BettleBRAIN juice

There has been a blatant misrepresentation of information. Nobody ever hinted in the teeniest-tiniest (yellow polka dot bikini) bit about the masses of brain juice I had to squeeze out for research.

As is, I have yet to solidify any convincing arguments for the upcoming debate heats, let alone churn out a proposal for a research paper. I've not even had any formal training for research. People higher up ASSumes months of full-time education can be pumped into me just like that.

I'm teetering on thin ice here, people.

Ovid, Cinahl on Ebsco, Science Direct, Systematic Reviews, Clinical Trials, Qualitative Vs Quantitative Research?!

This all might as well be in Urdu.

And what?! I need to be CITI certified?!

What the...

I'm spending all my off days magnetically gravitating back to the hospital. I feel like I'm married to the institution, only there's no sex or companionship in this particular relationship.

I do enjoy the process of learning and analyzing information, though mainly informally for my own knowledge. And at my own snail slow pace. It's really hard work on a project with different members and stick to a deadline.

Thankfully, I have Stick Insect to help me. She NEEDS to help me.

Help me.