stop the chaos

just waiting for the AtLA ripoff series that’s like

“liquid

dirt

burning

wind

long ago, the four countries lived together in melody. then, everything changed when the burning man attacked

only the aviator, master of all four thingies, could stop them. but when the world needed him most, he went bye-bye

a hundred and one years passed and my brother and i discovered the new aviator, a windbreaker named Oblong. and although his windbreaking skills are great, he has a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone…

…but i believe that Oblong can save the everyone”

*off-key recorder version of the atla music begins*

Memo: Don’t do that.

The most draining part of today wasn’t the inordinate number of patients getting sick and throwing off our carefully planned jobs list; it’s winter, that happens. It wasn’t the unusually hyper-anxious and tearful parents; that’s part of the job.

It wasn’t even the irritating fact that as soon as you do a bunch of jobs and send someone home, they’ll immediately bring in someone new and sick in their place for whom none of the jobs have been done, so that all your old jobs don’t get done because now there are new ones.

It wasn’t even the fact that you literally can’t walk 10 metres without 5 different people pulling you to do something which wasn’t on your list to begin with. Because that’s life; there are always new unexpected things that come up. It was hard, but I think we kept everyone safe, and that’s what matters. We’ve had worse days.

It was my registrar calling me, sometimes as often as every 10-20 minutes and asking where I was up to with the huge pile of jobs, and then answering “Oh. You’re sill on that.” to whatever I said.

Well, yes. Since I couldn’t walk 10 metres without having to review someone else who looked (and was) worse, or comfort some relatives, or be bombarded with questions, or do some unplanned but nonetheless reasonably urgent job, I did complete the job I was meant to, but I haven’t managed to do the million other things still pending.

I was a bit wary of being paired with them for this chunk of the rota for this reason. I respect their judgement clinically, and outside of being paired in a team with them, I think they are nice enough. But since we’ve been on the same team they struck me as someone who is ends up displeased with everyone and everything they work with. They don’t seem to think much of anyone they’ve worked with, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The irony is, I shouldered more jobs than them yesterday, and the’ve never appeared to be a fast worker themselves.

I’m not the fastest junior on the block; I’ll admit it. But I’m far from the slowest. And multiple seniors have told me that they think I’m organised and thorough; even the mean registrar from my last placement who I’m pretty sure didn’t even like me at all. I actually find it really, really hard to believe compliments at work; even though three or four senior colleagues have said the same thing I still find myself trying to write it off as their being nice. I don’t think I’d find it as hard to accept if I hadn’t worked with people whose tone and conduct implied otherwise.

Which is why this matters: if you treat your juniors like rubbish, they’ll start to believe they are. And that’s not fair or right.

And I know I’m not rubbish. I work hard, I try to prioritise according to plan, and I try to get as much as possible done in the time I have. I don’t always get *everything* done, but neither does anyone else in a department that is incredibly busy. It’s chaotic even by the standards of a generally busy speciality, according to my seniors who have worked in lots of different hospitals.

I know they were run off their feet today; I grabbed lunch when they told me to, whilst phoning the lab and checking bloods, they didn’t eat lunch at all. We both late over one and a half hours late, still with many of the less urgent jobs incomplete. Yes, our jobs list was still woefully unticked in many places, as it often is when there is just too much to do. Even with a couple of extra pairs of hands today from teammates who were meant to be in clinic, we couldn’t manage it.

But that’s not my fault, nor is it theirs.

And I’m not happy with colleagues who imply whether intentionally or not that you’re just not working hard or fast enough when you’re already flat out. Colleagues who snap at you to ‘just go and do X’ as if you are a child when you are just trying to confirm which of the zillion jobs they would really like you to do, given that you’re both supposed to be home by now.  Colleagues who don’t stick up for you when the consultant questions why an EDS wasn’t completed when it was utter chaos. Colleagues who don’t mind you staying late to do things like paperwork but won’t so much as say ‘thank you for working hard today’.

I hadn’t quite realised how well some colleagues handle stressful situations until I’d worked with others that… don’t. I used to find it almost odd when seniors thanked me for working hard, like, of course I am? It’s my job.

But I get it now, I totally do.

Because acknowledging that someone has done their best when it’s been a car crash of a day is so bloody important that you wouldn’t believe it until you’ve lived both kinds of awful days. The kind with nice seniors and the kind with not-so-nice seniors.

When it feels like there’s an endless pile of jobs and you must be a failure for not getting through them all, you need someone to tell you it’s OK and that you’re not a bad person. Because we all work our absolute best to leave less of a wreck for the teammates on the next shift. It’s insulting to approach everyone as if they are not trying, because people usually are. And I find seniors who approach working with you with the belief that you are trying your best so much more humane to work with. And in turn we work incredibly hard when we feel valued; a little goes a long way.

I always thank the previous team if it looks like they’ve had a bad shift. I always tell them it’s OK, no matter what chaos is left for my shift to fix. They did their best; I have no doubt of that.

I have no juniors under me (I might get an FY1 though, yay!) but I’ve already made a mental note that I’m going to be the senior who remembers to thank their juniors for working hard. I’m going to try my best to cheer them up, not bring them down. 

And I’m never going to be the kind of senior who is run off their feet with unexpected chaos but wonders in patronising tones why their junior isn’t magically powering through the exponentially-increasing jobs list.

Memo to future and current docs: this is how you don’t do teamwork.

aesthetics | rhett and link

“ That’s what you should remember when you’re going through something difficult, is that maybe this will become an epic story some day. ” - Rhett McLaughlin (Ear Biscuits 75)

Flipping Forks

Here is a true story. In my former life, I arranged food for 40-50 people every Sunday night. Imagine a dented plastic table decorated with rogue Sharpie scribbles, two-liters, pizza, and if everyone was kind to me, Little Debbie cakes. It was about as sexy and appetizing as it sounds.

At the beginning of the line was a cutlery tray. It looked like:

Some of you see this tray and your brain screams: THE UTENSILS ARE FACING OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS.

I know this because every week my adult volunteers dutifully fixed this fork crisis, ecstasy and satisfaction on their faces until the tray looked like:

Ah! Order restored. The Earth was off-axis, but we are returning to proper position and the apocalyptic freezing or frying of humanity is abated. Whew. Close call. Thank God for fork flippers.

This is also a true story. One day I said, “STOP FLIPPING THE FORKS.” (They stopped. I rarely all-caps yell.)

Why stop these correctors of chaos?

What if I told you the 40-50 partakers of unflipped forks were mostly middle school boys? And then I asked the question: do you believe a single middle school boy cared about the direction of forks?

In 9 years of setting Sunday dinner forty-five times a year, they never did.

Here is truer story. Some of you are wasting time and emotional energy flipping forks for middle school boys. (If you’re thinking middle school boys might be a metaphor, you’re correct.)

I’ve taught fork flipping as it relates to time management and goal setting. (I’ve written about time management here.) But over the years, I applied the fork flipping theory to emotional investments too.

Here’s my best truth. People flip emotional forks for audiences that will never appreciate the effort. I’ve done it myself. Too many times to count. 

Here are four things I’ve learned.

1. Audience is key.

If I’d been arranging dinner for a crowd of ladies in their twilight years (you know the ones–they drive Cadillac’s and kick ass at bridge), not only would I have flipped the forks, I’d have borrowed sterling silver. That audience cares about those details. So think about the recipient of your generous actions and ask, will this matter to them? Am I actually doing this for me? Is it emotionally efficient?

2. The problem is not your effort.

There is nothing fundamentally wrong with flipping forks. The effort can be a beautiful offering of selflessness, but don’t forget that emotional energy is finite.

3. Identify those who deserve your best emotional efforts.

There are those who deserve flipped forks. Folks who will notice your efforts and appreciate them properly, but we often burn out giving emotional energy to those who won’t appreciate us and deplete energy for those who will. I recently said to a friend, why would you punish someone who wants to help you to help someone who wants to punish you? That’s the sentiment here as well.

4. Identify those who do not deserve your best emotional efforts.

There is a very good chance you have said of someone, “I give and give and nothing ever satisfies him/her.” Perhaps…and I’m just spitballing here…you don’t owe that audience your spectacular efforts.

(It’s fine to choose another effort. My middle school boys didn’t notice forks, but when I invented a game called Blender Wars…well, that was a different story.)

*No middle school boys were injured in the writing of this post. **Some middle school boys threw up after Blender Wars.

Shine a Little

I’ve been thinking of a TsukkiYama fantasy AU…

It starts with Tsukki as the prince of the Lunar Empire ( their empire was blessed by the goddess of the moon and the king’s descendants were each given a moon shard that was passed from generation to generation ) and him being the second eldest means his second to the throne. His older brother, Akiteru, was being molded into the perfect heir, and Akiteru tries his hardest to become the perfect candidate in order to relieve the pressure off his siblings’ shoulders. Because of this, Tsukishima- along with his siblings- lived without worries of royal duties or obligation.

But trouble began to creep along the borders of their kingdom. It started off small with small robberies and raiding, skirmishes with bandits on small villages, nothing to be worried about. And things started to escalate in an alarming rate that demanded the concern of the king and queen.

The king ordered his eldest son to gather his troops to investigate and bring a stop to the chaos. And so, the queen was put in charge with Tsukishima as her right hand. All of a sudden, Tsukishima was faced with duties that he wasn’t prepared for. He tried to keep up with all of it but it was too much- to divide the goods to the people equally, to manage taxes, to be nice to other allies, and many more. The only consolation to all of it was the hope that his brother and father would come back and take care of all of things. And then one night, the bandits came for them.

It was fast and it was bloody. 

Tsukishima managed to escape along with his siblings but his mother, the queen, stood tall and brave. She stood with her warriors, blades on both hands and fire within her, a fire that only a mother possesses. She swung her swords, slashing and twisting, screaming in anguish and anger as she fought off bandit after bandit, and begging Tsukishima to leave her behind. The Lunar empire that was built for hundreds and hundreds of years, fell in just one night. The royals were slaughtered, politicians gutted, and soldiers backstabbing them. The Lunar empire was gone.

They were catered off to the edge of their own empire, a small portion of the forest that was long forgotten. They were tired, wounded, and down. The Tsukishima siblings were leaning on each other for strength, and Tsukishima was now the strength that these few people have. They decided to set up camp up for the night and be ready to travel to their nearest ally in the morning (Nekoma?).

The next day, Tsukishima was surprised to find himself bound to a tree. He looked around and saw that everyone was tied as well. He wondered why they were in that situation, and tried to struggle against the ropes on his hands and waist.

“Don’t bother,”

Tsukishima looked up and saw a man clad in black leather, black feathers sprouting on his shoulders all the way up to his eyes, framing his face like a mask. He had unruly hair, with one group of stray sticking up. The man’s skin was lightly tanned, and was covered in dusts of freckles. But what caught his attention was his eyes. They were the color of black orbs with orange irises(?). His long fingers were encased in leather, and was playing with a thin, short blade as long as his forearm. He twirls it around and tound, throwing it up and catching it without nicking his glove. Tsukishima was mesmerized.

“Those knots are practically unbreakable.” He caught the blade again, “I should know, I was once in them.” He threw the knife up in the air, the light caught the blade and Tsukishima followed it with his eyes. tsukishima watched the blade go up and fall down, and suddenly the blade zoomed in fast towards him. He flinched, even heard the blade whistle past his ear and hear the thunk of it burrying itself in the tree, nicking the flest of his ear.

“So why don’t you be a nice princeling and stay still.” The man’s eyes changed, a normal looking eye with brown iris, and smiled- fangs glinting and sharp.

—-

That’s what i got so far but i can’t get it off my head! Hmu if you have ideas and such… ima continue this :)

min yoongi probably.....
  • *group meeting continues*
  • Seokjin: namjoon how the fuck are we gonna do three music videos
  • Namjoon: what do you mean
  • Seokjin: are you trying to run my children into the ground
  • Namjoon: YOUR children?? What about me?
  • Taehyung: oh no they're fighting
  • Jungkook: guys it's fine we can handle 3 music videos
  • Seokjin: no it is NOT fine jungkook
  • Namjoon: stop acting as if you're his actual parent hyung he doesn't need you to when he already has a mom
  • Bangtan:
  • Seokjin:
  • Namjoon: ....*backing up slowly*
  • Seokjin: kiM NAMJOON YOU ARE DEAD TO ME *lunges*
  • *namjoon trying to escape seokjin's wrath, both crash to the ground, the other members trying to get them to stop fighting, chaos ensues*
  • Yoongi: *watching*
  • Yoongi: good. i thought all this flower boy shit was turning us soft

So I was watching a Puppeteer Let’s Play and doodling at the same time…

and this is what came out.

2

(oh hey a cardboard box character, where have we seen that before—–)

Boxy is just a sad innocent boy who just wants to be normal, but his soul is tethered to the most evil and most dangerous being in the mutliverse, this is because his mother is a normal object who was sacrifced to the underworld to incubate an object body for the lord of chaos, things are weird for poor boxy, the other aspects know him and want to stop him, Chaos is the dark god of evil,he tends to take control and kill his friends, boxy is sad forever, that’s tape around his limbs also

super freaking powerful oc

reblog if you like hoof

please reblog my art tho

see he got out of the skull chair