, as if I owe them for asking me a favour.

Thank you for thinking I'm capable of doing this job. I'll just pretend that I am until it all goes to hell in a handbasket.

And when I do say no, I feel so guilty that I end up striking some kind of compromise that gives me the short end of the stick.

My last New Year’s resolution was to stop making promises I couldn’t keep. To make it easier on myself for next year, I’ll put a blanket ban on promises altogether. When someone asks for a favour I’ll say no first and then think about it.

Yeah, and starting tomorrow I’ll be eating an elephant.

Disgruntled pax.