Irony and Incompetence

Now Playing: Depeche Mode - Precious

The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario is holding a disciplinary hearing for a Toronto gynecologist. A medical expert testified that there were problems with 37 out of 70 hospital cases administered by the gynecologist. Some of the more stunningly egregious errors include performing a tubal ligation on a woman who was already pregnant & nicking a patient's bowels during surgery. This isn't the first time this gynecologist has been in trouble; in 2001 he had a disciplinary hearing in which he was accused of mis-prescribing mistoprol and missing the diagnosis of a ruptured uterus & falsifying records among other things. All in all, the man seems fairly incompetent.

So why do I bring this up, you wonder? There was one detail about the case that struck me as being deliciously ironic. The doctor in question is a Sankar Vaidyanathan, a name that seems fairly innocuous until you consider the etymology of his name. In Sanskrit, "Vaidya" means physician, as it does in Hindi.

Yours in inappropriate chortling,

Sharon

Material Girl

Now Playing: Ivy - Ocean City Girl

In their November issue, Toro Magazine ran a feature comparing headphones, and now me want. I mean, I was doing fine with the earbuds that came with my mp3 player, but now I really crave/want/desire/need a pair of good headphones. This Denon one is the most affordable of the lot, but it's still not what I'd term a casual purchase. The Bose headphones are much pricier, but just so pretty. In the just-plain-outrageous range is this one from Grado Labs; honestly, who needs hand-crafted mahogany headphones? According to Toro, though, the sound is like a pair of hi-fi angels cooing in your ear, so I suppose you get what you pay for.

*sigh*

Yours in fiscal inadequacy,

Sharon.

Not a good human being?

Now Playing: Lakshya - Agar Main Kahoon

So the other day, I'm waiting for the Spadina Streetcar and there's this woman with a pram (that's "stroller" in Canadian!) waiting ahead of me. When it's her turn to get on, she makes a few abortive stabs at getting the thing on board, and then glares around at the rest of us till someone helps her get on. Now, normally, I'd agree with her - but this woman, in addition to having a one-and-a-half-year-old on board, also had three full bags of groceries stashed in the pram. Asking someone to help you get your baby on board is asking them to act in the spirit of decency; asking them to carry your groceries for you as well is asking them to be volunteer sherpas.

We didn't have a car for the longest time, either, so everytime we went grocery shopping at costco's and bought tons of food, we knew better than to take the TTC, and expect our fellow riders to carry our jumbo-sized honey-nut cheerios on for us - we'd take cabs instead. Is that so radical an idea?

Yours in uncaringness,

Sharon

Procrastination & Memory

Now Playing: Three Dog Night - One is the loneliest number

My earliest memory is this - being brought back to earth by a teacher after daydreaming in class. Before that, as expected, everything is a blank slate, but what surprises me is what came after - I remember looking in a mirror and being surprised to see the face I saw. It seems now that I only assumed my identity after that, which begs the question - who, or what, was I before? Have I always been Sharon, or am I only the current occupant? Is it possible that one day I will float off into a reverie and another Sharon will be rudely jolted back to earth? If so, where will I go - join my predecessor, or go somewhere entirely different?

... and then I remember I have a chemistry midterm to study for, and with a sigh, I put aside my musings and pick up my textbook.

Ficlet!

Now Playing: Ivy - Feel So Free

So I finally get around to spreading the meme Hem tagged me with ages ago. Honestly, I'm such a procrastinator about some things, and yet so prompt with others. Do you see me waiting to spread my cold germs? *gets buried under onslaught of pointy things thrown by people who have caught colds from me*

So here's what you have to do: write a short story in 55 words or less - a ficlet, really! I tag Vince, Chris, Mary, Purva & Ali - but everyone else is still welcome to have a go. If you are of the blog-deficient sort, feel free to use my comments section.

Here's my stab at the thing (first posted in Hem's comment section):

Wolves At The Door

There was no escape from this, she thought, more with resignation than with despair. It was time to end things. Cold steel would finish the job utterly and finally.

She took a deep breath, picked up the scissors and began to cut up her credit cards, one by one.

To the WordCount!Mobiles, people!