Shiny, shiny
Well, good times have come to me now*.
Seriously. Ten days to go to the exam and I feel pretty damn good. Remarkably relaxed, in fact. Remarkably, remarkably relaxed.
Why is this so?
Not entirely sure. It's not the less sleep, boundless optimism, "my wings are like a shield of steel" kind of stuff. It's more something intellectual. It's almost like I have constructed a win-win situation out of this exam.
See, whatever I do, in a fortnight the exam will be over. I will either have passed or failed. If I pass, well and good.
If I fail, I can quit shift-work.
I can earn more.
If I quit I can get a normal job and see Sarah every evening. I can work less.
I can write. All that stuff I promised myself.
I can read. I can finally go into "the room with the books" and pick one of the one or two thousand books - seriously, two deep in the four big bookcases, another massive bookcase in the hall, an unstable ziggurat of novels and anthologies stacked by the bed, and that many again in cartons in the shed - I can read.
I can travel. I am going to go to Asia, I can wander through Europe, I can see New York. I am going to pick people out from these remarkable spots on the map and visit them.
And the career - which if I don't pass the exam will probably end up being Drugs and Alcohol or GP - it won't be that bad. The patients who terrify most GPs - the unexpected emergency, the "psych" and the "druggie" - those are actually my favourite patients.
And I can go back to the gym. Learn a hobby, fencing or hawking or bee-wrestling or something.
If I pass, of course, that'll be okay, too. And even if I don't, it's not certain. I could always try again in six months, although at the moment the thought of that makes me sick.
Anyway. I don't know. The last few years have been rather event-filled, things are calmer now. Behind every time I decided to study or do shift-work or whatever there was an element of delayed gratification and an element of self-loathing if not self-doubt and an element of fear - I'm not explaining this right - and a lot of those feelings are less strong now.
By the way - have a look at Doonesbury for today (27/8/07). There's a phrase in there and a moment of clarity that will just stop you dead. Greatest living American short story writer.
Thanks for listening,
John
*I went to a friend's part and there was a big screen up playing stuff like this, and now it's stuck in my head. Not my fault.
Seriously. Ten days to go to the exam and I feel pretty damn good. Remarkably relaxed, in fact. Remarkably, remarkably relaxed.
Why is this so?
Not entirely sure. It's not the less sleep, boundless optimism, "my wings are like a shield of steel" kind of stuff. It's more something intellectual. It's almost like I have constructed a win-win situation out of this exam.
See, whatever I do, in a fortnight the exam will be over. I will either have passed or failed. If I pass, well and good.
If I fail, I can quit shift-work.
I can earn more.
If I quit I can get a normal job and see Sarah every evening. I can work less.
I can write. All that stuff I promised myself.
I can read. I can finally go into "the room with the books" and pick one of the one or two thousand books - seriously, two deep in the four big bookcases, another massive bookcase in the hall, an unstable ziggurat of novels and anthologies stacked by the bed, and that many again in cartons in the shed - I can read.
I can travel. I am going to go to Asia, I can wander through Europe, I can see New York. I am going to pick people out from these remarkable spots on the map and visit them.
And the career - which if I don't pass the exam will probably end up being Drugs and Alcohol or GP - it won't be that bad. The patients who terrify most GPs - the unexpected emergency, the "psych" and the "druggie" - those are actually my favourite patients.
And I can go back to the gym. Learn a hobby, fencing or hawking or bee-wrestling or something.
If I pass, of course, that'll be okay, too. And even if I don't, it's not certain. I could always try again in six months, although at the moment the thought of that makes me sick.
Anyway. I don't know. The last few years have been rather event-filled, things are calmer now. Behind every time I decided to study or do shift-work or whatever there was an element of delayed gratification and an element of self-loathing if not self-doubt and an element of fear - I'm not explaining this right - and a lot of those feelings are less strong now.
By the way - have a look at Doonesbury for today (27/8/07). There's a phrase in there and a moment of clarity that will just stop you dead. Greatest living American short story writer.
Thanks for listening,
John
*I went to a friend's part and there was a big screen up playing stuff like this, and now it's stuck in my head. Not my fault.
posted by Bronze John at 5:12 PM
3 Comments:
And you could also...oh I don't know...REPLY TO YOUR FRIEND'S E-MAILS?
Toby: And you could, oh, I don't know, restart your damn blog, thank you very much. You have middle-aged stalkers in America who'd kind of like to read your stuff again. Or, if you don't like publishing it to the world at large, email stories to me at foilwoman and gmail dot com, you know?
BJ: That goes for you too. You wouldn't want me to get depressed and need more medicine would you? Oh, and I love me some Gary Trudeau, and I am one whole degree of separation from that guy. He is just so totally hot. Oh, and he's a good writer too, of course.
Well, as Dylan said
There's no success like failure and failure is no success at all.
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