Rice Dream

 

I was at a dinner party last week, listening to a story of three idiots guys who lived for one whole week on a staple food of their chosing.  For lack of anything more exciting to do, my roommates and I have decided to replicate this experiment.  Or war of attrition, whichever you like.

From what I could tell, there were several rules, a few of which are new:

1. the staple – and only the staple – had to be consumed a minimum of 3 times a day, for a whole week.  No other food was allowed.
2. the staple could be a major protein (chicken, fish, beef etc), grains, pastas or a fruit or veg, but it had to be the same type/cut every time.
3. No extra grains/vegetables/sauces could be used in the preparation of the staple.
4. Black tea and coffee as well as water could be consumed, but no other drinks.
5. A multivitamin a day is accepted.
6. Chewing gum is not allowed.

So from Monday, my diet will consist of brown rice cooked in chicken stock (a broth is allowed if it suits the staple).

We shall see how long I last on brown rice alone! 

 

Cheers,
Doctor007 or the soon-to-be-slightly-malnourished-guy.

My Funny [V]alentine

 

This is Aaron Nace, an incredibly talented photographer whose work centres largely around self portraiture.  Click the image of Aaron to be taken to his Flickr photostream.

 

Channel [V] has become a little too pessimistic for me.  I know last year I posted a blog regarding how I feel about Valentine’s Day, and not much has changed, but for a tv station (albeit a cable channel – it doesn’t really count) to be playing 50 ULTIMATE BREAKUP SONGS on Valentine’s Day is a little rough.

I know that playing the 50 ultimate love songs would be a little lame and contrived, but hey – this is Valentine’s Day we’re talking about.   I might not really like the day, but others do. 

So here’s a romantic one for you all.  Chet Baker – classic.

 

Happy Valentine’s.
Doctor007.

10Million

 

A friend of mine recently discovered that she was pregnant.  This is her first child, so it’s an exciting and scary time for her.  Unfortunately, the morning sickness is more of a ‘constant sickness’. 

The most amazing thing is that the pregnancy occurred naturally, despite the polycystic ovaries and the obstetrician saying IVF was the only option.  The egg count was too low.  Women have about 10 million eggs (this number varies wildly with each resource), and release only about 400 in a lifetime.  I say only, but that’s a lot of potential babies.  I’m glad one of the 10 million went the distance.

*foetuses generally do not sing whilst in the womb.  Or maybe they do, what do I know?

 

Cheers,
Doctor007.

As the Crow Flies

 

I’m going to post song lyrics again.  These aren’t supposed to reflect anything that has happened, nor are they to highlight a particular way I feel.  They do, however, have an effect on me.  This song is simple and beautiful.  It gives me a sense of tranquility, continuity, and humility.  This is the first verse.  Find the song.  Enjoy the lyric as much as the music.

As the Crow Flies

Mother crow,
Feels no pain;
Speaks no word.

Speckled egg,
Hatching slow;
Bible black,
Baby bird.

One day,
Fly over me.

 

Cheers,
Doctor007 or Adrian.

Open Water

 

Ten thousand men sleep down with Davy Jones,
With stole treasure they tithe.
The open water chills me to my bones,
But it’s the only place that I feel alive.

The ocean floor begins to disappear,
I sense that terrible depth.
The open water is my only fear,
But I’ll sail as long as I still have breath in me.

I’m starting to believe the ocean’s much like you,
‘Cause it gives and it takes away.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea,
I stare into the abyss.
The open water is an awful thing,
But I’m anxious ’til the anchor is aweighed.

I’m starting to think the ocean’s much like you,
‘Cause it gives and it takes away.

Open Water – Thrice.

 

Doctor007 or the guy lost in open water.

Slap the Goon

 

So this past week, we welcomed a new first year cohort to the medical school.  It was a really great time for most of the second year students, because we’ve been feeling pretty new this whole time, and now it sort of shows us that we’re part of the furniture.

Second year, however, has been mostly terrifying from the get-go.  I won’t complain about all the new changes the school has made – because it makes for a boring rant.  I will however, say that they are fuckers, and all their new changes just make life at uni all the more tedious.  The terrifying part of second year is just the volume of work, but it’s also just another challenge, but terrifying challenges are beginning to take on more of a blunted, mundane appearance these days.  Oh well, I’ll have to search for new and exciting terrifying things.

 I’m incredibly happy that I was chosen to do my hospital training at the Wesley hospital in Brisbane for this year.  Don’t get me wrong – the decision wasn’t based on any kind of merit  – it was just a random allocation, but since there were only about 12 places, it’s still a good outcome for me.  It means I get to see something other than Southport, where 99% of my life is spent these days, so it will hopefully be a restorative thing to travel up to Brisbane every Thursday.

So on Friday night we did the ‘usual’ thing of welcoming the first year students at the local pub after a long and traumatising orientation day.  As a second year, I look back on that same day last year when we were the scared but oh-so-excited first year kids and laugh a little.  Now I know that the second year students, while coming along to have a drink and welcome us, were largely there to judge us and pick out the ‘hot’ ones.  Oh well, c’est la vie.  They’ll be doing it next year.  Oh hell, so will we.

Saturday started with a mammoth sense of dehydration or exsanguination or perhaps a bit of both, but I still had a camp to front up to.  There was a bit of grocery shopping involved, which is a horrifying experience whilst sober, but a soothing car ride to Uki, NSW helped calm my churning gut and head down.  We arrived at the camp a little later than what we had told the owners, which seemed fine until we realised that the time difference between NSW and QLD actually made us quite a bit late.  There was nobody at the reception area, but everything was opened and unlocked, so we decided to just help ourselves and sort things out the following day.
As we were walking past the rooms, I commented on how the beds were all nicely made up with linens even though the website said you had to supply your own.  It has also mentioned an industrial kitchen with a walk-in cold room, which we found once we entered the accommodations.  We were all a bit pleasantly surprised – polished wooden floors, a large comfortable living area, fireplace, piano and timber patio.  Everyone was a little hungry, so I unpacked our multitudes of food into the kitchen, got lunch sorted, and then sat everyone down to a meal and the first beer of the day.
We were then rudely interrupted by the owner, who walked in on our lunch and kindly asked why the people who had booked the bunkhouse down in the field were up in the Guesthouse on top of the hill eating lunch.

Several hours later, and comfortable settled into the far less luxurious bunkhouse, 15 bright, intelligent medical students on a charity group retreat were slapping the goon (if you’re a proper Aussie, you’ll know) and trying to act out ‘Sex on Fire’ during a game of charades.

 

Cheers,
Doctor007 or the guy with the traumatised liver.