Defying Gravity

[sefkhet]

I'll be having a meltdown this time in four weeks.

Continued here.

[sefkhet]

I gather that Rangers won the Scottish Premiership tonight. It probably says a lot about how out of touch I’ve been that I didn’t even know it was the end of the season until I came out of the subway and had to pass fifty drunk football supporters, three green and white flags, a crew from STV, and six police officers on horseback just to get across George Square and into my flat.

So, eleven days and counting.

I’ve reached that point where I just want it to be here.

Continued here.

[sefkhet]

ARRRRRRRGH.

So. Tomorrow. I’m sitting here, at home because I had to get out of the SL before my brain really did explode, doing one final recap. It’s better than sitting around and getting twitchy, even though I have absolutely no idea how much I’m taking in at this point.

Continued here.

[sefkhet]

I passed!

It’s been a month since the exams and nearly two weeks since the results came out, but I’ve been spending the time in the middle getting myself a job and doing that thing that non-medics refer to as ‘having a life’, the latest part of which involved standing in a field in proper Scottish rain with Radiohead for five hours last night. Most of my time is being taken up with working five days a week as an NHS administrator in Renfrewshire, which probably doesn’t sound like much of a summer holiday. On some levels it’s probably not. But compared to my last job (not to mention the six weeks where I saw practically nothing but the inside of the medical school building) the whole concept of finishing work at 5pm and having weekends off is quite a novelty.

Continued here.

[sefkhet]

It feels like just the other day that I was trying not to think too hard about the many, many boxes that would soon be filled with my crap, or about the fact that I was the one who would need to do the filling.

That’s partly because it was just the other day, but moving from Merchant City to Kelvingrove was a little less daunting than moving from Newcastle to Glasgow. For one thing, at no point last weekend did my alarm go off at four in the morning. It’s been twelve months since I tried to separate my belongings from those of my parents’ after over two decades of more-or-less communal living, since I crept out of the house in the middle of the night to board the 5am bus , since I was waiting for my connection in Edinburgh Waverley and my mum called to tell me that they’d crossed the Tyne Bridge by mistake, gone south instead of north, and would as a result be just the tiniest bit later than planned.

How do you measure a year?

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