The Beginning

A start of a new era.
An end of another.

New challenges.
New problems.
New worries.
New responsibilities.
New smiles.

Everything that starts has an end.

I never thought I'd get here.
Even if this was what I was working towards in the end.

The future looks kinda dim.
May be a bit gloomy, may be a bit dull.
May be I am just scared in the end.


What I mean in the end:

Congratulations to Abang and Kak Muni.
On beginning your new journey as parents.

And congratulations to myself for making it through 2 years of housemanship training.
On beginning my new journey as a medical officer.

May we all succeed on our given paths.

Insya Allah.

I Was Bored

That seems to be a running concept on everything.

Hi, look what came out of the woodworks.

I had thought to make a new blog. But then again, no one reads my ramblings but me anyway. It's a good way to gauge how my mental development and emotional stability was at that point in time.

Right now, I'm mainly feeling bored. And maybe slightly left out? And maybe a little discontent.

My parents are doing the separate not separated thing.

It's tiring as hell. And also trying as hell.

But then again. It is what it is.

Somehow I don't think that I should be resentful. But I do feel a little bit of distance with my mother. It feels like she was the one who ditched us in the end.

We're the ones being punished. Because it's not enough to take it out on one person (or two, as the case maybe. Maybe three if you count the little guy).

There's a reason why I don't move to tumblr. Mostly because text posts are frowned upon. Everyone is more into the fast and easy exchange of information through graphics and gifs. Maybe we've gone full circle and went back to pictograms as ways of communication.

That's another interesting point to ponder.

I maybe having a sort of crisis. An existential crisis. A crisis of faith. A crisis of humanity.

I don't know.

Maybe I'm just bored in the end.

If there was ever a point to this entry. It was to test, how good am I at typing on my new keyboard. Since I bought a new laptop earlier this month. And I have not used it much for anything except listen to music and watch movies.

But then again, that was the reason I bought it in the first place.

I feel lonely.

I feel like I'm missing out sometimes. Like all I have is my job. And while I love it, I don't think it should be the thing that defines me.

Everyone's already moved to tumblr/twitter/what the other heck ever. And here I am, making a blog post. Mostly because I was bored.

And I wanted to use the keyboard to type. Other than to scroll over the timer of another movie.

it's is ironic that i cannot seem to be able to open this page in chrome

hah

eat my shorts

Because I was feeling lonely

• Zero - Who was your last text from? - An ad from my telco company
• One - What/who is your icon? - A picture of us playing with sparklers that one year we couldn't go home for Raya.
• Two- Your relationship status? - Single 
• Three - Have you ever lost a close friend? - No
• Four - What is your current mood? - Slightly melancholic
• Five - What’s your brother(s)/sister(s)names? - I have too many siblings to list them all down
• Six - Where do you wish you were right now? - In London, somehow
• Seven - Have a crazy side? - Sometimes she comes out and terrorizes people with her extreme manic ways, yes.
• Eight - Ever had a near death experience? - I was almost kidnapped once, so that counts.
• Nine- Something you do a lot? - Flip things off.
• Ten - Angry at anyone? - My current posting group.
• Eleven - What’s stopping you from going for the person you like ? - Him being married.
• Twelve - When was the last time you cried? - That one time, a colleague asked me a really stupid question that I honestly cried.
• Thirteen- What are you really good at ? - Fucking things up.
• Fourteen - What do you think about when you are falling asleep? - Unattainable things. Like falling in love with a rock star.
• Fifteen- What were you doing yesterday at 10pm? - Watching TV
• Sixteen - Do you prefer light or dark hair on the opposite sex ? - I live in Malaysia, everyone has black hair.
• Seventeen - Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? -  My dad.
• Eighteen - What is/are your favorite band(s)? . - My Chemical Romance, Panic.  At the Disco. Arashi.  Fall Out Boy
• Nineteen - What are you doing right now? - Filling this thing out because I was feeling lonely.
• Twenty - Who do you trust 100% right now? - Myself
• Twenty one - Where did you get the shirt you are wearing? - It's a hand -me-down of my mom's.
• Twenty two - Heavy metal music? - Not really.
• Twenty three- Who Was the last person you hugged.- Mum
• Twenty four- Is there anything you’re hiding from someone? - I have  a lot of secrets, okay?
• Twenty five - Who are you thinking of right now? - That one guy. 
• Twenty six - What should you be doing right now? - Getting ready to turn in. Because I have work tomorrow.
• Twenty seven - What are you listening to? -Young Volcanoes, by Fall Out Boy
• Twenty eight - You need new jeans. Quick where do you go? - The mall
• Twenty nine - Who was the last person who yelled at you? - My specialist. We get yelled at on a daily basis it gets old really fast. 
• Thirty - Do you act differently around the person you like? - I become more awkward than humanly possible.
• Thirty one - What is your eye colour? - Brown.
• Thirty two - Who was the last person to make you laugh? - My mum.
• Thirty three - Who was the last person to make you angry? - My "supposed" boss.
• Thirty four - Hello Kitty or dora? - Hello Kitty probably.
• Thirty five - Is your hair naturally curly or straight? - It's wavy.
• Thirty six - Hug anyone of opposite sex in past 24 hours? - Not really, no.
• Thirty seven - One thing you want right now? - 8 hours of sleep.
• Thirty eight - Will you fall in love in the next few months? - Probably not. The prospect doesn't really look good on the romance part. 
• Thirty nine - What does the 5th text in your inbox say? - Your purchase is successful. You can now enjoy your mobile data - I mainly communicate with telco companies apparently. 
• Forty - Are you worried about the future? - Yes
• Forty one - Are you happy with life right now? - A little more, a little less.
• Forty two - Are you currently jealous? - Of everyone 
• Forty three – Who's your best guy friend? - I don't really have any friends right now.
• Forty four -Do you forgive or forget? - A little bit of both but not enough of either.
• Forty five - What do you miss the most about elementary school? - Nothing. I hated elementary.
• Forty six - Favorite Disney Channel show ? - We don't get Disney on cable because my dad's cheap.
• Forty seven – Who’s 3 of your best girl friends? - Leika, Syamok, Syijo and Nisah.
• Forty Eight - What are you looking forward to? - Sleeping.
• Forty nine - Does anyone like you right now? - I hope so, but probably do one does. 
• Fifty- Lyrics to the song you’re listening to? -" These battle scars,  don't look like they're fading. Don't look like they're ever going away."

All the evidence point out to the opposite

A while back I bought a t-shirt that has "In Memory of When I Cared" written on it.

I've always been a fan of smart, sarcastic, sassy, or just mean sentences. I'm not particularly eloquent or anything and having something like that makes me feel cool.

As lame as it is anyway.

So. In memory of when I cared.

The whole family thing is not going all that well. It's all silences and accusations interspersed with family outings where we look like the perfect family of pretty successful people.
It's all very passive aggresive.

And also so unpredictable. Like you'd have a good morning  and a shouting fest 2 hours later.
I'm 26 this year and I should be mature enough that this shit should not affect me as much.
But then again, you are never too old to be a child.

That shit is depressing.

Anyway.

I can't take it anymore?

I can't take the accusations. The "subtle" insults. The fact that we are all a farce.

We've been in denial for 4 years. I think it should be enough.

The saying "elephant in the room" has never applied so much.

People used to be jealous of what we have.

And I can't take it anymore.

You said that I can make it better, but how can I make it better when I'm breaking too?

I used to be better because I was far away. So far away that it felt like being a spectator. But not now anyway. It hurts like hell.

My mum's always mad at me for being very profane. Somehow, while I was growing up, profanity always struck me as being strong. You're not afraid to curse. You're not afraid to say what's really on your mind. All the best female characters swore. Maybe I had the wrong role models. You wonder what I read as a child.

Every time this thing happens and we're stuck in the middle of all of it (I mean really, how do you expect us to choose?) I wished that I no longer cared.

I always say, "I do not give a shit" because I am a strong person and I am not afraid to say what I am thinking. " I do not give a shit. I do not care. This is not my problem."

And the fact that I need to repeat this to myself everyday is evidence of the complete and total opposite.

akunona 

I Find It All Relatively Humerus

That title is not misspelled.
To those who are able to figure it out, yes, I am in my orthopedics posting. To those who could not, well, I'm in my orthopedics posting.

It's by far the most relaxed posting that I have ever been in. Of course there are still the hours of ceaseless palpitations when we're preparing for the scary specialists, but after rounds we're all back to normal. And even the other medical officers and even specialists commiserate regarding the ReallyScarySpecialist (heretofore the RSS). Everyone's kinda scared of her. Or at least, really do not want to make her mad. Just for the sake of the human race, or really, just our hearing capabilities.

So what's new?

Nothing much on this end except work, work, and, you guessed it, work. Maybe I'm a little more settled? But that's neither here nor there.

It took 1 year for me to at least gain some confidence.

But, let me reassure all those housemen out there, during first posting, when you're thinking I cannot possibly memorize all my patients. One day, you'll be able to memorize all the patients in your wards.

It takes time.

I haven't really grown up any better. I still feel the same.

Though sometimes I'd like to think that I should make a change. Do my best. Not for myself, but for my patients.

InsyaAllah, boleh.

just listening to music

Life as a houseman pretty much sucks.

But that's expected. That's pretty much old news

I'm doing pediatrics now and I'm usually so stressed, I feel like crying every time I'm about to go to work.

I have a theory:

Baby's cries are geared at a frequency that is supposed to get your attention. I mean, babies can't communicate, right? So how else are they going to get attention? 

As a pediatric houseman working at the neonate ward, I am exposed, for long hours every day, to the incessant crying of various brats. And there's really nothing much that I can do about it. I mean, if I were to check on every crying baby, I wouldn't get any work done. And there isn't only one baby. There are literally dozens of babies in the SCN. And there is no single hour were there aren't at least two of them who are crying. 

So, what does this mean?

It means that I am exposed to long hours of crying that are especially geared to stimulate a response in my brain to find out and stop that source of crying. But because I can't do that, it continues to aggravate said stimulus until I am really, really, really fucking stressed.

And that is why, all peads housemen, working at neonate wards are unduly stressed. We're stressed. We just don't know why, really. I mean, work is stressful, yes. But it's really, really bad down here. 

And that's my theory.

I could probably do a study on this. If I was ever so diligent.

But I took that part of me to the back room and shot it in the head ages ago.

So yeah...

I hate peads. 

I really, really do.

Sometimes, I'm really jealous of the people who have the guts to get out of medicine. Just pack up and leave the entire industry.

I think I might want to. But then again, I really love what I'm doing. And I'm not even kidding. I would miss this. Somehow.

Even if I'm not doing that great of a job at it.

I think I'm going to be extended here. 

Do I care? A little bit. I don't want to have to do this longer than I should. But maybe, if I were to be extended. It would be my fault. And I can't really blame anyone for it.

It's been one month and I still haven't gotten the hang of all this shit. 

So that's why, every time I can get away with it, I usually have one earphone jammed into one ear. 

Because I still need the other one to hear orders. 

breaking a little bit

akunona

of sleeping in chairs

So, long time no update. Which is really to be expected. For the most part I spend hours a day typing into a computer. Mostly clerking notes. So when I get home, I ain't doing no more typing.
Though maybe not.

Currently already finished my surgical posting and well into my second posting, which is O&G. It's usually pretty nice. Minus the screaming ladies and babies. Which pretty much constitutes the whole job. But you get my drift.
I'm on  holiday right now. I was on the night shift on Wednesday, so I have half of Thursday and Friday off. Then I have my allotted weekend off. So that gives me a shit load of off days. Of which I am enjoying by accompanying my mum all the way to Perlis so that we can visit my brother/her son. It's all pretty fine and dandy but a bus trip to Perlis takes around 10 hours.

Which brings me to my title: of sleeping in chairs.

Because that was the second night in a row that I did not get to sleep in a real bed.

So. As I have mentioned earlier, I had the night shift on Wednesday. What this usually constitutes is I go to work at 9 pm, and finish work at 12 noon the next day. What ever people say about you being at work and are not supposed to be sleeping, ignore those bastards because they probably have never worked a night before in their lives. While working nights, if there is nothing going on, all your patient's are sleeping and no one's in any need of anything right now, get some rest. Take a nap. Even if it's only for 10 minutes, grab some shut eye. Because whatever people say, it's night. Your body has basically been programmed to shut down when it's dark outside.

But here lies the conundrum; where to sleep?

The hospital of course does have rooms where on call officers are allowed to sleep. There's even a complex which no one uses because it's too out of the way. There are rooms in each ward, but those are usually conquered by medical officers with a higher pay grade than you. And besides, those rooms are also usually out of the way.

In these cases, I for one, always opt to sleep in chairs. Whether it be in the chair in the office next to the nurses' counter, or at the nurses' counter itself.

Because I have a need to be on hand if anything happens.

And so, I spend a lot of time sleeping in chairs.

I've slept in office chairs, plastic chairs, plastic-all-in-one-row waiting room chairs and one time, a bench in front of the nurses's counter where I lay down to sleep, much to the hilarity of the working staff nurses that night.

And I believe that all this experience has made me a connoisseur of sleeping in chairs. So here are some tips I'd like to share with you.

1. Always stretch out your legs.
If you can, always grab at least two chairs. Use the less comfortable one to put your feet on. Lean back as far as you can go without your ass hanging in air, and sleep.
Why? Because I have piss poor circulation and when I sleep with my legs hanging/mildly compressed at main vein points, my legs fall asleep too fast and when I wake up, I can't feel them, or I immediately get cramps.
If you can get three, line them up in a row and lie down and sleep.

2. If you can find a surface for your head, use it.
Your neck will love you for it. Because there's only so much a hand under your chin can do.

3. Find a comfortable position.
Or whatever's relatively comfortable. Because face it, you're sleeping on chair, not a spring mattress.
I slept princess-style on an office chair once. I woke up and couldn't walk for 5 minutes because my legs fell asleep and cramps. I also curled up in an office chair and woke up to a colleague yelling because he thought there wasn't anyone on the chair. I screamed too.

4. And the best advice for last
- if you can find a comfortable flat surface, sleep there. Because, a hard floor is a by far more comfortable than a chair will ever be. Unless it's one of those reclining, sleeping chairs, because those are the bomb.

On another note, I had to write this down somewhere because I sort of have to.

On the bus to Perlis, while sleeping in a chair for my second night in a row (though by far more comfortable), I had a dream. I dreamed that this one guy, that I loved so long ago, said he loved me. And it felt so beautiful, that I woke up and smiled. Even if it was just a dream.

I know it's dumb, but I can't help it.

I hope he's doing great. And that, where ever he is, he's loved.

ain'tsayingthatI'mpiningoranything,okay?

akunona

Alive, but Barely

I've been thinking of writing an entry for ages really. But seeing as that sleep right now is priority number one, cuts pretty much into any internet time that I may have previously had.

So what's new?

I am currently working as a house officer aka Houseman aka kuli aka oi budak bodoh, at Hospital Temerloh. Yes, I am currently working at the same place as my dad. There are a lot of pros and cons in working at the same hospital, but I'm not going there today. That maybe some topic for a future post after I've gone through more of this.

How is it?

Pretty hectic. Thank god for flexi hours. If not, then hey, I'd be at work right now, hips aching, knees knocking and feet contemplating suicide.

Do I like it?

It's a constant push and pull between loving it to death and driving me to death. I love working. When I get to work, I work. I work and I work and I work. I maybe still incompetent and a damned slow worker that my other colleagues are constantly scoffing at me for being so goddamned slow you damn bitch (course they never say it to my face, but years of social interaction has at least taught me to be paranoid). But I work. At least, I try my best at it. I do my best, and if I know that I'm not able to do it, then I know when to ask for help.

But at the same time, I dread going to work every day. The feeling multiplies ten fold after I have received an off day. Like after being post call and having a day off where I sleep and watch tv and surf the net and when I know that tomorrow I have work again, I feel, depressed. I don't want to go. (But I do anyway) . Like right now. I'm having my allocated weekend off for the month. Which means I have had two days of rest. I should be calm, composed, rested, prepared to face a new day of work tomorrow. But still, deep in the reserves of my heart, I dread tomorrow. A feeling of trepidation. I don't want to go. But what the hell can I do about it? I still have to. My sense of responsibility, my integrity, and the simple fact that I would feel bad if I didn't go to work no matter how much I don't want to. It's disconcerting.

So, a day's contemplation. I like it, I hate it. I'm still going back because I'd hate myself if I didn't.

I don't mean to scare anybody off. Everybody's entitled to make their own opinions about it. You need to actually be here before you can say anything. So, to any future housemen reading this. This is just my experience. Maybe you'll be a gung ho, all for it, good worker. You'll see when you get there.

Like I am right now.

I was scared that I won't be able to handle getting yelled at.

But after being yelled at almost every day for the last three weeks or so, I'm pretty fine with it. Yes, sometimes I get depressed. But I'm just glad that I can let it go.

So in the end?

It's complicated. The road is still long. I'm still a first poster barely into my first month of being a houseman. I have so many things to learn. So many things to try. So many things. Period. I'll keep trying my best. I guess. I'll keep trying. Even if I have to pry my ass off my bed every morning and pep talk myself in the mirror every damned day just so I will go to work and do my lot. I will. I'll try. Not for anyone else but for me. Because I hope I can do this. I want to do this.

Insya Allah. God willing. Help me to be a good doctor, help me to heal. If it's not for me to heal, then for me to alleviate the pain. To help my patients. To be a good doctor. For my religion, for my race, for my country. For my patients.

Insya Allah.

Bismillah, semangat nona!!!

akunona

I feel very accomplished now. Pretty good for a non-native speaker. At least according to them. But still, when I saw some of the words I thought "My god, how are these actual words?" *horrorface*

You can try the test out here. 

It's pretty fun. 

In other news, I have my SPA interview booked for the 27th of February and I have yet to study for beans. Yay me! Also, yay holiday mindset.

In all honesty, I was pretty scared to take the test

akunona

Tough love, maybe

So, I was thinking, (pretty revolutionary, judging by the past few weeks I've been wasting doing nothing) about love, yeah? In the previous post and all that? So, in conjunction with my ability to over think and go off in tangents all at the same time, I was thinking about sick kids. Really, all the sick kids that I have had the chance to meet during clinicals. And also all the times, I myself have been sick during my studies. And how all my friends have been sick. And really, just about sickness in general.

What I was thinking was that, really, my mom did a pretty good job raising me.

You see, while we were living in Indonesia, back when there were only four of us in one house, my original housemates and I, every time any of us would fall sick, the others would go out of their way in taking care of them. Like say, Qilah was sick. Wan and Fiqi would make her bubur, bring her cool towels and maybe rub her head with this vile concoction made from Asam Jawa that would supposedly help with the headache and keep the fever down. Except for me. All I would do was maybe stick my head in the room and ask her how she's doing, I have some more paracetamol (if I had any) and if she wanted it, I was upstairs.

Some people would call me a callous and heartless bitch, but really, that's how I show I cared. If I didn't I probably wouldn't even bother to knock.

Now, what I mean to say is, I have never understood the need for over pampering while sick. I don't get why you need to make special food, have cool towels, and make vial concoctions from Asam Jawa. Thankfully, they never did any of that to me. And I'm generally fine with that. Sometimes they wouldn't even know that I was sick, and suddenly one day, I'd come down to the living room with no voice. And that's fine.

I once asked Aqilah about it. Was she bothered by the fact that I had never done any of those things that the others would do for her. Because I have never understood the need for all of it. And she said that she understood. My home life and theirs are vastly different. Mostly she just figured because my dad was a doctor, we never really had to care if we were sick or anything, but she wasn't exactly far of the mark.

As I remember anyway, when I was a kid, whenever I was sick with fever, my mum would tell me to get the green syrup from the fridge and drink it (somehow, paracatemol came in green syrup, don't ask me why). Sometimes, if we were really clogged up and couldn't breath, she'd make this special thing with Vicks and hot water, make us put our faces over it, and cover our heads with a towel so that we would breath in the fumes. She never really pampered us over much.

I don't know. That's just how I remember it. I always just went on with it whatever I was supposed to do, and eat my medicine so I'd get better.

You see all the television mums sitting at their kid's bedsides and taking temperatures every half hour and wiping down sweat or whatever, it is they do. And in my family, it was always, go take that medicine, and go to sleep.

It wasn't that she didn't care, no. It's just that she didn't pamper. If we were sick, sometimes we'd still go to school. Just because.

So when I listened to all my friend's stories on how, when they were sick, they would cry and cry and want to eat porridge or soup or have their mum lie down with them or something, I couldn't really understand why. And when that carried on into the now, when they were sick and would have all their housemates be worried, and go out of their ways to bring her stuff, I still don't get it. At all.

As you may have figured out, I never understood why some people would not go to work over a stomachache. Because I still would have. And I have. Of course if I was sick, I'd take other precautions like wear face masks all the time. If I had a headache, or a stomachache, or really anything, I'd still pretty much go to work. One time, I had a tummy virus and ran a fever that was 39oC and still went to work and stayed my on call shift. The rational at that time was, having to take over a friend's shift if they had covered mine would have been so bothersome.

So, yeah. I'm kinda glad I am the way I am. Though the bad side of it is that I tend to expect the same from other people. I'm pretty glad my mum raised me to be this person who I am now.

Once, when I was a kid and had a fever, I was sleeping in my room and my brothers had barged in and were making a lot of noise and I had woken up, but I hadn't opened my eyes yet and was generally cursing them to hell as sister's are wont to do. Then, my mum came in and made them all go out because I was sick. She then put her hand to my brow, to feel for a temperature and followed my brothers out. And I went back to sleep. When I woke up, she made me go get the medicine from the fridge for myself.

And that's how sick kids get treated in my home.

Thanks mum.

akunona

Of life, love, marriage and epic run on sentences which make less sense than I intended them to

So today, I am sitting here, on the floor of the living room in my childhood home, with my laptop on my knees, listening to Beethoven’s Allegreto Symphony no.7 in A major, OP.92 which I only know of because I searched the King’s Speech OST (it’s the music playing when his Majesty gives that speech through the radio at the end of the movie, wait, that might be spoiler-ish? Ah well.) Contemplating love.

Didn’t see that curveball coming didja?

Not really.

So last year, I made a post on Valentine’s day  (which you can read here, if you so ever wish) and I think that I came across as being rather cynical. I can’t help it, I am cynical. My default setting is sarcasm. Which sometimes people don’t get and they think I’m just being mean, though maybe they’re not that far of the mark. But would it really surprise you, if I said, really, truthfully, I do have a romantic side.

Gasp and call the Night Watch. Or something (incidentally, I do have all the Night Watch books, I just have never read them. Maybe One Day).

It’s not really news if I said I have not, ever, been in a relationship. I do moan and groan and complain about it a lot and in several past posts. It’s nothing new. But what if I said, that forever, I have wished for a love story so sweet, it will give me eternal cavities.

In all clichéd stories of life and love, my parents have known each other since form 1 in secondary school. And I have wanted something as awesome as that. Though, as you can probably deduce, that boat has sailed, been scuttled, and sunk into the depths of the Forever Alone ocean of unrequited love tears. But dramatics and run on sentences aside, yes, I do want to be loved. I do want an epic love story.

Surprise. I am, apparently, a little girl at heart.

But then, I think, what is love? Why do people equate it with a heart, which, really doesn’t even really look like a heart? Where do feelings come from? Why do people always say, follow your heart, when last I knew the heart, which is made out of special heart muscles, with special nerves, and special structures like fibers, chords, and flaps, that all, somehow, work together in synchronicity to make sure that we get the required amount of blood flowing through our vascular system so that we don’t get tired while at rest (stage 4 cardiac failure according to NYHA), does not, in any way, have any cognitive abilities. Making it unable to make an informed decision. Unable, to even make a decision. And yet.

I have a thing for run on sentences. It’s the common bane of all my English teachers. They obviously have not succeeded in culling my penchant for writing long, wordy nonsense. I have only deteriorated after my last English teacher in Matriculation.

But back to love. So? What is love. The scientist would say a mish-mash of various hormones induced by specific conditions to make your pupils dilate, your heart palpitate and a general feeling of warmness, maybe. Also, what happens when you get into a fight or flight situation, except different hormones. I dunno. I’m digressing.

I don’t know why, but somehow, I have worked into cultivating a very hard exterior in which, I am perceived as being, not romantic. I don’t read romance novels, I think watching romantic movies is boring, and while my friends are all, this is so sweet, that man is so romantic, I tell them that I have barfed a little in my mouth while observing their exploits.

Once a bunch of friends and I went book shopping. And among the books that ended up being purchased by my friends was a book, written in a vaguely religious manner, by a religiously educated person, on love. And marriage. And what we should do in this beautiful, wonderful, sparkly institution known as marriage. And I do not understand why she bought this particular book.  So, in the ever ongoing quest to obtain more knowledge, I asked her, why.

She said that when you come to a certain age, you’ll start thinking about these things. About growing up. I replied, but I’m the same age as you. We’re even born in the same month. Maybe you’re just a late bloomer, she said. Have you got a boyfriend Nona? She asked me. I said, no, unfortunately not. A look of comprehension dawned on her face and she said, that’s why. You don’t have a boyfriend Nona, so you don’t know how it feels. You haven’t felt the feeling of being in love and being loved. You wouldn’t understand. I think the conversation then went into tangents of how after I have fallen in love, I would probably change. I don’t know what I’ll be, but apparently, one of them would be a person who voluntarily reads self-help/motivation books on love and marriage and the lovely, beautiful and sparkly institution that is marriage.

And I abhor that answer so much so, because it makes me less human than her. And it is just really me, but it also implies that after having fallen in love, I may turn into a sycophantic human being who breaths and lives love and sentiment. Love pushes through my veins, kinda shindig.  And I hate that.

I may have never had a relationship but that does not mean that I have never been in love. And yet, I still don’t see the draw of reading the self-help, sappy long winded books of love, happiness and marriage genre.

The easy and oft used argument is of course, to each his own. And the more complex argument might include debates on child development, Sigmund Freud vs Erik Ericsson’s modules, nature vs nurture and maybe a long winded and completely illogical argument on why raspberry ripple will always top vanilla on the most awesome flavor for ice-cream in existence. But whichever way you say it, I think that in the end, love is so much more, marriage is so much more, and reading it from a cookie cutter, sugar glazed book is just so dumb.

It’s not like I don’t want to fall in love. Not that I don’t want to get married. Not that I don’t want to have a family of my own. It’s just that I think reading from those books, gives you very high ideals on how everything should be perfect. When in reality, it’s really not that clear cut. Sure you have ideals and motivations and some of them planted in you when you read so and so book or something but in the end, life is never what the books say. I mean, even all the things that have been written in medical texts have been researched and really the most general and common presentation of some such situation or disease, will almost never present the same. And that’s like, damn.

So, in essence, I think that reading those books is dumb and I’m just gonna wing it.

In the end, what made me contemplate love and all the convoluted reasons behind it, and marriage, and so many things that I cannot for the life of me articulate into a comprehensible sentence, is that today, is my parent’s wedding anniversary. And we know how that went off to.

I told my mother this morning, Happy-however-happy-you-want-it-to-be Anniversary. She asked me how to be happy. I told her to have a cookie.

Have fun contemplating life, love and the (apparently, to some books and people) lovely, beautiful and sparkly institution that is marriage.

akunona

Of conviction (or the lack there of)

I just realized that I have been operating under the idea that today was Wednesday. Apparently not. Ah the wonders of holiday in which I do not have to even pay enough attention to remember what the hell day it is. Except for maybe remembering Monday. Because every Monday at 10 pm National Geographic airs Inside War. And yeah. Reasons enough. Even if I have to fight my dad because he wants to watch NCIS on Fox. Oh yeah. Life now has degenerated to channel priorities.

Not that I regret any of it, of course. After years of blood, sweat and tears (and more to come) I feel like I deserve a couple month's worth of gluttony and sloth. Incidentally, one month anniversary of coming home.

Hmm, any news? Not really.

I changed my background as you can obviously see. Not really the best, but it's simple enough to not cause a murder to any innocent irises and the like.

Ah well. Till another day. Maybe. 

there is no reason to this post

akunona

I have a good reason to believe that the lack of mental stimulation has caused me to suffer a mild case of aphasia. I have no words. Quite literally. Oh dear ;)

Because I don't know either

there are some issues with resizing and my laptop keeps freezing at inopportune moments. So yeah, I gave up and have at it with the posting. Though the obsessive/possessive part of me cries in pain. 

Because I don't know either.

On another note, lungs yeah. They're kinda cool. Take care of them. And smoking leaves a bad aftertaste. 

slides away~

akunona

AKUNONA: THE GREAT 2012 BOOK CONSUMPTION REVIEW part 2

Have I ever told you that I really, really, really hate bureaucracy? Well, consider yourselves told.
It's all crap really. I hate it. It's needlessly complicated.

In other news, I am getting fatter. Which some people would say a good thing, but I have body image issues as well, so goddamnit.

And on with our scheduled program:

AKUNONA: THE GREAT 2012 BOOK CONSUMPTION REVIEW part 2

AKUNONA: THE GREAT 2012 BOOK CONSUMPTION REVIEW part 1

The End of The Beginning

Not that, that really means anything. A quote from Winston Churchill. Happy New Year, I guess. It is 2013. My brothers have gone off to school. And I am at home, lounging about doing nothing really. There is a reason, and a dilemma behind that, but maybe, at a later date, I will get back to that. I might do a bullet points post on reflections and the like. But I don't really promise anything.

I wanted to watch Arashi on Kouhaku this year. What with being home and all, it seemed like the perfect condition. But my parents won't let me get the channels on our cable. So I watched Arafes. Which, really? Maybe was even better than Kouhaku by thousands.

So, anyway. In the event of this New Year and everything, I thought I'd write an informational post. Well, slightly more informational than the usual fare anyway. I thought I'd write some thoughts/reviews on books that I have read during 2012. At least, the ones I remember reading. And so, without further ado:

AKUNONA: 2012 BOOK CONSUMPTION REVIEW part 1

Home

In around 12 hours I think. Allowing for travel time, delay and pesky time zones. I'll be home. In Buntut Pulau. After almost two years of not being home.

I asked my sister if I even had any clothes left at home. She said I didn't. Which, while understandable (I wasn't there, was I? Why would I need it?) still sort of stings. But I'm only going to be home until Sunday, when I'll fly back here for graduation. It's really due to a series of misunderstanding and bad luck on my side to the rules and regulations of foreign students and immigration laws. So yeah. And good luck that there was a promotion going on, so I got my tickets fairly cheap.

The last time I was home was in December 2010 for Christmas and New Year's. Even if I spent the first of January traveling back here. At that time, I was convinced that it would be the last time I would be going home on holiday until I've done med school. And I was right.

I am very, very excited. As you can tell by my written words of unbridled joy.

Sorry, I've been watching too much British panel game shows. They are amazing. British humor.

Last night, I had a chat with my brother and he asked me my opinion on the color schemes for his wedding. He said the theme was going to be Tiffany Blue, and asked me what would our family wear to match it?
The conversation then goes like this :

     Abang      : The wedding theme is Tiffany Blue

     Me           : Tiffany Blue is what? Tiffany having cyanosis? 

I then proceeded to refer to it as Tiffany's cyanotic coloring.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am single. Though, after I googled it, Tiffany Blue is a rather pretty color.

Packing my bags

akunona

This Great and Terrible Undertaking

So recently, due to reasons that I have yet to comprehend, I find myself very excited and very interested in History. Particularly World War II history. Now don't expect me to dive into an intellectual discussion of World War II and so on and so forth. I have never been taught to a decently high level on WWII. The history modules of secondary school education in my country being woefully boring and focusing more on the Malaysian aspect of it, I never really learnt all that much beyond the point of, yes we were an occupied country, the Japanese occupation was bad, the Malayan Emergency was very bad. And that generally was it. We have a really redundant education system where the focus of said education is exam taking with all the guts and glory to those students who score impressive amounts of A's in their national exams and no focus at all on what to do next. But that's another story. This current, meandering, slightly irreverent (and maybe irrelevant) essay is on what I found interesting about World War II. The story, not the war itself. Because if history has ever taught us anything, and in the case of WWII specifically, it is that war, is BAD.

of Sentimentality

Also known as a disturbed state of mind. 

Today's your birthday. I don't know why my mind persists in remembering this, but it does. Today is your birthday. Well, the 9th is. If this turns up posted on the 10th.

So happy birthday to you. May you have an awesome year and years and years ahead. I have no idea what you're doing now. Last I heard you're working. As what? I have not the slightest idea.

I have no idea why I still remember you. With all the stuff you've said about me. I'm sure it's a pretty little ego stroke. But I'm sorry that I was never pretty. Even though I have always been little. I'm sure you're happy where ever you are. I'm doing good. Oh, don't worry. I don't really love you anymore. It's more like a soft spot. A little bit of sentimentality (a disturbed state of mind). You will always be kind of, sort of important. 

Hey, you can even say, you made me who I am today. Though that's mostly my fault, innit? 

God bless, and may you forever be happy. :)

needed to get it out of my system

akunona

Of contemplations

The other day, I had a conversation with a housemate before she went home to Malaysia. She was telling me about her ailing grandma and how they had to look after her and how her mind is going. What really struck me was a small part of the conversation in which my friend says, when her grand ma came back from the local kopitiam and saying that she had met so and so and they had a really nice chat where so and so had actually passed away years ago. And her mother (my friend's mother) on hearing this, said, "Astaghfirullah mak, mengucap. Dia kan dah meninggal lama dah."

And that bit was what gets me. How immediate response is to something that may or may not be mystical. Grandma thought that she saw the ghost of her friend at the kopitiam and they had a chat. Not, grandma's mind is degenerating due to Alzheimer. There's little way that I can say this that will not sound pretentious and rude in the religious sort of way? I don't know. I wish I had a better way with words.

But the point is, I don't really like that kind of mentality. Grandma quite clearly has Alzheimer, but the norm and the social background will almost always fall in the mystical category. They should get grandma treatment? But I can't really say anything.

Growing old is scary.

contemplating thoughts

akunona

"You can't expect everyone to be like you"

Simultaneously the highest form of praise and insult that a friend has said to me these past one and a half years of co-assitantship. This friend has also said that I am a different person at work and at home. Which is also, pretty damn observant of her but not the point of what I'm going to be writing today.

So, yeah. One and a half year of being a co-ass. How does that feel? One of the best sayings is;

"Koas itu manis untuk dikenang, pahit untuk diulang"

Sums it all in one sentence. Means basically that reminiscing is good, repeating is bad.