Wrapped up in books

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 20:59:41 GMT

Okay television people, people who are really into reading a book do not hold it with both hands gripping over the top of the book. I know it looks really cute and earnest and all but it seriously slows down your page turning ability.

In other news, I have decided that my special talent is my ability to hold a book and turn the pages with one hand. It struck me today that it was a work of evolutionary genius on my part as I was brushing my teeth and I remembered how icky and wet my books used to get when I had to prop them behind the tap in the mornings. I also decided my specialist subject on Mastermind would be America's Next Top Model, I know a scary amount about it. I am not proud of this, but if it is what it takes for me to win Mastermind and get Magnus Whatshisname's respect I will take it.

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 14:48:56 GMT

I have the world's most giant coldsore. It is SO attractive people faint in the streets. It also may have made a small boy cry when his Mum told him to sit next to me on the bus. He called me a scary lady, oh how scarring.

I am frightened by how bad I am at accents when I pick them up so easily, I'm like a word sponge. People assume I am mocking them before they know me real well, but I'm not, it just happens, especially with the scouse accent. I spent about an hour in my friend Susanna's company this weekend and I came away sounding like John Lennon for a whole day. That's just not balanced.

So, I may have had an argument with my friend Ceri this Saturady. This same person I had a massive falling out with this time last year. Ceri is one of those people who I always love a lot, but sometimes I don't like very much. I think she feels the same way about me. Basically, we were at a party and she put my shoes out in the back garden. Several hours later I idly wondered where my shoes are gone and she's all 'oh, I put them out back' and I may have slightly over-reacted. Which, me being massively passive aggressive would have been fine as it involves me sulking about it but not saying anything. Sadly she may have overheard me complaining about it to mutual friend Fran later. Yikes. Not very classy, as my Mother pointed out. Not the least classy thing I've ever done, as I pointed out. My Mother decided she really didn't want to know what that was.

On Friday, I was at another party and we were talking about throwing up in awkward situations when drunk. I told the story of the time when my friend's very ocd Mum was giving us a ride home and we had told her we weren't drunk (we only had two drinks, honest! etc) and so when I felt the sudden need to vomit, instead of asking her to pull over I vomited into my lap, and then held said vomit in my skirt until I got out of the car. An experience which I think may list on the top ten least classy moments. Top twenty tops.

I am so happy to have today off, I have watched tv for six hours straight and feel a bit weird now though.
The

Tue, 08 Sep 2009 13:00:43 GMT

I have received further proof myself and David Mitchell should get married. The proof I already had mainly consisted of 1- he hates dating, I hate dating, so clearly we should go out with each other, we could both stay home and never see each other, it would be perfect. 2- he reminds me of a hamster.

Yesterday, he said on Mock The Week he wouldn't want to live through a natural disaster. Word. I mean his basis for this is he has no transferable skills as far as a decimated, technology free, post-nuclear society is concerned. As almost a doctor, I think I've got some transferable skills and I think it could be fun in that I once spent about a week considering what would I do if I was having an allergic reaction to peanuts, for example, but had no adrenaline or medical supplies to hand*. However, I would miss coffee and running water and television and I just don't think I'd enjoy it that much.

Having said that I did used to have daydreams where I was transported back to say Roman Britain. I was so involved in this fantasy adventure I used to carry around lots of hand mirrors in my handbag, I used to pull them out of the top of those coldsore patch boxes. This was because I thought good mirrors would be rare and valuable in the past and I could use them for trade.** The difference is in this imaginary time-travelling scenario, I would always eventually find my way home so one day I would again know the joys of coffee and what happened in Gossip Girl. In a post-nuclear society who knows how long it will take for them to reinvent America's Next Top Model.

So my husband David and I will not be building a bomb shelter in either of our homes in which we live, never seeing each other, and don't phone me after the end of the world because you'll probably go straight to answer phone (what? Telecommunication satellites are in space, they'll be alright, you'll just have to conserve your battery as you can never charge your phone again).

I'm also trying to sort my elective out at the moment, it is proving time consuming, this displeases me. On Thursday I am going to Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire to pretend I live in the 15th century.

* In the end I decided I would try to give myself a mild electrocution such as sticking the end of a phone charger on my tongue in an attempt to release my body's stores of adrenaline. Yeah, the solution to this problem is still being refined.

** This wasn't when I was 10 years old, this is when I was 21/22. I am more mature than that now.

Tue, 25 Aug 2009 13:56:18 GMT

So my exams have been over for nearly two weeks now and I am still having nightmares about them and I am still waking up suddenly in the early hours of the morning with my heart racing, thinking 'Fuck! You have to get up! You have to revise!' Luckily, I am now at least able to go back to sleep. The rest of the time I am developing obsessions that I really don't have time for when I'm at uni, like watching Gossip Girl and True Blood and letting my brain turn to mush. Good times.

Also, the other day I went to Edinburgh to see Amanda Fucking Palmer and The Indelicates (who are amazing) with Jess. Neil Gaiman was there, he read us a story. One thing I loved about the gig was Amanda Palmer's ability when it comes to showmanship, she's got such a great rapport with the audience and it just makes the whole experience something special and unique. In a very weird coincidence a friend of mine who didn't know I had just been to see her sent me a text yesterday saying Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman were in her bookstore in London and had given her a hug. I have informed her she is never allowed to wash again, that is standard behaviour, right?

So, now I'm back home and getting a little bored, and I still haven't seen the new Harry Potter film and for some reason my Mother will not go with me. Anyway, I'm going to go to Ireland for the weekend if I ever get my passport back, if not it will have to just be more episodes of America's Next Top Model, I can handle that.

Carlsberg don't make sandwiches

Thu, 06 Aug 2009 11:47:33 GMT

Last night I managed to get locked in a graveyard. Shamefully this is not the first time this has happened to me. Though it is the first time for that particular cemetery. I am particularly annoyed though because I saw two of the groundskeepers and one of them looked right at me before they drove off. So I thought, 'oh, if they are going to lock the gates they will give me a shout. They won't want to lock me in'.

Clearly the bastards did.

It was not a total disaster, mind. The gates weren't too high so I hitched up my skirt and resigned myself to flashing my knickers to half of London Road as I climbed over. I am still quite annoyed though, because if I was shorter I'd have been in real trouble.

For lunch I had steak, grain mustard, coleslaw and tomato on ciabatta. It was amazing and made me incredibly happy for the five minutes before it was finished. Probably the best sandwich in the world.

I am getting a bit scared about my exams, which is good as it makes me work more efficiently. On the down side it turns me into a gibbering wreck. I guess you can't have everything.

On brain fever

Tue, 04 Aug 2009 10:25:03 GMT

It is a truth universally acknowledged that working hard on anything important usually turns your brain. I am no exception, revision makes me very odd, writing essays usually results in me leaving notes and cartoons on my flatmates doors at very odd hours. I have actually been very calm and not talked like a squirrel on helium once this revision period. This is an achievement.

I'm using an online question bank as part of my revision. When I started it was quite rare for me to get every part of a question right*, so whilst my correct responses stats were alright, my questions correct stats were dreadful. This did not bother me overly as my marks will also be on responses, not whole questions correct. It did mean it felt quite special when I did get a question all correct. Special in a way that involves 'I'm awesome' songs and dances, usually in my head, sometimes not. It is a good job I am no longer working in the library.

Most of the songs aren't songs I particularly love and are kind of annoying to get stuck in your head. I generally have the same song for a few days. Thus far we have had:

Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me,
I am the one and only,
My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,
That's the way (I like it),
We will rock you,
Do ya think I'm sexy.

This last one always makes me think of the bartender sketch in the muppets.

The point of all this being, last night I got several questions completely right, in a row (yes, I am awesome, why thank you) and wandered downstairs to have some celebratory chocolate milk singing 'if you want my body... rather loudly, with booty shaking and everything. And ran into my flatmates Mother who I've met like twice. Later my flatmate told me, 'My Mother said you seem to be a very unique kind of person earlier, I said if by unique she meant strange than yes, yes you were'.

I feel I should command more respect than this, I am a whole year older than her.

I am going to have kfc for lunch, so life is not all bad.

*It is still rarer than I'd like, come on brain! Think sponge!

On reading Julia Quinn

Mon, 03 Aug 2009 14:25:47 GMT

Oh dear lord, American spellings! I know the writer is American, but I was given what I thought were UK editions (they may not be) and they are set in Georgian England. As such I get highly distracted every time I read 'color' or 'savior'. I would love to pretend to be fair and say 'it's set in the UK use English spelling!' and leave it at that. However, if I am honest if I wrote something set in the USA I would still use English spellings no matter what because to me colour without a 'u' is akin to someone leaving the house without putting any trousers on, weird distracting and inappropriate.

Having said all this I do think the books need to be more carefully edited, on the whole the author avoids using patently American terms but every so often someone will walk a few 'blocks' which makes me want to tell the other passengers on the train 'London does not have blocks, it's not built that way, and anyway the term block only started being used in the 1810's!' and then I get kicked off public transport, again. The same goes for anachronisms, for instance 'smashing' is a lovely word and is clearly used because it sounds very English, problem is it isn't a word that was really used prior to the twentieth century so it seems a bit wrong.

Anyway, in the last 24 hours I have read The Viscount who Loved Me, Romancing Mr Bridgerton, To Sir Phillip, With Loved and When He Was Wicked. Which is probably also the order in which I liked them, possibly reflecting me getting a little bored of the same basic 'do we love each other, everyone else in the world (or at least the reader) knows that we do, how more chapters till we admit it?' angsting of the characters. They are basically like Georgette Heyer's with sex scenes...and also not as delightful. None of the girls have yet shot anyone, in both my favourite Georgette Heyers the heroines totally do because they are awesome and capable.

It's funny actually, because Georgette Heyer tried to write books which are strictly free of anachronisms and so whilst the women by warrant of being the heroines are usually not perfectly behaved they do behave very conventionally. Julia Quinn's heroines do not, they often do all the things their brothers do. But they are often very, very similar in personality (I'm not sure they are meant to be, but they do all feel the same). You would think I'd get sick of the conventional females and prefer Julia Quinn's ladies with agency. I don't. I love Georgette Heyer because sure they are ridiculous but they also feel real, and when someone does something shocking it actually shocking (and is also it's different shocking things, not just clandestine, pre-marital foreplay).

This isn't to say I didn't enjoy The Bridgertons, they are awesome, and very funny and being even a little bit of a Georgette Heyer is still enough to make something awesome, and who knows there are four more books, maybe the heroine will shoot someone in one of them.

PS I find it hilarious that I started readin Georgette Heyer because there are only six Jane Austen novels and there's only a certain number of times you can actually re-read them* and now I've started to read Julia Quinn because there are only a finite number of Georgette Heyers in existance.

Exam revision, you ask? Yes, that is around here somewhere.

*(especially as Mansfield Park is hilarious from a distance, but very boring to actually read)

On reading book one of The Wolf House

Sat, 01 Aug 2009 16:33:37 GMT

I have just finished reading Overtures and Origins by Mary Borsellino. It was my present to myself for getting through my OSCEs without swearing once in the presence of a patient.

First, before I get into what I like and did not like about it, I have to state this book was good. Really good, I ripped my way through it and it kept my attention focused on what was happening then. Seriously I did not cheat and skip to look at the end once, I was just reading so fast that I was at the end on my own (and I’m glad I didn’t it would have spoilt things for me).

Sadly, I could only get it in electronic format, which I don’t like. It’s too impermanent. It feels too much like the story is just on loan to me from the author. I like to hold books in my hands, I like the smell of paper, I like how they fall open at the pages I love best because they spend so much time on them. I doubt there’s an unbroken spine in my book collection. I love the feeling that the story is now mine. Good news, I like this enough that if I can get a book of it I will. I am finding it incredibly frustrating not being able to flip to the parts that I liked best right now so I can pin point what I loved about them. However, I am not unappreciative of the fact it was only three quid and I got to have it now instead of waiting for the postman.

The blurb for this book did not particularly appeal to me, but I think that was a bit of character splurge, I get a bit irritable when the blurb tries too tell me too many things. I loved the characters in this. I think Rose is my favourite, but that could change, and I wanted to know more about her than was revealed (which really can only be a good thing for something that is going to be a series).

So vampires, teenagers, cool bands, and a story which certainly avoids the heteronormative stance of the Twilight books, what more could you ask for?

Not much to be honest, the things I did not like were tiny little things. Such as Bette not liking Maths, which to be fair was done in a nice way, she’s excellent at Chemistry it’s not like she’s just being painted as a dumb non-science-y girl. However, it’s always, always Maths. I feel maybe it’s the fact that artsy book-writing people are more likely to have loved English and been bored by Maths when they were in school so it’s a position they can describe and it’s something they feel artsy teenagers reading it will understand and relate to. Problem is I loved maths, couldn’t stand the way English had to pick everything apart whereas maths was like a game and everything slid into place. Female characters who dislike Maths just feel like it’s this easy ‘relate to me’ trait to give your heroine and no wonder everyone thinks girls suck at Maths since every other female character they read wrinkles their nose and says ‘ew, Maths’. Seriously, this is a tiny, tiny, one sentence out of 200 pages kind of thing.

What I loved were the back stories, which were beautifully and subtly drawn. Apart from one which is a big part of the narrative, they are brought out quietly and unobtrusively, and that is how it is with horrible things that happened long ago. It’s not beating your breast and crying tragedy it is just something that is always there and colours the way you think. I loved the way Bette’s past adds these subtle, gorgeous shades to the way she thought about things.

It’s the first in a series of six books so the story arc is kind of open, and a lot more things a started and set up than completed in a satisfying manner, but what else would you expect from the first of a series. It is a lot less annoying than Meg Cabot’s Airhead which felt a lot like three hundred pages of set up for book two and nothing important (but which I still adored). Lots of important things happened, but there was more backstory than I would usually tolerate, but as I have said about they were beautifully done, so I am not complaining.

In short, like punk does Anne Rice. I cannot wait for book two. Why not read it, it’s online http://thewolfhouse.net/ and it’s less than five dollars. Score.

Also the cover art makes my blood sing.

On readng Zahrah the Windseeker

Thu, 23 Jul 2009 21:27:21 GMT

I finished Ethan of Athos like a week ago and would tell you about the ensuing conversations with the person who rec'd it, but it involves the capslock key and I quite frankly can't be bother with that manys e's at this time of night.

In the week since I have read (amongst other things) Zahrah the Windseeker by Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu. I wanted to love this like crazy, mainly because I thought the cover was beautiful (why yes, I am incredibly shallow), but in the end I only liked it. I liked it a lot but it just isn't the love of my life. And I was expecting to love it like crazy because it is a teenage girl going off to face danger for someone she loves and I am a sucker for that. The thing is, it was a little boring. It shouldn't have been because in some ways it was so imaginative. There are all these discriptions of the weird and wonderful animals which were weird even in a world that was already very odd, and the plant based world was fascinating and sounded beautiful. The author is clearly very imaginative and has some wonderful ideas, but there's ideas and ideas you know? And whilst she is excellent at world building ideas I'm afraid I wasn't really blown away with her plot ideas. It was all a bit simple, I think.

Part of the problem is the fact I like a real enemy not just a mindlessly evil/generally destructive antagonist.
Basically what I want is
the main character:'why are you doing this?'
evil antagonist: You killed my mother/I am your mother/have you met my mother? This what we do in our family/I don't know! Shut up! Your Mother!

something you know, I want motivations. Maybe I missed the point but you've got this world that I was so excited about because it was amazing and anything could happen and then not a lot really did.

Still you should read it though, if just for the beautiful plant building descriptions.

Mon, 20 Jul 2009 19:39:22 GMT

I was on plastic surgery this last week which was disgusting and not in the gory, awesome way I like, in the gory 'oh God, oh God, I can't look but I can't look away' toes curling kind of way.

But it was really good because the whole team were lovely and really, really wanted to teach me stuff and were doing good work which is heartening as it is not what I think when I think plastic surgery. And it is nice to think that even though the consultant spends a day a week re-modeling people's bodies when there is nothing wrong with them, another day he is repairing someone's burnt skin or cutting out their skin cancer or giving someone the ability to use their hands again. That's not what I thought of when someone said plastic surgery, but it will be now.

The downside of them wanting to teach me is I'm really bad at things like hand anatomy because I have never been particularly interested, so everytime I come to learn it I go 'yech' and just skim it. And the registrar (ie 2nd in command) could sort of tell when I went, 'it's the proximal joints instead of the distal joint' and he asked proximal what joints and I looked at him blankly.

'It's okay,' he told me, 'you don't want to do plastics, you want to do gynaecology'
'Yes!' I said, amazed he'd guessed right.
'Yeah, I could tell from your face,' he said, 'oh well, at least it's still surgery'

I was kind of delighted that I looked like someone who would do obs/gynae in the same way when you're always absolutely thrilled when people do the 'which actor/book/song etc makes me think of you' game and they happen to pick your favourite.

Until I got home and told Sarah, who laughed at me and said Ha! He told you had a face like a vagina! And you were pleased! Well when she puts it like that I'm slightly less thrilled.

She wants to be a urologist, in her own words 'not because I have a face like a penis, but because I have balls of STEEL' (said with her hands on her hips, legs apart looking off into the middle distance with a expression of unholy glory).

On reading Ethan of Athos (and having finished the host)

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 18:43:54 GMT

Am about 70 pages in and my main thoughts can be condensed into

'I want to grow up to be Elli Quinn'

She is kind of awesome. I think I should be able to arrange being her somehow. I am such a sucker for badass characters killing people by mistake. The only thing that could make it more awesome is when characters kill someone by mistake say 'shit! Not again. Don't tell *insert name of their commander*' Accidentally killing people is awesome, serially accidentally killing people so your commander is always all 'Where's the target, don't tell me killed another one' is hilarious (but not what happens here). Also I am quite impressed with the fact that the author has done her obs and gynae research. By which I mean I have yet to be distracted from the story by something that is wrong or not explained well enough. When I saw terminator salvation recently I was massively, massively distracted by the like of antigen cross-matching before the heart was transplanted plus the fact I saw no evidence they'd have immunosuppresive drugs (also salvation of the resistance on immunosuppressants, getting really sick every time he gets a cold - that is going to work out so well for them. As such I was completely unmoved by the noble sacrifice, which is unlike me who cries at everything.

Also, she wasn't too explainy with the science-ness so I didn't get very bored.

Loved it, though not as much as I love Twilight because I don't think it is quite as creepy and wrong as Twilight. On the plus side it doesn't seem to take itself quite so seriously in the 'La la la. I am a genius. This is going to be the next Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice you know' way twilight does. I also think it is better written, and doesn't suffer quite so much from cliches and Mary Sue-osity. Though Wanda is a little perfect and self-sacrificing for my liking, at least Bella is very selfish deep down even if she is the most sparkly and perfect vampire in vampiredom. I loved all the descriptions of different planets, though found the humans are the best though a bit annoying. I think it is a lot more imaginative than Twilight and maybe Meyer has put a bit more of herself into this work. However, I think some of the secondary characters are very similar to ones in Twilight, the similarity between Kyle and Emmett particularly struck me. I actually loved The Seeker though we're not supposed to, I even loved her as annoying Lacey. Who does want to live in a cave afterall? Not me.

I find Stephanie Meyers emphasis on waiting till the girl is legal to have sex problematic, though I can't quite articulate how. However, some of the things it may be;
1- it is always the girl who starts out underage.
2- It just weirds me out a bit the 'honourable men wait till their 18' and then like let the bonking (and shacking up wiht one person for life) begin.
I'm not saying I want her to write about the girls having sex underage (the fact Wanda lied about being 18 also bothered me, though not as much if this had been UK-based, as then she would have been 15). I really can't articulate what it is that bothers me actually, so never mind.

Another problem was the picking a completely fragile and weak body for Wanda because it is just like her and then everyone will want to protect (and patronise you).

On the plus side, I have no secret desire for any of the male protagonists to be my weird controlling stalkerish boyfriend, so that is a relief (yes, I'm talking about you Edward, stop watching me sleep!

On reading the host

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 10:21:10 GMT

Dear Stephanie Meyer,

I like totes love you, yo! But having read about 200 pages of The Host there is something I think we need to clear up.

Dying for the one you love. I.e. stepping in front of your sister when she is about to be shot.

Dying by the one you love I.e. The person you love killing you. (I don't think this is what is going to happen in this book but he has just backhanded her....)

One is gorgeous and romantic and heartbreaking.

The other is kind of creepy, like that song by New Order

There is a not so subtle and distinct difference.

I'm not saying the book isn't awesome, I'm kind of loving it so far (though I still think you need to listen to how people actually talk sometimes), but just think about it, for sake of the teenagers man!

XOXO

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 09:13:17 GMT

yagh! I have exams. (I always, always seem to have exams) Which has ruined the awesomeness of specialties for me. Well, actually half of specialties is really, really boring...and then there's the eye surgery, which is made of awesome and completely freaks me out. When you do eye surgery you put a stitch on each side of the iris so you can pull the eye to the position you want, which is so cool. Sometimes during surgery I am convinced it is looking at me. One of the surgeons told me there is a reflex where if you pull on the eye muscles you stop the heart...of course I have spent the last week trying to look really far to one side to see if my heart stops; it doesn't work, I feel so betrayed.

So exams. Some of a practical nature. I am a natural klutz so this does not bode. And I keep having nightmares that I forget my stephoscope and I get asked to do a cardiovascular exam and have to listen to the patient's heart by putting my ear to their chest. Also I keep panicking because I've completely forgotten what day it is and can't work it out.

I comfort myself that at least I have never made a mix tape for each of the Julio-claudian roman emperors. So I'm still saner than at least one person I know.

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 18:26:29 GMT

Something I feel the world should know:

Knee surgery is the most awesome thing in the world, it is incredibly, gloriously disgusting. Watching them is like watching zombie films, I feel that behind my mask my face is a wonderful mix of revulsion and delight. Seriously it is like DIY, you hammer stuff in and saw things off and I got hit by flying exudate at 5 yards. You know something is cool when a mixture of blood, bone and saline hits you and you think 'awesome' before you think 'eww'. Hip surgery comes a close second.

Sadly becoming an orthopod would mean working with other orthopods and to give you an idea about that I have never met a female orthopaedic surgeon or a woman at any level of the doctoring part of the team. It would also involve trauma lists, which involve tissue debridement. I watched one of these on someone's foot recently and it was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen and not in the splashy, spurty, awesome way knee replacements are disgusting. More in the scratching, tearing, cauterising, ripping someone's toenail off kind of way. I don't think I could do one if I wasn't allowed to look away and take some deep breaths every few minutes.

Sun, 06 Jan 2008 19:49:02 GMT

Why do magic faeries never tidy my room for me whilst I am away. It seems grossly unfair. When I go off to uni magic room faeries always clean my room for me, and then try to insist that I call them Mother.

It appears I am too stupid to figure out where they keep the vaccuum cleaner in this place, and I can't ask because then everyone would know I haven't hoovered my room since we move in 8 weeks ago (I've been away for about 4 so not that bad...I think)

Belated happy new year.

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 15:26:27 GMT

Am very, very busy at the moment what with the moving out soon, and new school next year, and people visiting. But, just thought I'd take a gloaty moment to say.

Mwahahahahaha!

I got a 2:1, from oxford, hell yeah!

and I honestly thought it had been terrible and I was going to get a third, and that the middle exam was the worst exam of my life.

mwahahahahaha! And now I can bask in the knowledge that I never have to take another oxford exam, no more stupid sub fusc, freedom, and the north (well, not actually the north, but I can't say the word freedom without following it with 'and the north' in my head).

larks!

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 21:53:42 GMT

It strikes me that if the devil's best trick was convincing people he doesn't exist, one of patriarchy's best is convincing people all feminists hate men.

We had schools dinner the other night, which is like a goodbye dinner (in the senior common room- oak pannels, a port bottle pulley system so none of the fellows have to stand up! dark oil paintings of severe old men! secret doors! - the room itself was pretty cool). And I don't know how we got round to it, but at one point the subject of feminism came up. And it turns out that the girl I get on best with from the new college medics doesn't 'believe' in feminism. And I may have been a little drunk, so I wouldn't just let her dismiss it and tried to get her to explain, and basically she thinks;
-all feminists are men haters (I did try to explain that is misandry, not necessarily feminism)
-generally disparaging things about Germaine Greer, which *sigh* apart from anything else is *such* a cliche.
I do wish I knew more about specific feminists then I could have given examples of female and male feminists and what they believe, it may of lent something to my arguement.
-We already have equality and feminists just like complaining
-There is no such thing as the pay gap in the western world
-There is no such thing as the glass ceiling in the western world.
-That there is nothing wrong with the depiction of women in the media.

I found it all so frustrating, because she is *so* intelligent. She does far better in her exams than me, will probably come out with a first from oxford, and yet is completely and utterly blind. The most frustrating part was trying to point out there is something wrong with women in the media, because 1- being a fashion lover that is my pet subset, and 2- she is really good at analysing scientific papers, better than any of the other medics I know, she can tell when journal writers are trying to manipulate her into believing things, so why the ostrich approach to advertising, I mean it's not that she just doesn't notice, when things are pointed out to her as dodgy she doesn't see anything wrong with them. Sigh. Part of me wants to blame her sudden and fervent christianity, part of me wants to blame her parents (her father appears to be a bit obsessed with his wife and daughters being thin), and perhaps the uncharitable part of me wants to attribute it to the fact that she is very naturally slim, and despite not being beautiful (in my opinion), she is very groomed and lots of people think she is stunning. She doesn't like fat people, she took violently against an article that suggests that being a the upper limit of your bmi was healthier than being at the bottom limit. And it sort of serves her the importance put on appearance and weight (not in reality,or in the long run, but in her world view).

I don't know, it seems really intolerant of me, but I find it hard to be around her now.

Oh well. The last few days have convinced me that all I *really* want from life is to be left alone with my books. And in deference to that, next post will definitely be book reviews.

Fri, 01 Jun 2007 10:00:26 GMT

So, I have now finished my finals. Huzzah! (omg, finals at oxford, and I didn't stab myself in the jugular half way through an exam, or jump off a college tower, am officially not a cliche).

So, the subsequent week has been spent doing a lot of eating, a lot of drinking and a ton of sleeping. (and a lot of watching friday night lights, I can't believe a care about a show on american football, if you asked me before I'd have said something along the lines of 'pfft, rugby in padding').

I'm really looking forward to going to clinical school and doing proper medicine for a change, etc, etc. Though I'm quite nervous about moving to London. But you know, whatever happens, I'm tough, I'll live. I survived this year, I can get through the next three.

This weekend my sister is down, so I'm going to have a blast, and do all those things I've said I'd do before I leave but never got round to in the last three years because 'I'm only in ___year, it's ages till I leave'. And probably start going to the pitt rivers museum every week because I'm really going to miss there.

The sun is shining, I have nothing to do (until monday when I start a 3 week clinical anatomy course which involves 9-5 lectures/dissection/practicals with exams every friday...after finals! The bastards). But really most things are great.

Oh and I'm going seeing pirates of the carribean this weekend. Yarrgh!
(though I'm still of the opinion highwaymen/women > pirates > ninjas, in the pwning scheme of things)

too gay to function

Thu, 10 May 2007 18:41:10 GMT

OMG. The uk entry to the eurovision song contest this year is the campest thing I have ever, ever seen. I mean seriously, even eurovision will not be able to stand the camp. And this is the competition that produced abba, a turkish transexual with multicoloured bird wings, and, my personal favourite 'guildo loves you'. Seriously, watch it. It makes the inuendo you used to get on blind date look subtle.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6FmisoHSc0
Rats, it doesn't want to embed, you'll have to make do with a link.

The really sad thing is I have seen the blond man before, on a reality tv show that took three male pop singers and attempted to turn them into a girl-band (yes, it was dreadful, but kind of like slowing down by a car wreck, hard to flick away), and it said on that show he'd already been in a boy-band that amounted to nothing, so he is clearly desperate for fame...and no, he never managed to make a convincing girl, permanent 5 o'clock shadow, a heavy build and an inability to walk in heels...

We hope you've had a pleasurable journey.

we just wanna be sixteen even though we're twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.....

Wed, 09 May 2007 18:47:47 GMT

Minor breakthrough finals-wise today. I still think if I took the paper tomorrow I would fail my degree. However, two weeks ago I looked at a past paper and how no clue whatsoever as to how I would answer any of them, today I looked, and whilst I still can't answer them, I know how I would go about answering some of the questions, it's just a matter of learning details and memorising who did what experiments/wrote what papers and when.

I also realised that there is no way in hell I would ever choose to write on evolution and oedema so I can stop trying to force it into my brain.

On the flip side, I appear to be having panic related trouble sleeping, my flatmate's suggestion is adding a little brandy to my hot chocolate before bed. Funnily enough, I'm ignoring her.

Ew. There's a park opposite my street and I've just seen a boy urinating on one of the swings. Ick.

Tue, 08 May 2007 09:55:09 GMT

So, revision and imminent exams don't make life the best it can be, but, my sister and I have had an excellent and cunning idea. Let's kidnap Michael J Fox*

Now, I can hear your dissent; it's difficult, what about security, it illegal. But, stop and think about the idea for a minute; doesn't it make you giggle?

We could tie him to the sofa and force him to tells us about like...STUFF...whilst we watch TV, and compare heights** and go shopping for shoes and eat ice cream and tell each other all our secrets and be the bestest friends forever. It will be awesome. And we can watch back to the future and role play along. Awesome.

*You know his real name is Michael A Fox, but he didn't want magazines to call him 'Michael; A fox!' (why not? It is hilarious)

** This is the REAL genius of the plan, when we inevitably get caught for this we can demand a police line up and slouch and then Michael J. Fox will be like 'It's none of them. Number three looks like her, but she's the wrong height, my kidnapper was definitely 2+3/4 inches taller than me, and she's not....we compared heights a lot you know...' Master Plan.

Sun, 06 May 2007 20:03:20 GMT

Things that feel weird:

-Being congratulated by people for something you know is a failure.
-Trying to apologise to someone and they assuming you are apologising for something else (them; 'Oh that's okay, I wasn't really affected', my mind; 'well, of course not, you weren't at all involved')

Sigh. I didn't really want to make up with her, but then I remembered she doesn't have many friends in Oxford, and she gets lonely, and well, I'm still hurt, but she's not the main one who hurt me and I'm useless at holding a grudge, I just felt too guilty at the idea of her being lonely.

In other news, I am still working for finals. I am addicted to black bean sauce. I am eating too much chocolate and diet coke and not enough fruit and veg. And I may buy myself a bikini this summer! This is a big deal. It'll be the 1st time I've had one since I was 11? 12? (basically when my body started getting womanly). Partially this is because there are some in bravissimo that I think are both pretty and able to hoist my breasts up from around my knees. And the other part is a conscious effort to feel less self-conscious. Not sure whether it'll work, I may get a tankini top that'll also go, so I can put it over the top on days when I wimp out. We'll see.

Sometimes life's a bitch...sometimes I am

Wed, 02 May 2007 11:15:50 GMT

Considering a career in evil. My flatmate's boyfriend was the only one in the house after 9am this morning, I suspect he was hungover, and I'm a bit pissed off with him.

So, my music of choice happened to be my Puccini's Heroines CD at top volume... I think I heard him swearing before he slammed the door on his way out. Now, I've gone back to listening to Patrick Wolf.

I'm going to be social for a change tonight; I'm going for ramen with my friend Jess. Last time we went we were sat next to these two slim Rah-ish girls, who were having this conversation about how they could never finish more than half their ramen because it was just so filling...as me and Jess polished off our ramen, edamame, dumplings and prawn toast (and had a loud whispered discussion of jealousy because someone along the bench had french fries as well and They Weren't On The Menu! Omg, how do you get them?). I had to hold my breath to keep from laughing.

Anyway. Back to revision. I hate the lungs, they are so boring, and it's not as if they were a vital organ or anything. Honestly.

Ruth's super, happy, fun adventures in Catholicism...

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 20:33:37 GMT

Finals are like three weeks away now, yikes. So, this morning I was planning on getting up and going to Church and asking God to help me motivate myself and work to the best of my ability for the exams*...sadly I couldn't motivate myself to get out of bed and get dressed, so I spent the day watching cartoons instead.

*The insanity of the Catholic Upbringing: Note, I can't actually ask God to make me do well in the exams, that would be wrong and presumptious, because you shouldn't pass tests you don't deserve to pass, and what if God has a different plan for you that you're going against...Like when I was little I used to ask for my family and friends to be well and happy, but then realised this was *selfish* because that's like asking for other people to be ill and sad, so I asked for everyone to be well and happy, till I got a bit older and the 'God does things for a reason' kicked in...which means most of my prayers now end up being 'Um, please make whatever you want to happen happen' to the omnipotent being.

Lesbians stole my room!...was that before or after the dingoes ate your baby?

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 23:57:26 GMT

Oh for Christ's sake! Just in case you think I do nothing but bitch, I did have really fun news to post...but now I need to bitch so I'll talk about that tomorrow.

Right. I rent a house with two other girls, L and J. Whilst I like them both a great deal, as with most living partners there are small things that annoy me...and then there are big things that annoy me.

After Christmas J moved her wife (A) in, permanently, without asking L or I, and without even telling me, I just came back to find her there. Which annoyed me.
And we sort of expected, even though they share a room, that she would contribute to the rent, but she didn't offer. So, after giving her a month free to find a job and settle in we L and I brought it up, and they apparently thought we were asking for a quarter of the rent, and had a hissy fit at us (in a really passive agressive, talking loudly about how unreasonable we were, way).
Later, after we stressed about it, we sat down and said we expected something, so she agreed to a quarter of utilities, and 40 quid a month contribution to Laura and I (out of 305 quid rent). They paid Laura for two months and have never given me anything.
Also, we are supposed to switch rooms each term, so none of us were stuck with the tiny box room all year, and so, I had the quietest room for finals. At the beginnning of term, when we tried to arrange the switch, they refused, citing not enough space, and then ran off to London (and then America) before I got back to switch, locking the room door. So, I was living out of bags in my old room for nearly two weeks. They have now agreed and I am finally moved in.
So, tonight, L and I decided to ask them about their rent contribution. They refused, saying it was sub-letting and so illegal, and that A has student debt in America so can't afford it. When we tried to say they'd agreed, they said we'd blackmailed them into it, and they wouldn't.
I mean, the hell?! 1- If we'd had a choice, would she be living there at all (probably, cuz L and I are easy going, but we'd have had money arranged first).
2- They can't afford 80 quid extra a month, but A has a full time job on like 7.50 an hour (more than 2 quid more than I get an hour). Also, they can afford flights to America, and before the holidays A spent 160 quid on a dress for herself.
2a- They claim they're so poor, they eat in college, but they regularly get take out etc, that isn't what you do when you're poor, you live on tesco value or whatever.
3- They said that J's Dad had a fit about it and would stop giving them money. And I'm just like wtf? Why tell him, and also, MY Dad doesn't give me lots of money (he does give me some for fees and whatnot, for which I'm very grateful, but J gets her rent and utilities and everything), I work, I work bloody hard in the holidays, in fact harder than anyone else I know at this university, hell, I've been known to work more than 50 hours a week, and I'm not saying I'm totally sensible with that money, but still.
4- I needed that money, my camera's broken, my bike's broke, there's something wrong with my laptop that I need looked at, and I can manage but at the same time, I had that money book marked for other things.
5- Then, they had a go at Laura (and me a bit) about hating them, and bless, Laura is shy and has a thing about people not liking her anyway. And tried to claim they try not to be in the communal space so they shouldn't pay for it. And that we're bad housemates because we sometimes come home late and aren't quiet (like twice a term, I swear).

I mean, proper grown up people, I'm not being completely unreasonable, am I? It's not that I'm not sorry that A has debt, and I was willing to be flexible about when I got the money etc, but essentially, she's living here for free (in fact she had the gall to suggest J should pay less, because she is now sharing a bedroom, and I was like through choice)

The thing is, I love Laura, and J, and am starting to get to know A and like her, and because they have refused point blank there is nothing we can do. And the claiming they've kept to their room because we hate them made me feel really bad, so even after this, I felt I had to make an effort to chat and be nice to them (Laura couldn't handle it, and had to go cry on her boyfriend). I just feel so impotent, and I can't even waste the energy getting mad, because I've got finals, and because I do want us to get on and go back to having a nice house, but kscghfffkk!!!