Distractions

The World Cup

I am a minority. One of those people who just don't get it. Perhaps even considered weird by some.

I don't watch the World Cup.

I've never been a fan of soccer. I could never find any real enjoyment in the game. My friends would attest to this. The most affection I could master for soccer is miniscule and if possible, would only be for the atmosphere and the unity of people of different cultures that the World Cup brings. And here I include the Aussies though it is a well known fact, footy or rugby is more their cup of tea, they have reason to be joyous. Yes the Socceroos (the australian soccer team) managed to make it to the World Cup for the first time in 32 years. Indeed indeed it is an affair to be celebrated and get drunk over in true aussie style.

So while the World Cup chose to rudely begin its course in the middle of exams, I have no doubt that the pavillion will be packed with soccer fans in the wee hours of the morning. I remembered last year, I used to be awakened, heart palpitating, by sudden roars and groans . It was unmistakably a bunch of guys in the throes of agony watching the Euro Cup in the next hall, mind you. Yes I could hear it across the lawns as if they were outside my room door.

Shopping

I've been resisting the urge to go shopping. I know exactly what I would buy if I had the cash. A pair of knee-length leather boots with no heels. And a couple of skirts. I've been meaning to turn up to the Alfred in that get-up for ages. Oh yeah. The only problem is that the smallest skirts here don't fit me. They hang on me like drab curtains.

The Pearlies

Speaking of get-ups, I'm so over the preppy look some girls in the hospital seem to sport these days.With their three inch heels, boutique skirt and freshly-pressed shirt, they walk around with an air of artificial innocence that stifles the air you breathe and induces one to roll one's eyes.

All of them have one thing in common; a string of shining white pearls hang around their neck and a matching pair of pearl studs for their delicate ears. Even their teeth are pearly white. To top off this cake, a plain yet alluring ribbon is tied neatly in a bow around the ponytail as your perfect icing. They strut demurely with their assets out, heels clicking in synchrony, stethoscopes swinging and a personality as fake as their white pearls. I give you the Pearlies.

There are so many personalities in the medical field. Some I can confirm to be truly inconsistent and crazy. And some are so bizarre that you actually seriously consider the possibility that they might have a psychiatric disorder. I think one would need to own some form of insanity to work with such people.

Uluru

The 10 day camping trip to Uluru is almost here. I'll be sleeping a night in Adelaide before heading over to Coober Pedy, Alice Springs, Macdonnell Ranges, King's Canyon and finally to the Kata Tjuta National Park to see the Ayers Rock. It's an all things natural overdose and I plan to get high.

On a random note an Ethiopian patient thought I was from Sudan. Hmmm.

Jane Austen

My flat has been on a Jane Austen binge lately. Watched Sense and Sensibility (and of course we screamed when we saw Snape) and Emma and some special scenes from Pride and Prejudice. Now despite the fact I'm suppose to be revising, I am actually reading Emma now. My bad really. I really shouldn't study in my room. Too many distractions. Like access to blogging.

The weather is absolutely depressing. Fogs, fogs, and fogs. I wore gloves for the first time yesterday and still my fingers were numb. I don't know how those Brits do it up there ( I heard even their summer is cold - is that right riri?). If I lived there, I don't think I'll ever get out of my bed.

There's something soothing about watching films based on Jane Austen's books (I leave Bride and Prejudice, Clueless and Bridget Jones out of the list of course). I always say this to my flatmates all the time; I think all men should dress in coattails and breeches. And most of all their collars up adorned with a beautifully tied cravat.

I've always found dresses very cumbersome but I don't think I would mind prancing around in flowy dresses and knee length boots venturing out on the green plains.

The countryside scenes are always breathtaking and the architecture of the buildings always so austere and arrogant. I could live during that era I think. Except that the lack of activities that women had then, would not sit well with me. Their sole motivation in life was to marry well and teach their daughters to do the same.

Aye, I think being a woman then would have sucked all the marrow of life out of me.

But still those cravats...mmmmm.

Anything but studying

There's dew on my window now and it's four in the afternoon. I find myself strumming my guitar to Opportunity by Pete Murray. Sooner or later I will regret idling my afternoon away. Now I feel distracted by cooking.

It's time to cook some bubur cha-cha.