It's been a very long time since I felt like writing. There have always been words in my head, spinning from memories, situations, descriptions, anything and everything. Sometimes I would put them down on paper. Sometimes I'd pull my phone and quickly save that one sentence that floated in my head and just resonated of power.Lately, the words have been scarce, fewer in between. Maybe it's because of the life I'm beginning to lead, so devoid of creative expression, of the joy of a beautifully written poem, the discovery of meanings within words, of songs that struck a chord.
Learning medicine a magic in itself, but it's a dry sort of magic so far, because it's only magical when you actually begin to apply the science to living breathing people.
Before I begin to write, there are dozens of half formed ideas and words that swirl around in my head but which all vanish as soon as the page is opened and the blank canvas, so to speak, is facing me. So I just begin to write, haphazard, mercy to the whim of the words that come pouring out of me as they will.
An idea will form, and I will follow it, born and triggered by any random phrase that occurs. For instance, as I typed 'phrase' I realized how dependent I have become on technology to correct my spelling errors; my Android has Swype, which means that so long as I swish my fingers over the virtual keyboard in the general composition of a word, it will gather the information and present to me the words it thought I meant to type, or guesses wrong, and instead of typing the word out I just swish again hoping it will recognize what I was getting at.
I could blame it on my system of schooling, where the computer lab was built in the year I passed tenth grade, and was available only for the Computer Science batch in twelfth grade; I was in the biology optional, far removed from the air conditioned comforts of the computer lab. Hence my awkwardness with technology and typing; everyone who has seen me type finds it either hilarious or mortifying; I type like a awkward pianist searching for the next note by the score, on the keys.
However, I know a great deal of people with the same schooling that I have had who are not remotely as technologically challenged as I am, so it must be defective equipment somewhere in my brain; as far as I know they haven't identified the areas for technology, and therefore I don't know why my Broca's area, normally quite above average, should trip over itself and fumble simple spelling when faced with typing. Perhaps I will have to revisit Preparatory class and learn typing in the same manner I learn to write, painstakingly tracing the letters over and over again under the watchful gaze of my mother who would snap if I curved the small "a" wrong.
For another instance as I wrote the phrase 'song which struck a chord' it, well, struck me that I have an odd taste in music. I dislike the Beatles; I find most of their music a tad creepy and well, unpolished; I don't quite know how to put it. I had to make myself listen to their songs over and over until I finally began to appreciate it; I still won't voluntarily listen to a Beatles song, and there aren't any on my playlist anymore; I deleted the few that had found their way in after a relationship with a head over heels Beatles's fan, because I realized that I just wasn't listening to them anymore after the initial few times I had made myself listen to sort of acclimatize myself to their sound. I don't like much of the old music that most people swear by; The Doors, Pink Floyd. I didn't feel moved by their music.
I'll admit I don't know much about music, despite learning the piano for a longer time than I'll admit, because everyone especially random family members expect you to jump at the nearest keyboard you see and belt out some flawless Mozart and Beethoven and when you say you don't really know the accompaniments to any desi song they know, they just look at you in a such way that causes you to call into question all those years of slogging away at the keys. All that learning to perfect a trill so it seamlessly blends into the next note. No one seems to understand that performing for any audience takes some kind of preparatory effort beforehand; in their eyes anyone who's been learning that long should have half a dozen pieces up their sleeve ready to be called out at a moment's notice.
I digress. As to music, I have difficulty appreciating the type of music that evokes fans en masse; I find Enrique's lyrics mindless and Barbie-dollish, though I wholly appreciate the man's looks! I find rap harsh and very few appeal to me. I balk at artists whose music starts sounding the same after the first few good albums.(Taylor Swift, ahem ahem) I understand that a lot of them put a great deal of effort into their music( not all of them do) and I respect the effort. Also, being a tiny bit of a snob, I involuntarily turn my nose up at mainstream artists that anyone and everyone likes without even knowing some of the really great music out there, who say they love rock, and listen to Greenday.
Hence I don't understand the concept of a favorite artist; artists aren't perfect and if there are some songs that are great, there are some that fall flat. I have a great many songs that I love; but I barely listen to any of the other songs produced by the same artist.
This was a general rave for the purpose of procrastinating the great deal of donkey work that anticipates;
medical students have to spend a major part of their lives doing a lot of completely pointless copying out, in beautiful handwriting, pages and pages of journal work from a tiny cellphone screen.
Or run around hunting for the manna from heaven that is a completed journal which can be copied from before it's time for the practical. I could write an entire post on journal work and how it gets done, or not. So forgive the typos and grammatical mistakes; I shall probably get around to correcting them someday and in the process attempt to wean myself from depending too heavily on Swype and autocorrect. My non existent readers, please keep in mind I am a unnecessarily stressed, creatively deprived medical student and kindly attribute the inanity of my post to my current lack of a life. Thank you.
Learning medicine a magic in itself, but it's a dry sort of magic so far, because it's only magical when you actually begin to apply the science to living breathing people.
Before I begin to write, there are dozens of half formed ideas and words that swirl around in my head but which all vanish as soon as the page is opened and the blank canvas, so to speak, is facing me. So I just begin to write, haphazard, mercy to the whim of the words that come pouring out of me as they will.
An idea will form, and I will follow it, born and triggered by any random phrase that occurs. For instance, as I typed 'phrase' I realized how dependent I have become on technology to correct my spelling errors; my Android has Swype, which means that so long as I swish my fingers over the virtual keyboard in the general composition of a word, it will gather the information and present to me the words it thought I meant to type, or guesses wrong, and instead of typing the word out I just swish again hoping it will recognize what I was getting at.
I could blame it on my system of schooling, where the computer lab was built in the year I passed tenth grade, and was available only for the Computer Science batch in twelfth grade; I was in the biology optional, far removed from the air conditioned comforts of the computer lab. Hence my awkwardness with technology and typing; everyone who has seen me type finds it either hilarious or mortifying; I type like a awkward pianist searching for the next note by the score, on the keys.
However, I know a great deal of people with the same schooling that I have had who are not remotely as technologically challenged as I am, so it must be defective equipment somewhere in my brain; as far as I know they haven't identified the areas for technology, and therefore I don't know why my Broca's area, normally quite above average, should trip over itself and fumble simple spelling when faced with typing. Perhaps I will have to revisit Preparatory class and learn typing in the same manner I learn to write, painstakingly tracing the letters over and over again under the watchful gaze of my mother who would snap if I curved the small "a" wrong.
For another instance as I wrote the phrase 'song which struck a chord' it, well, struck me that I have an odd taste in music. I dislike the Beatles; I find most of their music a tad creepy and well, unpolished; I don't quite know how to put it. I had to make myself listen to their songs over and over until I finally began to appreciate it; I still won't voluntarily listen to a Beatles song, and there aren't any on my playlist anymore; I deleted the few that had found their way in after a relationship with a head over heels Beatles's fan, because I realized that I just wasn't listening to them anymore after the initial few times I had made myself listen to sort of acclimatize myself to their sound. I don't like much of the old music that most people swear by; The Doors, Pink Floyd. I didn't feel moved by their music.
I'll admit I don't know much about music, despite learning the piano for a longer time than I'll admit, because everyone especially random family members expect you to jump at the nearest keyboard you see and belt out some flawless Mozart and Beethoven and when you say you don't really know the accompaniments to any desi song they know, they just look at you in a such way that causes you to call into question all those years of slogging away at the keys. All that learning to perfect a trill so it seamlessly blends into the next note. No one seems to understand that performing for any audience takes some kind of preparatory effort beforehand; in their eyes anyone who's been learning that long should have half a dozen pieces up their sleeve ready to be called out at a moment's notice.
I digress. As to music, I have difficulty appreciating the type of music that evokes fans en masse; I find Enrique's lyrics mindless and Barbie-dollish, though I wholly appreciate the man's looks! I find rap harsh and very few appeal to me. I balk at artists whose music starts sounding the same after the first few good albums.(Taylor Swift, ahem ahem) I understand that a lot of them put a great deal of effort into their music( not all of them do) and I respect the effort. Also, being a tiny bit of a snob, I involuntarily turn my nose up at mainstream artists that anyone and everyone likes without even knowing some of the really great music out there, who say they love rock, and listen to Greenday.
Hence I don't understand the concept of a favorite artist; artists aren't perfect and if there are some songs that are great, there are some that fall flat. I have a great many songs that I love; but I barely listen to any of the other songs produced by the same artist.
This was a general rave for the purpose of procrastinating the great deal of donkey work that anticipates;
medical students have to spend a major part of their lives doing a lot of completely pointless copying out, in beautiful handwriting, pages and pages of journal work from a tiny cellphone screen.
Or run around hunting for the manna from heaven that is a completed journal which can be copied from before it's time for the practical. I could write an entire post on journal work and how it gets done, or not. So forgive the typos and grammatical mistakes; I shall probably get around to correcting them someday and in the process attempt to wean myself from depending too heavily on Swype and autocorrect. My non existent readers, please keep in mind I am a unnecessarily stressed, creatively deprived medical student and kindly attribute the inanity of my post to my current lack of a life. Thank you.
