If Only I Owned The Tardis!

St.Patrick's Day went by without a fuss, barr from a few bright flashes of green, here and there. Easter and Passover is now coming round the corner. Wishing you all the very merry of holidays! I wish I could say that I will be getting more sleep over the holidays, but this year, my plans are to study and work. As you all know by now, I have started my Midwifery ('mid'- with, 'wife' - woman) course. I started three weeks ago, hence the delay in getting a new page up. I sometimes ask for more hours in a day, then sometimes, I beg for the day to end. Lectures do that to me.

The context of my lectures, including the wonderful nature videos of the 'birds and the bees' and the birthing process, is wonderfully exciting and interesting. In fact, apart from sitting with 90 odd students on a 37*C day in a crampt lecture room, I could honestly say, that I could be witnessing the dawn of a new era, with regards to my outlook on life. I cannot remember a time when I have been more rivetted to the lecturer's every syllable. I cannot remember a time when I have been so much in awe of the art of nature. In 3 short weeks, I feel as though I am just watching the blooming petals of a sleeping rose.

Prior to this, I would see beauty both in tragedy and in nature: an angle of a tree; the breeze swaying the branches of a palm tree; the sweet, innocent yet inquisitive eyes of a native child, looking at my soft, pink flesh with wonderment and eagerness to touch that which is foreign. In Vanuatu, Noumea, Maldives, Fiji, Thailand (etc), I thought that beauty was in the water droplet glistening on a fragipani flower; the cool blue and navy blanket which made the sea; the sun setting on the horizon with a myriad of shades from purple, pink, red, orange, yellow and blue. The hushing lull of the ocean, lapping against the shore, as I lay listening whilst being swallowed up by the sinking sands of day. I thought I thought I thought. I thought a smile, from young or old was a delight. How could I have known more? I still know there is more, for I have sipped from the challis of dawning. I still see and always keep the beauty of that which I have seen within me, however, the essence of life, the gestation of the future, beckons.

EDUCATION. Crazy word! To think that at 16 or 17 years of age, one is supposed to be so definitely sure of their future, that they embark on (institutionalized) education, with pressure to 'make something of yourself'. Where is the appreciation of the fact that you are something within yourself, a work of art by design, without the fiddling and interruption of any clumsy hands? Sure, education is an extention of developing the art, into a form by which we can measure and control (? - they can but try!) its growth. Yet education is also that dirty word, which is constantly shoved down our throats, for a better part of our young lives. It's hard to see the benefit, when you are young and want to be free, to explore your world. 'Tis a sad fact.

If I gave you a box, what would you put inside it? If I told you that every minute the sides of the box would stretch, allowing more contents in, would you start to fill the box? Would you censore or be more selective with what belongings you keep, or pack into that box? Curious thought. Yet, if that box could only fit so much, I know I would remove the education of the past 25 something years and I would beg to start from the beginning again, with that which I am learning now. From the first haploid cell, with its 22 autosomes and its one sex gene....till it meets the other haploid cell....I would start my education all now, sow the first seed of knowledge with the backward insight gained from that collection of gathered learnings of the past. I cannot see wasted time in my past. Perhaps I see slow growth, but I also see solid foundations.

You see, the dilemma lies in the fact that I am human. I get tired, yet I want to learn more. I want to stuff every last crumb of knowledge into each synapse of my brain, throughout a day in lectures. I come home a zombie, wondering how much I absorbed. If only I could make a back up of all the information (like a puter) and say it was 100% reliable for prompt access, would I relax. A wind up toy, hyper and weary at the same instance. (It's late and I am wondering if I am making any sense at all?)

My brother told me, he met my clinical teacher (from my undergraduate years), who told him I was too good just to be a nurse. Her words confused the hell out of me. My brother said, "You've always wanted to do medicine and become a doctor, why don't you do it?". Of course my retort was "Because I care!". The real reason, is that 6 years of Uni (even though I am in my 5th year of Uni - albeit with breaks in between -post first 3) is a daunting prospect, despite the hunger and thirst for knowledge. Like all things, it's a balance between wanting to soar and remembering you can't fly. I am already behind on my readings. Don't know how that happened.? Probably because I lost my diary for a week, so I thought that there was no homework set in it. My readings are vast. Biggest mistake my lecturer did was putting a 83 page reading (double sided - 166 pages worth) as the first listing for pre-requisite learning. Needless to say, I can't even tell you the title of that reading :( !

People at work are becoming more disgruntled. Slowly the company is starting to loose its staff...So they just replace with more eager beavers. Sometimes I think, that the employers have lost their job ethics. Why are people unhappy? Just like the Wizard of Oz, took 4 hours to go down the yellow brick road, so will the answer to this question. It's now 1:08am..spare me! I read my horiscope last week (I very rarely do this), it said something about receiving a posy of roses. Would you believe that I did! A dozed beautiful red roses...Lucky me :)

I have more things to say....but this day I must rest. I bid you goodnight....You will hear more from me, when my eyelids can stay open long enough, to read the next word. Oh, yes, I have also had 3 glasses of Coca cola today. Usually, I never touch the stuff, so my writing probably reflects on this!

Soosh...

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