FML
Don't get me wrong; I was once a moderate fan, back when I was still young
Maybe I just don't like the betrayals and stuff. And the great distinction between the light and dark side, being an ardent fan of Gray and Grey Morality (trope!).
Yeah. I really should get back to studying. I'm way behind anyway.
Bah.
Easier, Perhaps?
Maybe it's easier to lead life thinking that people just don't care for you as much as you hoped/expected them to.
It reduces your reliance on them, and it's better than getting your hopes all crushed into tiny pieces.
And forget about changing other people. You know that even changing yourself doesn't come easy, so what makes you think that other people will change themselves? Especially when it's human nature to blame everything else but themselves - even when it's clearly that they're the ones in the wrong.
Also...other people have their own lives to lead. As if they'll bother with yours so much...
At the end of the day, it's just you against the world. You're the only one you can always count on to be there with you...whether or not you will act accordingly is still, after all, up to you.
What, like, AGAIN!?
But anyhow. Can I panic now? Or should I just forget about my habits and opt for something a bit different - this thing people call "optimism"?
...Or maybe I'll just still to my indifference. I'm getting good at that when the time is right, after all. Pfft.
And, about the still unresolved matters of the heart - I say "Sod it!". Because I sure as hell deserve better - much better than you miserable lot! - and if it takes me a bit later to get what I truly deserve, so be it. You guys don't deserve the awesomeness that is me anyway. We're worlds apart, ha!
So why should I settle for miserable morsels when I probably have a full course, luxurious gourmet waiting for me up ahead?
Darn right!
In Which I Stand My Ground
I've enough problems of my own, so if said person wants to burden herself with this rubbish, then so be it. I'm not going to let myself suffer just because I said the truth.
So yeah. Bring it on.
2. December already, OMG!
3. Thank God they made it safely back home. Yeah.
Zetsubou shita!
- I don't like persistent people who just don't seem to care about other people. I just don't.
- I just realised that I kind of hate the juniors. Uncouth people. Hmph.
- Perhaps, deep down, everyone is selfish in his or her own way. Could I hold on to this conviction as canon?
- It's tiring, feeling like a martyr day in and day out. Why do I keep doing it, then? Does it stem from this irritating "holier-than-thou" attitude? Or is it just ego?
- Indeed, within every hardship there is ease. It just depends if you can actually find and pave your way through it.There is no time. While I'm busy drowning in my angst, those people have already moved on. I can hardly give them that advantage, can I? It just ain't right, especially after how they crushed my feelings, my hopes.Maybe a friend was right when she remarked that I'm a lone ranger. But maybe - just maybe - I can turn the tables against them and be the last one standing instead.
...Oh well. It's good to have aims, isn't it?
On...Stuff.
2. Maybe I shouldn't fret too much about - oh, almost everything! Like, timing, not pissing people off, etc...because God Knows best, yeah?
3. Comments on anything - be it on Youtube, FB or on the message boards - can be delightfully hilarious. Others are utter rubbish.
Take note, however, that 80% of the comments posted on political blogs are purely rubbish, made up of nothing more but emotional and unintellectual drivel. Yup.
4. I really should spend my time more wisely instead of feeling sorry for myself up to 90% of the time.
5. Nowadays I'm taking 2 cups of Nescafe in a day. I do hope that's all right because...well, even if I'm abusing caffeine, I'd like for it not to mess with my health.
6. Slow Internet connection is evil. It sucks up your time and causes you frustration. I've better things to do than just wait in front of the screen and wait for things to finish loading.
Degradation
It's not a pretty revelation, and it's not desirable because it's dampening my drive to study, to function.
The cause? Multifactorial. But it all boils to one simple conclusion: I hate my university so much.
Shall I count the ways?
- The administration people are imbeciles and unfair. Some are cruel, even!
- The facilities left so much to be desired.
- The cleanliness at the hostel is abysmal.
- The library's system is unreliable.
- The parking problem is not going to be solved any time soon.
- The cafe's hygiene is questionable, while the food quality is so-so.
- The youngest juniors on my floor have no concept of cleanliness and public property.
- The fact that I'm still studying when others have graduated and are already working!
- Those darn animals - the cats, monkeys and ants. Argh.
1. The drivers are morons.
2. The roads are inviting trouble.
3. There is very few proper places to de-stress
4. Absent proper shops: mph, other coffee shops, jusco, etc
5. The things to shop here are no fun at all
6. The people are unremarkable, to say the least.
7. The weather is crazy. It's either too hot or too cold.
Dear God. Please don't let me spend more time in this wretched place more than necessary. Which means graduating as soon as possible and then hightailing out of here, never to return.
Overshadowed
But the current me is dying to say it out loud, because she cannot - possibly, she never could - keep her emotions bottled up nicely. Somehow she feels like an open book, where the slightest clue of her innermost feelings gets the spotlight and people around her don't need to be half as smart as Sherlock Holmes to deduce what goes on in her head and her heart.
It annoys her that people seem to know her more than she knows herself.
...
For God's sake, I'll stop taking in third person pronoun right now.
The Prophet once said that the religion is beautiful, and yet its beauty is hidden underneath the ugliness of the followers.
I'm inclined to relate the situation to medicine.
I may not know much, only being in the clinical side slightly over two years and a quarter, and yet somehow a small(?) part of me - perhaps the paranoid side, but really, who the heck knows!? - detests the human element in the profession.
It makes me feel guilty when I recall a conversation I had with a surgeon:
"Why did you choose medicine?"
"I'd like to work on people."
Note the phrase "work on people", which carries a significantly different meaning from "work with people". I like having things in my own pace, and having more people involved is like having more uncontrolled variables in the equation - impossible if not tedious to solve, and a great source of stress. But yeah, medicine is a team game; It's rarely a one-man-show. One cannot expect to know everything.
They say medicine is both science and art. Science when we have objective results and explanations behind the things that we do, and art when it comes to dealing with people - forming rapport, working as a team, and such.
Dear God.
Lately I found myself entertaining the notion of "what would have happened if I had not ended up here?".
Additionally, just last week a friend asked me what I'd like to do aside from medicine. To which I answered, "I'd like to open a library, write a book, or maybe travel."
Why does it seem like I hate being in this course?
It's not the course per se - it's more like the clinical aspect. I dislike the unpredictability of things. Study as much as you like, but there will always be something - usually the nitty-gritty things that you couldn't, for the life of you, remember - that will always be overlooked and will be the one that will be attacked on, being your weak point. It's never enough. You're always stupid. No matter how much you read the stuff, your brain refuses to store it for more than 1 day.
Which could be my fault. I mean, it's difficult juggling things that you cannot predict. One thing comes after another, and before you knew it, your brain rejects it all outright.
I hate dealing with people. I don't know if it's just my paranoia or apprehension, but it feels like everyone is looking for your faults. Everything is bloody wrong. Your saying anything will be deemed as useless. Your mere presence is a nuisance. Your clerking patients will shoot his or her blood pressure up into outer space.
I exaggerate, perhaps. Blame it on my theatrical tendencies, if you will.
The problem with art is that it's subjective. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What I like about one thing might be the one that another finds distasteful. As such, the standard is a bit too ambiguous, too vague to follow much less to adhere to.
And the world stresses more on solid evidence.
Art is subjective, so what floats my boat might sink yours in a matter of seconds.
Presenting a case is said to be an art.
We have headings on what to ask during history taking. Now what matters is the arrangement of it all.
Some want it chronologically. Some want it in terms of priority. Another want just the elaboration of complaints while shoving the rest of your differentials into the systemic review.
Argh.
It's getting ridiculous.
Changing one's tune to suit others is acceptable. It's how to deal with friends of different temperaments. You discuss philosophical stuff with those who'd be willing to lend an ear and offer more insightful viewpoints and interesting arguments. You shop with people whom you think have more or less the same taste as yours (because the last thing you'd like to have is having your companion condemn something that you find irresistible). You don't joke with people who have no sense of humour. You don't gossip with those who have no interest in how other people lead their lives. And you definitely will not be sharing private stories with people you know only superficially.
But changing your presentation just to suit the listener - what's up with that!?
This is when we're dealing with objective stuff. One specialist wants you to "sell your diagnosis", another wants you "not to be biased".
What on Earth am I supposed to do?
I feel like shrinking myself in one faraway corner and sob.
Or, singing a line of Adam Lambert's popular song: What do you want from me?
I can't take this anymore.
Why on earth must people make things more difficult than they should be?
Another thing that irks me is how what we're doing right now - taking an oh-so-detailed history - is not exactly practised in real life situations at the hospital.
You ask a lot of personal stuff; in social history, how many cigarettes the patient's father smokes per day? Does the house come equipped with water and electrical facilities? Duration of previous admissions (every. single. one...in the worst case scenario), the follow ups and whatnots.
Were all these and more asked when the patients were clerked? Only God Knows.
Third issue: Housemen have no say over things. There are protocols to adhere to and superiors to obey. This hierarchy hammers into me a sense of timidness.
I'm a nobody, so excuse me while I cower before your greatness and say yes to whatever you say because I'm always, always wrong.
And do as you like to me. I'm your target practice. Yell at me because my eardrums can take whatever your voice box dishes out in whatever decibel.
And because you think that I'm always wrong, it naturally follows that I'm always stupid.
Cough.
Words will never hurt me. They'll only make me compelled to lock myself up in some secluded corner in the world and despair at the evil that exists within people, and my own indomitable weakness. Pfft, yeah right...
Here I'm guilty of only highlighting the ugly things. With all due respect, there are those that I respect...but me being me, my pessimistic side tends to see everything as half-empty.
Pardon me if I find that being pessimistic is a slight extreme of "having no high expectations from self and other people", which is only too easy to adopt.
Atarashii

This place is basically...basic. Sure, the room is rather comfortable once you're used to it (imagine the trouble we had to go through to clean the place up. My condolences to those who were stuck with formerly boys' rooms), allowing us some privacy and - in a way- the compartment system is kinda nice. The fact that my lamp is non-functional and the fan is so, so slow (let it be said here that I have, in fact, filed a report to ask for the first to be repaired) is rather sad, but hey, better than nothing.
But we need something else too, Like an ATM!
It's very impractical to go out every week just to withdraw money. Transport is rather difficult - since we're isolated from town. Taking a bus everyday? Troublesome as well. There has got to be a better way than to shove ourselves into that bus like a can of sardines. If they could provide us with the money that we need, we'll be very happy campers.
The number of cafes here can be counted with only one hand - all you have to do is raise two fingers. And for the one nearest to our hostel - the food is unpalatable. The service was rather lousy - ordered my food at eight and only managed to get it at eight forty (and the fact that they got my order wrong the first time was...rather vexing. My handwriting is readable!) shows how much "dedication" some people have in doing what they're supposed to do.
Planning to start tennis here, although that would mean I'd have to use more money to get me the equipment I need. It really helps to know some seniors are helpful and sporting. One thing that I value here (i.e. different in a positive way from the atmosphere in matric) is that the seniors are rather nice. Smiling is very common, such that one would feel guilty if one were to go against the flow. In a way it resembles life.
The lecturers here, from my first impression (dude, they're all about first impressions here. More on that later) are scary. But I suppose they do know a lot. This we can only find out later - perhaps tomorrow, when my first class would begin. No messing around with them, that's for sure.
This place is all about attitude and first impressions. Firstly, for attitude, it's like it's the only thing that can save someone from failing (should he/she came dangerously close to failing...). The problem with that is attitude itself is very relative (yes, ladies and gentlemen, I now talk about my theory of relativity), and what is black to me may be white to you (or vice versa). Secondly, as for first impressions. I have to say here that I do not believe in it. So you might say that it's happening, so whether I like it or not, I'll have to go with the flow. Guess what, I don't want to. While it's true that I myself may have done so inadvertently, at least I try not to say bad things about it. For the love of all that is holy, I don't appreciate being scolded if I don't have anything to do with the error. It's just too unfair, and not everyone can take it.
As for my own state of health, I am, as I predicted, ailing. My throat is so sore, and really, I have to thank God that I didn't croak when I was reading in front of the ustaz (but let's not talk about that for now, lest my negative vibes return). I'll have to wait until noon to go to the clinic since it only opens for one freaking hour, from twelve to one). It's unthinkable, since we're supposed to be overflowing with medical people! And I refuse to talk too much about the ridiculously far distant between the hostel and said clinic!
My senior-cum-roommate (whose posting is psychiatry) clerked me a couple of nights ago. Verdict: On and off depression, but with good and normal reasons.
Orientation week was hell. It was like we got labelled as the troublesome batch from the very beginning, and it's all because of the "selected" group of people. Then again, maybe it's not entirely their fault - the schedule itself was very absurd. It's like they expect us to do everything in record time. Like, hello? We have something called "lack of energy"! We can't afford to run around at their beck and call. Utterly unreasonable.
I got my text books yesterday (four of them, thick like mad). The one on physiology was so thick (hard cover!) that my arm hurts (another attack of cramps! The first one was last week, where both my legs suffered...). Also, maybe my cramped arm has something to do with the fact that I played badminton yesterday - without warming up. The mystery here is that why was it that I didn't get cramps when I tried my hand at badminton the day earlier?
On the side note, I'm typing this in an eMac in campus. It's a relief to know that dearest Avicenna is not alone in this part of the world!