the girl who sleeps in lectures

The End

2013-04-09T15:39:00.000+01:00

Last weekend I finished my last exam, packed up my stuff and left London.

Six years of medical school were over all too quickly. I remember arriving in October 2007 and promptly falling asleep in lectures so clearly as if it wasn't very long ago. But now there are no more lectures to sleep in. A lot has happened in the last six years but I don't feel like I have changed very much. Some people might argue that I have.

Anyway, as this season of life is coming to an end I have decided to end this blog.

Thank you all for reading. It has been fun.

So much work, so little time

2013-01-22T22:36:00.002+00:00

As of today I have 8 weeks left until exams. I can't lie and say that I'm cool calm and totally prepared. I'm never cool calm and totally prepared for any exam. But there's something about this last year that exposes the holes in knowledge and understanding that I was able to get away with previously. All those lectures I slept through - I'm paying for them now. Never mind, I'll just have to work really hard for the next few weeks. Hopefully, it'll all be alright on the night.

Old habits die hard

2013-01-12T01:55:00.001+00:00

This week I'm back in lectures doing what I do best..sleeping.
On Thursday I was so tired I went home to sleep. (I'm still sick so it's ok).

Some things may never change.

2013 will be a year of ...

2013-01-05T01:52:00.000+00:00

Change

I'm in my final year of university. In August I'll be working as a doctor, being responsible for people's health and stuff. Your life will be my hands. Be afraid. Mwahahahahahahahaha! (Actually that's a total lie - I'll be at the bottom of the food chain, paper pushing for years to come). And because I am a glutton for major life change, in between now and then I'm also getting married.

I guess there will be no more sleeping in lectures, I'll have to grow up.

I 'used' to look at major life events like this with a certain amount of fear - to be honest I still do.
I'm trying to make a conscious effort to change that attitude. I'm trying to see this as something exciting on the horizon, something to look forward to but some old thinking habits die hard.

Blah blah blah

2013-01-04T01:16:00.000+00:00

Everything in life seems so blah right now. Nothing's happening. Nothing is interesting. Nothing excites me anymore. I wake up, I do nothing I go back to sleep. I have little motivation. Not even for work. Not even to talk to people.

I wrote before about needing to be brave to step out and change things. I realise now that building a life takes effort not courage. One step isn't enough, I have to carry on walking.

I'm stuck in a rut and I'm far from the place I want to be, in terms of my relationships with people, my relationship with God, my work-life balance, my wardrobe ... this list could go on and on. However a new year affords the promise that the slate is wiped clean that you can be better than you were before. This will require commitment not complaining, something that changing a calendar doesn't give you.

Last year I promised to be more open, I really wasn't. I never really have been. But I've had enough of this rut now. This will be my last whiny-complainy-woe is me-my life is rubbish post.
My blog may end here. I hope it doesn't.

Taking things for granted

2013-01-03T01:24:00.000+00:00

I suppose at this time of year I'm bound to become reflective. I think back on the year gone by, look forward to the year ahead and get planning. There are some things I assume are taken care of or are guaranteed - unfortunately, that isn't always the case.

For the last few weeks things haven't been quite right with me. Early in December I developed a cough. Initially I thought it was no big deal, everyone is ill at this time of year. I thought I would cough and sneeze for a couple of days, sleep a lot and then be right as rain. Uni would be rubbish but then I'd bounce back and get back to hardcore revision for finals. However, a week later after downing a bottle of cough mixture, drinking my body weight in lemon and ginger tea and sleeping for 14 hours a night every night I wasn't any better.

Now physician heal thyself.

I'm a final year medical student I know a thing or two about illness right? So I think about how my cough had been over the last week and concluded that there wasn't anything particularly worrying. It was probably just a cold. Besides in another week I would be going home for Christmas and if I wasn't better by then I could get some real rest and tlc there and be back to normal in no time. No need to bother a doctor.

By Christmas morning it had been two weeks since this cold started and it was getting worse not better. Of course my family were on my case to go and see my GP. Although the cough is more frequent and more painful and is disturbing my sleep more I still thought it was cold (albeit a bad one) rather than something more serious. If I have a cough/cold I have a personal rule of not going to see the GP until I've been coughing for 3 weeks... I just feel like in 99% of cases if you go sooner the doctor is going to tell me to go home sleep, drink plenty of fluids etc and it will go away. They are not going to do anything for me that I can't do myself so what's the point. Someone who is really sick could have seen the doctor in my place.

Later in the week I am forced against my will to go to the GP surgery and I see the 'Nurse Practitioner' - she doesn't know I'm nearly a doctor. She takes a history and listens to my chest and tells me what I already know - I have a cold. Most people get better in a week but it can take up to 4-6 weeks to go away.

My heart sank. 4-6 weeks. I don't want to be sick for 4-6 weeks. I have family events to go to. I have exams to revise for. It's Christmas and New Years. I can't afford to be out of action for 4-6 weeks. I didn't like what I was hearing but deep down I knew the nurse practitioner was talking sense. The problem was going to be convincing my family that. Of course they wanted me to see a real doctor.

Another week passes, I've now been sick for 3 and a half weeks. My mum manages to get me an appointment to see another GP - 'a real doctor' this time. She decides to come with me, and there is only one thing on her mind - antibiotics. According to her, I am not persuasive/talkative enough (probably true) so I let anybody walk all over me. God bless my mum, she is very well meaning and of course she's worried that I'm really sick. The problem is, I don't think antibiotics are actually going to help and neither does the doctor I see. Nevertheless, we leave with the desired prescriptions (my mum is very persuasive) and I am being forced to take antibiotics that are probably not going to do anything.

Needless to say this is not how I envisioned spending my December, Christmas, New Years Eve and early January. I had plans to spend time with family, catch up with old friends and do lots of revision but now I feel like my life is on hold for a stupid viral infection.

On a day to day basis my health is not something I think about. I realise now that it's something that I ought to be more thankful for because without it ... well, life is a bit rubbish.

A Londoner in the North - Day 1

2012-08-29T21:24:00.002+01:00

So after a long break from writing I've travelled to 'the North' to do a 2 week stint in GP land and have found some fodder for this here blog. Now I'm a city kid, lived in London all my life and coming this far away from ~~civilisation~~ home is a somewhat daunting process. I've long had a wish to live outside of London in a land where there are green things growing from the ground outside but after today I'm not sure how I'd fare...

After a 3 hour train journey from Euston I find myself in Cheshire. It's wet, and it's raining. I don't have an umbrella. Clearly, I'm a bit unprepared. If this was a film that would be major foreshadowing!

In London, you don't need to know where you are going, the tube will take you near enough, there are maps at every bus station and the bus even makes announcements at every stop. Even the directionally challenged (me) can make it from A to B in London without too much trouble (thank you tfl.gov.uk). Everything is different up North. Why there is more than one bus company in a town the size of Ealing only God knows but that's any-town-outside-london for you. After buying myself a bus pass that only lets me on 4 bus routes this week (that's all that company runs) I manage to get to my accommodation - the local hospital.

It's in the middle of nowhere.

I'm serious - nowhere.

Call me spoiled but my local hospitals in London are on roads with shops, people, public transport and food on them. This place is an eruption of brick in a wasteland. There is a bus stop at the hospital and apart from driving is the only way of going in or out of that place. (A bit like a prison.)

After settling in, I leave to get on my second bus of the day (fortunately covered by my bus pass). I hop on the first bus going to the GP surgery. Then after about 2-3 minutes I see a bus actually going to the GP surgery - I'm going in the wrong direction.
I then start kicking myself as I remember that this bus only comes once an hour. I don't know what the point is of a bus service that comes once an hour - to torment poor medical students.

I decided to get off at a bus stop with a landmark, like a railway station, so if I ended up taking a cab I know my location - clever eh? Unfortunately I still had to wait another half an hour for the bus to go back in the direction I came. Sad times.

I finally make it to my first day of placement at 4pm - the day is practically over. I should have given up. The practice manager wasn't expecting me since I phoned to tell her about my transport troubles at the railway station. And then I found out my GP tutor wasn't in.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a waste.

I got an ID card and signed a confidentiality agreement and then messed around on a computer (not checking facebook or visiting dodgy sites) before deciding to go back to my accommodation.

Realising I needed to go food shopping, I had a quick flick through my bus timetables I printed out to see what time the bus would leave the hospital to get to a supermarket of some sort. I spy with my little eye a 10 minute gap in between my bus getting to the hospital and another bus leaving to go to Morrisons. There was no choice in the matter. I had to get that bus - like all the others I had experienced so far it only came once an hour.

So I got off the bus at the hospital, and ran back to my accommodation to grab my tesco 'bag for life'. All in the name of saving the environment I risked missing my bus. I then raced back to the bus stop only to see the bus to Morrisons pull away from the stop well before I get there.

My heart sank. Not another bus for an hour, and only 15 minutes after that the last bus of the day leaves Morrisons to return to the hospital. I gave up. No food for me tonight.

I plodded along at snails pace back to my room. I despaired. Not for the lack of food but for the belief I wasn't going to cope for the next 2 weeks. It was about 6:30pm and the sun was sinking in the western sky making the buildings gleam in orange and gold. I saw light dappled on the trees and grass lining the road and around the hospital. I started to feel better. I inhaled deeply. Ugh, cow poop. Just when I thought I was starting to enjoy this countryside lark.

Reading for pleasure

2012-04-15T15:38:00.001+01:00

I've realised recently that I really want to read a book.

Thanks to the drudgery that is medical school I spend too many hours reading boring PowerPoint slides and textbooks. It is now at the point where I almost despise the idea of doing any more reading than I absolutely have to. Almost.

Then I walked through a bookshop yesterday. An old familiar joy welled up inside me, a smile played about my lips as I gingerly thumbed a couple of books that looked interesting. I long for a story. For people, not nondescript text or information that I just have to memorise.

Ever since getting a shiny new kindle for my birthday last year I have done precious little more reading than I hoped I would. Unfortunately this is the wrong time of year to get into an all consuming reading habit, enjoyable as it would be :(

I think I'll have to settle for small amounts of reading for pleasure scattered in between hours of revision in the library. It might help to keep my spirits up over the next three months.

Broken Promises

2012-02-18T17:42:00.000+00:00

A long long time ago I promised you regular posting. I promised you a whole series on my thoughts about passion. I promised to start writing seriously. I promised I would make my life more interesting, more meaningful. I promised I would do things on purpose.

I haven't done any of these things.

I have no excuses. I accept full responsibility for my rubbishness.

But I'm not going to complain (much). I'm getting up, dusting myself off, and moving on.

A Log and a Speck

2011-09-13T22:20:00.000+01:00

So umm, I haven't posted anything on my blog for 7 1/2 months now.

To be honest what's brought me back to here is the fact that I've recently been nagging a friend of mine to post on his blog more often. You see, he started a blog at the beginning of this year saying that he would post every week until the end of 2011 and as soon as it lapsed for a few weeks I let him know it. If only he knew....

Anyway, I wouldn't say this guy isn't a particularly close friend of mine. However, through reading his blog, which sometimes becomes quite personal, I (feel like I) have gained an insight into some parts of his life that I doubt I would have known about from our sporadic conversations. I feel like a fly on the wall silently observing him - well, the parts he chooses to share online anyway. I feel privileged to know these things - like he has confided in me specially, which is rather ironic considering that a weblog is anything but confidential. I am also a little in awe and humbled by his display of openness, honesty and vulnerability. Bizarrely , I feel like I can't really speak to him about the personal matters that he puts on his blog. It feels like I'm cheating at friendship, or that I'm reading his mind.

My eagerness to correct his 'log' has prompted me to re-examine my 'speck' of cyberspace. Looking back on this, it looks like a failure - a confused, self-indulgent and unfinished diary.
But every grey cloud has a silver lining. I firmly believe that life is a journey and not a destination. There is something to be learned from everything that happens.
I like writing, so I think I will carry on.

InspireMe - Quotes

2011-01-23T15:18:00.000+00:00

I love inspirational quotes.

You know the ones, those famous adages or sayings that say so much in just a few words. These are my favourites that used to live on my facebook profile. They also say a lot about my life philosophy.

Medicine is the only profession that labours incessantly to destroy the reason for its own existence ~James Bryce, 1914

If we all did the things we are really capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves

~Thomas Eddison

Smile awhile and while you smile another smiles and soon there's miles and miles of smiles and life's worthwhile because you smile ~ St. Cecilia

Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever ~ Mahatma Gandhi

After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb ~ Nelson Mandela

What are your favourite quotes? And why do you love them? Sharing is caring, leave yours in the comments below :)

To be a good surgeon... it's a good idea to play some sort of video game

2010-12-30T20:37:00.000+00:00

A quick PubMed search reveals there are at least 53 publications relating to the topic of video games and surgical skill development.

In a very recent review article (Lynch et al, 2010) 12 research papers were discovered relating to different kinds of keyhole and robotic surgery on different parts of the body. The findings from all of these papers were analysed and it was found that there was a link between gaming and increased performance in keyhole but not robotic surgery. The increased performance was only seen in basic tasks. For more complex tasks and in robotic surgery the most important factor was experience of the specific surgical technique. All of the studies involved very small numbers of people and short periods of game play (between 2 and 5 weeks) and more subtle differences may not have been seen, differences that were seen may have been exaggerated and the effect of long term gaming (years) or gaming in childhood cannot be examined.

It must be noted however that there is much more to being a good surgeon than being good with your hands. Surgery, like all medical specialisms, is a team sport. Communication skills within that team, both in theatre and in follow up is vitally important to patient outcome. So is good clinical knowledge and judgement.

References
Lynch, J., Aughwane, P. & Hammond, T. M. (2010) Video games and surgical ability: a literature review. Journal of Surgical Education, 67 (3), 184-189.

Milo Wars 2

2010-12-30T19:09:00.002+00:00

Apologies for the lateness of this post. I have been snowed under with coursework recently.

The last post sparked ~~outrage in the blogosphere~~ heated debate amongst people that read and follow my blog. For many people this was an emotive issue, mispronouncing the name of a hot drink they have known and loved from childhood. At first among the people I had asked there seemed to be a north/south divide - the divide being the equator. Those in the north (from Ghana and Nigeria and the UK) seemed to favour 'Millow' pronounciation, and those from the south (from Zambia, Zimbawe, South Africa and New Zealand) favouring My-lo.

The poll results say it all, after all the ~~shouting~~ intensely emotional discussion the consensus is split cleanly down the middle, 11 votes for Millow and 11 for My-lo. (I have ignored the accusations of cheating here)

However, as other countries joined in the debate for the My-lo cause namely Jamaica and Sri Lanka, it seemed to turn into a West Africa (Millow) vs the rest of the world (Mylo) debate. (I personally think that we can handle those odds). I would like to thank my Sri Lankan friend Jehan, who did the YouTube research that gave me the videos below.

So I guess we will all have to make up our minds on this one.

(Hint hint - it's Millow)

Milo: The Great Pronunciation Debate

2010-11-03T07:30:00.002+00:00

You say to-mah-to, I say to-may-to, right? Apparently you can have either way right? It doesn't matter right? Wrong! Well, it's wrong when it comes to this famous energy food drink.

I've noticed recently that my Southern African friends pronounce it as 'My-lo' like it's a name, whereas my friends above the equator and particularly in West Africa pronounce it as 'Millow' (like it rhymes with willow).

My opinion - you can't drink a person. I was raised on 'Millow'. Am I right? Comment below or use the poll to the right.

Pimsleur Twi Review

2010-11-02T09:06:00.008+00:00

As you know over the last few months I have been attempting to learn Twi, an Akan language of Ghana, where I am originally from. To do this I bought a Twi-English dictionary and the Pimsleur Twi Audio CD set. Here are my thoughts on it.

The Pimsleur Twi Audio course is a 10 lesson audio course with a short accompanying reading booklet. Each audio lesson is about 20-25 minutes long and the course is designed for you to complete one lesson a day, everyday if possible. Reading lessons are much shorter (2 – 5 minutes) and are separate from the main audio part. The reading lessons took place roughly every other day. The material covered included basic that you would encounter as a tourist in Ghana e.g.: introducing yourself, asking for directions, and buying food and drink etc.

I have to say that this is the first ever teach-yourself-a-language course that I have ever managed to complete. Usually I get bored or find the language too difficult to learn and give up. The Pimsleur course was actually engaging and enjoyable. It also went at a pace that was easy to follow. It may have helped that I was already a bit familiar with the language. However there were days that I did have to repeat because I struggled with the lesson the first time round.

The biggest surprise I found was that I found that I knew a lot more Twi than I thought I did. I had clearly been picking it up passively from family and friends around me over the last 23 years without realising it. Although I am far, far, far from fluent I think that doing the course gave me something I didn’t have before: confidence. I had my first fairly long conversation with my mum last Friday entirely in Twi. I gave myself a pat on the back for that, and she understood everything that I said. I didn’t understand everything she said though but I was able to get the gist of it.

Prior to this I had never done any reading in Twi. The reading exercises were simple and straightforward. I had been a bit worried as to how I would be able to improve my reading skills (and therefore my vocabulary) because I haven’t seen any books written in Twi other than the bible, which I knew was going to be incredibly difficult for a beginner to read. However a Google search revealed resources like dual language English-Twi children’s stories, which I’m planning to buy before I take on more advanced texts. I also found other blogs written by people trying to learn/teach Twi.

All in all I think the course was a very good learning experience (I just hope I don’t forget what I’ve learned).

Meda ase paaa. (Thank you very much)

Useful websites

Pimsleur Twi on Amazon

English-Twi Dictionary on Amazon

Nkyea Languages

Bilingual Babes Blog - has some useful links to other Twi resources like children's books

My next step - I'm saving some money to get the Nkyea Twi primer as that will give me a larger vocabulary from the 200 or so words I know at the moment, which will definitely help improve my reading.

Let’s play the Plagiarism Game: the cite is right!

2010-10-31T08:07:00.002+00:00

My university have an incredibly boring plagiarism lecture every year for which attendance is compulsory. A register is taken. During the lecture we have to complete exercises where we look for evidence of plagiarism in (supposedly) real submitted pieces of work. At the end of the torture we have a quiz (oh joy!) that you have to pass. It is two hours of your life you are never going to get back.

So during this last torture session I had an idea for fresh new delivery of the material.

Introducing (drum roll please)…‘The Plagiarism Game: the cite is right!’

You play the character Student [insert your name here] as you struggle through the perilous terrain of coursework-land battling the evil plagiarising creatures therein. The twin demons of ‘copy and paste’ shall fall before your sword of citation and your quiver of quotation marks. Beware the deceptive mist of’ just-rearranging-the-words’ though that will confuse your avatar and deplete your timeline more quickly. Traverse or avoid the murky swamp of ‘misinterpreting-common-knowledge'. And finally battle the most difficult enemy of all the shadow avatar of self-plagiarism’. It knows all your tricks, all your moves. How will you fare? With your arsenal of appropriately sourced references nothing should stop you from attaining your goal of a publication in a prestigious scientific or medical journal however you must get through the game first.

Let’s be honest though, this would only really appeal to people who would be into games though. Oops! I forgot what field I’m in.

There may already be an app for that.

To be a good surgeon...you must play 'Call Of Duty'?

2010-10-07T11:46:00.003+01:00

Apparently doctors that end up being surgeons are more likely to be male and play video games. Particularly with keyhole surgery, playing video games can apparently help to build the brain's ability to integrate and understand a 2D image on a screen and how it relates to a 3D response with the hands and fingertips. That's not even mentioning the manual dexterity it helps with.

I'm not sure if there are studies to confirm this idea, but in my opinion, it might also help with getting used to seeing blood, guts and gore on screen.

Being more of a Nitendo Wii girl myself, does that mean I should abandon any dreams I may or may not have of becoming the world's greatest brain/heart/any-kind-of surgeon just because I'm not addicted to 'Call Of Duty' or other console games? The fact is I'm just not very into gaming as a past time although from time to time (mainly when I supposed to be revising) I do become engrossed in the sims.

Is that just me? Or is that a female predicament? I haven't done any rigorous investigation into the topic but from anecdotal evidence it seems that more men than women play video games? I know for a fact that the games industry has a 96% male workforce. Maybe they are just not designing games I want to play? Or maybe the games that I would play won't sell? Or maybe I'm just not interested in gaming as a pastime?

There are many questions. And many possible answers. (Sounds like something for some bright medical student to go and research)

Just as a closing thought, there's often another person in the operating room who has to hold the camera during keyhole procedures. That person is often a more junior doctor or at times a medical student. Now you may think that holding a camera is an easy compared to the difficult job of doing a whole surgery inside a tiny space. However I can personally say that it is in fact quite tiring doing it for hours on end without moving or changing position much. My question is: does doing an activity like yoga, which strengthens core muscles, help with doing this task? Or does the ability to enter a zen-like trance at will help make the hours fly by? Who does more yoga men or women? Could this mean that women are more suited to assistant type roles?

Very controversial I know.

Either way, I think it raises lots more questions.

Brave

2010-09-10T23:55:00.001+01:00

I sometimes wonder why I write this. Or why I write anything.

I like to think that I have something meaningful to say. Something worth listening to. Something worth reading. But the thing is I don’t tell people about my writing or indeed that I write at all. Very few people know about this blog or my stories or poems. And to be completely honest, I am loath to tell them. I’m not very good at self-promotion. I’d rather be discovered by chance. A happy accident.

I envy people who are brave. Brave enough to show the world what they are made of. What they think, feel and believe. To expose themselves to the potential ridicule of others and take the risk anyway.

Right now, I’m not even brave enough to put words to a blank page.

I wonder where did my courage go?

I have a story!

2010-09-08T13:50:00.006+01:00

I have a story in the pipelines! *Squeal of excitement!* (Me, not you….although you can squeal too if you are excited for me) It’s a short story. My self-imposed deadline for it is 30^th September 2010. Please hold me accountable. Thank you.

Escape to the Country

2010-09-08T13:47:00.003+01:00

It’s (still!) the summer holidays and I am surrounded by – drowning in - daytime television. Has anyone watched this show before? I think it’s about a couple or a family that want to move from the city to the countryside so they go a look at properties (correct me if I’m wrong). As a born and bred city girl, I have always thought that there’s just nothing to do there.

I will freely admit that I was wrong.

Fields. Trees. Greenery. Fresh air. It all suddenly hits me like a freight train when I leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind. The contrast is more dramatic on a train journey but I suppose on some level this is what the old motorway holidays were like. Exciting, romantic, and thrilling. *cough cough* My lungs aren’t used to this level of cleanliness. There are houses surrounded by empty space. Everything is just so spaced out. It’s amazing. The city is a bubble. Sometimes it’s hard to think there’s anything else outside of it. Sometimes it’s a bit claustrophobic. I can see why people escape. I might try it sometime.

Reunions

2010-09-08T13:44:00.003+01:00

Reunions are great. Last week I met up with my friends from my sixth form. It’s fun to catch up with them and find out what’s going on in everyone’s lives. We get to celebrate each other’s achievements and rejoice in their successes. Since leaving school in 2006 most of them have been to university and graduated. It’s just me and the rest of the medics left now (and of course those who didn’t go to university).

There’s one caveat to the trip on the memory train. If you’re anything like me while everyone is talking and laughing (and spilling their Starbucks coffee) a part of your mind will wonder ‘what have you managed to do with the last four years?’ or more specifically ‘X has done something amazing! You have done nothing. You suck.’ I should really use those moments to spur me to do something that can at least become future anecdote in conversation. But I don’t. Well sometimes I do, but mostly I don’t.

And then my mind snaps back – where was I, oh yes. Celebrating achievements, rejoicing success…lamenting my own seemingly miserable life.

And yes I know I know, a lot of people in the world have it much worse than I do. I know I know, I shouldn’t compare myself to other people. But come on everyone does it. I’m just being honest here.

I’m a medic, get me out of here!

2010-08-23T16:42:00.003+01:00

Why does your job take over your life? I recently went to an event where most of the people there were doctors. (I’m not quite there yet). To be honest I think we medics are the worst. When in the company of other doctors we can’t seem to talk about anything other than medicine. I felt for the poor non-medics dotted around the room. (There weren’t many of them I don’t think). I can imagine if I were in their situation I would feel rather left out. We as a group must seem very dull. We seem to have no other interests than our job. Indeed our jobs are our lives. Of course, being interested in your job is a great thing however; having nothing else in your life I think, is a great shame.

Ok, I suppose I exaggerate. I’m sure all of these people have other interests, hobbies and past times but I really do think that the world of medicine is a bit of a bubble. It’s isolated from the rest of the universe with their acronyms and abbreviations and jargon. It really does seem that way. And I’m on the inside.

Why are people so defined by their job? There’s so much more to life and people than what you do from 9-5 (or whatever time/shift you work). Even when you meet someone for the first time, one of the first things you find out from him or her is what they do for a living. Almost everybody has some kind of preconceived idea of your job and will form an impression of you based on it. This is a typical conversation I have a lot:

“Hi, I’m so-and-so. What’s your name?”

“I’m Claudia”

“Nice to meet you. What do you do?”

“Oh I’m a student.”

“Oh what do you study?”

Tentatively because I know what’s coming “I study Medicine”

“Oh wow.” Look of mild surprise. “You must be really clever/work really hard”

“Ummmm No”

Even if you say nothing else to them ever again we pigeonhole people into professions, occupations and jobs. Why? It’s just so…limiting.

I suppose we all know this. Maybe I’m complaining over nothing. Am I the only person who doesn’t like this? Oh well.

One thing’s for sure when around medics; sometimes I wish I wasn’t one of them.

My mother's Tongue

2010-08-21T10:30:00.003+01:00

I recently came back from a trip to Ghana. Whenever I go there I’m always a bit worried as to how I’m going to communicate with people. Although my family are originally from Ghana I was born and raised in England. My parents didn’t speak much Twi with me as I was growing up so I never learned it. When I go to there my ‘foreignness’ shows. Big Time.

I hate it. Every time I go I tell myself I must learn the language. It’s My language I tell myself. Or is it? When I speak the words sound alien on my tongue. I never know if I’m saying the right words, and/or saying them in the right order etc. People furrow their eyebrows, squint their eyes and try to decipher what I’ve said. Or they just look at me like I’m stupid. My family encourage me to try.

But I don’t want pity. I want perfection. Or at least to have a conversational level of Twi. To be honest I think I would be content with just understanding.

In Ghana I’m forgiven for not knowing the language because I have the excuse ‘I was born in England’. The problem is in England 99% of all the Ghanaian people I know understand and speak Twi. When I’m around them it’s insufferable. God I wish I understood!

I used to blame my parents for this. Every time I told them I wanted to learn they would start speaking to me in Twi and only Twi. After about half a day or so I would find some excuse or I just wasn’t coping so I (and they) would give up. And my dream, for the time being, would die. Sad times.

The fact is that I have had plenty of time to do something about it. To take matters into my own hands. I just haven’t. I hid behind a rubbish excuse. What I need is a change of attitude. Self-discipline. Diligence.

I’m learning again. I have a bunch of CDs and I’m going to do this for real. I’m hoping my next visit to Ghana will be a little bit different.

Wish me luck.

Excuses Excuses

2010-08-02T00:41:00.004+01:00

Procrastination is the thief of time.

There's no doubt about that.

I procrastinate all the time. My life is one long procrastination. When I was young I wanted to be an author. My biggest idea for a story has been brewing in my head for the last 10 years. I haven't written down a word. I've always been waiting for the time when my writing would be 'good enough'. The problem is I never bothered to practise.

I like to get things right first time. I'm one of those perfectionist-type people. I need to have a well ordered plan. I need to be in control. But I'm lazy. Instead of doing the work I postpone things. It's easier that way. I tell myself it'll be better later if I do it later. I make excuses.

So my dreams fall by the wayside. My resolutions never turn into realities. I don't want this to sound like I'm being self-depreciating. I'm being honest (even if it does sound self-depreciating). Neither do I want this to sound like those stories where the underdog claws their way to success. You know the ones. They make you feel like you too could soar through the air like the high-flyers they are. But then you realise that they have the wings of eagles while yours are more like a housefly's. So you make an excuse. Or that's your excuse. You go back to work, or to school, or wherever. You do everything the same. In my case you go back to sleeping through your lectures.

And the problem with that is you sleep through your life.

You miss everything.

Friends. Family. Career. And things that give your life meaning.

Not many of us are fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to know when this life will end. Even fewer of us while knowing have time to 'get our affairs in order'. Why wait for someone to say 'I think you should do all the things you really wanted to do'? Why just float your boat when you can sail a ship.

They say the mind is a terrible thing to waste. I say to waste time is even worse.

Right now it's my summer holiday. Specifically it's my last long summer. Possibly (probably) the last for the rest of my life. I'm never going to have time like this again and I'm never going to get this time back.

When I was younger I wanted to write. And this is me stopping the excuses.

Out of my comfort zone

2010-05-28T19:28:00.005+01:00

I am always a little hesitant. To open up, to speak, to share. Especially in front of people. As in, in person. I hide behind words. Not my own mind you, more often than not someone else’s. There’s a wave of panic that hits me in conversation when someone asks me a question. They listen all too intently for my reply. But I’m supposed to be the listener. I keep me in a box and sealed in bubble wrap. So understand me when I say this is out of my comfort zone.

I’d like to think I have something to say.

This is what it’s like to do something you’ve never done before. To take a leap into the great unknown.

To tell the world a story.

In my own words.