<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617</id><updated>2024-09-20T05:07:58.000+10:00</updated><category term="Medicine Diary"/><category term="Vignettes"/><category term="I&#39;m a bad person"/><category term="John Snow Scholarship"/><category term="Long post"/><category term="Philosophical Debate"/><category term="Religiosity"/><category term="Appropriation"/><category term="Imitation"/><category term="Long Posts"/><category term="Music"/><category term="Regeneration"/><category term="Suicide"/><category term="Toxic"/><title type='text'>Cloudbank</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>702</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-3610032312641068311</id><published>2015-04-17T06:49:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2015-04-17T06:49:04.423+10:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>Every time</title><content type='html'>You&#39;re never truly prepared.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;It happens all the time. What&#39;s the worst it could be?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;ll be fine.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&quot;Probably.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But when it happens, it&#39;s the worst. You&#39;re stuck between responsibilities and well, a responsibility unto yourself.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s an emptiness and a loneliness so caustic it makes you feel like a hollow husk at best. And you wonder how or why it happens so often. You&#39;ve had it for years now, but there&#39;s no real solution. And it goes away when you do something, &lt;i&gt;anything&lt;/i&gt; else.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But for that moment, when it&#39;s just you, and the dark, all you really want to do is go back. Back to yesterday. Anywhere but here.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You were fine yesterday. On top of things, too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You wake up. It&#39;s Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You wake up. It&#39;s Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You wake up. Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
You wake up.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/3610032312641068311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/3610032312641068311' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3610032312641068311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3610032312641068311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/04/every-time.html' title='Every time'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-4089701207137630390</id><published>2015-04-15T10:27:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2015-04-15T10:27:11.376+10:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>Wednesday</title><content type='html'>Fairly burnt out, or getting close to it. In the interests of maintaining some kind of sanity, I skipped my only class today. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Was probably my fault, but I don&#39;t think I can help the way I feel. Honestly though, I probably want something that&#39;s so unreal, it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I want to be alone, but I don&#39;t want to be lonely.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Also probably my fault, but I&#39;m not sure if I can find someone to talk to about all this. It seems so dumb, too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Above all, I wish I wasn&#39;t like this.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/4089701207137630390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/4089701207137630390' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4089701207137630390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4089701207137630390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/04/wednesday.html' title='Wednesday'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-4403141831037660396</id><published>2015-03-23T15:23:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-23T15:23:19.811+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>Bildungsroman</title><content type='html'>&quot;I saw a girl... woman... girl... today?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At least, that&#39;s what my internal monologue is when I&#39;m trying to summarise a patient case back. At what point do we stop being boys and girls and what-have-you and start being men and women and other more mature gender designations?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder. I certainly don&#39;t feel like a man, whatever that is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember people were saying that the HSC is the current coming-of-age but... it wasn&#39;t that bad, and I don&#39;t think I really learned too much from it all. (In terms of personal growth.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Curious.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/4403141831037660396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/4403141831037660396' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4403141831037660396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4403141831037660396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/bildungsroman.html' title='Bildungsroman'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-1408973861396657169</id><published>2015-03-21T18:37:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-21T18:37:12.506+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>His name is Sean</title><content type='html'>Spent the morning playing Magic with some really good friends. I&#39;m not sure that I could call them close friends considering all we do is play games, but that&#39;s how it is, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
After lunch, I have a moment with him and I brace myself because deep down, I already know.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hey, I wanted to tell you... and I hope it doesn&#39;t change things but...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He looks up from his phone, waiting for me with a raised eyebrow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I look down, almost mumbling.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I really like you and...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
His eyes widen a little, and he tilts his head slightly as if to say...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I was hoping...?&quot; I already know but I look up anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;...I&#39;m... sorry. But hey, still friends, right?&quot; He smiles sadly at me before patting me on the shoulder in consolation and waving goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m not as disappointed as I thought I would be.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Besides, I already knew.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/1408973861396657169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/1408973861396657169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/1408973861396657169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/1408973861396657169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/his-name-is-sean.html' title='His name is Sean'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-5671877120353195145</id><published>2015-03-17T22:05:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-21T18:32:27.519+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>Her name is Sarah</title><content type='html'>&quot;Hey, guess who?&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She messages me out of the blue, wondering if I remember who she is. Well, I guess cause she&#39;s using a different alias it makes sense but... how could I forget?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Heyy, it&#39;s been a while. How&#39;ve you been? Gods, it&#39;s been too long...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Never really thought I&#39;d regard her warmly but... c&#39;est la vie? Truthfully, I was thinking about her somewhat recently, but I dismissed any real notion of talking with her. After all, what did I have to gain from it? Not much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Shit. First my bf breaks up with me, then my friends leave me one by one&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Well. That&#39;s a bit sudden. I... had no idea. That&#39;s my fault. It&#39;s so long ago, but I can&#39;t help but feel slightly responsible. Maybe protective. I thought after we moved on that she was happy with him. Even though I know I shouldn&#39;t, I keep talking to her. Talking through it, wondering how she&#39;s been, what&#39;s happened since we last talked, everything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I mention a couple of things and fill in some details, but surprisingly she knew more about me than I had thought. Talking with her now... it&#39;s like way back then. Complete with flirting and all the rest of it. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d like to say that I&#39;m more mature now. And I&#39;d like to say that things have changed. But I&#39;m not really sure. Deep down it still feels like I&#39;m there for emotional support. Which in turn, makes me feel a bit guilty because I haven&#39;t been doing that out of jealousy.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/5671877120353195145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/5671877120353195145' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/5671877120353195145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/5671877120353195145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/sarah.html' title='Her name is Sarah'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-6449027358311429596</id><published>2015-03-16T15:32:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-16T15:32:26.256+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Healthy</title><content type='html'>Trying to decide what I&#39;m feeling.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s honestly something that&#39;s on my mind probably more than it should be. Part of it might be that I&#39;m also trying to articulate it as I go. Especially relevant as I can&#39;t decide if I&#39;m grumpy or annoyed or have a genuine complaint about the new rotation I&#39;m on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For the next fortnight, I&#39;m supposed to be attached to the rehabilitation ward (which is predominantly amputees, stroke and orthopedic patients). Unfortunately, I couldn&#39;t actually find a patient to talk with and it&#39;s... Well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Back up a bit. What&#39;s wrong.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The morning was a debacle. I had no idea where I was supposed to be because of the rotation and one of the things I hate the most is not knowing what the rules are of anything. If you don&#39;t know the rules, you don&#39;t know how far you can stretch them. Which sounds counter intuitive but it&#39;s important to me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Beyond that... I suppose that and my realisation that I could be doing so much more, learning so much more if I was at a different ward contributed to a final level of annoyance that caused me to just leave. At this point... I&#39;m not sure if I care what the registrars think of my attendance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Don&#39;t get me wrong, it&#39;s an important ward and an important job, but as a learning opportunity, it&#39;s... miserable at best, comparatively. My conclusion was more or less validated by the amount that I learned subsequently on a different ward. Maybe I&#39;m just more comfortable elsewhere. Anywhere else.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sometimes it&#39;s hard to tell if it&#39;s my depression or if it&#39;s just hunger or tiredness or distraction. Lately... I&#39;ve had a lot on my mi- well. That&#39;s not true. There&#39;s always a lot on my mind, whether I like it or not. Assignments, personal relationships, my own health.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Who knows. Maybe I&#39;ll figure it out one day.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/6449027358311429596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/6449027358311429596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6449027358311429596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6449027358311429596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/healthy.html' title='Healthy'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-3522541103729520696</id><published>2015-03-11T19:28:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-16T15:35:34.092+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The truth of names</title><content type='html'>&quot;Well, I prefer Toan...&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One day, I decided that I didn&#39;t like my name very much. It was a long, long time ago, and the official reason is that it&#39;s too long.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In actuality, it&#39;s just because I don&#39;t like the name. Nothing more, and probably nothing less. Coming from me, it does sound rather foreign. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By way of introduction, I used to not know how to introduce myself in various settings. I suppose, if I want to keep my distance, I&#39;ll use my given name and that&#39;s the same for formal situations. Still... I have friends who know me only as Toan, and truthfully, I&#39;d rather it that way. I can&#39;t say it&#39;s something I&#39;ve struggled with, but it is something that I wonder. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wonder what my identity is. I wonder how I should present myself. As a student, as a gamer, as a human being. What&#39;s relevant and what can I leave for later. I wonder who matters to me, and what I should tell them, and how much I should tell them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And despite it all, I&#39;m afraid. Despite how much I might trust them, I&#39;m still afraid that if I tell them about myself - show myself in its entirety, that they&#39;ll misunderstand or....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Or what? You&#39;ll what?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish I knew.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/3522541103729520696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/3522541103729520696' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3522541103729520696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3522541103729520696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-truth-of-names.html' title='The truth of names'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-3052838227947724354</id><published>2015-03-10T12:20:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-10T12:20:21.906+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>In circles</title><content type='html'>Halfway through a conversation I tell him that I really just want a hug. That, I&#39;m just... lonely, I guess. Even though I keep to myself, I suppose there&#39;s a difference between being alone and feeling lonely.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;Why, what&#39;s wrong??&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;That gives me reason to pause.&amp;nbsp; When I&#39;m busy or playing games, I don&#39;t pay attention to myself as much. There are more interesting things to be doing and well... unless I&#39;m in need of attention because I&#39;m hungry or tired, I&#39;ll just carry on. It&#39;s those quiet times on the train or the bus where I just... think. Just think. It&#39;s those times that I notice that sometimes, not everything is ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&quot;Unexplained loneliness&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;It&#39;s not quite true. But it&#39;s not quite false either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470346262=25ed3631e1700c88d64.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I&#39;&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;d give you a hug but well...internet&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;I do a mental double-take. A year ago, I said the exact same thing to him, for the exact same reason.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.34.$mid=11425470581961=2340ca888a24d015761.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;I doubt he remembers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/3052838227947724354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/3052838227947724354' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3052838227947724354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3052838227947724354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/in-circles.html' title='In circles'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-1069783566715369441</id><published>2015-03-05T19:12:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-08T08:08:39.531+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Double</title><content type='html'>&quot;Hi, I&#39;m Darith.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
She was my partner for ward rounds, final year student at Uni Notre Dame. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Spent quite a few years working and originally trained as a commerce... graduate or something, I think, but ended up retraining as a doctor (obviously). Catholic, asian which is really a double minority in Notre Dame apparently.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now where have I heard this before...</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/1069783566715369441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/1069783566715369441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/1069783566715369441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/1069783566715369441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/double.html' title='Double'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2103847472339104807</id><published>2015-03-04T20:05:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-04T20:05:57.964+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>His name is John</title><content type='html'>I&#39;d be lying if I said that this year would be different. The same routines from last year were certainly on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Hey, how&#39;ve you been? Haven&#39;t gotten the chance to catch up with you.&quot; He texts and it gives me pause. I was thinking about talking with him again, but what would I say? A close friend once told me that there was &quot;nothing to say&quot;, so he didn&#39;t say much when I tried to talk with him. Granted, I was a little disappointed at the time, and a little frustrated but it didn&#39;t invalidate his view.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I&#39;m alright. Just have a headache. Otherwise pretty good.&quot; - I&#39;m still unsure about whether I want to talk to him or not. Honestly, I&#39;m a little suspicious but I don&#39;t mention it. I don&#39;t really think there&#39;s any reason he&#39;d talk to me first unless he wanted something, right? At least, previous history tells me so.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1u.$mid=11425379639600=22dbcc301a505df1b53.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1u.$mid=11425379639600=22dbcc301a505df1b53.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&quot;My anxiety levels skyrocketed so I can&#39;t sleep but I keep yawning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&quot; He tells me nonchalantly, though we both know that I&#39;m likely to ask for elaboration. It&#39;s something of a nuance that we both share and understand, but I&#39;m not sure it&#39;s a good thing. We both have mannerisms which probably, make us intolerable and presumably insufferable at times. It&#39;s a wonder we still enjoy each others&#39; company, actually. Between this, we crack a couple of lewd jokes, flirt briefly and for a moment, it&#39;s as though we never stopped talking. Even so, I&#39;m still a little anxious. I&#39;m pretty sure I still harbor a reasonable amount of resentment, but I don&#39;t share negative feelings with the people involved - it&#39;s unacceptable or maybe, unthinkable.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425378013499=2903a84a2cfb5ffe961.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425378013499=2903a84a2cfb5ffe961.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;I&#39;m already eating so crappy.&quot; He complains, knowing probably, full well what I&#39;m going to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I quietly remind him that it&#39;s not like he was doing much in the holidays so a change in diet is probably not surprising. He agrees, but feels like he needs to put himself to a &quot;higher standard&quot;, whatever that is. Honestly, it&#39;s one of the few things I admire about him, though I don&#39;t really admit it. His weight&#39;s always been a sensitive issue, and it&#39;s a taboo subject much like the word &quot;buddy&quot; is, for whatever reason. It feels odd self-censoring, especially with my kind of humor, my dry wit. Pushing the boundaries is something I enjoy doing but at the same time... it hurts a little when I go too far.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Conversation eventually drifts to his current boyfriend, and it&#39;s also getting quite late. For once, I decide to tell him I&#39;m rather jealous. He laughs it off, saying that it&#39;s only been two days and that it&#39;s not really working out at the moment. I suppose my tiredness gets to me, and I admit that I haven&#39;t really had the confess to a close-ish friend. I outline the situation fully and whilst I don&#39;t expect a response, I get one anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383869821=2aad4e37421bb9ec587.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383869821=2aad4e37421bb9ec587.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;Wait what? Bull.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt; You&#39;ve been in so many relationships!&quot; He quips, as though my extensive backlog of exes is supposed to mean anything. I explain that I&#39;m scared the friendship will be ruined if I say anything, and right now, that friendship is one of the most enjoyable things in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;At this point, it&#39;s really late, but I&#39;m still contemplating everything in the bath. My suspicions have been alleviated at this point, mostly as I realise that for someone who doesn&#39;t talk much to people online, he talks to me a hell of a lot (comparatively). Simultaneously, I wonder why it feels acceptable to even open up to him. He&#39;s stubborn, abrasive, immature and absolutely unreliable. By all rights, I shouldn&#39;t even want to talk to him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;When did it get to the point where we&#39;re each others&#39; confidants?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;_5yl5&quot; data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;&lt;span data-reactid=&quot;.1t.$mid=11425383876913=2aad4e374d202ef8d88.2:0.0.0.0.0.0&quot;&gt;I used to hate him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2103847472339104807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2103847472339104807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2103847472339104807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2103847472339104807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/his-name-is-john.html' title='His name is John'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-5529671131085704070</id><published>2015-03-02T22:24:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2015-03-04T07:01:54.786+11:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vignettes"/><title type='text'>The return</title><content type='html'>&quot;You look better this year.&quot; He says to me, seemingly amazed but I can&#39;t be sure because I&#39;m not really paying attention - I&#39;m still unpacking.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Thanks.&quot; I chuckle, taken aback.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;No! I mean... you look happier. I just... put it in a really weird way.&quot; He splutters, reddening slightly. I swear he might be blushing but then again, he does get heated over trivial things.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Ha. You mean &quot;you looked like shit last year, but this year...&quot;&quot; I gesture speculatively, and finally look at him properly for the first time in half a year. He glances back at me and turns away, mock-disgruntled at my amusement.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Truthfully, I&#39;m considering what he&#39;s said with a mixture of fascination and wonder. Maybe last year I was miserable. Honestly, maybe my depression was affecting the people around me more than I thought. I take some pride in keeping to myself because that&#39;s just... what I do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I find myself staring at him again. He&#39;s not really looking at me, so I don&#39;t feel guilty. Reflecting on what&#39;s been said so far, I wonder the same about him. Does he look better this year? He certainly looks... a little different. I can&#39;t say I approve of his haircut - it&#39;s just a little too short for him, especially when he has dull copper hair on top, kinda like a halo. Tight maroon shirt, somewhat form-fitting and black jeans. Standard fare for him, really. So I&#39;m not sure if he looks any different. But he &lt;b&gt;&lt;u&gt;feels&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/b&gt; different, for sure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He looks nice. Yes, that&#39;s the word I settle on. Nice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So why do I feel... &lt;i&gt;off&lt;/i&gt;? The feeling I get between stolen glances at him and the other people in the room is a bit anxious. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
If anything, I&#39;m probably just... apprehensive. I more or less promised myself to not talk to him as much as possible, but at the same time, I&#39;m relieved that we have classes together. Maybe I&#39;m still bitter. Maybe I wish he knew.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I contemplate telling him about this, but at the same time, class starts and I have to put the idea away.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/5529671131085704070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/5529671131085704070' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/5529671131085704070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/5529671131085704070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/03/the-return.html' title='The return'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-3924502955627171214</id><published>2015-02-07T22:09:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2015-02-07T22:09:35.432+11:00</updated><title type='text'>New and improved</title><content type='html'>Small anecdote. Teaching a student, and they shrink a little at me setting a somewhat challenging math question for homework.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Told them.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I know it&#39;s not easy and it&#39;s tiring, but it&#39;s probably the best way to improve. I look back and the times where I&#39;ve improved the most is when I pushed myself. Cause I saw something interesting that blew me away and I wanted to know how to do it. The times where it&#39;s been stagnant are where I&#39;m doing the same thing over and over without really needing to think much about it.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then I wondered if public speaking wouldn&#39;t have been so hard in school if I just relaxed a bit more and stopped caring about what other people think.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/3924502955627171214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/3924502955627171214' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3924502955627171214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3924502955627171214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/02/new-and-improved.html' title='New and improved'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-3599781795730011600</id><published>2015-02-05T12:32:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-02-05T12:32:02.346+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Out and About</title><content type='html'>Went out for a haircut and tightening of braces. I also ended up with some ice tea haha. I mean, it was tasty.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A little expensive, but I can afford it so w/e.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;Ended up having a conversation about homosexuality with my orthodontist and well, I guess his stance on it (him being what I imagine is Christian/Catholic) [One day, I&#39;ll actually remember the difference, but I digress].&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It started with a discussion on healthcare provision though, cause I was curious as to how private and public provision differs. And then he mentioned something about how the majority of taxpayers were supporting &quot;the gay lifestyle with HIV and so on&quot;. Which.. I gave him the benefit of the doubt on because of stereotypes and about whether being gay&#39;s a choice and so on.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What was intriguing to me was his insistence that people were &quot;promoting a gay lifestyle&quot; and that it was wrong as per his religious conviction, but also he insisted that he didn&#39;t pass judgment on others. It seemed a little ironic. He subsequently expanded by explaining that even if people mind their own business, it still affects the people around them - though I&#39;m not entirely sure how.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I suppose, at the end it saddens me to be reminded that people have unshakeable convictions about things. That there is an absolutism which shapes interactions with people and ultimately, may result in less respect for an individual than is proper.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess the final part to mention went something like so:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;So if your son were gay, hypothetically. Would you prefer that they were married with a woman that they didn&#39;t love, or with their male partner that they loved (marriage aside)?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I mean that depends on your definition of love. It&#39;s a fleeting thing sometimes - that you passionately love someone, and then someday they do something horrendous and you don&#39;t like them nearly as much. But eventually it comes back, I suppose.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;gt;Well, assuming that the hetero relationship never, ever had that feeling? Temporary or no. As though they were just best friends or companions but not really... man and wife?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;Well in that case, if they&#39;re in a relationship that&#39;s not right, they shouldn&#39;t be in that relationship. That includes one in which they didn&#39;t have love for their partner.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;gt;Hmm... though what if they felt pressured by society.. or you, to have a &quot;normal&quot; relationship/marriage?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;I would never... No, I&#39;m not the kind of person to pressure my sons like that.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Cynically, I figured that parental approval is worth a bit to a lot of people and that unwittingly, there&#39;d be a rather strong pressure to conform to expectations. I guess the easiest example is how my parents keep insisting on matchmaking me with any pretty girl they see who I talk with .-.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
[To be fair, they don&#39;t know about my uhh... extensive history. They know about only one relationship, and I&#39;ve been too resentful to tell them about the others. So I guess they just imagine I&#39;m something or other and can&#39;t get a date. Or something.]&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess I never really considered celibacy. I&#39;m also not really sure how far to push a conversation like this, considering he&#39;s one of my healthcare providers .-. Also, without any assurance of confidentiality so... Eh.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The world&#39;s quite strange.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/3599781795730011600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/3599781795730011600' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3599781795730011600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/3599781795730011600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/02/out-and-about.html' title='Out and About'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2539581935948678782</id><published>2015-02-02T19:39:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-02-02T19:39:10.357+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend is over</title><content type='html'>Ended up getting my jeans slightly wet as we removed our old bathroom vanity. There&#39;s a new one to be installed, but that&#39;s for tomorrow I guess.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Also made something pretty creative and cool. Can&#39;t wait to test it out. Will probably cost me about $25, but that&#39;s worth it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have I ever told you that nurses know everything.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today, a nursing student told me that hospital beds have two functions for making it rise or lower. Two. Just in case one doesn&#39;t work. I had no idea. I thought it was just one - a remote that you press that does all of the funky work. Or if it&#39;s a really old bed, you manually adjust it using the rungs. It&#39;s kinda like old GP examination tables or something.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Still standing by: nurses know everything and doctors just talk to people.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2539581935948678782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2539581935948678782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2539581935948678782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2539581935948678782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/02/weekend-is-over.html' title='Weekend is over'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2775814863182466805</id><published>2015-01-31T17:50:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-31T17:50:10.653+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Days gone by</title><content type='html'>Kinda feel like writing again. Not sure what though. Fiction for sure. I never really had a knack for non-fiction. Non-fiction implies I&#39;m good at something, I guess. Or have something relevant to share. Which I kinda don&#39;t.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t... I don&#39;t know what to write though.&lt;br /&gt;
Or what to write about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Maybe it&#39;s just a pipe dream. I have other commitments anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2775814863182466805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2775814863182466805' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2775814863182466805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2775814863182466805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/days-gone-by.html' title='Days gone by'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-4694540027092787394</id><published>2015-01-30T16:36:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-30T16:36:44.821+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend</title><content type='html'>Uni&#39;s coming soon. Sigh. I don&#39;t want my holidays to be over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s not like it was getting to any sort of crescendo, but I&#39;m just... not really looking forward to uni? I guess?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Though maybe I&#39;ll make more of an effort to see people.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I do believe I have lunch dates with people. Probably.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Except.... hospital 3 days a week. Man... I&#39;ll need to get some more nice shirts and pants I bet. Gotta go shopping then. Thankfully, there&#39;s plenty of fashion stores on the way to hospital (It&#39;s on Oxford St., near King&#39;s Cross) so I can probably pop in and snag some nice deals? Maybe? I remember shopping for hoodies once and it was kinda expensive. But at least the quality and the fabric were nice. So I can&#39;t really complain.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Actually, it might mean that I see people less than I do now. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s not like you actually needed me around.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/4694540027092787394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/4694540027092787394' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4694540027092787394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/4694540027092787394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/weekend.html' title='Weekend'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2929792766091564291</id><published>2015-01-29T16:26:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-29T16:26:22.291+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello world</title><content type='html'>Games are fascinating, particularly as a piece of literature. Shame it&#39;s sometimes hard to find the ones worth talking about.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Slowly working through my backlog in the leadup to uni time again. And finding that I wish I had more time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not quite sure which is more interesting, the story of an individual in extreme circumstances, or an individual that&#39;s supposed to be an everyman, in said circumstances.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Which is to say, I enjoyed Transistor more than I enjoyed Bastion and I think the story had a major part to it. Though the music and aesthetic is also nicer in the former. Friends are telling me I&#39;m crazy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m not so sure. I could make an argument, but I&#39;d be uncertain about which parts are subjective.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess that&#39;s part of the charm of playing games - it&#39;s subjective and interactive.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2929792766091564291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2929792766091564291' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2929792766091564291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2929792766091564291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/hello-world.html' title='Hello world'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2666748249567643005</id><published>2015-01-28T10:32:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-28T10:32:03.265+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Wanderer</title><content type='html'>Somehow got roped into competitive gaming again. In a game that I quit something like two years ago and have only really been playing casually since. I guess now I have more commitments? Commitments to friends I guess.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t have that many commitments, but those that I do have... I&#39;m not sure they&#39;re altogether important. A lot of the ways I spend my time is self-improvement in one thing or another, but usually games cause that&#39;s fun at least. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A lot of the people I know, are through games. Which... I don&#39;t know. I mean, in any given crowd of people, there are great people who I&#39;m happy to be with all the time, and then there are the people you don&#39;t really wanna mingle with that much. I wonder what the proportions are.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In particular, there&#39;s this one person who I think is pretty neat with amazing qualities who fits in the former category and the above super-category. But I guess I value the friendship more than the chance that I&#39;ll mess that up. Honestly though, I&#39;m not sure what to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s not like I&#39;m good at decision making. Maybe it seems that way because I&#39;m not bothered with the outcome.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Usually.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan </content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2666748249567643005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2666748249567643005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2666748249567643005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2666748249567643005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/wanderer.html' title='Wanderer'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-6058870000866247201</id><published>2015-01-27T18:31:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-27T18:31:58.469+11:00</updated><title type='text'>In Circles</title><content type='html'>Somehow, I&#39;m exhausted. Probably from.. something. Who knows.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish I knew why. I also don&#39;t know when my uni timetable is gonna be released. I kinda don&#39;t want to know either, cause then holidays will be over.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Meeting new people and making new friends, as well as people I&#39;m not that fond of just makes me sort of... wonder. Or reflect. On past relationships that I&#39;ve had with people, platonic or otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s kinda like. How did I meet these people. And then why did they become my friends. Or how. And when. I mean, it&#39;s kind of interesting but... Maybe ultimately useless.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I used to be in a relationship with someone who alternatingly loving and hating. For clarity&#39;s sake, some days they really hated me and other days, they really loved me. It was a little disconcerting the first time, for sure, but after a while, I just got used to it. It wasn&#39;t so hard to avoid them on the days that they wanted nothing to do with me. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t know what to call that relationship. It&#39;s hard to really describe it, though that was probably the key aspect of that relationship. I guess there are things that relationships include or revolve around. And this was it. Looking back, I don&#39;t know why it started anyway. Who knows. Times have changed from them, and probably for the better.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;d like to say I&#39;m more mature. But I&#39;m really still unsure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/6058870000866247201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/6058870000866247201' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6058870000866247201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6058870000866247201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/in-circles.html' title='In Circles'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-2884836114949833388</id><published>2015-01-26T15:15:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-26T15:15:57.916+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Actually...</title><content type='html'>Something has been bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are people. Who bother me. I don&#39;t know why they do. At one point, I was proud to call them my friends. Now... Now I&#39;m not so sure.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Have I changed so much that what I admire in a person changed as well? I can&#39;t say for sure when this happened, but any respect I had for them is... wavering. It&#39;s tenuous at best.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I suppose what really concerns me is what I&#39;m to do about it, if at all. I realise that a lot of my &quot;problems&quot; are really... ones that I make for myself only because I don&#39;t tell other people. I refuse to make other people feel bad for things they haven&#39;t done. And yet, I don&#39;t think there&#39;s a solution.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As such, I guess I&#39;ll have to wait.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I could lay out why they annoy me now and again, but I figure the best option is just to not bother and... what? Avoid them as much as possible? That&#39;s... Eh. I mean, I&#39;m pretty good at running away from problems. It&#39;s not like much is going to change here, right?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/2884836114949833388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/2884836114949833388' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2884836114949833388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/2884836114949833388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/actually.html' title='Actually...'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-7641823786469970079</id><published>2015-01-26T14:59:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2015-01-26T14:59:21.727+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Promises</title><content type='html'>I promised myself a long time ago that I&#39;d come back to this.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I re-read the last two posts I wrote and realised that things have indeed changed since that time.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A lot of things actually.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Something that hasn&#39;t changed is probably my writing style. Though that&#39;s probably because I don&#39;t read enough.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, I&#39;m back, somewhat. With or without a flourish.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are also things I regret doing and also things I regret not doing, but that&#39;s hindsight for you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In any case, I ought to reclaim this space, and this is what I&#39;m doing, really. I&#39;m not entirely sure what to reclaim it with, but maybe that doesn&#39;t matter. Maybe, I just need this space to think.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It&#39;s much better to write it out than just to have it all in my head in any case.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
-Toan</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/7641823786469970079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/7641823786469970079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/7641823786469970079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/7641823786469970079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2015/01/promises.html' title='Promises'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-519718680243935740</id><published>2013-10-02T18:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2013-10-02T18:43:15.311+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy busy...</title><content type='html'>Wonder if I should start posting about MTG on another blog. Seems appropriate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Had a few ideas about names.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Specifically, that names are inherently meaningless, but we accept them as being an identifier for someone or something, unconditionally.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And then when we meet someone with a similar/same name, we might look at them and think &quot;...You don&#39;t look like a Samuel&quot;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess it&#39;s more about stereotypes and how hard they are to change when you don&#39;t really question them now and again.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anyway, between learning anatomy, getting enough sleep, work, maybe starting my assignment and other uni crap..&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hoping your uni breaks are excellent.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/519718680243935740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/519718680243935740' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/519718680243935740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/519718680243935740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2013/10/busy-busy.html' title='Busy busy...'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-6429442364474714378</id><published>2013-09-30T21:34:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2013-09-30T21:34:46.031+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Once more into the breach, dear friend - Once more.</title><content type='html'>Came back to this because I figure I should do with leaving some kind of record around.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Though, I never re-read this either. And no-one particularly reads it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Need to practice consulting and examining people D: Normal people, but still.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hands and abdomens currently. Learning knee later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Only been 3 people in my feed for blogger.com so it&#39;s nothing fancy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Should sleep now.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hoping I do look back on this later.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/6429442364474714378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/6429442364474714378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6429442364474714378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6429442364474714378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2013/09/once-more-into-breach-dear-friend-once.html' title='Once more into the breach, dear friend - Once more.'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-6901348977437804659</id><published>2013-07-15T20:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2013-07-15T20:51:55.280+10:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="John Snow Scholarship"/><title type='text'>History</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&quot;A 22 year old male presented with a bulla under the left ear. He was given a prior diagnosis of an inflammed sebaceous gland and wondered if he should excise it himself. He had a preceding upper respiratory tract infection which started 2 to 3 months ago, but has since passed, along with associated symptoms. The bulla is roughly circular and is 4 cm in diameter. The surrounding lymph nodes were swollen. He was given cephalexin monohydrate and recently started taking twice the prescribed dose in an attempt to clear the infection faster.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot;&gt;
....Not sure what else to put - this one was a weird one.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/feeds/6901348977437804659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/4694034717173974617/6901348977437804659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6901348977437804659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4694034717173974617/posts/default/6901348977437804659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thelastthingtodo.blogspot.com/2013/07/history.html' title='History'/><author><name>Unknown</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4694034717173974617.post-1290882334577570076</id><published>2013-07-07T10:29:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2013-07-07T10:29:10.360+10:00</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="John Snow Scholarship"/><title type='text'>Coincidences actually exist. Believe in them.</title><content type='html'>I was always here.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Which is to say that I never left.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
A lot has happened lately.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Braces getting fitted within 2 weeks. Teeth being removed to make my face look nicer, apparently. Apparently I have too many teeth. As do most of us.&lt;br /&gt;
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Coincidence #1: Reading material on alternative health therapies in the hopes of being able to write an essay addressing the question of what to do if a patient with idiopathic symptoms insists on alternative med X,Y,Gamma + Desktop background disappeared somehow into black when it used to be that lovely picture Aereas drew of all of us.&lt;br /&gt;
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So I wanted to write down a short draft of ideas (plot summary) here before trying to look for the&amp;nbsp; picture again.&lt;br /&gt;
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Coincidence #2: Found myself in the office/pharmacy/clinic of a traditional chinese doctor.&lt;br /&gt;
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NOTE: A day has since passed because I&#39;m slightly lazy but no-one&#39;s going to miss it, hmm?&lt;br /&gt;
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I used to not really care. I mean - I thought she was a conventional doctor (read: mainstream?) but the space was really small. I just figured she was a mainstream doc in a herbalist&#39;s shop. So I thought I might do something like that (6 years ago).&lt;br /&gt;
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But therein lies the first problem. It&#39;s a small office...thing. That doubles as a shop. So there&#39;s no sense of confidentiality. Any problem you have - everyone can hear. Which I took the liberty of doing because I respect her as someone who has been practicing for at least a few decades.&lt;br /&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;A case study I happened to be writing for practice:&lt;br /&gt;
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&quot;A 21 year old male presented with heightened irritability, nocturnal lows in libido&lt;/div&gt;
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and general fatigue. He suspected low levels of circulating testosterone. The symptoms started two months ago, and have been constant. He did not notice any change in male pattern hair growth over the past two months. His fatigue is alleviated following intense physical exercise.There are no significant current medications or allergies. He lives with his boyfriend in an apartment in Homebush. His diet appears balanced. He has been smoking two cigarettes a day for the past two moths, and drinks heavily on occasion. He has used amyl nitrate and marijuana before.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
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A case study I managed to salvage from listening to a case yesterday:&lt;/div&gt;
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&quot;A middle aged male presented with flaking, inflamed skin lesions dispersed on the right side of his body. They varied in severity, size and shape but the most painful lesion was on his right index finger. The lesion was an elongated, oval shaped, purple-red plaque 3cm length by 2cm across. They were flaking, painful, and started last night (6th July). His blood pressure and pulse were taken. He has tried ______ (didn&#39;t catch the medication but I suspect it was an anti-histamine like Zyrtec or something similar. They don&#39;t put you on corticosteroids until it&#39;s the last resort. Steroids are baaaaaaaaad.) but they have been ineffective.&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp;He likes to eat lamb and other meat. He was advised to abstain from the consumption of all meat and fruit, [well, it was more like an order], and instead put on a diet of ginger rice. When concerned about a general sense of fatigue, he was advised that abstaining from meat and fruit, and consuming ginger would help. He was also given a lump of ginger to consume.&quot;&lt;/div&gt;
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On a guess, it&#39;s eczema and/or dermatitis, but it hasn&#39;t been ongoing (I think). If the medication is an antihistamine, then I would definitely say it&#39;s an allergic reaction to something.&lt;/div&gt;
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I&#39;m not sure why you would need to check BP and pulse every time. It just... doesn&#39;t make sense. &lt;/div&gt;
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It is painful to note that there is a acupuncture and Chinese herbal medicine fellowship and that their certificate of membership is almost identical to one of the ones you get for a bachelor of dental science. Mostly because it states something about high levels of clinical practice.&lt;/div&gt;
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....&lt;/div&gt;
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Disregarding the issue of confidentiality...&lt;/div&gt;
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Performing tests without consent (BP and pulse), without even performing them properly (she wrapped the cuff around a jacket around his arm) can&#39;t be right.&lt;/div&gt;
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Palpation without informed and verbal consent. (It was implicit, I suppose.)&lt;/div&gt;
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Not undergoing a full or even focused history, and then prescribing medicine.&lt;/div&gt;
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If I did all those things, I&#39;d probably be deregistered :l&lt;/div&gt;
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At the very least sued.&lt;/div&gt;
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And then there&#39;s the issue of the ginger. I&#39;ll skip the next case summary but basically, a male presents with occasional bouts of vertigo which so far has been idiopathic. His blood pressure and pulse are taken, and then he as advised to precisely the same diet as the man before (with the skin lesions) with minor tweaks being the addition of tofu, and more ginger raw instead of ginger rice.&lt;/div&gt;
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“All things are poisons, for there is nothing without poisonous qualities.  It is only the dose which makes a thing poison.” - Paracelus&lt;/h1&gt;
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It&#39;s kinda odd to think that a substance that is perfectly safe has any use at all.&lt;/div&gt;
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For example - paracetamol (ie; panadol) can cause severe liver damage if taken in extreme quantities (ie; more than recommended daily/time dosage). Even antibiotics which naturally have an affinity for disrupting bacterial RNA can bind and disrupt human RNA if the dosage is high enough.&lt;/div&gt;
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But ginger? Nah, it&#39;s fine - it&#39;s totally safe and appears to be:&lt;/div&gt;
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1) Anti-inflammatory&lt;/div&gt;
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2) Boosts the immune system&lt;/div&gt;
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3) Good for counter-acting vertigo&lt;/div&gt;
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4) Plus much much more.&lt;/div&gt;
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No side effects.&lt;/div&gt;
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Lastly, of major concern is the advice to stop eating meat and fruit when presenting with general fatigue. Meat is one of the few easy sources of Vit B12, cobalamin, a deficiency in which will result in megablastic anaemia. (Basically less red blood cells, but they&#39;re bigger to try and compensate). Obviously, this is going to lead to even more fatigue. I have a friend who currently has to undergo a course of B12 injections simply because he&#39;s a vegetarian.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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(Maybe he&#39;ll be less lazy now. Lol.)&lt;/div&gt;
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Did you guys know Jim Carrey is anti-vaccination? I didn&#39;t know until yesterday. It was pretty astounding, and shocking.&lt;/div&gt;
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Conversation with a friend I sometimes slightly resent because I&#39;m not really in-step with their attitude most of the time:&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: Hey, did you guys know that Jim Carrey is anti-vaccination&lt;/div&gt;
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Him: What, really? Wtf. So vaccination causes autism and all that?&lt;/div&gt;
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Me: Yeah. Well, yes, that Carrey&#39;s anti-vaccination, but not that vaccines actually cause autism.&lt;/div&gt;
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Him: ... You must be really dumb to believe that kind of stuff.&lt;/div&gt;
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That&#39;s where I have to draw a line between what I would call &quot;willfully ignorant&quot; and simply &quot;uneducated&quot;. I don&#39;t think anyone is &quot;dumb&quot;, it&#39;s just a matter of what they know, how they know it, and why they think it&#39;s true. In this case, I suppose my friend is referring to those willfully ignorant, but it seems to me that he might as well be talking about both, and it&#39;s an unfair generalization. &amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;
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After looking in &quot;The Complete Guide to Homeopathy&quot; by Doctor Andrew Locke and Doctor Nicola Geddes (both actual MDs and not PhDs, mind you), I was pretty astounded by the lack of references and appendices to the book. Sure, it&#39;s targeted at the general public, but so is &quot;Deadly Choices: How the Anti-Vaccine Movement Threatens Us All&quot; by Paul A. Offit, M.D., and his book at least has some referencing, even if it is threadbare. &lt;/div&gt;
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Anyway, that&#39;s enough for now, probably.&lt;/div&gt;
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Yes, I&#39;m dead, hi nice to see you for so long.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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