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Mar. 25th, 2007 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squeefulfishSod what I said yesterday about not being in comms range. I need my almost daily vents here.
I'm nearly finished first year. Nine more weeks then exams. Financially, emotionally, physically it's been draining. That's not to say I haven't loved most of it. It's what I want to do, I'm where I want to be. More importantly, I don't think now I could actually do anything else. Once I get through the next nine weeks I'll be a third of my way through my lectures for the whole course and halfway through my planned "years of penury."
The financial aspect of study shouldn't be a factor. But of course it is. I know that I just need to make it through second year and then things get a lot easier, financially. Life this year would have been a lot easier on that front were it not for the insistence of course co-ordinating people that we do one weekend in four on placement. While I keep pointing out that "we're not nurses!" (Note to self, yell at An Bord Altranais about that too, they have me on the candidate register with my grade as "student nurse" and my course as "midwives") none of the nursing students are required to do weekend placements until their paid placements start. Weekends are for working to pay the rent and pay back the loans. With not knowing my schedule from one week to the next I can't plan for anything. I can barely plan to meet people for coffee, let alone take up a job. I'm more than half serious when I say that had I known about the mandatory weekend placements I'd have gone to Dundalk. And that's the town that hates people. Note: This is not me whingeing. You should hear me when I whinge. That can go on for years.
Still... Another 2 years of this and then the paid placement starts. So I've decided that to celebrate I'm going back to Egypt for a few weeks. Leaving me a little under 4 years to find myself a male travelling companion willing to masquerade as a husband. After the last time I'm not going alone. Not that anything spectacularly bad happened but things occasionally got a little bit too gropey for my liking, and that was with a "husband." The extent of my Arabic is still "No, thanks" "I need a room with a toilet" and "Don't touch me!" but that'll do, given that I got a céad míle fáilte in Cairo.
Right, off now to do the work I came to do so I can pass the year and actually get to that stage of things.
I'm nearly finished first year. Nine more weeks then exams. Financially, emotionally, physically it's been draining. That's not to say I haven't loved most of it. It's what I want to do, I'm where I want to be. More importantly, I don't think now I could actually do anything else. Once I get through the next nine weeks I'll be a third of my way through my lectures for the whole course and halfway through my planned "years of penury."
The financial aspect of study shouldn't be a factor. But of course it is. I know that I just need to make it through second year and then things get a lot easier, financially. Life this year would have been a lot easier on that front were it not for the insistence of course co-ordinating people that we do one weekend in four on placement. While I keep pointing out that "we're not nurses!" (Note to self, yell at An Bord Altranais about that too, they have me on the candidate register with my grade as "student nurse" and my course as "midwives") none of the nursing students are required to do weekend placements until their paid placements start. Weekends are for working to pay the rent and pay back the loans. With not knowing my schedule from one week to the next I can't plan for anything. I can barely plan to meet people for coffee, let alone take up a job. I'm more than half serious when I say that had I known about the mandatory weekend placements I'd have gone to Dundalk. And that's the town that hates people. Note: This is not me whingeing. You should hear me when I whinge. That can go on for years.
Still... Another 2 years of this and then the paid placement starts. So I've decided that to celebrate I'm going back to Egypt for a few weeks. Leaving me a little under 4 years to find myself a male travelling companion willing to masquerade as a husband. After the last time I'm not going alone. Not that anything spectacularly bad happened but things occasionally got a little bit too gropey for my liking, and that was with a "husband." The extent of my Arabic is still "No, thanks" "I need a room with a toilet" and "Don't touch me!" but that'll do, given that I got a céad míle fáilte in Cairo.
Right, off now to do the work I came to do so I can pass the year and actually get to that stage of things.
