BST

It stands for British Summer Time, but I can tell you that first impressions about the pronounciation of the abbreviation as "BLSHT" are spot on. No disrespect to the Irish equivalent, IST, but "ILSHT" just doesn't have the same punch to it.

I just lost an hour of my life. Its 3.25 now and there is no way in hell I intended to stay up this late. Come to think of it, I don't know why I'm still up.. I guess I'm just pissed off. Well, whatever the reason is I might as well be productive and post something up for you good folk out there to read when bored.

Yesterday was my last day of school as a medical student. It was pretty low key, we all got together for drinks and only realized it midway through the night. Not much of a celebration, everyone had work to do the next morning so the get-together was a sober affair. It was nice though, we actually started busting out funny stories from random moments over the last six years and it kind of dawned on us that we were reaching an end point to this particular stage in our lives. Daunting? You bet. Exciting? Fo' sho'!

Plans, plans and bigger plans. Plans to move here, plans to work there, plans to do this and that. Plans to get together in Vegas. Plans to rip shit apart at least once a year. Have a reunion in ten years. Make money to buy more expensive videogame consoles and games.. larger tv screens, faster computers, flashier cars. Make it big. Be happy with being comfortable. Hit the jackpot and retire at the age of 45. Work like a dog until you're 65. Own a yacht someday and sail around the world. Go back home at some point. Help out, give back to the community. Be greedy, sit on a pile of money. Invest. Blow a fortune. Start a business and quit medicine. Love your field of work and do it until you're forced to retire. Teach when you're done. Teach while you're still working. Give it all up and teach. Save a life. Save a few lives. Let grieving relatives know that you've done all you can. Give up your life to become a brain surgeon. Work as a GP in a small town with a nine to five. Get into research. Become an international playboy. Settle down and start a family. Sing when you're winning. Sing when you're losing. Look back on it all and know that you've enjoyed every minute of it. No regrets.

Tick Tock, Clarice..

The countdown is well and truly on. Finals are approaching fast and we're all scrambling to get our shit together. Some of us have to scramble harder than most, but that's just the price you pay for achieving a semblance of (im)balance to your life during med school. You take a few years easy and the next thing you know you're wishing you had paid just a little bit more attention in that biochemistry class four years ago. And I so would've too had I not slept in that morning. Hmph.

Weather's been all grey and nasty for the last couple of days. I was walking home from the library yesterday and it started to piss.. just a fine drizzle that's actually more annoying than proper, big raindrops. As I walked down in front of the impressive main entrance to Trinity College just at the top of Dame Street, I started noticing a highly synchronized motion being carried out by all the Irish girls on the street. Each and every one seemed to be wearing a hooded jacket and underneath it a sweater with a hood. As the first signs of drizzle appeared, every lady on the street reached backwards to tuck her hair into the first hood and pull it over, followed by a second motion of pulling the second hood over the first one. Simultaneously. I was pretty damn impressed, I must say.. and not only by the atomic clock-like precision of the action, but by the inherent preparedness they all had for an eventuality such as rain occuring. Ahh, the beauty of human behavioural conditioning.

I've been mulling over my future as of late.. it seems that time is running out on my existence as a student, and I find myself wondering how much I'll really miss all of this. Sure, you want to graduate and start making some of your own money sooner or later, but something tells me that this kind of carefree life that I lead right now is probably my sole remaining link with childhood. In 3 months that link is going to be completely severed. The inner child will have finally given up the fight.. he will have dissolved and gotten promptly excreted in my faeces.

Well damnit, I won't stand for it. That kid has been bouncing around in there for more than two decades now and he'll get the send off that he rightly deserves. In true Hunter S. Thompson style I will actually fire my inner child from a cannon on top of a 153m tall tower to the tune of "Mr. Tambourine Man". Its going to be a great spectacle, and everyone's invited.

The Sopranos are back! Just watched the first episode of the new season and It made me realize how much I've missed that show. Racketeering.. now THERE'S a great career path!

And finally, in the words of an infamous doctor, "I do wish we could chat longer, but I'm having an old friend for dinner. Bye."

Asia, burdel del mundo

Éste es el título del libro escrito por Zigor Aldama, periodista, al cual conocí por casualidad en una furgoneta que iba disparada por carreteras mal asfaltadas en Tailandia, dirección a un pueblo de cuyo nombre no puedo (no, no es que no quiera) acordarme.
Íbamos a ver el mercado flotante.

Sorprende conocer a alguien como Zigor, el cual con tan solo 25 años había hecho tantas cosas: viajar por Asia durante 6 años, vivir en China, ser corresponsal de algunos de los periódicos más importantes del país, escribir un libro, presentar programas en TV y radio y tener tiempo para ser buena gente...

Recuerdo haber hablado de la prostitución en Asia con él en un restaurante japonés en Bangkok, del que recuerdo el "flan" salado que me pusieron, puagggg...

Me habló de su libro y decidí comprármelo y opinar por mi mismo. Así hice, me lo enviaron a casa de mis padres en Madrid sin nigún gasto de envío y cuando llegué de visitilla me lo devoré en un día. No suelo ventilarme libros en un solo día a no ser que me tengan muuuy enganchados. Supongo que con eso lo digo todo. Ami mami también le gustó, aunque soltó algún comentario del tipo: "Ése pobre chico, en los lugares que se mete... ¡Que miedo!"
No quiero contar más del libro, aquí dejo un link a la editorial a la que lo podéis pedir:
Editorial Elea, son 16 euros que me parecieron muy bien invertidos.

Por cierto, Zigor, he visto que pone 26 años en tu página, felicidades.