Random Questions about Random Things

I was thinking the other day how some people manage to do a lot of things at the same time and how others, like me, cannot seem to focus on much. Do people enjoy being crazy busy forever? Are they forced to? They don’t know how else to be? I decided to pour myself some wine and started going through old issues of the New Yorker.


If you don’t already know, the New Yorker is a weekly magazine. It also features many long articles, not on the easy side. Let’s say that if your favourite book is by Coelho then you definitely cannot read the New Yorker. Sorry to be snobbish but it’s true and you’d rather I be honest. I don’t think anyone ever finishes the issue before the next, maybe they pretend to, but it’s like reading a book each week. Almost impossible to keep to it. To tell you the truth though, not everything in there is worth reading, and I say this knowing it’s gonna sound as bad as telling a 2-year-old their mother is not perfect.


Med students have to go through endless pages of all things human, then clinical practice, then more exams and more hard studying. I also know for a fact they get laid a lot, mostly amongst them. Later in life, they marry each other, they cheat on each other with more doctors, and then they end up at a lawyer’s office, and that’s how the two most noble professions of the past century meet. I didn’t know I had so much to say about doctors but it’s probably because my baby brother is about to graduate from med school (sorry honey, now everyone knows you have a hectic sex life). Like he goes through med school with a natural elegance I don’t understand. Maybe he’s lying and we’re about to find out soon, when instead of reciting the Hippocrates oath, he invites us to his local bar to get us drunk before he tells us he couldn’t do it cause he likes sex too much. That would reason with me better, really.


I’ve seen the superpower. So, if I get this right, dear teachers, you go through the whole day, from 8 to 4 with a bunch of other people’s children, teach them how to behave, walk, sit, wash and eat, and cover a curriculum at the same time. Then you go home and do it all over again to your own kids until they drop fast asleep around, say 9pm, and then you have an hour or two before you collapse, which you use to clean up, make love to your husbands (hmm…depending on physical courage levels) and shower. Only to do it all over again the next day and every day for at least 16 years. I just can’t… I can’t.. I’ll go cry and be right back.


Is it all a lie? Do they do it just for the sake of publicity? Like, “Look at me! I have everything perfectly arranged! I work from nine to midday, I have tea (please…) I resume my whatever I do to pay the rent till 2 in the afternoon, I go jogging for an hour and then a quick shower, lunch and back to work till 7”. And they still have enough courage to cook for their loved one and have dinner together. Impeccable, shiny freakin freelancer, I don’t know how you do it. I haven’t really got up since 9 this morning to get shit done, and who cares if I missed my online pilates, I have more wisdom today than I did yesterday. (latter comment debatable)

Between us, it’s OK if you don’t read the New Yorker and you just collect it for the covers. They are wonderful covers, they make lovely frames, the pages smell like heaven and the paper feels like silk. Also, kudos to all great teachers who raise their own children as well as others’. If you are a brilliant human, don’t worry about making time for everything in a day, not all around you is real. Let’s be honest, half the burgers you see end up in the bin and half the gym clothes are for going to brunch. To conclude and go back to my wine, don’t fall in love with a doctor. Sorry brother, but you guys are terrible at being monogamous, and clinics are packed with ladies looking to marry you. 

Have a lovely week everybody. Thank you for the love. You are wonderful.

Published by Nat

Enjoying writing as much as the next person (I guess). Thank you for coming. Please stay.

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