Within 4 walls

The Sentiment for Today

2008-03-19T20:25:00.003+11:00

Today I feel like walking. Walking to somewhere, to nowhere. Doesn't matter. Round the block maybe, or to the park, or just off into the dark.

I just want to place one foot in front of the other and walk off these feelings of frustration that I just can't place a finger on much less give voice to. I just want to keep walking till my feet are sore and I'm out of breath and collapse in an exhausted but contented heap.

But I don't because I think of all the dangers out there for a girl walking alone aimlessly in the dark. And I think of the responsibilities of tomorrow, the need to eat dinner and go to work tomorrow. So my feet do the sensible thing and find their way back home.

2007-11-28T23:22:00.000+11:00

Sitting in the stillness of JL's cousin's house in Sydney listening to the gentle whirring of the CPU as I browse through blogs and reflect on the day's events. We spent yesterday visiting the fish market, eating a sumptious meal of grilled whole flounder, chips and cute wee scallops buried in layers of melted cheese and taking the ferry to some unknown destination and enjoying the sights of opera house and harbour bridge and as we cruised along. It's the ideal sort of holiday. Lots of food, lots of sleep, lots of opportunity to rest one's feet, meandering through the streets of Sydney mindlessly with little on the agenda. All this travelling on buses, trains and ferries with JL has given me the chance to get to know her better too, to see a different perspective, where life is taken with a pinch of salt and events in life dealt with as they come. And with time I begin to think that in some ways she's right, life is so unpredictable that sometimes the best way to deal with life is to take it as it comes. Sure, there will be the bitter along the way but it only makes the sweet all the more sweeter. I love the way she embraces life, sees each hurdle as a challenge and as I listen to her on the boat I can't help but do a mental contrast of her attitudes and mine. I am a person who values stability to its utmost, who likes associating with things that are constant, who places loyalty, faithfulness and steadfastness above all other virtues. And then my thoughts switch to contemplating the future, of being out in the working world next year, having the responsibility of making sure the patients are well cared for on my shoulders and I can't help but feel excited yet afraid both at once. And then my mind reels on to the thoughts of possibly getting married, having children, looking after my parents when they grow old, perhaps doing all three while juggling a career all at once and here's when it becomes rather overwhelming and I find myself beating the thoughts back into the recesses of my mind with promises to myself to think about them in the future but one at a time. And then I wonder, since when have I become like this, from a person who so embraced the progressions through life--high school, uni, marriage, childbirth-- to one so filled with trepidation about the future?
Recently too, I've been getting these flags popping up every once so often in my mind, little "I must be more..." flags, I call them, reminding myself that to be a good doctor, daughter, wife (perhaps), mother (perhaps), I have to be more organised, caring, obliging, loving, accommodating... aargh... its too much really, and so I cope with it in the one way I've learnt well-- we beat it back into the recesses of my mind

Documenting another Hilda-only moment

2007-11-17T15:56:00.001+11:00

Just completed 2 sets of OSCEs and as usual, have a funny story to tell about the stupid things Hilda does during the exams (she invariably will have at least one). Had this station with a guy who had come into the GP coz his girlfriend thinks he's drinking too much and we were asked to take an alcohol history. The interview was going well, and I was on a roll, asking all the right questions, "how much are you drinking, how many times a week, what sort of alcohol do you drink etc..." then suddenly I remembered I had to see if he had developed tolerance towards alcohol. And coz he was the cool, shaggy haired, tattoo type, and since he wasn't happy about coming in to see the GP, I felt like I had to develop more of a connection and for some strange, only God knows why reason I said " so, do you feel you have to drink more nowadays to get the same effect, like you know, the same BUZZ?" Oh my gosh, what I was thinking I honestly do not know but it came out so wrong and the patient couldn't help but giggle. And then it all went downhill from there. Lesson learnt? Hilda should NEVER try to sound cool. Especially not in the OSCEs.

The silence of the exams

2007-11-12T17:19:00.000+11:00

Almost a year since I've written. There has been so much going on, life's ins and outs, struggles, questions, uncertainties but also many moments of joy and learning, where my "strict perspectives" are broadened, the horizon of my mind expanded. Why I should choose now to write, 3 days before my final exams I cannot fathom. I suppose I always tend to get these brief moments of pensiveness before the exams, that punctuate pages upon pages of diabetes management and differentials of hypertension.

As I sit and mull over the fact that these are my final exams of med school ever, I'm amazed at how quickly 6 years have flown by. though having said that I feel ready to move on and start earning my keep-- 6 years of "parasiting from parents" as a friend puts it has been more than enough. Funnily enough though, a part of me likes preparing for these exams and doesn't want it to end. It's weird, I know. But somehow as prepares for the exams the cadence of life is lulled and there is this singleness of mind and heart that works towards a purpose that is noble.

Having emerged from under a rock

2007-01-16T00:17:00.000+11:00

My apologies for the protracted silence over the holidays. It is usually during the holidays that I am the most silent simply coz there's always so much to do, so many people to catch up with that there's a lot less time to reflect upon the ordinary things in life. But lots have been going on-- the conclusion of the exams, my flight back home the day after, my week long trip to Langkawi with my family, immediately following which 2 intense weeks in medical oncology. And now 4 weeks later, here I am, sitting in the library at the Glasgow Royal Infirmary, having crossed 4? continents in just as many weeks.

I am in Glasgow doing a 4 week stint in Plastic Surgery. Plastic surgery is simply fascinating--there are a whole multitude of procedures to see from breast reconstructions to trauma lists to major head and neck surgery. And the plastic surgeons? Simply divine. =) I think it is the nature of such a specialty that requires a delicate combination of gentleness, appreciation of beauty, steadiness and thoroughness that selects for such a fine breed of gentlemen. So I'm definitely enjoying these 4 weeks being the happy recipient of such chivalry before I'm thrown back into the grind of having doors slammed as I walk through them, having to lug supermarketing and being left standing indefinitely as these guys happily rest their sore feet. =) (oops, sorry guys)

A few words on glasgow. The beautiful thing about Glasgow is that is that one always knows what to expect from it; you can always bet your bottom dollar that it will be horribly cold, wet and windy--aye, with hardly any exceptions to the rule. But even though I whinge constantly about the cold and the rain, I always come back. There's something about dusty, dreary, industrialised Glasgow that charms me. Perhaps it is the dreariness the weather brings that appeals to that melancholic side of me, but I think more so it is the people who always keep me warm inside, who give me that sense of deep seated contentment. There are always beautiful moments in glasgow, talking to my sis while cuddled into the sofa, sitting with PS on the front seat of a double decker bus returning from the campsies watching the rain hitting the windscreen in front of us and that one exultant moment in Inverness when all the hard work in the last few weeks of the year was suddenly made well worth it.

It's time to go now, got to head for surgery but there's so much more to write about. About people and outpatients and things learnt in church and other reflections. Shall continue soon when I find the time!

Poems on the wall

2006-12-07T13:32:00.000+11:00

Have been sitting at the Baillieu library computers frantically trying to cram when I looked up and saw 2 poems pasted up on the wall:

"Like the vacant stare
of office windows
I look upon this world.

I wait in dark doorways
and there I stay, waiting
waiting in vain
for that that will not come.

waiting for what
I must but create.
the waiter of this world
I will remain forever
in this state."

The second one:
" Starved for words,
not thoughts,
only words.

I know what I
think, feel, see.

I know not what to say."

I wonder who wrote them. They are somehow so dark and full of despair, yet so honest, reflective and full of truth. was he/she calling out for attention? For help? Or just to find reprieve through writing and being comforted by the fact that someone out there now knows?

hmm... poetry can be such a cathartic experience sometimes-- it lets you express yourself freely behind a veneer of ambiguity, but at the end of the day we still need people, don't we? Words, beautiful as they are, only offer momentary reprieve. I hope he/she finds that listening ear.

2006-11-25T16:09:00.000+11:00

In the middle of cramming all about atopic dermatitis in kids and had this irrestible urge to blog about last night's hilarious conversation with my Dad. It went like this:

"Hi Dad!"
" Hi..."
"I hear you're getting baptised. Are you excited?"
"I'm more excited about you coming back lah..." (Hah! my Dad can be so sweet sometimes)
The conversation continues and then he asks:
"You know your pretty friend?"
"Huh, which one, got so many."
" The one who had dinner with us before?"
"Oh, that one ah. Haha, you think she's pretty ah?"
Protracted pause.
"No lah, I where got say she's pretty. All I will say is that she's a lot more attractive than you." (Wah, thanks a lot man.)

Well, parents. Okay mine at least. They never let you reside under this delusional cloud of being bold, intelligent and beautiful. My feet are always kept firmly on cold, solid ground. Which in many ways, I suppose, isn't a bad thing. =)

A few floating thoughts

2006-11-14T14:34:00.000+11:00

Damien's gone into the top 2! GO DAMIEN!!! I agree: " It's not just the luck of the Irish, it's talent!" A zillion =)

On a completely different note: I think sometimes, now, for example, I quite like exams. I like it because it keeps my perspectives strict, gives me a purpose, a goal to work towards. No need to wonder what to do with myself, no need to think about what else needs to be done, the perfect excuse to be shoddy about all other non-academic aspects of life.

Exams, here we come!

The Amazing Thing about Church

2006-11-12T17:59:00.000+11:00

Church has this uncanny way of calming me down and making me feel joyous, peaceful and carefree again. Somehow, upon entering church, I just feel this aura of peace. Through the praise and worship and prayer all the anxieties and disgruntlements that I have with life just quietly fade into oblivion and then I can't help but think myself silly for being caught up in things so small, so insignificant.

On another note, we had some rain today! Yay! It's been so dry in Victoria the past few years, the farmers have had to stand by helpless watching their crops wither and die. And it looks like we're heading into a dry summer as well with only 8 mm of rain recorded last month! So any rain, despite it being an inconvenience is truly welcome. It's such a novel feeling, this excitement about the rain. Back in tropical Singapore, rain's an absolute nuisance. Your clothes don't dry, you can't travel from point A to point B and if you do you'll have to bear the discomfort of slopping around in soaked squelching socks and shoes. But over here, things are so different, every single drop is eagerly anticipated and appreciated.

Anybody else out there?

2006-11-11T16:24:00.000+11:00

Does anybody else out there have a day like this, when they know what they should do, they want to do what they should do, but they cannot do it because there is some stupid, niggling thought at the back of one's mind that keeps zapping those neurons and interrupting any attempts at learning? And no matter how much ice cream you eat, rest you take, music you listen to, nothing adequately smothers that one niggling, idiotic thought that threatens your future (okay, I'm exaggerating, more like the exams, but then again, at the moment exams are the future). And you continue to be distracted, knowing full well in your heart that tomorrow when you awake and find yourself so behind in that revision schedule you'll begin to quake and curse yourself for your slovenliness and lack of self control.

Well, today is one of those days.

Anybody else out there has them?

Idol Craze

2006-11-07T13:36:00.000+11:00

I meant to blog this on Sunday immediately after the episode of Australian Idol had ended but my internet connection just wouldn't behave.

This is said with much forethought as I run the risk of sounding like some crazed teenage fan wannabe way past her prime. But, for all u people in Australia, if you are intending on voting somebody, VOTE DAMIEN LEITH!!!

This is one singer with raw talent, nice personality and a true love for music.

There now, I've said it, justice has been done.

People and more people…

2006-11-04T22:58:00.000+11:00

Over the past few weeks my social life seems to have expanded quite noticeably just when it shouldn’t 3 weeks to the dreaded exams. And though it makes me quite jittery to be lounging about with friends so close to the exams and makes me gripe inwardly at the poor timing, deep down I am quite happy about it all. An important lesson learnt through the years about friendships is that you can’t make good friends appear. They just happen, either by dint of chance or fate or divine intervention or perhaps a combination of all three. And when that happens, no matter when it happens, I invariably feel happy and truly truly blessed.

But what I intended this entry to be about was just to muse idly about people and human relationships, to take an aimless wander through the faces I meet everyday and describe a couple of them. Here goes:

J—she’s a complete and utter type A personality, things have to be on time, run like clockwork, her life can be summarized as “boom boom boom”. But I love her for all that and the fact that she is 100% reliable, straightforward, no pretences or affections needed. She complains to my face when I am being worldly and narrow minded, and I tell her, no qualms needed, that the food she’s just prepared “lacks character”. We have deep meaningful discussions about WB and RGS, and I tell her she ought to be the god-daughter of WB and CL, she is always a staunch defender in the perfection of both of them. And I thank God for her, for her loyalty, sincerity and honesty-- she’s definitely a keeper.

T—This is my friend, my buddy who baffles me half the time, who fills up a large proportion of my thinking time trying to figure out the whats and the whys about her, who knows my little quirks and idiosyncracies which she eventually accepts with a sigh and a smile and a shake of the head, whom I treasure for being resolutely loyal, undeniably kind and always self-sacrificing.
S—no matter what circumstances I’m in he makes me laugh and smile. This is one person who turns the most boring lecture into a hilarious time, who slops around in his burms and fading T-shirt priding himself in his unfailing ability to discern between bottled coke and canned coke (yah rite), who nods mindlessly through morning tutes while only half listening and gets into trouble because of it, and who can be sweet and caring in a quiet sort of way.

M—this dude I bicker with (and I quote him) “as if we were married”, though God forbid that ever happen. =) He has this uncanny ability to make me regress into using embarrassingly juvenile means of name-calling and rib poking to make a point and if ever I need to put up any semblance of respectability and maturity, he’d better not be around. But behind that teasing mouth of his, is a really thoughtful person, whose heart is in the right place, whom, when you pause to think about, makes you smile and think about fondly.

When disaster strikes

2006-09-22T23:36:00.000+10:00

And so the inconceivable happened.

Just when it was least expected.

Three solid blows that rained down in quick succession with no hint of reprieve.

Three red, hot angry pustules which erupted strategically in midline that nothing would conceal.

It is the mark of the undisciplined, solely for the purpose of revealing recent gastronomic indiscretions to the world at large. Nature bent on revenge, to evoke a sense of shame and engender some notion of remorse and contrition in the indiscriminate.

And sad to say, it has worked. My childlike trust in the wonders of Maybelline and Oxy have been shattered; previous resolve to be unbigoted, extending justice to all food alike, irregardless of colour, culture or value completely broken.

In the face of such awful consequences, I am forced to reconsider my all-embracing approach--forced, as much as it pains my tender heart, to discriminate against them-with-no-nutritional-value.

Oh wretched is the life of a man denied the pleasure of food.

Boys don't drool but girls still rule

2006-09-17T18:52:00.000+10:00

Lunch today was spent in the company of two of my closest friends in Melbourne, J and XL. I love being in the company of good girlfriends- it allows much freedom of expression to whinge about the sorry state of our studies, or laugh at the quirks expressed by the "other gender". Though having said that, I do enjoy the company of this "other gender"- despite the fact that as you get to know them better you begin to discover that many of them are phenotypically extremely XX- they nonetheless make very endearing friends indeed.

Here's why:
1) XYs can tell you they don't want to eat the cookie coz they don't want to be fat just like you and have absolutely no remorse thereafter
2) XYs can unabashedly announce through a large mouthful of food that you should not to eat that last piece of dimsum you've been eyeing for the last 10 mins lest you put on weight
3) XYs can develop sudden and complete cortical blindness when they see you carrying a heavy bag but if you stop in your track, dump the bags on their toes and refuse to budge till they help you with it they grudgingly will
4) when XYs have insulted you and you can't find words to retort back you can always hit them-- hard and they won't hit back
5) XYs wordlessly put up with our indiosyncracies and indecisiveness with regards to eating decisions. thanks guys!
6) XYs will patiently listen to your litany of rants about relationships and the inequalities of marriage and how hard it is to be female these days and silently smile and nod. Wise boys.

So all in all, I think I shall make a concession to the wise adage "Girls rule and boys drool".

Maybe boys don't drool after all, but girls still rule. =)

Rounds, brown and sun-down

2006-09-16T21:39:00.000+10:00

Ward round this morning was very interesting indeed, so much so that not once during the round did i harbour any regrets of wrenching myself from the bedclothes at 7 on a cold Saturday morning, after, might I add, a late night in the ED and ward.

Ward rounds can oftentime be deadly boring, with us med students trailing after consultants with not the slightest inkling which patients you're seeing and why they're in hospital and what is being done for them. So it ends up degenerating into a mind-numbing physical routine: enter room, smile beguilingly at patient, draw curtain, blank out for the 2 full minutes the consultant talks to patient, realise with a start he's finished talking, return to earth, move on to next room and repeat the entire cycle. sometimes to ease the boredom, you distract yourself with funny recollections of medical faux pas committed by your group mates or mentally grouse about the imminent state of blobiness you're heading towards. During such rounds, I often think of us as seaweed drifting along with the current or if you prefer a medical perspective, like interleukins, given no name or clearly defined purpose, only a number. Medical students have only one duty on the wards, u see: To be the ultimate fly plastered to the wall. And obviously not even for decorative purposes. Unobtrusive is the goal to be attained. The better you blend in, the better things run. Sad, I know, but true.

Having said that, you do sometimes by some stroke of luck chance upon a good round, like the one I had this morning, whereby the team acknowledges your presence and tries to include you and whereby the consultant and reg feed you intermittently with bits and pieces of useful information to try to nourish that sparse field of knowledge you currently possess. You know its a good round when at the end of it you feel this sense of satisfaction. You have some vague idea what the patients are suffering from and how they are to be managed and possess at least a shaky confidence that you might be able to do something constructive for similar patients. And the icing of the cake of a good ward round? Good looking members of the team, of course. Or charming patients can do the trick too. Oh, the shallowness of mankind! Disgraceful, I know, but I feel no remorse. =) What it'll be like when I'm a consultant in the future and no one comes to the ward round...

In other news worth mentioning, the weather was splendid today. Absolutely flawless and spectacular-- cool wind, cloudless skies and sunlight! Lots and lots of it. Really, it left me no other choice but to nip down to St Kilda beach for the afternoon to fully appreciate it. There honestly was no other way to do it justice, so I gathered other personnel, co-partners in crime, and we sojourned on to St Kilda for a nice long picnic. Overall level of enjoyment received mixed reports: the scenery was beautiful- I am always awed by the lovely sunsets from the beach no matter how many times I've seen it- but the sun was truly deceptive, despite it looking so bright and warm it was really quite quite cold and we very nearly left our toes behind from gangrene. Though all in all I would say it was a really enjoyable day, not much work done, as per usual, but I think my system is getting used to it, which is a definitely alarming sign.

All resolution to work hard reserved once again for tomorrow, the tomorrows that are deceptively never-ending till the brink of exams...

P.S After one respectable but unsuccessful attempt at uploading some pictures on blogger, I think I shall concede defeat and realise that in the world of technological ignoraminity, any attempt is one too many, so I shall just leave the blog entry as it is, plain but hopefully still a decent read.

2006-09-12T21:28:00.000+10:00

I love what I'm studying.

Though sometimes when people ask whether I have any regrets with regards to my career choice I hesitate before replying "no". The brief hiatus is then interpreted as uncertainty or a reluctance to admit that I do.

the truth of the matter is this: I've never regretted for a split millisecond choosing medicine as a career path. I love the work, the human relationships, the deep sense of fulfillment it gives.
I come home at the end of everyday with my had filled with insight about people-- both big and little, poor and rich. I see something novel everyday, witness another disease manifestation or another shade of personality. I am blessed to be privy to such private, intimate moments-- a mother crying over a sick child, a doctor giving some semblance of hope to a terminally ill patient. In choosing medicine as my lifework, I have no regrets. What occasional "regret" i do feel derives its roots from uncertainty, though not the uncertainty that medicine is right for me, but rather that I am right for medicine. Medicine demands a lot from a person, just the right balance of knowledge vs wisdom, rapport vs professionalism, emotion vs logic. And the balance is a fine one, one that is treaded differently in different patients and different circumstances. When I see it practised with such skill and ease, I often wonder if that will be me one day and whether with my current state of fumbling I'll ever morph into someone that competent.

That is really what I mean when I pause and then say "no" to the question of regrets. Lots of uncertainties and unknowns, but the thing that does shine through with clarity is that I wouldn't rather do anything else in the world but this.

The thing about Paeds

2006-08-23T15:49:00.000+10:00

The thing about Paeds that bothers me is seeing all the injustices inflicted on completely innocent kids. There are mothers who drug themselves when pregnant, kids who are abused physically, emotionally, sexually, toddlers who in their few months of life have become all too well acquainted with needles, blood tests, chemo, nasogastric tubes. And when I see them, I am suffused by this sense of compassion that very quickly gives rise to indignation that blots out all objectivity. Thoughts and feelings just get so muddled up. In between feeling angry that any mother will destroy their own kid and feeling sorry for the kid, there is an understanding too that it isn't really all the mother's fault, that life sometimes deals unkind blows to pple and they have no other avenue to turn to but to seek solace in drugs. And then I feel afraid because I look at their lives and there is this self acknowledgement that had I been born into similar circumstances I probably wouldn't have had a much different outcome. I am simultaneously aware that as a med student and as a doctor in the future, one is expected to be professional, to not let things get too personal or emotional, to care but not let it influence one's life too much. And that to me is so hard, to be able to dissociate one's heart and mind at command, to leave behind the emotions so one can care rationally, objectively and passionately.

Singaporeaness

2006-08-13T14:08:00.000+10:00

In the end, I am still who I was. Hard core Singaporean, completely rg. Hardworking, competitive, determined, fiercely loyal, hot-headed, opinionated, boyish. I've drunk too much Singaporean water (true, it's bought from Malaysia, but specially purified and fluorinated in Singapore =)), cheered too many deep, diaphragm- originated rg cheers, sung the national anthem for way too large a portion of my life for that to ever change. That is not to mean that I've become blindly patriotic overnight, it just means that I've gone through a gamut of cultures, appreciated many aspects of it, tried unsuccessfully to imbibe certain parts that I thought were beneficial to incorporate into my life, but at the end of all that chipping and molding, I realise that what's left is the core of me, a large part of which is still undeniably Singaporean.

All these years I've spent overseas, a large part of the process has been spent oscillating between liking certain values I see in Singaporeans and wanting to be more Singaporean to developing an abhorence towards Singaporean Kiasuism, competitiveness, stress, unreasonable working expectations, grade-worshipping, the skewed division of time between work and ___? Many people I meet here seem to have an amount of disdain for Singaporean competitiveness and discipline, and to some extent I've tried to change, but at the end of the day I've come to realise that it isn't necessarily a bad thing, there's nothing wrong with studying a lot or to wanting to get good grades as long as you don't trample on another's toes to get it. After all, this competitiveness and discipline is what pulled Singapore out of its miry circumstances in its initial years post separation, it is what made a tiny island of 4 million people one of the world's busiest ports and today it is what keeps us off the streets and keeps crime to a minimum. And for me, personally, it's what keeps me sane, keeps me happy, focussed and fulfilled.
I think I'll just continue being Singaporean.

Blue blue skies

2006-08-08T13:04:00.000+10:00

Geelong today has the most beautiful weather one could ask for-- clear blue skies, light refreshing breeze and lots of wonderful warm sunshine. I love such days where everything is bathed in sunlight, it somehow feels so nurturing, so regenerating, so uplifting. Even better is that on these days, you can look out of our common room window and see the sea glittering in the sunlight and the boats docked at shore. Picture perfect.

On another note, am on call today, which means I will be shadowing the HMO around in the afternoon and going to ED at night. Quite exciting, really, to be in the fray of things, doing practical things like casting broken arms, tying slings, cleaning wounds. Guess it would be different when I am actually responsible for the patient but for now, I'll just enjoy the privilege of not being expected to know and getting to behave stupidly without being judged.

Of the weekend past

2006-08-07T01:38:00.000+10:00

I've gone into a new phase of dawdling and vanity. Strange combination, I know. But recently I've been very kindly inducted into the world of ultimate vanity by the queen of nail polish and the princess of fashion, both of whom happen to be my clinical group mates. And like a fish drawn to bait, suddenly I am hooked. I never knew there was so much expertise in fashion and makeup. I mean, I always knew those worlds existed, but they were so foreign to me I shuddered to venture into them. But when it's explained to you, suddenly, it's a whole new world opened up before you and it kindled some sort of interest such that I actually went to buy make up, straighten my hair and go shopping within 2 days (gasp!), all this I assure you, on a completely voluntary basis. More amazingly, it's quite enjoyable, this process of making oneself look less of a frump, and wasn't overly expensive too. Myer's was having a sale today, so I managed to buy a pullover, a shirt and a pair of earrings for 35 dollars altogether! I feel so successfully de-frumped! =)

The other thing worth mentioning of the weekend just past is the excitement in the house a few hours ago when this guy came over to our place bearing gifts of really lovely Tiramisu, flowers and the sweetest card (hand drawn with beautiful poetry) to invite my housemate to go with him to the upcoming ball! Oh, the rest of us were just swooning, over the Tiramisu first, of course, =) but with tummies and taste buds satisfied, over how sweet a gesture it was. You know what, I think no matter what many people say about how a marriage shouldn't be built on romance, I still think it is so so sweet to be romanced with flowers, cakes, cards... and a relationship should have some of it, doesn't necessarily have to be a lot, but a sprinkling can go a long long way to melting your way into a girl's heart.

2006-07-27T01:15:00.000+10:00

i think i was born with the apathy and procrastination gene. School's started and we're in the throes of a whole series of lectures, three quarters of which I fall asleep in. Wonderful start to the semester. I just can't seem to settle down to study. Here's my daily time allocation:
Half my free time spent going out, a quarter spent making elaborate study plans which are an ocean's breath from materialising and the final quarter indulged in dawdling and daydreaming.

And at the end of the day i fall into a fitful sleep with Guilt resting heavily on my chest rearing its ugly head at me. 12 hours too late.

With emotion out of the way

2006-07-19T00:10:00.000+10:00

Now that thing called emotion is well and truly out of the way, I can start to write about all the events that have happened since I penned that last desolate, tearful entry. Well, make that the last 2 desolate, tearful entries.

Life has actually been good, (okay, that isn't exactly something you'd expect based on my angst filled entries, but I must admit that moaning is part of my gene pool). Lots have been going on since the exams (in chronological order):

1) Walking along Geelong after my long case exam enjoying the coastline, pulling the crisp salt scented air deep into my lungs, appreciating the houses at the waterfront, wondering how long it'll take before I can actually own one, remembering the sweet taste of freedom, wandering absolutely aimlessly-- with no sense of time, direction or purpose, just going where my feet take me. And I realised what a wonderful experience it is to still one's mind and let one's heart and feet carry you. I wish I could do it all the time.
2) Celebrating Rula's birthday with lunch on Lygon and gleefully reminding her once again she's one year closer to the big Three-O
3) Going to post exam party in Pugg Mahones with PS and David and meeting up with the post grads there. Had a number of unspeakable things happen there, one of which is me actually turning up made up and clad in heels (with diamonds, oh God), another of which is me attempting to dance, which really in reality is me waddling around the dance floor, making half hearted flicks of the head and uncoordinated hand movements that make me look like I'm repeatedly flushing the toilet and the last, is truly unspeakable I flush even to think of it.
Though despite me complaining about the hassles of having to dress up and dance, I really did have a good time. I loved the music, the drinks were decently priced, and I do in all honesty love dancing-- just that next time I'll do it in my head. =)
4) Writing letters to pple in my beloved group G and deliberating if I should send them out though now I won't have to coz we'll be in the same group again next semester. Yay!
5) Going horseriding at Gunamatta's on Mornington Peninsula. I'd forgetten how much I love riding-- finding the rhythm of the horse, rising to the trot, feeling as one with the horse, guiding it, not commanding but understanding it as it tries to understand you too.
6) Coming back to Singapore
7) Going off for an 8 day tour of Yunnan starting at KunMing then making our way Northwest to Dali then Li Jiang then back to Kun Ming. Here's a little excerpt of an entry I penned while making out way through the busy streets of Kun Ming:
" Day 2 10th July 06
Stealing a few quiet moments in the hotel lobby to scribble a few thoughts down. My first impression of Kun Ming is that it is a rather haphazard place. It doesn't appear to have seen much town-planning and much of the architecture is a mish mash of old and new, eastern and western. Modern skyscrapers sprout out among derelict shop buildings, sweet terraces bearing Mediterranean style windows are scattered among slate grey government houses. But most noticeable of all is the constant flurry of activity and the omnipresent smog that overhangs the entire city. There is an incessant flow of traffic with trendy Japanese cars jostling for space among the more showy European ones, battered old trucks that leave behind a trail of gravel and plumes of black smoke in their wake, and amongst them a constant stream of motorcycles, bicycles and pedestrians impervious to all the activity and pollution going on around them.

Thankfully as we make our way out of the city to jiu3 xiang1, the air cools and the smog lifts and it is a pleasant journey on to yin1 cui4 xia2, which if my smattering of Mandarin is accurate enough should mean dark clear gorge. There, we take a slow cruise along the river and walk along a scenic trail which is really a man made ledge that juts out from the upper part of a limestone cave and winds its way into the depths of the caves. The trail is indeed scenic as the river courses below you then arcs its way over the rocks as it descends. At other points you see stalactites and stalagmites formed through millions of years and at one point we saw rows of stone terraces carved out from one side of the cave."
8) Release of results and realising that I can accomplish nothing on my own if not for the grace of God.
9) Preparation to go back to Melbourne to start a new semester on O and G and Children's.

After a long while...

2006-07-18T23:16:00.000+10:00

Oh what can you say when there is so much you want to say and have to say but can't because of repercussions?
And what do you do when there is an ocean of things you want to do but can't because of this limiting thing called respect and duty?
Do you sit there and moan and grieve over the what-ifs and what-could-bes or do you delude yourself into becoming grateful for all the things they are and have done?
Oh tell me please, what shall I do?

Acceptance

2006-06-25T13:24:00.000+10:00

I am mediocre.

It is a fact that I realise but just can't accept. Realising something and accepting it are 2 completely different things. When you realise something, you acknowledge it's presence and let it reside at the back of your mind, surfacing sometimes perhaps, but mostly kept dormant. Accepting something, on the other hand, requires you to acknowledge it, embrace it and integrate it into part of your being.

It's just so hard for me to accept the fact that I am mediocre. Just so hard. It feels like somebody shoving this huge ball of dough down my throat and coercing me to swallow. But I won't. I'm choking and retching and gasping and grappling at the lump, knowing full well that all I have to do if I want to breathe again is just swallow. But I refuse. I choose to struggle and fight on instead.

I sometimes wonder, if I didn't try hard, would things have been the same? Would they have been different? I mean, I can be criticised for many things I do, but never for not trying. But u know what? sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. Sometimes I just wanna stop trying. Stop setting insane expectations of myself that I haven't the capacity to meet. Just chill out and go with the flow.

I hold so dear to my heart the Chinese saying "qin2 neng2 bu3 zhuo2". My entire life has been run based on that belief, because I always had faith in its wisdom and truth. But recently it's limitations have become so apparent, I begin to doubt it's authenticity. Maybe I have been a fool from the start.

I am just so full of self directed angst today.

2006-06-24T01:14:00.000+10:00

A day's break at last. 2 down, 1 to go. The prospect of freedom is exciting.

MCQ paper was hard. 120 questions in all to be answered in 3 hours which was a tiring process. Because I anticipated it, I tried to go to bed early the night before. But the irony is, whenever you plan to sleep early before an exam because you know full well you won't be able to function without it, the more effort you put into trying to fall asleep and the harder it is for sleep to befall you. I just lay there for hours on end, staring into the darkness, listening to the ticking of my alarm clock penetrating the silence, glancing at the luminescent hands of the clock as it made its way towards 7 o'clock. And interpersed between all that, willing my brain to go to sleep, tossing and turning, singing lullabies in my head. It was altogether an extremely frustrating and futile process because when I fnally did fall asleep 3 hours later, it was a fitful one that left me all tense and sore in my lat dorsi and trapezius muscles. Finally gave it up at 6 and went to take a long hot shower to ease the cramped muscles before making my way to the exam. Despite the frustration though, I thought it was quite an enlightening experience. Suddenly i begin to glean an understanding of what depressed patients go through, night after night. This struggle to fall asleep at night, the fighting to stay awake during the day is just one aspect of their problem. Add to that low moods, loss of interest in things that used to interest them, loss of appetite, it's no wonder they feel suicidal.

Perhaps that's the true purpose of med exams-- to induce a quasi-depressive state in the students in order to cultivate empathy for their depressed patients. Hmm...

As for the exams themselves, I guess I have mixed feelings towards them. I'm relieved they're over but getting increasingly anxious at the alarming number of MCQ questions I seem to have gotten wrong. I suppose it's good in a way that it points out clearly (too clearly, unfortunately) areas I'm deficient in (which is one too many). I obviously have no idea how to treat acne or differentiate between various red scaly lesions, or how to manage Osgood Schlatter's or various tendonitis. My treatment for all these conditions, unfortunately, funnels down to one option-- refer to specialist. Which is, as the exams have evidently pointed out, grossly inadequate. Though on the other hand, I do know how to treat pneumonias and heart failure and heart attacks and pericarditis and pleural effusions... but the examiners obviously thought these topics too easy or unimportant to examine on. Sigh...

OSCEs were a mish mash of experiences. Some good, some bad, but I think overall good. I really liked RMH. Thought it had a much calmer atmosphere than Vs. The outpatients at Vs has a sort of cold, sterile, no-nonsense feel about it. It is made up of this maze of tunnels with little rooms opening off it. there aren't any carpets and the flooring is made of this white plasticky material which is a similar shade to the white plaster walls that line both the corridors and the rooms and the only colour that you see is the pale green doors of the rooms and the blue metal plates that announce the room number. RMH, on the other hand, has a modern, abstract feel to it. When you walk in there is this contrast of red, blue, white, black, all tastefully done. And the examiners were nice, relaxed and friendly, so that when you went in, you weren't too nervous at all. One difference that really struck me was how much more people at RMH smiled compared to Vs. Don't get me wrong, there are ample nice doctors at Vs, but it exudes this "institution of higher learning" feel about it which compells you to go around looking (or in my case faking) professionalism which contributes to this severe paucity of smiles.

2 days more...

2006-06-19T18:25:00.000+10:00

2 days to go before the exams... I am feeling surprisingly, alarming calm. Calm enough, at least, to pen something down. We've got an MCQ paper on Wed then the OSCEs on Friday then Long Cases the following Wed, then we're free. Somehow, compared to the previous semesters, I don't feel as nervous about the exams nor as excited about its end. I guess I've taken so many it's just become mind-numbingly routine. Every semester is study, and study and as the exam closes in, freak out and study some more and the day before the exams berate myself (futilely) for not studying harder. But this semester, I'm taking a more introspective and realistic view. I study hard coz I want to and I am beginning to acknowledge the fact that I have limitations, both physical and intellectual and that even if I killed myself studying it probably wouldn't make that much more of a difference to my grades plus it wouldn't be worth it anyhow coz life has much more to offer than just exams.

sorry about all the exam posts. It's that as the exams approach all perspective narrows down to one thing-- exams, but I promise this will be the last one and I shall try to fill these pages with more entertaining, interesting stuff.

On exams

2006-05-31T09:12:00.000+10:00

Gone are love and teddy bears, fire places and fuzzy feelings-- they have all been smothered by the stress of EXAMS. The humongous thing that looms in the very near future, bearing it's teeth down upon us all. I've never liked exams (I guess nobody does), but I dislike them especially because they drive me crazy. Because I feel it judges me in the severest senses of the word. It brands me with either a stamp of approval or disapproval that I carry along with me for the rest of my life, oftentime manifesting itself in a niggling voice at the back of my mind-- "only 60 on that test? Oh no good, you're gonna fail the next one". Although when I sit back and think about it really, it isn't the 60 that determines my fate the next round, it is that defeatist thinking I sometimes harbour that is the culprit and that I must try to eradicate.

Somedays I wonder why we have to have exams. It draws my focus away from learning what is useful to me in the future and narrows my perspective to just coping with the immediate needs-- exam technique, what pleases examiners, how to "tikam" MCQ questions. And I just find that so draining, because it hardly adds value to my life or my work in the future. I love what I do, there never is a shadow of doubt about that, there's hardly anything that makes me happier in the world than caring for the many defenceless souls one encounters on the job and because of that I love to learn, because it will help me help patients in the future but also because of the great pleasure learning gives. And exams just take that all away, you know, takes away the sanctity and joy of learning and taints it with fear, ego, desperation, frustration, perfectionism. But I guess we can't have things our way always. Sheer pragmaticism in me knows exams are a quintessential part of academics, without which there is no benchmark for evaluation and comparison. Oh well...

On my way to school

2006-05-06T15:05:00.000+10:00

On my way to school everyday, I walk past a Greek Orthodox church. Usually it's doors are closed, but today, there was a large congregation of people outside. And as I walked closer, I realised that it was a wedding ceremony, the end part where everybody gathers outside to take photos before the bride flings her bouquet into the crowd. I couldn't help but stop to look and when I did it felt so surreal somehow-- these dignified men in their dark, tailored suits with their smiling wives fronted by the newly wed couple who stood hand in hand looking so blissful, so happy, so in love. The bride especially, looked beautiful with her long dark tresses and svelte figure clothed in soft white satin. Looking at them, the world at that moment just felt so perfect and the whole scene just evoked that warm fuzzy feeling one associates with fireplaces, soft toys and love.

Going Global

2006-04-30T15:55:00.000+10:00

It is all too easy to be dissatisfied with our lives, all too easy to wish for more, to desire to be stronger, smarter, prettier. Generally this dissatisfaction arises from comparison- we look around and see the success of others, and suddenly, all our talents and blessings pale in the face of others'. We find ourselves terribly wanting and all at once, every facet of our lives is tainted with discontent. What was formerly deemed as a gift mocks us with its imperfection. Little blessings are brushed aside. Small shortcomings transform into glaring inadequacies. Happiness, as we then discover, is relative.

But is it really?

If we step back and take a more global, more holistic view of things, we realise how much we have been blessed with. We don't have to live in constant fear of persecution, don't have to worry about next month's rent, don't even have to give a thought about where our next meal is coming from. We have proper sanitation, clean water, nice houses, proper education and even enough to spare for the occassional pampering at spas or indulging our gastronomic passions.
We are blessed beyond measure.

But it's so easy to forget though, isn't it? Especially in the midst of our exams, in the midst of our "sufferings", how blessed we really are.

And so this reflection serves as a timely reminder-whether it be a happy, carefree day, or a long, exhasuting one, I must remember to be grateful.

New love

2006-04-27T18:30:00.000+10:00

I'm beginning to like Anaesthetics more and more. It's this balanced combination of physiology and pharmacology that really appeals to me. It's stuff that really makes sense and I love the resus part-- bringing pple back to life based on your experience and knowledge is just such a meaningful thing to do.

Random thoughts

2006-04-23T20:35:00.000+10:00

Some feelings are best left unearthed; they are better left underground to fester, then once the festering’s done they might just disintegrate to nothing. No traces, whatsoever. That’s a hope.

The intricacies of conversation

2006-04-22T20:25:00.000+10:00

i'm such a poor listener. part of that stems from the fact that i'm so distractible and absolutely can't multi-task. problem is, conversation just has so many bits and pieces one has to grapple with to make it flow. one has to listen, process the words, comprehend it, mull over it, formulate several possible answers, choose an appropriate one and articulate it. and through all this one has to be aware of one's body language, read the other's, read between the lines, modulate one's expression and tone of voice. And as i struggle through all this, there are always things in the background fighting for my attention-- music, people, other conversations or the niggling feeling that I have just said the wrong thing and the need to put it right.

apart from the complexity of conversation, part of my problem of being a poor listener stems from my fixed perspectives. My perspectives are always strict and by and large rather polarised. The world through my eyes are either black or white, right or wrong, with little room in between. In some instances, this works to my benefit, for it makes my purpose defined and my tasks directed.When it comes to conversation, however, a rigid perspective is a bad bad thing. Like when someone comes to me with a problem, my mind immediately classifies their problem into "warranted" and "unwarranted", "solvable" or "unsolvable" and should it fall into either the unwarranted or unsolvable slot, then it subconsciously switches off and i wait impatiently for the conversation topic to change. But I am gradually beginning to realise that what I deem unwarranted or unsolvable does not necessarily have to be so for another. Perspective and morality are actually fluid and subjective as they depend on one's personality, experiences and upbringing. I guess what is needed is to be able to find middle ground, really. To be able to hold on tightly to one's perspective and morality to keep one from going astray, yet keeping a perspective wide enough to accommodate that of others.

A day of food, trains and wine

2006-04-20T20:39:00.000+10:00

The day begins at 7 with the persistent ringing of an alarm clock. Through the haze of sleep i roll over and wonder who in the world can be so cruel as to set an alarm loud enough to wake the dead and worse still at such an ungodly hour. i continue my semi-slumber until something in my mind clicks and i realise that today is thursday-- excursion day in Yarra Valley, and that the stupid alarm clock is mine.

As i rouse i hear the click of my housemates' doors opening. I lumber into the bathroom where i join the others there to brush my teeth and get ready to leave.

It is now 7.30am and time to set off for our meeting point on Swanston St. There is the grumpy early morning silence as we walk to the city to meet our tour guide. Occasionally someone breaks the silence by enthusing about the trip (mostly Mel, I think) As for me, I plod on, my only contribution to the scant conversation is to moan about my sleepiness. (i know, I'm a sheer basket case in the mornings)

We meet our driver, Kevin, who is round and jolly and has a knack for conversation. Only it is 8 in the morning and conversation generally only works when the listener is awake.
We reach our first destination: the delicious scone place. Sadly, my mind fails to recall the name of the place, only that it serves nice fluffy scones with delicious cream and strawberry jam. i am now a little more awake-- not enough for any proper form of cognition to occur but awake enough at least to remember wishing for more piping hot scones.

This is us at the little scone place: (front row from left to right) Justin, Mel, Mart, Siu Niang, Kai Jin, Me and Yixin.

After breakfast, it is off to the Puffing Billy train ride. The Puffing Billy is a steam engine that began its maiden journey in 1901 and ran till 1958. It was 1 of 4 experimental lines used to develop the rural parts of Eastern Victoria. Today, it is a major tourist attraction and runs from Belgrave to Gembrook on the same narrow gauge railway track that it did a century ago.

This is Yixin and I sitting on the ledge dangling our legs over the side of the train.

We stop at the first station, Menzies Creek and meet out tour guide to embark on the 2nd part of our trip-- William Ricketts aboriginal sculpture centre. It is at this point in the bus when Yixin announces that she's hungry and Mel asks what's for lunch and Kevin replies "pan-fried chicken, fish and scotch fillet" and everybody oohs and aahs appropriately and counts down the hours to lunch.

Unfortunately, there isn't much for me to write about William Ricketts other than i found his sculptures all too spiritual and the setting of the sculptures in the dense, dark Australian Bush way too eerie and forbidding, so much so that I was more than glad to leave the place behind for lunch and a pleasant afternoon of wine tasting.

As we make our way down from the dandenong ranges to the Yarra Valley, i am struck by the plainness of the Australian Bush. Much as i appreciate the raw wilderness of the bush, the Australian bush just doesn't appeal to me. Perhaps it is because the colour of the bush is just so earthen-- hues of brown and green and not much else aside from that. Being a person who finds beauty in a vivid explosion of colours or the stark contrast of them, the bush just seems too uniform, too monotonous.

We spend the entire afternoon visiting 3 wineries. The first, Rochford wineries, is where we have lunch and are initiated into the complicated process of wine tasting. You begin with inspection. Observe the colour of the wine. Red or white, light or dark. Light coloured wines tend to be younger while the darker ones tend to have been aged for a while. Next comes the smelling which starts off with the swirling and swishing of the wine in your glass to aerate it. Then you place your nostrils just over the rim of the glass and breathe deeply. Then you exhale and if appropriate give a contented sigh and inhale again. From these breaths you ascertain the fruitiness and oakiness of the wine and try to identify the many elements that makes it up. Lastly comes the actual tasting. You take a small mouthful and run it over your entire palate appreciating taste and texture. Texture lies in the way the wine treats the palate, whether it is harsh or soft. Taste, on the other hand, is like smelling. It involves discovering how fruity and nutty and oaky it is, identifying the flavours it contains and most importantly, deciding whether you like it or not. I find it to be a most educational time for indeed, I had never known that one could do so many things to a glass of wine. To be absolutely honest, before today, the only verbs I could associate with wine were gulp, guzzle and slosh, which, I'm fully aware, would hardly be anything to be proud about.

As the afternoon progresses we are ferried from one winery to another and i am tickled by how red our faces have turned from the alcohol. Genetics is a funny thing, how it equips the anglo saxon race with more than enough acetyldehyde dehydrogenase to guzzle down half a bottle of wine with little or no effect while the chinese race struggles, red faced, to consume half a glass and still remain standing. But there is no time to contemplate the injustice of this for we are whisked off to the next winerery--Punt point. And thus we continue our afternoon of wine-tasting, mostly in a state of quasi- inebriation, ending up eventually at green point wineries which prides itself in its sparkling wines. We order a glass each of every single wine featured on the wine list and i fall in love with the sparkling chandon pinot shiraz instantaneously. And so I go and buy one- this red, bubbly, fruity, moderately sweet wine with slightly spicy overtones that was soft on the palate- even though it sets me back $24 which means 3 less lunches outside.

This is us with 7 bubbly glasses of wine.

The trip ends with a stroll through the vineyards and we do the last thing we are capable of-- collapse on the grass in a heap and contemplate all the things that made this day a wonderful one.

Simple beauty

2006-04-20T00:25:00.000+10:00

Just came home from a comfy night out with the med gang celebrating PS' birthday. she held the party at her little maisonette in arrow heights and we were ensconced in her dining room on the upper level pigging out on all the wonderful food she'd painstakingly prepared. After we'd finished pigging out on the main course, we began our assault on the mouth-watering assortment of desserts-- all homemade, of course. stuffed as i was i just couldn't resist testing the limits of my digestive tract once again. and boy, was i glad i did. Andrew's chocolate and green tea mousse was delicious. i think i just discovered gary-rhodes in the making. (Andrew, if you ever read this, plse know that i wasn't paid to say this, but a little gratitude in the form of chocolate mousse might be appropiate) =)

Food aside, the scenery from PS' 9th floor apartment was beautiful. From where i was sitting, i had a glorious view of the Royal Exhibition Building, also fondly known as the REB. with its stately dome cast in incandescent glow outlined against the dark melbourne sky-- it was quite magnificent. i walk past the building every day on my way to the hospital, but i've never thought of it as magnificent before. Stately perhaps, but never beautiful or magnificent. though that could be because i've never quite had the chance to take a good look at it-- i've only either rushed past it to go to school or rushed into it to take an exam (it's where our semesterly exams were held in our pre-clinical years). Seeing the REB in all its splendour tonight reminds me of the number of things- buildings, scenery, people- i pass every single day without ever pausing to look. And because i never paused to look, i've missed out on seeing the beauty in these ordinary things. so from now on i must remember to pause once every so often just to take in my surroundings-- to look, hear, smell and soak in the moment.

The other thing that struck me tonight was how pretty T is. She's got a beauty that grows under scrutiny because it's so simple, so unembellished. Her complexion is fair and flawless and her features well-chiselled, yet with a distinct softness to it. We've embarked on this bid to make her even prettier by getting her to exchange her glasses for a pair of contacts, but she gives the same response every time, "dun want lah, so mah fan". And much as it frustrates us that she never listens, it also adds to her beauty-- this non-chalance about appearances, this staunch refusal to get sucked into the race to be beautiful.

I hope she stays that way.

The dawning of a new day...

2006-04-19T03:40:00.000+10:00

5 things I want to achieve tomorrow:
1) Learn enough orthopaedics so I can do an inch better than scream when I see a shoulder dislocation
2) to engage in conversations that are just a shade more meaningful than the one below:
X: "disturb disturb"
Hilda:"what?"
X:" nothing"
Hilda: "you just disrupted my 'intense studying', so what's up?"
X:" nothing. I'm going to shower now. i disturb you after i come out."
3) shower before the clock strikes 3
4) eat fewer pieces of TeeVee snacks than the number of pages i've studied
5) remember to be grateful

Trudging through the English Language

2006-04-19T00:55:00.000+10:00

for the past few days i have embarked on this quest to find a precise word to describe my deliberate attempts to avoid studying. i have scoured my brain only to find procrastination, laziness, slothiness, non-activity. but they all don't cut it. my actions don't stem from a lack of drive; on the contrary, they are exceedingly purposeful. from the careful planning of every hour to ensure it is filled with non-academic activity, to my stuffing of all medical books back in their shelves so they stop raging their guilt-inducing campaign against me. Everything I've done is pre-meditated.

2 days ago i finally found the word--Dalliance. the free online dictionary by farlex defines it as "the deliberate act of wasting time instead of working". and i think, eureka! what better word to describe my actions? i almost begin dancing for sheer joy until i read the second definition beneath:playful behavior intended to arouse sexual interest. suddenly any ecstasy i feel disappears. i feel totally and utterly cheated. the english language is just unfathomable. how does it make sense to have the exact same word meaning 2 such completely different things? God forbid what would happen if I were to talk about my dalliances, meaning the former definition only to have it misinterpreted it as the latter.

so i guess it's back to the dictionary to uncover another word to fill in that gap in my vocabulary.
But for now, i guess i'll have to settle for "procrastination". At least that is one word that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

The funny thing about time

2006-04-17T20:48:00.000+10:00

Over the past few days i've spent hours surfing my old classmates' blogs, finding out how and where they are, what they're studying, what they'll be doing in the future. And all that reading about old times, seeing the names of old friends just makes me so nostalgic and makes me yearn to turn back the clock. i browse through the blog with the intention of quickly updating myself on their lives. but i begin reading- and suddenly i am enthralled. i suddenly realise that there's so much about them i didn't know, so many more facets that i haven't seen, so many relationships i have missed out on. it's been such a long time. and as an ex-classmate put it-- i'd forgotten how much i'd missed them.

it's like all you have to do is just close your eyes and turn away for a while, but the world continues spinning and the clocks continue to whirr and then you turn back to look, but it's too late. the scenery has changed, the curtains have descended and another chapter of life has been completed without you even realising. and when i think about it now, it makes me feel so wistful, yet the only person to blame is myself for letting Time slip through my fingers so idly.

A saying that i read sometime ago comes to mind: " do not chase after the wind in the field-- it is futile to find what is already gone."

Just thinking about that saying makes me sad yet strangely determined. it makes me yearn to embrace every single person i never got the chance to know, makes me want to grasp the hands of the clock and forcibly turn back those lost hours. but i can't. the rational side of me says so, at least. perhaps i will settle for a class gathering of some sort in the hols. not the deep and meaningful interaction that i really wish for, but it'd be so nice to see their faces again, to find out about their current lives and ambitions, oh and the most glorious of all, to find out about Boyfriends-- the old, the new and the ideal.

oh, i just can't wait.

Poodle Jokes

2006-04-15T21:50:00.000+10:00

Here I go again... a day spent mooching around at home tidying up this blog, casting around for things I want to do so I don't have to do the things I have to do (aka studying) and the latest-- making stupid poodle jokes that are funny only to me in a most convoluted sense (my latest poodle joke just left 2 of my housemates staring at me in in wide eyed confusion while I guffawed my way through the joke). Oh sigh. The poor dears.

You'd think that by now I'd have learnt from experience, but unfortunately I seem to be inordinately thick-skulled when it comes to that sort of learning. It's the lameness of the jokes, you see, somehow they have this inexplicable allurement that I just can't resist. And time and time again i have done it- imparted the joke on these unsuspecting listeners and watched the metamorphosis of expression-- expectancy, confusion, uneasiness and finally the semi-tortured smile.

A Note of Welcome

2006-04-15T04:24:00.000+10:00

14th April 2006

I’d never thought this moment would come—the moment when I’d feel brave enough to venture forth some of my weird and wonky thoughts into public scrutiny.

Perhaps it is Time that has planted this seed of courage in me. Or perhaps simply that time has brought about a change in perspective. I had always solemnly promised myself that I would write for no other but myself. My writing would serve only to explore my world within or to see myself with greater clarity within its lines. To write for others would be akin to tainting one's writing because then one's thoughts would have to be more filtered, more halting and much much less honest.

But I see different now.

Writing shouldn’t be stifled into being merely a process of self analysis; writing should also reflect a journey—the journey that traces a thought from start to end, the journey that captures the ever-changing seasons of life.

And it is on this note that I invite you to embark on this journey with me-- a journey which I truly hope you will find to be an enjoyable one.

P.S The blog entries below are a collection of pieces written between Feb 2005 and April 2006-- little fragments of memories I tried to capture in words-- which I never had the courage to post till now.

Kind Exhortations

2006-04-15T04:19:00.000+10:00

1st April 2006

It's terrible, the signs are everywhere! Exhortations to marry and marry young, proclamations of the benefits of marriage, vigorous endorsements of the institution of marriage... And in all forms too: overt, subliminal, on TV, newspapers, radio... even poetry...Just read this poem by Robert Herrick, poet in the 17th centuary. Seems like this issue of marriage and singlehood is a theme that has transcended time. Here it goes:

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a flying;
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a getting;
The sooner will his Race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That Age is best, which is the first,
When Youth and Blood are warmer;
But being spent, the wors, and worse
Times, still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime;
You may for ever tarry.

Pre-Birthday thoughts

2006-04-15T04:15:00.000+10:00

6th April 2005 (Wednesday)

It is my birthday on Saturday-- my 21st Birthday. Jiey, with the help of some friends, is throwing me a “surprise” party. I guess you might say it isn’t quite a surprise, considering the fact that I’m not only aware that a party is going to be held, I’m even in the know as to when and where it will be; the Surprise! Element lies in the who and the what, I suppose. Who will be coming? What will the decorations be like? What food will there be? I am told to boot myself out of the house over Thursday evening and the entire Friday, only to reappear on Saturday evening (so make an intelligent guess when the party is?). Amidst all this fuss, I’m walking around under this façade of sublime indifference, but- all truth be known- under all my pretentious non-chalance, I’m shamelessly lapping up every bit of attention bestowed upon me. Haha… It is undignified, I know, but it is after all my 21st, isn’t it? And seeing that you’re 21 only once in your life, a bit of fuss over you is warranted, don’t you think?

On a more reflective note, I just wanted to say that to me, birthdays are never about presents or parties per se- they are about people. They are about people saying- you’re important to me and I wish you well in this new year of life. The parties and presents are about people saying you’re loved and treasured, so much so that they want to make your day unforgettably happy. That’s why to me, the size of the party or the number of presents I receive really is inconsequential. Cliched as it may sound, on my birthday or any other celebratory day alike, all well wishes are uniquely special- because, truly, it is the thought alone that counts.

Airport Departure Protocol

2006-04-15T04:06:00.000+10:00

15th April 2005

This is part of a letter written to Mum after her memorable departure from Glasgow whereby, having neglected to turn back and wave goodbye at the immigration counter, she left me waving goofily at a blank faced immigration officer.

Dear Mum

Standard departure protocol dictates the following:
1) Tight but brief embrace -- no lingering or shoulder rubbing. Enough contact to convey that the one departing will be missed without being mawkish
2) Nebulous promises to "be good" or "eat less" or "study hard"-- all of which is nothing more than customary. That, however, is left unsaid.
3) Self conscious stride to the immigration counter, knowing that the glass partition provides little protection from the scrutiny of one's blossoming rear end-- the same scrutiny which will be repeated to assess for growth upon re-entry into the country
4) The final smile and casual wave before one disappears from sight.

Divine Revelations of the Automobile World

2006-04-15T04:02:00.000+10:00

8th April 2005

My sister has been wanting to buy a car and has decided to test drive cars this Sunday. A week ago, she asked if I would like to go along and I enthusiastically agreed.

Last Saturday, having somehow wrangled dinner from S and J-displaying my talents, once again, as a self-proclaimed light bulb- our dinner conversation wandered to my sister's search for a good car to buy. J suggested she take someone well versed in the purchase of cars along. He then very kindly offered to accompany her. It struck me as a very sensible idea indeed- to take someone along who could add value to her evaluation and negotiation. If it were me, all I'd do would be to stand there awestruck and go "wah, jie ah, the car so new, so shiny ah... and £2500 only. Good buy, good buy". I there and then decided to relinquish my front seat position to J. He would be an ideal person for the job- practical, frugal, streetwise and pleasant. On top of that J's Dad, being a driving instructor, would have grounded him in the fundamentals of what makes up a good car. For some reason that night, (perhaps it was the look of sheer ignorance painted across my face) he felt obliged to enlighten me. And at this point, I could sense his dilemma. How do you summarise the diverse requirements of a good car over one dinner? Worse yet, how do you summarise the diverse requirements of a good car to an automobile ignoramus?

The tension in his face was apparent as he contemplated the limited possibilities. He must have finally hit the right one because he looked up, smiled, and announced: " the most important thing in a car is-- the ENGINE."

In the face of such divine revelation, I knew that only sheer reverence would suffice lest one be condemned blasphemous. Mustering my most awestruck expression, I looked to the ground and murmured, "Yes, of course, of course."

Change and social suicide

2006-04-15T03:53:00.000+10:00

24th March 2005

All night long there's been a strange feeling building in me.

It's intensity is unsettling.

It feels as if passion, sadness and introspection are all searing through me.

And inexplicably, it creates in me this burning desire to write, to cry and to be alone.

It is a strange yet familiar feeling, like when you spot your old schoolmaster twenty years after graduation and are still instinctively gripped by a sense of fear. So strange a feeling in its circumstances, yet undeniably familiar.

I know this feeling has been in me all this time, restlessly dormant. The duties of everyday life had forced it into oblivion because the inexplicable urge to write, cry and be alone is simply not compatible with the demands of life.

I'm not sure why it resurfaced again tonight.

Perhaps it was when A asked me all those questions at cell group. I think it was the question about how I'd changed in my year here in Glasgow and whether the change was good or bad that did it.

"Both," I had replied, dying in my heart to explain how I'd become more analytical but also more judgemental, more fun-loving but also more disdainful, more extroverted but less introspective. I wanted to share with them how change is a double edged sword. How when you gain you often must lose.

But I couldn't. How could I? I mean, who would understand? I did teeter on a moment of indecision, almost crossed the threshold to the point of no return before reality checked me back to my senses.

"Gosh, you weren't really going to tell them all that were you? How weird would you sound?" was all I could ask myself when I came to.

I felt like a suicidal jumper pulled back from the brink of death-- just in the nick of time. I suppose it was, in a way, suicide -- social suicide.

And like all thwarted suicide attempts, there was a sense of intense relief at the realisation that one is still alive, but also of intense sadness-- the sadness for not being true to oneself, for not having the courage to take the plunge.

Then from that point on, all that dominated my mind was just this need to write-- to express all the thoughts and feelings that lay on my heart-- pent up and throbbing.

And here on this page it finds release.At last, somebody knows how it feels.

The ultimate glutton

2006-04-15T03:51:00.000+10:00

21st March 2005

I think the feeding centres of my hypothalamus must have doubled in size overnight.

I have skulked to the kitchen and opened the fridge no less than 20 times today.
And should gluttony be a pathological condition, I am experiencing an acute exacerbation of it today.
I have always wondered how one knows when their gluttony is bordering on pathological. I think I know now. It is when:
1) The mere whisper of “chocolate cake” reflexively sends shivers down your spine
2) You are having a sumptious 3 course lunch and all you can think of is what to have for dinner.
3) It feels like the end of the world has come when you get to your favourite seafood stall a few minutes too late and it’s closed—you cannot comprehend how it is within the realms of humanity to close without waiting for you to arrive.
4) You see a scrumplicious looking chocolate cake in Peckhams and you buy it. As you carry it home, your parotids are revving in top gear and all that fills your mind as you cross the busy intersection is not the cars zooming two inches from your toes but that one sublime, perfectly crafted piece of chocolate cake. When you get home, you lovingly unwrap it, grab a fork, cut a lavish slice and poise the fork in mid-air, angling it to deliver the choice morsel in the only way you know would do it justice. Eating is an art, you feel, and you of all people, should know it. The cake hits your palate and there’s this split second of nervous excitement as the messages from your taste buds travel to your brain. You taste the cake at last, but alas!—it is dry, crumbly and old. The sense of disappointment that wells up in you is acute. You feel cheated, betrayed. You are virtually in tears and all that you can think of the whole week is that one fateful bite—dry, old and crumbly.

Dinnertimes

2006-04-15T03:43:00.001+10:00

17th March 2005

There's nothing more pleasant than sitting at home having a meal with good friends.There's always this sense of warmth, of bonhomie, of belonging that hangs in the air even after the aromas of the meal have disappeared.

The dinner we- me, S and TW- had tonight was just like that. I cooked a dish of lemongrass chicken, which turned out okay aside from the overly liberal hand of cornstarch I tossed into the dish. But culinary failures aside, it was a really pleasant time. It was one of those affairs whereby one feels perfectly at ease sitting in absolute silence. Ironically, when one feels that way at a dinner, there never is even half a moment of silence.

I suppose it's coz this feeling of sitting in affable silence can only be born out of a sense of familiarity. And the moment there is that sense of familiarity, you can be assured that all inhibition and caution will be thrown to the wind. Gone is the cautious weighing of words. Gone too are the painful attempts at being impressively polite. People will just be themselves. And unfortunately for my dinner companions, being myself spelt a boisterous time of insanity.But I don't think I'd be being overly optimistic or deluded to think we all had a good time. You see, with time, I've come to realise that dinners (especially the corporate and professional ones) usually fall into two categories-- those where you spend the entire dinner painfully excavating conversational topics from your brain and those where you feel you need to give out one long loud fart in order to stun your fellow diners into silence so you can have just 15 seconds air time.It starts to become a real rarity to have dinners where you can just be yourself.--boisterous one moment, pensive the next- and still have your fellow diners feeling comfortable.

So from now on, I shall remember to treasure them.

To my baby boy Pogo

2006-04-15T03:41:00.000+10:00

15th March 2005

We got 2 new dogs-- a lab and a goldie. The goldie I am told is an excitable little thing and the lab is a undergrown, meek mite of a dog. Part of me is happy and excited about having them, part of me just feels apprehensive and reluctant to go through all that sadness at the end of their lives.But most importantly, the Goldie rakes up memories of Pogo. And suddenly I really miss him, all of him-- his stubborness, his anchoring himself in the middle of the road, his floppy, triangular ears, his pink little tongue with it's two black spots on the side, his baby doll eyelashes, his favourite pose with his head between his paws, the wave of coat that kept me hopeful till it stopped just above his shoulder blades...Oh baby boy, a part of me remembers how you died and feels so remorseful because we, your humans, didn't notice the signs in time to stop your cancer from spreading. But I just want you to know that we would have, you know, we would have given all we could to stop your illness and your suffering.If only we had known.

A Week Condensed

2006-04-15T03:28:00.000+10:00

March 12 2005

Tired but happy. Tired but happy. This is the predominant emotion of the week. It has been a hectic week with Tuesday seeing a great lifting of spirits. It was such an enormous pleasure to rediscover my obicularis oris and other "smiling" muscles. (Tells you how great my anatomy of the face is.) I think a large factor for this change in mood was due to human company.

Had dinner with TW and CL on Tuesday night, after which we embarked on the Great Baking Adventure. This began with procurement of choice ingredients. First attempt being Partick Safeway but it had closed by the time we arrived. So we headed for the trusty 24 hr Tesco in Springburn and emerged 45 mins later with our loot. Started baking our banana and walnut cake at 11.30pm and stuck it in the oven 30 mins later with high hopes. An hour later, burnt banana walnut biscuit emerged from the oven. In order to ease our disappointment, we wolfed down the unburnt morsels of that one. Fed up with the lack of success and anxious to get it right as I had volunteered to make a cake for TW's birthday, I suggested making a second attempt. Round two began almost at 1am and ended at 2.30am. What came out of it was dubbed "elastic banana rock cake". Resigned that my cake was bewitched, I went to bed.Wednesday was bak kut teh day with TW and CL again. It was nice spicy soup for dinner and the pillow for dessert. =)

TW's birthday fell on Thursday. S had offered (and I had very gladly accepted; my waist size having personally benefited from her baking) to come over to help with the cake. She suggested making Tiramisu. So after meeting O, K and N at Tinderbox for coffee, I headed to Somerfield to buy this thing called Mascapone Cheese. I say "this thing" coz I had absolutely not the slightest inkling what that was before I bought it. On a sidenote, the meeting in Tinderbox was great. Both N and O used to be in my Secondary School German class and to meet up so coincidentally after all this time... we could only sit and marvel at how small our world actually is.

Anyhow, back to the Tiramisu. We were supposed to start baking it at 6 plus as the final product had to be delivered to K's flat by 8pm. Very unfortunately, S got held up and so she left me hopping from one foot to the other while trying to look for Tiramisu recipes online. If you are a visual person, think of a cat on hot bricks. (and you'd better be thinking of a sleek tabby cat and not a pudgy cheshire one). And at the point where I almost gave up looking and resigned myself to the fact that I might have to make the stupid ol' banana cake or materialise at the party with a Peckhams, S called, said she was on the way and gave me instructions on how to begin. And it would interest you to know that all this was happening in TW's presence, giving me no choice but to tell so many lies I almost ended up looking like Pinochio's cousin. But I'm sure it would please you to know that S at long last arrived, produced the Peckhams cake with me hovering about making futile but nonetheless sincere attempts to help, and saved me from the terrible, mortifying Peckhams fate.

Today (well more like Friday) was a day of sorts. I kid you not when I tell you that we were running a circus in the geriatric ward. Lost, Mrs X was shuffling up and down the corridors and upon seeing me, she requested I take her to her bed. Also lost (but valiantly trying to hide it) as to who this patient was and what room she'd come from, Hilda looked around for assistance but none was available. So Hilda led Mrs X up and down the corridors,with confused Mrs X all the while asking "Is this my bed? Or is this one mine?" and Hilda could do nothing but give her the most beguiling "I am clueless" smile. Talk about the blind leading the blind. =)

The second episode of the day was a rather educational one. Did you happen to know that fruit can copulate? Well, good for you if you did, coz I didn't till I met Mrs Y. "Mrs Y, I am now going to name you 3 objects, after which I would like you to repeat them after me-- Apple, Table, Penny. Can you name them please.""They are all f***ing fruit," she says."I see" was all I could muster as I contemplated this very foreign idea of fruits copulating.

I guess things-- good, bad and interesting all come in streaks. The third patient I spoke to seemed rather with-it till I asked him what the date today was."The date, the date, the date, what is the f***ing date." he hollered repeatedly as he thwacked the bed along with the rhythm of the sentence.I made the grave mistake of asking him what the month was."The month, the month, the month, what is the f***ing month!" The tune had not only changed its lyrics but had also increased in decibel.Startled by the sheer volume from a man so frail, I bid a hasty retreat from the ward. But even from the outside I could still hear his hollers bouncing off the walls. I had obviously opened a Pandora's box and now didn't know how to shut it. Worse still, even through the glass partition, I could feel the other patients glaring accusatorily at me for unleashing something I had no control over."Oh God, will he ever stop?" I thought desperately. As there was nothing I could do, I simply waited till I couldn't bear it any longer before turning and walking guiltily away from the echoes of his refrain.

Day at the Campsies

2006-04-15T03:23:00.000+10:00

1st March 2005

I hiked up the campsies on Sat and it was simply smashing. The weather was excellent and snow wise, the mountain didn't disappoint. PS and I were rolling about in the snow till our butts were soaking wet. And with the aid of the cold, they soon became frozen and numb. And since I had no feeling in it by that time, on our descent, I thoguht I might as well sit on the snow and slide down the hill! Whoopee! Butt Sliding! I think I just invented a new sport, eh? Which makes me wonder what type of butts will be advantageous. U see, big flat butts would offer a large surface area which prevents too much pressure at one point but (or shall I say butt?) would also result in too much friction. Small pointy ones would offer less resistance, but would be slowed down as the butt bone, devoid of any padding, digs into the snow. Oh well, rocket science, eh? Give it some thought.

Well anyhow, back to what we did. After we descended the hill, we sat in the tearoom and INDULGED. Oh manz... Eclairs and cakes and soup and bread and rhubarb and cherry slices. And after all that we were quite quite broke. Couldn't leave them a tip but we did leave them 2 damp patches on their seats. (oops)

We took the bus home and PS cooked dinner while I defrosted my behind in the shower before heading out to the cinema to watch Spanglish. Good show, it was. We thoroughly enjoyed it.

Yeah, so that was my splendidly hedonistic weekend. Come out of it undeniably fatter but wildly happy.=)

A Day in the Life of Hilda

2006-04-15T03:15:00.000+10:00

1st March 2005

“Oh sheez, I forgot to jot down notes from the patients’ medical files. Again.”
Dragging my feet, I emerged from the research office and began to ascend the stairs, leaving my bag containing my wallet, hp, keys and basically everything else that I carry around other than my skin in the research office. Some "kind" soul came in and err locked up the place, leaving me with just a tiny problem-- Hilda locked out of office and everything Hilda owns locked in. I didn't panic at first but calmly and rationally approached the first course of action.

Security desk downstairs must have the key.

"Excuse me, I just locked myself out of the 3rd floor research office, could you please unlock it for me?"

"Sorry, we don't have the key to that office, but we can ask domestics" Call was made.

"Err, really sorry, but domestics say they don't clean the place so they don't have the key."

Err right. I pat my chest to make sure my heart is still in there coz I can feel it beating in my feet.

" Well, I suppose we could always call the maintenance guys and they'll come and bust the lock", Mr Security helpfully offers.

Right, and get me dismembered by all other users of the office and hung from the door frame by my toenails as a future warning to all who might venture forth from the research office without keys .

Optimism is a learned response from the millions of times I've gotten myself in brilliant, supposedly once-in-a-lifetime fixes. It's okay, Hilda, it's okay. Breathe... You can always call home to see if your housemate is home, right? Then if she is you can just walk home... I almost begin to feel better until I realise I don't have a coat on. I have on a spandex blouse, a paper thin cardigan and my skin to protect me from the 0 degree wind outside.

Rrright, Hilda. No, don’t breathe. No, it is not okay. Yes, bloody PANIC!

I think there’s no other time I prayed as hard as when I ascended the stairs to make a bee line for the phone in the stroke ward. I dialled home and waited, my heart sinking lower with each consecutive ring. Finally, God heard my prayer.

“Hello?”

Oh my gosh… the relief that washed over me was indescribable. “Ahh, lang loi ah… wah lang loi. Aiyoh, Xie tian xie di you’re home man…otherwise I really wu jia ke gui already. So heng man…” relief took the form of uncontrollable babbling.

I walked out of the building sans coat, hat or wallet. Arriving at the bus stop, I checked the timetable and was beside myself to discover that the next bus was due in 5 minutes. And as I waited at the bus stop, every shivering cell in my body willed that bus to appear.It did-- 20 minutes later when my teeth had almost been ground down to nothing with all that chattering.

You know, they say, Murphy's Law, whenever tried and tested, invariably holds true. And boy, am I now a firm believer of that one.

First Ever Blog

2006-04-15T01:40:00.000+10:00

21st Feb 2005

A frown for the lingering scepticism I have for blogs. Online diaries make absolutely no sense whatsoever. A diary entry is supposed to be a private recollection and reflection of the day's events, yet bloggers around the world have found joy in letting millions of people be privy to this very personal time and process. Why? Why share our lives with people thousands of miles away, who haven't the faintest clue and would never have the faintest clue who we are? Is this generation so lonely and scared they have to go online to find a witness-- any witness at all, to their lives? Or is it the comfort of anonymity-- of knowing that your next door neighbour for 25 years could be reading your blog without realising it is written by you?

Why? Why then do I write? I could provide a solid, faultless answer or weasel my way through with lame excuses about the lateness of the hour, the paracetamol I've just taken, or simply blame it on the fact that it is early Monday morning and people do strange things on a Monday morning. The truth is, I don't know. I don't know why I've gone through the motions of setting up a blog, nor do I know why I'm sharing this blog with you.

All I know for the moment is what I feel-- and it sure feels great.