~Sleep is the Best Cure~ A Diary of a Med Student

No Math Will Solve This

2008-09-17T21:08:00.002+01:00

What do you do when you find yourself in a limbo, unable to identify where you are in another's regard?

What do you do when you realize that you were about 4 years too late?

What do you do when there's an ocean standing in the way?

What do you do?

For some reason I don't think this'll solve like an algebra problem.

Summer brings passion

2008-08-26T06:35:00.002+01:00

Or that's what they seem to think.

Now that this glorious sleepy summer is hitting autumn, I decided to disclose myriad of lewd comments I received from my male acquaintances this summer. Some of them are... well, wow, others are funny. And all of them contain more than enough implicit sexuality.

Be warned.

Oh, and I also found it amusing that they were all said by Europeans. Apparently Americans are prudes :P

Jeremy: Your waist size is 24?
Me: Yup.
Jeremy: Perfect.
Me: For what...?
Jeremy: For me to wrap my arms. Without me going SQUISH.
Me: ?!?!?

Me: Why is it that guys stare at me? Is there something on my face?
Jack: There's lipstick on your mouth.
Me: That's not what I meant!
Jack: I think you're the one who's responsible. The way you dress doesn't leave much to imagination...
Jeremy: Or leave too much.

Jeremy: I hope she's coming home with me tonight~~
Me: She's not.
Jeremy: ... You did.

Jack: You're coming onto me.
Me: Nope.
Jack: What's that hand?
Me: It's on the table.
Jack: Yeah, you're coming onto me. Wanna take it further?
Me: ... no.

Jeremy: For God's sake, can you please stop swooning over 2D characters and swoon over a real guy for once!?
Me: Like who...
Jeremy: I'm a real guy...
Me: Uh huh. I love you too.

Jack: The guys were looking at you.
Me: Okay. As usual.
Jack: It amuses me that I'm the only one who can talk to you.
Me: And what do you feel about that?
Jack: I'm happy about that, thanks very much.

Jeremy: If you had to pick someone to sleep with, who would you pick?
Me: I have no clue.
Jack: We can do three to a bed.
Jeremy: Nope. We'll do it, you can watch.
Me: Wait, wait a moment! Don't I get a say?!
Jack and Jeremy: (stares) ... No.

Do you mind if you leave me alone?

2008-08-11T23:55:00.002+01:00

4:30PM. It's nice weather. I'm wearing regular clothes, and I go out to get something from a store nearby. I walk there. The heels clatter against the sidewalk. In the due process of getting there, which took, oh, let's say, about 10 minutes, I got hooted twice by a guy I didn't know, got honked at (no, I was not crossing the street), got stared at, and was beaten by a branch.

WILL YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?

Oh, and by the way, please stop staring at me. It's RUDE.

Jebus.

Croak it

2008-07-09T21:32:00.002+01:00

My results came in (well, not really). I passed, and as all med students know, it's pass baby, it's all about the pass. Hence I was able to sleep, and I slept for about 15 hours (is that possible? Trust me, it is). Anyway, I'd like to shout...

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE SAYING THAT YOU DON'T NEED SEX BECAUSE YOUR MAJOR FUCKS YOU EVERYDAY...

well...

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

I'm not being elitist. Really, I'm not. But I nearly died last year, and the hardest year has yet to come. I think the worst was when I pulled 3 all-nighters consecutively, not because I had any deadlines coming up but because I was so behind in compiling notes. Med school sucks, and probably law school too, so just shut up and go back to solving Calculus.

And for those of you who are aspiring to go to med school and think House is close to reality, think again. It's not. It's one of those professions where your fingers have the honour and privilege to travel to the grossest places ever devised by God, and those include sick vaginal orifices and men's rectums. So unless you have a fetish of sticking your fingers up there (and in which case please desist from coming back here again), try a cleaner profession.

Seriously.

Here's the stuff I need to learn next year...

Pathology
Microbiology
Medical Ethics (WHAT?!)
Biostats
Physio and Anatomy
Pharmacology
Psychology (again, WHAT?)
Immunology
Histology

so if you don't hear from me again, that means I died.

Ciao.

I don't want anybody else

2008-06-28T01:26:00.002+01:00

And the remainder of the lyrics shall not be disclosed because I have to keep this blog rating PG13 (haha)

Anyway, the lyrics is from 'I touch Myself' by The Genitorturers. Go look it up yourself if you want to know it that bad.

And here I am, sort of dreading July because that's when I get my exam results... and get to know if I can continue university next year o-O oh crap.

Now, excuse me while I go enjoy the art of a bronzer.

Dolce and Gabbana

2008-06-18T05:15:00.002+01:00

Dear Dolce and Gabbana,

In case you haven't noticed, you and your kind of sexual orientation are the only ones who actually find naked males in nothing but underoos hot and arousing.

Thank you, the management.

But SERIOUSLY. It's gross. Those steroid-induced genetic freaks that flaunt their abs (and more) in nought but briefs should be arrested. I don't CARE if they're hot, they're sexy, they're good-looking, whatever.

Fact of the day: THEY LOOK GROSS.

I don't want to see it! I just don't. Thank you, I was enjoying the nice scenery outside and then all of a sudden I see the stupid D&G ad where there's a guy with nothing but white briefs trying to look cool. Not only did that attempt fail horribly, but it also made my stomach churn.

It doesn't help that their muscles are bulging, inducing yucky images of the gym, sweat, and well... steroids.

Ew.

So, when you get this memo, D&G, please stop using muscly bundles of fiber. I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT.

Go away, Old man

2008-06-18T04:39:00.003+01:00

...

So I was looking at Ticketmaster when I saw...

LED ZEPPELIN COMES TO KINGS COLLEGE!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

Yeah, that's what I thought. Duh.

And since I thought Robert Plant was one of the sexiest vocalists ever, I looked at the photos when I saw...

Ew.

Old.

REALLY old.

No matter what I look at, THEY'RE OLD.

I HATE OLD GUYS!

Therefore, I'm not going. Apparently the ticket costs 11.50 pounds, but it's still expensive even if the ticket was 20p!

I'll go if they become young again <-arrogance rampant

Go away, old man.

Actually, how about going into a coffin instead? I think it's about time to go to the next world. You've finished your job here. I don't think there's anything to regret about this world either. Therefore, just go without a fuss.

Well... Not just Led Zep, but Queen and all those people too. You guys were popular half because of you guys' looks! You guys are utterly useless when you guys get old! Your places aren't even in this world, let alone a stage.

By the way, Linkin Park cost 60 pounds but I still went anyway.

Yeah, these days Linkin Park costs more than Zep. Time changes, ha.

Youth is the best。Therefore, the CD Led Zep is quite enough, thank you. Even if they offered me a 100 quid to go, I still don't want to. They'll hurt my eyes ><

Oh, they'll probably hurt my ears too.

Oh wait, never mind, Jimmy's guitar was sometimes painful to my ears to begin with. Oh well.

But I gotta say this...

KCL, get a sense in your head, for god's sake.

EURO CUP 2008

2008-06-08T05:21:00.002+01:00

First of all, I'd like to say...

WHY THE HELL DIDN'T ENGLAND GET THROUGH?!

HUH!? HUH!!!???

I demand an explanation.

Other than that, it looks like it's going to be the regular cup fight between Netherlands, Italy, Germany, France, Spain and Portugal. Given that Portugal plays dirty, they're probably out... but France, Italy, Spain and Germany are probably going to put up a good fight.

Who am I rooting for? I don't know yet :P

Home for the summer

2008-06-07T12:02:00.002+01:00

So my first year in med school is finally over, and now all I've left to do is pack my stuff and go home. As much as that sounds fun, it's not, because...

A. Most of my US friends were done in MAY, and have been lounging around for a while.
B. Oh wait, I have a grand total of about 3 friends. Never mind.
C. Dragging microbiology, biochem and other textbooks across the ocean is NOT my idea of FUN!

Anyway, enough with ranting.

Tata.

Boys and Girls

2008-05-29T13:15:00.003+01:00

Conclusion: My debate partner is a little retarded sometimes.

Conclusion: I am not an ordinary female.

Conclusion: Ehh, what?

I finally got a response from my ex-debate partner after a hiatus of... what? 5 months? He just disappeared (not literally, I mean, but he wasn't responding to me) then suddenly decided to make a comeback. And I'd like to hollar:

WTF ARE YOU DOING?! DID YOU THINK I'D BE THERE FOR YOU? (well, I was, but...) TREAT ME A LITTLE NICER DAMN IT, I AM NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND OR YOU MUM!

Ahh, that felt good.

But if he wanted a little space, then why the hell didn't he say so? He could have, right? But oh no. He just stopped responding, leaving many clueless people in what? Fear (or maybe that was the select few), desolation (now I'm being overdramatic), e.t.c. Not cool, Ian. Not cool.

But he did make a move. Now it's my turn.

Checkmate.

Poison

2008-05-26T18:38:00.003+01:00

Well, I found it.

I found the song.

And I'm about to die of joy... well, not really.

Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, I randomly wandered into a weird CD shop in Richmond and heard this song that was just grabbed my heart. After I went home, I craved it. I wanted it. I was dying for it.

The problem was, I didn't know the song title... or the artist name. So basically, I was screwed. I mourned for such a song. It's rare for me to instantaneously love a song - usually it takes about 30 listens. But this one was... different. It caught me.

And just this morning, I stumbled upon the song on YOUTUBE. I nearly cried when I heard the song.

What's the song? Well, you're probably listening to it right now. It's by Kirito, and it's called Poison.

Lyrics:
I watch you as you sleep beyond the deep fog
Just like sweet poison I embrace and dig my nails

The pose with tears is beautiful
Like swallowing light darkness is made

The night your eyes were wet with tears and mourned, the door opened
The memory that interrupted the two shattered into pieces

The night when body trembled and shattered, the door opened
The silence that interrupts the two has already disappeared

I'll pour it into the wanting lips
If you want to fall endlessly
I'll give it to the upraised palm
The despair that makes you even love regret

I did think of something though... the guy who can say this to me is either A: VERY confident, B: very sadistic, or C: Both. Normal guys will probably get scared of getting this response:

"HUH?! You want to make me drink poison? How about I make you drink it instead?"

So... the guy's sure that I'll drink it, or he's sadistic enough to make me drink it.

And while that's dangerously romantic, I might say no to that offer...

Baton

2008-05-23T21:39:00.002+01:00

I got this passed around from somebody... and since I did Reno in the Japanese blog, I'll do Tyki in this one.

I Love You Baton■

1.Without hiding anything, tell all the truth
2.Do not run ahead of yourself
3.You must specify a male
4.No matter how many times this is passed on to you, you must complete it

【Specify】Er, Tyki Mikk

■The place where you met 【Tyki】?

Probably when I was browsing through Crunchyroll and stumbled upon him in nought but underwear.

■What about【Tyki】makes you a fangirl?

I'm not a fangirl (I think) so I really can't say.

■Is 【Tyki】S or M? Which would you prefer?

As much as I love bullying people, I have a good feeling that I'd be bullied... so S.

■What kind of 【Tyki】's behavior makes you love him?

Errr.... I have no clue.

■What makes you like 【Tyki】?

Probably the devil-may-care attitude.

■What don't you like about【Tyki】?

He's probably smoking pot, not cigarettes?

■What do you want from 【Tyki】?

Erm, please die very soon in the back alley of South London so I can stop reading that thing... it's getting long and tedious.

■Anyone who should become closer to 【Tyki】?

I want to see Sherrill/Tyki interaction, actually. That sounds amusing.

■Anything you focus on when writing/drawing 【Tyki】?

I do neither, so none?

■Do you want him as a family?

No thank you. He'd drive me nuts.

■School uniform or blazer?

Blazer!

■Jersey or Jeans?

Jeans!

■Would you like to marry him?
No thank you. Again, he'd drive me up the wall.

■Any last words of love?

... please die very soon. I don't like your recent transformation...

A year in review

2008-05-23T00:02:00.003+01:00

So, my first year at a university is ending rapidly (ONE MORE EXAM TO GO... not to mention that this might be my last year if I fail my exams... oh crap), and I thought about reviewing this year, sum it up, and kinda lock it away in my memory and throw away the key (just kidding). Lots of stuff... didn't happen, actually, my life didn't have all the high school drama shit for once.

Well, what I learned is that... people still hate me in the States. And to be honest... I've ceased to care. Provided that I don't fail my exams (of which fate, I don't know), I've long left all the high school/undergrad drama and if I just keep passing my exams I'm set for life, right? (NOT). Most of them I'll never see again, so help me God. And for those of you who think that you're actually happy getting illegally drunk every night, well, good for you. I won't mention just how many dendrites you're damaging, because surprise surprise, it's recoverable... mostly. But many of the dendrites never rejoin, and hence bye bye synapse; but that's your choice.

Two, med school sucks. Yes it does. It sucks like no tomorrow and most of the time I was so sleep-deprived and so... health-deprived and so caffeine-overloaded that I might as well as have been guzzling amphetamines instead of 600mg caffeine (which is very close to lethal dose, I learned later). But you know what? If I can, I'd like to remain in this world, not because of the power trip (although I won't deny it), or the drama (of which I've witnessed many but never partook), but because... I like medicine, I guess. I've worked so hard to grab at it... I've sacrificed a lot of things for it, and getting rejected is one thing, but letting it go is quite another. So for those of you who keep asking me "why won't you enjoy your undergrad years?", excuse my Anglosaxon expletive but please, sod off (wait, that's not an expletive).

Three, I'd like to thank my next door neighbour to the left... you've shown me a lot of things that no one else could before. Although I still question your work ethics and your random habits of knocking on my door at bizarre hours and/or asking me to do bizarre things (and no, I am not letting you give me a Physical, no is a no), each of your observations warranted and merited a close analysis later on. And I did appreciate the ice cream.

Hopefully (although I can hear my best friend in university, Jennifer, screaming "JUST SHUT UP"), I can come back to this school next year.

And hopefully Stolkie retires or croaks it this year; I refuse to have him as my neuroanatomy lecturer. Either create a constructive and informative slide for the notes or stop reading off it. Your existence in the classroom merited zero benefit this year.

And stop making me feel like an idiot. I know I'm an idiot, that's why I'm here. I don't need a constant reminder...

Chinese...

2008-04-20T13:49:00.003+01:00

Okay, I know, the Chinese were always causing problems, but I didn't think they'd be THAT insensitive.

What did they do?

Here.

Do they want to have a war with the world's weapon merchant or something?!

As anyone who knows a little history knows, France and Nazi are a no-no combo. That's like saying about atomic bomb to the Japanese, Manchruian Massacre to the Manchurians, Apartheid to the South Africans or the London Bombing to the British. YOU JUST DON'T DO IT. On personal terms, be prepared to get punched.

On that level?!

Be prepared for war.

I was under the impression that the Chinese wanted to make Beijing Olympics into a success. I guess not...?

Body breakdown

2008-03-27T00:10:00.001Z

Ewww, I gained weight. (panicks)

Yeah, I gained 13~15kg. Yuck yuck.

I also broke out in acne for the first time in... I don't know... 4 years? YUCK.

Little Billy

2008-03-25T03:09:00.008Z

To all the Billy's in the world,

I'd like to dedicate this song to you :-P

Little Billy was the fattest kid in his class
Always the last in line
All the other little kids would laugh at him
Said he'd die before his time

Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Little Billy didn't mind

Most of the kids smoked cigarettes
Just to prove that they were cool
The teacher didn't know about the children's games
And Billy always followed the rules

Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Little Billy didn't mind

Billy was big on the outside
But there's an even bigger man inside
Ten million cigarettes burning every day
And Billy's still doing fine

Now Billy and his classmates are middle-aged
With children of their own
Their smoking games are reality now
And cancer's seed is sown

Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Little Billy's didn't mind

Most of them smoke maybe forty a day
A habit Billy doesn't share
One by one they're passing away
Leaving orphans to Billy's care

Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Little Billy doesn't mind

Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha
Little Billy's doing fine

Personality Types

2008-03-24T00:22:00.003Z

Because I have to type everything, I have to type myself as well. And well, here it is:

MBTI: INTJ (no duh)
Enneagram: 5w6
SLOAN: RLOEI
Global: Unstable, Orderly, Introvert
Personal DNA:

Cautious Experiencer

What's really interesting that all of them came out as Very Functional and introverted, with low confidence and low stability (meaning that I'm a nervous wreck). Oh, I'm also very scheduled, and hates spontaneity.

Sounds fun.

For those of you who are interested, please take a look at the personal DNA by hovering the cursor over teach colour. Notice my MASCULINITY is enormous: I scored higher than 98% of test-takers. Ha.

Triplets in the World

2008-02-17T19:27:00.002Z

Today was infested with Japanese, calories, and weird occasions. Not saying that's bad, but after being away from Japan for so long it can get slightly eerie.

I woke up around 6:30 for no reason, stayed in bed till 10:00. Today's plan: Get to Richmond, get some food either at Subway (to the right of the Richmond Station), then head over to Maison Blanc (left of the station), grab some cake, then go to work.

On the train I encountered to Japanese females who were squealing about Madam Tussaud's. They had the typical look of "I didn't get good enough grades in high school to go to a university so I worked my butt off to save up some money to go to London, and now I'm going tourista and looking like an idiot and embarrassing my fellow Japanese". I inched away before I got discovered that I was one of them.

Well, suddenly I decided that I wanted to eat my lunch at Maison Blanc as well. It was a little pricey, but it was well worth it... I ate "Mediterranean", which was really good (love those dried tomatoes), and Concerto, which was really ironic because I was reading through Brahms' Concerto then. It was awfully good though. Hmm.

Taught the sisters (the elder's getting better, although it took her 5 minutes to get 100 divided by 5... it's 20, idiot.)

Then something awfully weird happened.

You know how you're supposed to have two other people in the world who look just like you? (Well, maybe we only say that in Japan. Dunno.) Anyway, as I was coming out of Subway, I saw a guy in the shop next to Subway who looked EXACTLY like Billy. Even wore glasses like him.

My thought? "Wait a minute, he lives in freaking Surrey, and it's 5:00PM in the afternoon on a Sunday. Why the hell is he in Richmond?"

He walked behind me, followed me to the station, then disappeared.

Came home on the bus after grabbing Teriyaki Chicken in Subway after all, where I encountered another duo of Japanese females, who were saying something like "London is da place to live in, foshizzle!" (okay, maybe not the ghetto talk but something close). I pretended that I was too busy looking out the window.

Got home, and my other student wasn't there. My thought: what the?! Apparently I didn't "pick up the phone", so without waiting for five minutes she just went home. It's not like she's a busy woman, oh no! Then she blamed it on me. But since this is business, I was the one who apologized. Maybe I should quit my job with that retard. She's not paying me enough anyway.

Most likely the "Billy" I saw was a random dude who had fluffy hair like him and wore weird glasses like him.

But... it was pretty damn freaky.

Nicholas Cage, Please Don't Step on my Foot

2008-02-10T19:04:00.000Z

Actually, Nicholas Cage never stepped on my foot. That was just to get your attention (cue in Pathetique Sonata). But if he did, I'd sue the ass out of him to get money and publicity. Ha (:P)

But actually, Nicholas Cage does make an appearance in my post today. Let me explain.

This week just plainly sucked. I went high on caffeine, overdosed on caffeine, went through hell trying to detox caffeine, did not sleep decently, did not eat decently (but then again, that's nothing new). I just had a really shitty week. Not only that, one of my students has failed to pay me for two weeks consecutively, and I'm about to fire (?) her if she fails to pay the coming Wednesday. People come to me for damn help while they go out drinking... and I have come to a discovery that I REALLY shouldn't be helping them anyway, I never needed their help in the first place (considering that I can just borrow one of the elder student's notes, for instance), and that quite frankly, with my excruciating schedule with 3 students, studying biochemistry, orgo, stats, and modern physics, studying for the exams, I just don't have the time or the energy to care about others anymore. There are some things that I've been wanting to do that I couldn't because I was so busy (like... visiting my guardian's house, for instance). But that's that.

On Friday night at precisely 3:41AM, just as I was dozing off after rolling around my bed in sheer agony and nausea, my phone trilled out the baroque ring tone that can become really annoying if it keeps ringing. I woke up just in time for the voice mail to switch on... so, after 30 seconds or so, I accessed my voice mail. Here is the message I received:

"Heeeeeeey! I'm at Paddington right now! Come pick me up, mate."

It was in a guy's voice. It sounded utterly drunk. My first thought was "Er, who the hell is this guy", since I couldn't place the voice. Or the number. So I had a random drunk guy calling me at 3:41 AM to pick him up from the Paddington station. (Note to readers: PLEASE check the number before you hit dial, please? Promise?)

My next thought was "Do trains even RUN this early in the morning around Paddington?" Considering that the tube does not, my logical deduction said no. So what the hell did this guy want?

Me, being quite uncharitable and frankly too tired to care, decided not to pick the mystery guy up from Paddington. Hell, he can be mugged and see if I care. It was his damn fault for dialing the wrong number. I went back to bed.

And could not go back to sleep.

How much does that suck?! A lot, let me tell you. So let's summarise - here was this idiot who called the wrong number at a ridiculous wee hour of the morning, asking for whoever it was meant to to pick him up from Paddington. And because he dialed the wrong number I got to be the poor victim who was woken up at 3:41AM, just as I was recovering from caffeine detox, to get a message that wasn't even for me! I'm pretty sure the guy was not Lady Macbeth but he sure did kill off my sleep.

Then today just sucked. To start off, I had an awful dream in which I was the 11-year-old offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Smith from the film Mr. and Mrs. Smith. What does that mean? It meant that Brad Pitt was my father and Angelina Jolie my mother. That was quite traumatising in itself. As if that wasn't enough, Orlando Bloom was my idiot brother who seemed to revel in the fact that he was pretty. Never mind that I think he's one of the ugliest creatures seen on the 6 ft screen these days. His utter gayness was bordering insanity.

Mummy Smith, AKA Angelina Jolie, asked me to go down to the pantry to get some bananas because she was baking banana muffins. (I have no idea what Daddy Pitt was doing... don't want to know, in all seriousness.) So I went down to the pantry, which was in the basement for some reason (I personally think that pantry in the basement is a dumb idea...), and opened the door.

And there were three shelves on each side of the wall, lined with bananas after bananas after bananas...

The room looked yellow, although the wall was white.

You know how scary that is? I found it quite frightening. After daring myself to go into the banana room and grabbing a few bananas, I went upstairs to hand them over to Mummy Jolie, who peeled them, broken them in 1/2 inch pieces, and then proceeded to mush them.

What this means in psychoanalysis, I don't even want to know. I'd leave the analysis up to you.

I left the dorm at 11:00AM to go to work, hoping to get to Richmond at 12:30 PM, grab something to eat, then go off to teach. Usually it takes an hour to get from London Bridge to Richmond, but today the District Line only ran to West Kensington. "Fine," I thought, after seeing the notice at Westminster, "I'll just get off at Earl's Court, switch to Piccadilly, get to Hammersmith, and catch the replacement bus from there." Because IT CLEARLY SAID that the bus ran from Hammersmith via Gunnersbury and Kew Gardens to Richmond.

The first misery occurred while I was ON the train. There was this Chinese lady who seemed to be intent on trying to get to Richmond. However, all she did was point at the Richmond Station on the mini tube map, point at West Kensington, and say, "West Kensington". Don't know about you, dear reader, but to me that conveys not much. I had no idea if she was asking if she needed to get off at West Ken, could switch at West Ken, or what. I slowly explained to her how to get to Richmond - quite slowly - twice, but after that she smiled at me, nodded, and said, "West Kensington?" all the while pointing at the location on the map. Was she listening? No. Of course not. Because it's the thing to do after asking a complete stranger a question. Gah!

I got off at Earl's Court - the lady certainly didn't - and switched to Piccadilly. Got to Hammersmith. Got off the tube. And then was promptly notified that apparently every SINGLE poster indicating engineering works was different in all of London, because actually, no, there was no replacement bus. And yes, it did say so on the stupid poster by the assistance window, but it also said that it only ran from 9:00 PM and beyond on Sunday evening. And yes, they did put up a huge sign saying "REPLACEMENT BUS C TO RICHMOND" with a HUGE arrow under the sign. The replacement bus just simply wasn't running. Why for? I have no idea.

Now, here, two questions pop into my mind. Number one, why run it from 9:00PM, when there's hardly anyone using it? That's just inefficient, and it wastes petrol. Number two, why put up a sign that is no longer valid? This just baffles me.

So I caught the 391 bus from Hammersmith to Richmond. Now, usually it takes about 20 minutes by the Underground to get from Hammersmith to Richmond. On the bus, 40. This time, it took a full hour and a half, which means that I got to the Richmond station approximately at 1:00PM. When my class was about to begin. So that made me 10 minutes late.

During the bus ride, several things happened. First, they tried to squish approximately 40 people on a single bus, which just isn't plausible on Sunday afternoons. Second, this brat decided that it'd be awesome fun to touch my back and my hair while I was standing, earning a severe death glare from me. She then promptly began to cry. The mother became hysterical. I pretended that I couldn't hear her due to my earphones, and ignored her. Much screaming and hysteria ensued.

Third, another brat decided that he absolutely had to stand in the coolest way possible, never mind that no one was paying attention, and took up the space that could have accommodated three. He then proceeded to stand without holding onto the rails or anything, and when the bus came to a screeching halt he promptly crashed into me without further ado. For heaven and hell's sake HOLD ONTO SOMETHING unless you have a balance of a tightrope walker. But oh no. This kid could hardly stand straight every time the bus braked.

Fourth, this guy (and this is where the title comes in) decided to step on my foot. Really hard. For some reason. And then he decided to KEEP HIS FOOT ON MY FOOT the entire time. With full weight on it. Needless to say, I was beyond vexation. I asked him to please remove his foot from my foot. He ignored me, because he was too busy talking to his girlfriend who looked about 17. I kicked him with my left heel of my boot. It left a smudge on his grey slacks.

Fifth, another guy who was with his girlfriend kept staring at me the entire bus ride. That was very disconcerting and unnerving. Doesn't the guy know that it's rude to stare?

Sixth, and lastly, it took my 4th grade pupil AN HOUR to understand the concept of "base times width equals area of a parallelogram" today. I had to cut tiny bits of paper and demonstrate. I was NOT that slow when I was in 4th grade.

So after that, I am quite ready to give up on mankind, curl up in my bed only to be never seen again. I now understand the enchanting attraction of living as a hermit. I might even be one very soon...

The Crowded Room

2008-01-22T01:52:00.000Z

If you know me well enough, I'm quite interested in DID's. In fact, I plan to go into neuropsychiatry ( a mix between neurology and psychiatry). Well, at least that's one of the options.

Anyway.

NEWS FLASH NEWS FLASH! BILLY MILLIGAN'S FILM IS FINALLY BEING PRODUCED! (insert incoherent screams of utter joy).

Ever since I read the book I wanted to see a film about it... and Milligan's selecting the actor to play himself, apparently.

I'm personally voting for Marko Malic or Christian Bale, but considering that Christian Bale already played a madman from American Psycho (awesome movie by the way), I'm not sure if he's willing to do this one. Marko Malic would be good as well; he has that vulnerable look. Milligan himself seems to be keen on Christian Slater (ew) or Johnny Depp (no, he's too sexy and he does NOT look vulnerable).

PLEASE PICK CHRISTIAN BALE OR MARKO MALIC! For my sake! (laughter)

Actually, I just realized... Christian Bale does sort of look like Billy Milligan... it's God's WILL!

Exams

2008-01-04T20:39:00.000Z

Happy belated New Years! Hopefully I'll be a little more productive than 2007... but since that's my new year's resolution, it's highly unlikely that I'd keep that promise. Eh.

My parents trashed my idea of volunteering in Africa. Apparently they still believe that Africa is a dark, wild continent filled with lions and other zoological animals.

Well, no. That's not the case. But they do think that the entire continent consists of Sudan. So, they trashed it.

They also prohibited me from joining Médecins Sans Frontières. Their reasoning? "You're going to get killed".

Okay...

Whatever.

I also hunted down Kevin Kalisz to... STALK HIM! No, I'm just kidding. The fact is, throughout the three years in which I shared my high school life with that insane genius, I talked to him the grand total of... three times. That's averaging once per year. Sad, isn't it?

Then all of a sudden I get propelled into medical school and all of a sudden I'm left behind thinking "Crap, I don't know anyone around my age who's in med school!" Except, surprise surprise, Kevin. That genius, in my opinion, should have went to CalTech to major in engineering, but for some reason he gave up is high school dream to become a doctor (cue in about thirty bazillion question marks, on your mark, get set, go!).

So, Facebook it is.

I'm going back tomorrow. Then it's exam time. And then I have to finish the papers, since I left my Physics paper on my disc on my desk in my room and I basically screwed everything up (CRAP).

Ew.

troubles are brewing o'er my head

2007-12-11T03:26:00.000Z

Location: At my desk
Music: Deep by Nine Inch Nails
Mood: Agitated

So, I just had a fight with one of my closest friends. Fuck.

The beginning was this. I needed to know where the tournament was; I basically have the fast food chains of most schools in the area inputted into my head, and I needed to know where I'd be eating on Saturday. And here came the reply:

"Dunno. lol."

Something snapped in me.

If you know who I am, then you know exactly who I had a fight with.

Yup. My debate partner.

I guess I always felt guilty to Ian. Everytime we didn't do well, I always blamed myself. I'm weighing him down, I thought. It's my fault we didn't do so well. I should have done better. It's me.

The year came and went. I went off to university; and away from the midst of things, I began to learn something.

Maybe... just maybe... it wasn't my fault?

Mr. Clark never tries, and I can understand why. In a way he's a complex creature, but in so many ways he's excessively immature. Because he cannot handle defeat, he refuses to try; that way he always has the excuse "I didn't try hard, so I didn't do so well. If I try hard, I can do this."

I'd know. I used to do that. And the awful thing is... the longer you say it, the longer that "not-trying failure me" gets stuck, and when you do try you fail anyway. And then what are you going to do?

He's brilliant, I'll give that to anyone. But he's wasting talent that I have craved, the talent that no matter how hard I tried, I could not achieve. It's almost like you're starving, and you're seeing through a window a guy who has a basket full of food and is purposefully throwing it away.

And THAT... just pissed me OFF.

Something snapped in me, and every agonizing jealousy I felt, that insane, gripping obsession, burst from the deepest hole I kept it shut in, and poured over me like some kind of acidic rain. Out of my mind tumbled out the harshest words I ever knew, the most painful phrases one can say to anyone.

Despite my constant whining and moaning about my classes, I am actually at where I want to be. My life is half-set. I will qualify as a physician, become one of the respected human beings who will know power, respect, and wealth.

But it didn't come easy. I begged, cried, cheated, stole, worked for it.

Actually, everything I have I've begged, cried, cheated, stole, and worked for.

He's just drifting through. And despite the fact that he has done well so far, there is always a big hole somewhere dug deeply into the earth. And while someone like I can climb up and hobble on because I've fallen over so many times that I'm just used to it, people like him aren't. They fall, because everyone does, and then they can't climb up.

But gah! I screwed up. And currently I'm so overwhelmed with schoolwork that I don't even know where to begin the patching.

Actually, right now, I really don't feel like it either. Hopefully he'll become hurt enough to actually start working...

She Goes La La

2007-12-11T01:35:00.000Z

Location: On my bed
Music: She Moves by Karaja
Mood: KNACKERED

As I look back at this semester, I have to say ONE thing... it went by with a WHOOSH. It just went by. And as we learned knew bitterness, loneliness, joy and victory, we grew up just a little bit.

Each day passed with me learning something new about myself; my weaknesses, my strength, just me. I cried. I laughed.

And here I am...

Byebye, Dr. Payne

2007-12-07T20:23:00.000Z

After the final and rather traumatizing session with none other than Dr. David Payne Esq (no, he's not an esquire, I just tagged that on), I am FINALLY FINISHED with Mammalian Biology, since I'm going home next Friday and I'll be at Fenwick around this time (YEAH!). Let's see. What was so traumatizing today?

Oh, I remember now. The fact that people use (or used) yogurt as contraceptive.

Now I can't eat yogurt.

"Now, Dr. Fashionista, how on earth do you use yogurt as a contraceptive?" You might ask. Alas, dear readers, it's not taken orally.

That's right. You just read that correctly. It's taken... down there.

EWWWWWW!

Not only that, I finally learned why some types of cats yowl at the final moment of sexual intercourse. No, it's not a yowl of pleasure, or protest against the act's finish. Oh no. It's something much... much... worse.... (and if you don't want to read it, I suggest you stop NOW before you sue me).

Apparently, some cats' erectile male reproductive organ (and yes, I could have said that in one word) HAS BARBS AT THE TIP.

OUCH!

And... well, that's why the female cat yowls. It's nothing but a screaming agony of pain (and any woman would be screaming too, if that happened to them).

So that was the extent of my education in mammalian biology. I think I just wasted 10 weeks worth of lecture time...

Don't fire COLE!

2007-11-21T22:49:00.000Z

I just realised that I had a new batch of comments waiting. Since I am a student with no life who sleeps most of the time, it is very interesting that people are actually wasting their time to comment on my blog (apart from those who are just amused with my rantings and my misery), especially because their attempt to conceal their attempts are kind of failing miserably. This made me contemplate on several human traits in a House-esque style, thanks to the newest episode of House playing in the background at the moment.

First of all: this makes no sense to me, and I'm hoping someone can explain it to me. If you don't like someone, why bother checking their Facebook page? Or reading their blog? Or in fact, do anything remotely related to them? This makes no sense to me whatsoever. It's sort of like... taking pleasure in eating nasty food. Or enjoying a smell of vomit. (well, dunno, there's probably people who like doing that.) I mean, I can understand "I'm going to take out my annoyance in a certain incident relating to a tutorial group today", but... doing that won't change your situation. And... to be honest, that's a very American thing to do (said via my experience). And that is currently not said as a compliment.

...

Second of all... crap, I forgot what I was going to say. Err... (tries to remember) Oh yeah. Why does Ayumi Hamasaki sing like that? It's very annoying.

Third... why does the heating turn off at precisely 11 o'clock?

Fourth... why do people never read carefully enough? Didn't they ever do those exercises where they say "read this through first", then list bunch of stuff to do, and then at the end says "now just write your name on the paper, don't do anything else"?

Fifth... WHY DID HOUSE FIRE COLE? House never said anything about playing the game with authorities. He's just as cutthroating as Amber.

...

On a complete tangent, quoth Wilson, "You know, in some cultures, hiring people to steal other people's underpants is considered wooing. You should move there. Cuz over here, it's just... you know... creepy."

Ahahaha.

Scatterbrained

2007-11-20T17:37:00.000Z

I think I just got dumped (or take the limit of it, to be precise).

The worse thing is, I'm rather preoccupied at the moment trying to find the precise Dior palette that I saw in a magazine a week ago. I'm not even bothered about the current "catastrophe" right now, because I really want that Dior palette! I'm craving it. I'm dying for it.

Considering that Dior has been releasing a brand new palette every year, I highly doubt I'll find it ever again, unless I see the magazine. Which depresses me.

Sephora doesn't have it (GASP! I thought Sephora had everything!). I'm pretty sure it was from Dior, but it might have been YSL - they sometimes release similar palettes, making my life pretty confusing.

I also want to tape my Physics lecturer while he's talking, play it really fast and watch it, first without sound and second with sound, which will make him sound like a hyperactive chipmunk. That'd be worth few laughs.

Argh! I can't find the palette. And now I'm really sleepy.

Ta ta.

Outcast Genius

2007-11-20T00:39:00.000Z

I just thought that I should post this result...

Your Score: Outcast Genius

82 % Nerd, 86% Geek, 65% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in all three, earning you the title of: Outcast Genius.

Outcast geniuses usually are bright enough to understand what society wants of them, and they just don't care! They are highly intelligent and passionate about the things they know are *truly* important in the world. Typically, this does not include sports, cars or make-up, but it can on occassion (and if it does then they know more than all of their friends combined in that subject).

Outcast geniuses can be very lonely, due to their being outcast from most normal groups and too smart for the room among many other types of dorks and geeks, but they can also be the types to eventually rule the world, ala Bill Gates, the prototypical Outcast Genius.

Hm. I think my next mission would be world domination.

A microscopic tag

2007-11-19T18:56:00.000Z

So... I spent the afternoon today chasing amoebae around under a microscope, or, more merrily named, "A Microscopic Tag Game". Needless to say, I am now sporting a killer headache, irritability, loneliness, acute Tourette's, and... I'm just plain miserable, okay! I also had to walk back from New Hunts in the rain. That didn't help my mood.

So today was amoebae practical, meaning that we got amoeba specimen and got to look at it under the microscope. Histology is bad by itself because apparently Payne sees crap that I certainly don't, leading to the conclusion that he's probably tripping on LSD, but it's bad when your specimen moves around, grows pseudopods, and wiggles. Then it just sucks tenfold, especially when your microscope isn't too good and you see black dots rolling around. Ew.

First, we did the buccal scrapes. Remember when you had to take the sample of your cheek cells and look it under a microscope? Yeah, we did that. And needless to say, considering that it was after lunch, we literally saw crap that we ate for lunch. It was gross.

Then it was amoeba. And the amoebic food was also swimming around as well in the water. Add that to Billy's water conspiracy and I'm now mortally afraid to drink water, but I need to, because I'm still trying to lose weight and water's a good way to do that. (Yeah, somebody remind me not to ask him about conspiracies...). Anyway, I definitely don't like amoebae, especially when they're alive and they wiggle around and move. I also do not like playing microscopic tag, because basically you're going to get a level seven migraine and very tired eyes.
Oh, and I also found my 29-year old, Abercrombie-wearing, blue-brace sporting wacko lecturer on Facebook. I am permanently scarred. TEACHERS are not supposed to be ON FACEBOOK! That is just morally wrong. But then, considering that it's Adam most likely he's still in a mental state of a third year in university, not a responsible Ph.D.

I also want to tape him and watch his lecture, on 1.5 speed, without sounds. That ought to cheer me up...

London Tube - A sure way to become claustrophobic

2007-11-17T20:36:00.000Z

Thank you very much to Nelli and Dan for reading my blog! (To my friends... I EXPECT YOU TO READ THIS. Just kidding. But I read you guys' stuff too, so we're even.)

Anyway, I digress. Back to the topic...

About the Tube.

Actually, I just hate the Tube.

I also hate Green Park station on Piccadilly line, but I'll get to the later.

Anyway! So I was trying to get to work today in Richmond, and for that I usually get onto Jubilee at London Bridge, change at Westminster to District line to Richmond. However, when I got off at Westminster to go up the escalator to get to Platform 4 for District Line...

"Due to engineering work District Line will not go to Acton Town or Richmond today. Please use Piccadilly to get to Turnham Green. A replacement bus service is running from Turnham Green to Richmond."

Erm.

See, if District Line was running (which rarely occurs these days), I'd have gotten there at 1:50, walked from Richmond station to the destination, got there at two on the dot. But alas, the London Underground System, despite being around for... oh, I don't know, 100 years, they STILL DON'T WORK PROPERLY. You know, you'd think they'd give up after trying for 100 years to get the damn thing right, but oh no! They're still trying, causing much people MUCH misery.

Anyway, I got on the District Line, got off at South Ken (or South Kensington for those of you who aren't in London and don't know the lingo), switched to Piccadilly, got to Turnham Green, nearly got my head chopped off when I tried to get on the bus, but got there - 30 minutes late. It was not my fault, though, so my employer let it go.

At work I actually had a coherent text message from The Elusive (aka the current guy I'm after), and my friend. I excused myself and borrowed the toilet while the kid was solving problems, and replied to the text via phone call. I felt like I was in high school again.

The problem was... on the way back.

FIRST of all, it was damn cold, and Turnham Green station happens to be OUTSIDE. And the damn train was late, so I got to freeze my butt off in the cold while I waited outside for the damn Piccadilly line. Then I got on - getting nearly squashed by this HUGE woman in due process - but the problem didn't start till after Gloucester Road. I was thinking "Shall I get off at South Ken and switch to District Line then switch to Jubilee, or get off at Green Park, walk for five minutes Underground to change the line to Jubilee?" when the train screeched to a halt.

In a tunnel.

The Piccadilly line happens to be old. It's 101 years old, to be precise. So, the tunnels are quite small. Actually, I was standing in front of the door so I could see outside, and... the TUNNEL WALL WAS ABOUT SIX INCHES AWAY. I felt quite claustrophobic.

The train started moving. Then it screeched to a halt again, causing everybody to crash into each other. Much cursing ensued. Then it started moving again. Then it screeched to a halt again.

...

Then the announcement came on, saying that due to technical problems the train would be moving at a really slow pace.

It did. Then it stopped.

See, when it stops, it's kind of different from moving at a slow pace. Elementary calculus, everybody! Just because the limit is zero doesn't mean it's ZERO!

Ahem. Anyway, Then it screeched to a halt again. And then it sat there, making odd noises, like it was about to fall apart (mind you, it's the new Tube, not the old rusty one that was in service till about 10 years ago).

And sat there.

And sat there.

And sat there.

Honestly, I probably could have walked to South Ken and back in the time that the stupid train sat there. IT SAT IN THE TUNNEL FOR THIRTY MINUTES. I thought about killing myself, listened to Nine Inch Nails out of sheer frustration. People started to panic. I got angry.

The trouble didn't end there. OH NO. It got even worse.

I decided to get off at Green Park. I switched to Jubilee alright, after walking a faintingly long walk between Piccadilly platform and Jubilee platform. I got to the Jubilee platform after walking for about five minutes (no joke).

AND IT SAID on the stupid time display that the Jubilee Line to Willesden Green was coming in a minute.

"Cool," I thought, and listened to Placebo's "Bitter End".

I finished the track. And listened to "Every You and Every Me". And "English Summer Rain".

So basically, one minute turned into approximately ten. And it still said on the damn display throughout the entire time, "WILLESDEN GREEN 1 MINUTE".

So, I hate the Tube. I also hate District Line and Piccadilly Line, District because it has so many termini (I'm not joking, it has Edgeware Road, Upminster, Ealing Broadway, Richmond, Wimbledon, Kensington... they SHOULD make another line), Piccadilly because there's always bunch of tourists there with bunch of luggage who always run over my feet with their 13 ton suitcases. I happen to like Jubilee Line, because it's usually working AND the stations look cool.

But Tube sucks. Hands down.

Drunk texts

2007-11-17T11:55:00.001Z

I was stupid enough to leave my phone on "sound" mode last night. Needless to say, it just so happens that I get 3 drunk texts ON THE NIGHT where I'm actually trying to sleep.

My text tone is some retarded, loud, metallic noise that just grates on your nerves. So here's drunk text numero uno:

"idn kno what im doing!!"

That one was from Jeremy and none other. I thought he was using T9?

Number Two:

"I doot tghnj im drrrtnkk"

That was from Jeremy again. I can't translate that into coherent English. Anyone up for the challenge?

Number Three:

"I .m unbelievely fucked!"

From Billy.

... Is Unbelievely even IN predictive text mode?

So I woke up three times last night, thought that the phone was on my desk, turned out it was getting charged, nearly tripped over my shoe that was sitting quietly in the place where it's supposed to be, read the texts, then went back to sleep.

By the way, I love yogurt.

Love calculator

2007-11-15T18:31:00.000Z

Someone REALLY needs to make one of those. In a very close future.

I'm kind of a person who likes rules, and things that work under the rules. For example, machines. You press a button, it does one thing. If you press eject, it doesn't play, or stop, or rewind. It just ejects the tape.

Not so with relationships. You say one thing to ten different people, and you get ten different reactions. And there are certain rules, specific to each person; however, the rules are written NOWHERE, and you can't see the exact equation. Sure, you might see the gist of it, but most likely you're missing that one last z variable that would be crucial to getting the correct answer (and that was such an INTJ analogy right there).

As an INTJ, a lot of people think that my problem is not approaching people. Oh no. It's not that. Then I would have very few friends, and I actually do have a handful. Actually, I don't know what's wrong with me, apart from the fact that... I can't read male species. Actually, I suck at reading people period. When they're specimen (as in, I'm examining them objectively from a scientific approach), bring it on! But when it comes to the stance as "friends", or something along that line, I suck, hands down.

And why am I feeding you this long piece of Hamlet-esque angsty soliloquy, while you'd rather be reading about more antics by Dr. Payne? Ahh, hold it right there. I'm getting to it.

Hypothetical situation: A post-teen male (but not too post... I'm talking about "I just got out of teen" here) to an 18-year old female:

"No, I do want to meet you! You're clever and pretty and we obviously click." (okay, not verbatim, but up t "we obviously click" is.)

Let me give you the stats. This male has not been around too many females (think family here), and while his classmates were chasing around girls he was chasing... oh right, a new version of Playstation (or something along that line). He isn't Mr. Slick, obviously.

The keyword that is bothering the said female is "pretty". Remember all those romantic coding crap that rather belongs in some pseudo-supermarket-fiction version of the mix of Danielle Steel and the Da Vinci Code? Yeah, well, pretty means "we're going to be really good friends". Gorgeous means "you're so beautiful you're kinda far away". Cute means "girl next door, yeah I'm interested". Beautiful means "I hope I can get you, you look damn good."

Additionally, he does not initiate conversation with the said female online. Now, answer the following questions:

1. What is he thinking?
a. I'm really socially immature and I don't know those romance-Da Vinci codes. I really mean what I say.
b. I'm interested in a relationship, but it doesn't have to be you.
c. I'm just humouring you.
d. I'm just looking for a female friend.

See, if it was an equation, I'd solve it in about thirty seconds and give you a definite answer, but considering that relationships aren't just "plug and chug", I don't even know where to start. Because, quite frankly, I don't really care to like a person who definitely won't like me back. That would waste my energy, my brain cells (or what few amount I have left after cramming all those polymerase junk), my money (which is super super limited), and gnomes (and to get this joke, you need to look up "Physics isn't real, it's all gnomes" group on Facebook).

"How about you just enjoy being single?" You might say to the said female. Alas, that is kind of like asking Britney Spears to stop crashing her cars and flashing the entire world on a daily basis.

No, I'm not asking for Gackt-ish relationships where it's "I'll protect you and love you and be there for you forever and ever" (although any male who would like to do that for me is welcome to do so), because that's really unrealistic. And thinking that saying that kind of thing takes hell of a courage for the male (either that or the male is an extreme romantic) and I am definitely a closeted romantic who can write about that stuff, think about that stuff but when it actually comes to acting it out is more screwed than Ivory Merchant's bank account, the likelihood of that happening is about the same as me taking permanent residence in Versailles. But if you are such a male who would like to make such a gracious offer to me, considering that I'm practically blind when it comes to reading signs like that and there is no Braille for this, you pretty much need to shout it out at me .

That reminds me... why the hell is Gackt still single? Because he is not Vincent Valentine and he will get old, and then he'd die... alone. Why isn't he interested in females? And why does he keep kissing males? Is he gay? Is he an alien? (I'm guessing that this is REALLY close to hitting the mark.) And if he's not interested why is he writing all those sticky honey-syrupy songs about holding hands and love? Is he waiting for Miss. Right (and if you are, you are going to be waiting for a LONG time... it doesn't matter if you're celebrity or not).

So... yes. That would be my current evaluation of my life. And I don't think I'll get much chance starting next year, because I really need to graduate with Distinction and to do that... I'd be sitting in my room cramming stuff into my head and I will definitely not be going out on a hunt, because I'd be too tired and too busy. You can't really get to know someone when all you're thinking is "sigmoidal colon and DNA helicase and tetracyclin A". And currently, I have little time left in my day. Next year? Unless it is programmed into my weekly cycle, there will be no time for me to cram something new. And then after med school it'll be my graduate degree, then my residency, then my fellowship, and by the time I'm finished I'll be 34 and Cuddy Version 2.0 (although I am NOT going to get a fertility treatment like she is... hell no).

That reminds me: my lecture notes for Membranes was 24 pages, 8 point font. Now that's nuts.

INTJ5w6. And you?

2007-11-13T18:33:00.001Z

That looks like some kind of MI6 code. It's not. It's a personality type, meaning that I am an INTJ and a 5w6 on Enneagram.

Bottom line? I'm an isolated intellectual who doesn't like to be in the spotlight aaaand.... surprise surprise, romantic relationships are my Achilles Heel.

I am also type 3 (meaning that I'm domineering) and type 1 (seeking improvement).

Simply put: I'm under one hell of a stress.

Too Much Info

2007-11-09T17:50:00.000Z

Today's lecture was just traumatizing. The morning went well enough, except for the fact that the syllabus had a HUGE mistake - instead of two lectures, as said on the syllabus, we had a full day today. That just dampened my mood, but it wasn't enough to traumatize me. Oh no.

Trouble started after lunch.

Right as I sat down I felt my phone vibrate. It was a call from someone that I knew would never call, so I ran out of the classroom. (He was perfectly fine, by the way). After going to the toilet and checking that my contacts were still in place and seeing some gross stuff in the cubicles, I walked back to the laboratory. And the first thing I heard was:

"Eat your own feces."

I nearly blurted out "WHAT THE FUCK" really loud. Thankfully, I kept my mouth shut, and literally scuttled back to my seat.

Trouble was just brewing. I could smell its acrid, pungent odor from where I sat. It had green fume too.

Well, see, I was recording the lecture for those who left the lecture after lunch for whatever reason. Since my mp3 player had a counter of how long the recording was up to that point, I casually glanced at the screen as he stopped talking about eating your own feces (actually it was about animals who ate their own feces, but still) and moved onto the next topic.

The counter read: 32:14.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen. He had talked about the yucky, gross shit (literally) for thirty minutes.

Trouble didn't end there. After excessively BORING lectures about the endocrine, he did the usual thing.

What is the usual thing? Let me explain.

Recently, we had noticed a pattern in this lecturer's style of lecture. Barring the fact that he repeats himself so many times, lapses into periods of silence, and generally needs to take a speech class, he always rounds off his lecture for the day (which ends at FIVE... we begin at TEN in the morning) by dedicating the last thirty minutes to some ridiculous topic that is definitely related to sex.

Well, I'm not Britney Spears, but oops, he did it again.

Today's porn-in-question was viagra and erectile penises. I don't even know how we got there. We just did. When I actually woke up from daydreaming about bashing his head with my molecular cellular biology book then slowly eviscerating him with my teaspoon, he was already talking about how viagra enhanced penile erection. And pheromones. And some sex study conducted in a nunnery.

Now these are kind of crap that I'd call "TOO MUCH INFORMATION".

Honestly, his lectures are such a torture that they almost equal the pain caused by listening to Britney Spears all day long.

And that's saying a lot.

Ah, America

2007-11-05T16:18:00.000Z

Everytime I listen to Linkin Park, it reminds me of the US and the hell I went through throughout my high school.

Why? Let me explain to you.

America is a country of stress. People (well, high-strung, successful people) are stressed out. They are sleep-deprived, nutrition-deprived, love-deprived and time-deprived, always scuttling off to work and whatnot. Because in the US, the more you work, the more you get. So the people with money (I mean middle-class here) work their tails off, trying to be the winner. Because being the loser means that you're the ultimate failure.

While there are many pictures of "failure", there is only one picture of "success", AKA grand car, grand house, grand job, and a fat bank account. To achieve that, kids work their tails off doing extra-curricular, sacrificing their sleep, their weekends, and basically what entails as "good adolescence". They go to a reputable school, where they are filled with all sorts of nonsense that they'll never use in their lives. Drilled, grilled and instilled with a working discipline of a good Puritan and a soldier, the high school teenagers go off to college, where they work (sort of), live lives of small decadance, because... let's face it, unless one does advanced degrees, the childhood, the carefree time, is over. Here comes responsibility, paying the bills and being the adult.

Their lives, hell, our lives, aren't much fun.

And that's why Linkin Park reminds me of the "Land of the Free and the Brave". Because in reality, it might not be what Bush advertises it to be. People are afraid not to become that single picture of success... afraid to fall out of the line, to let go. Literally squished into this cookie cutter shape despite personality, people chafe against the picture of success, but are powerless to rebel.

Yeah, it sucks.

Oh, and have I also mentioned that the only guys who liked me that way always gave me Linkin Park CD? Hmm. I guess the next admirer is going to cross my path when they release a new CD. Now that's a hint, Chester, go make another CD.

Oh London Bridge...

2007-11-01T20:10:00.000Z

Due to my flu that has confined me to bed for the time apart from lectures, I am actually updating my blog while sneezing and cursing my throat for being so irritated. Anyway.

During reading week (AKA next week... horray), I swear I'll update the Japanese version of my blog. Swear to God, Mum!

Okay, now that's said, I would like to move onto... my college life.

Since none of my readers (except my mother) has been here, let me explain where I live. First, this quote from Wikipedia...

"Next to Stainer Street, off Tooley Street is Weston Street. Both are among the gloomiest places in London. They are simply tunnels. In the early nineteenth century, before the station was built, John Keats lived in Weston Street, at that time called Dean Street. It was here that he wrote the poem "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer".

Yes, I live on Weston Street. No, I do not live in the tunnel (by the way, the picture of the tunnel is actually Weston Street... ). I live on the extension of the tunnel, but it's still damn gloomy.

Go down Weston Street, you get to a junction. Go right toward Bermondsey, which connects to Elephant and Castle (don't ask me where they got that name) where it leads to... THE TRASHIEST PLACE OF LONDON. Well, maybe not. But I haven't seen much worse.

Go straight, you get into Weston tunnel. Go through that to get to Tooley Street, where London Dungeon (which costs me 20 quid... god knows when I'll ever visit that place), Hay's Galleria (yey Boots), London Bridge Station's one of numerous exits, The London Bridge (which is just a bridge), St. Olaf's House, who apparently was some hotshot during the medieval ages and whatnot, e.t.c.

Go left, you get to... another London Bridge station entrance, Starbucks (which closes at 7:30, therefore no longer qualifies as a true Starbucks), a newsagent, some sandwich place where I've never been in, bunch of hospital buildings (I told you I live in a damn hospital), McDonalds (in the Student Union of Guy's Campus, AKA Guy's... basically where medical training takes place for the first few years), Boland House where Guy's bar (see left), Blackwell's (where they sell ridiculously expensive books that can be bought for half price in Amazon), Student Union. It also leads you to the actual Guy's Campus via colonnade, Hodgkin's Building (which is probably as old as the elevator in my dorm... see picture below the orange creepy one, it's the ivy-covered one in the back), New Hunt's House (the orange creepy picture to the right) and Henriette Raphael Building (which look new to impress the candidates who are insane enough to want to come here), and... I think that's it. Anyway, go past the main gates which look NOTHING like the main gates (it's this weird parking lot with steel gates with the Guy's logo on the top where no one can see it... oh, and throw in Thomas Guy's statue randomly standing in the centre). Go past that, you see the place where Keats lived. Unfortunately, nobody around here knows who John Keats is. Believe it or not, he even went to my school (no, not Fenwick, he's a British, he went to GKT). Go figure. (Yes, that plaque is approximately 2 minutes away from where I live.)

Go down more, you hit Borough High Street, where the famous Borough Market is. Apparently it is a world-renown food market, but unfortunately I only buy vegetables from there, so I'd have no clue. Turn left, the street also houses Ryman's stationary (thank God it's close to my dorm), ANOTHER exit from London Bridge Station (see picture to the left), Sainsbury's which is too expensive for me, and... I think that's it. Oh, and a HUGE Natwest branch, which defies logic because there's a branch two minutes away. Oh well.

Then go right, walk up, you hit London Bridge (not the station, the actual bridge, right below). Cross it, you hit Monument Station, (seen in the picture to the left), where there is another shoddy branch of Boots, Natwest, and... Tesco's!
Yes, I walk 10 minutes to buy carrots so that I can save 4p. Now shut up.

My lectures are actually at three campuses. Two days I'm at Guy's, right at London Bridge... two days I'm at Strand, another at Waterloo but I never go there anymore because I don't want to repeat Sophomore chemistry again.

The Strand Campus is the heart of KCL (which is NOT Potassium Chloride as I thought at first). It is at... Strand, which is across from the Aldwych Bend, where LSE is. Turns out I walk the same street to get to my campus as Dad did. Coincidence much? Anyway, keep walking from Strand and you literally hit Savoy, Covent Garden, the attraccion de tourista where I have no business. Turn left right away and you're onto Waterloo Bridge.

The thing is, the Strand Campus isn't actually a campus. It's more of a "what used to be bunch of buildings which Kings College London bought for the sheer lack of money and sheer need". While LSE got prettier and prettier, KCL just took turn for the worse... for example, The Norfolk Building isn't ACTUALLY a university building. It was a FREAKING HOTEL. Macadam building fares no better... actually, it's kind of hard to see that it's a university unless you know where to look. They say they'll renovate it, blah blah, but I'd probably be dead of old age by the time they start.

Of course, we have a pretty chapel to show off (since we are the only London University affiliated with the church). I never go in there, because well... I probably should have been one of the Godless Scums of the Gower Street (AKA University College London). I have no faith whatsoever. I'm an agnostic.

On the other hand, the Maughn Library (left: the entrance, right: entrance details) which used to be the Office for Public Records (or something) is palatial, and also confusing as hell. It has about 4 floors, one mezzanine, and the place is an utter mess. I still get lost in it. Outside looks pretty and about as British as it can be. But then, so does the inside door of Kings College London, which I did not know it existed until a week ago I wandered over to that direction by accident.

Waterloo... fares no better. The James Clerk Maxwell building, which still remains a mystery to me as to its location, USED TO BE A POST OFFICE. You can still see "POST OFFICE" faintly on the building.

The Franklin-Wilkins Building, which I used to call it as "Francis-Wilkins Building", is actually mustard yellow. It's literally down the street from the Waterloo Imax theatre, which I will never go to for the price. Across from the building is Stamford Street Building, which houses the Student Union and apparently a dorm, but that is yet to be checked.

Okay, so you get my campuses, and my surroundings. Here is my dorm:

Yes, it's a CONCRETE BOX.

Each floor houses a flat, which I have no information about since I've never been in there before, and a corridor. The corridor houses a kitchen (you will hear about the kitchen in a minute), three toilets, two showers, and one bath. It also houses 14 people.

The stuff in the kitchen never works. For example, the stupid microwave always manages to cook a part of meat and leave the rest of it to completely frozen state when you try to defrost it. The fridge (we have two) are missing bars. The only thing that actually works is the stupid freezer. We have two cookers; the hubs work fine, but one of the cooker's oven door just comes off, the other oven spits out black smoke whenever you use it. Fire hazard, anyone? Additionally, the radiator spits out water whenever it is turned on, and the faucets spurt out random bursts of water when you use it for too long.

The bigger shower fails to work properly as well. Basically, what happens is you take shower with lukewarm water, and just as you're getting out it gets warmer. The other shower is no better, as it is a shower STALL, constantly has a puddle the size of Noah's Flood on the floor, has molds on the ceiling that vaguely looks like human faces when you are high on caffeine and has not slept for more than four hours total for the past two nights, and what's worse, the shower head is approximately an inch away from my face (I'm 5'9") and so to get water on my head I have to lean back. The catch here is that the stall wall is approximately six inches away from me, so whenever I lean back too far I smash my head against the plastic. Ow. For bonus, because the other shower does not work the 14 of us are sharing one shower.

The toilets defeat logic. There are eight on the south side of the corridor and six on north side (my side). There are two toilets on my side and one on the other. The toilet seats on my side (don't know about the south side) slips out of where your rear end is when you sit on it, successfully landing you onto the rim of the toilet bowl where some drunk idiot had probably pissed on the night before. Screams and grossness ensues. Fun fun.

My room is relatively decent, but the duvet they provided probably will not keep a hot money warm in middle of Chicago August. It's literally an quarter of an inch thick. The bed is about as soft as tofu, generating back complaints. The curtains have cigarette burns in them, the windows have this restrictor on them so you can't open it all the way... understandable, since I'd probably kill myself in this dingy hole if the restrictors weren't on the windows. A sink, a VERY tall closet, a cabinet with three drawers, one wall cabinet, a mirror by the sink, and a shelf on top of the radiator that is slanted and therefore makes my books fall off completes the suite. Oh, and a corkboard which is painted a yucky hospital blue to match the walls.

The residence office managers are evil, end of discussion. And the security guards are basically wasting our money, since all they do is take naps and listen to music in their little cubicles. They even have "Out - back at" sign, when they're NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

The laundrette harbours many hatred from the residents of our dorm. The dryer just never works... it's 20p for one session, and you have to invest 80p to get your clothes dry. 20p just warms your wet laundry. Ew.

Despite all this, I am actually enjoying my life at Kings College London.

Yey college!

The Sexiest Man Alive

2007-10-30T21:18:00.000Z

Well, he's kind of dead now, but...

No, he is NOT Hugh Grant (that's what I thought at first)

He is...

JFK JUNIOR.

OMG. (that was my reaction too)

Introduction to University Class - Lesson 2

2007-10-28T14:53:00.000Z

Personally, I don't have a clue why ANYONE would want to go to med school. A month into it and I've already visited the doctor three times, bought 3 jars of coffee and nearly finished with the second one, have used over 320 sheets of looseleaf for notes, on four kinds of pills, sleep-deprived and love-deprived, yelled at, and sick. If that doesn't scare you away, you're a masochist so STOP READING MY BLOG.

Anyway, since I did the classmates last post (which was a while ago), here is lesson 2 - the PROFESSORS.

The Walltalker - with the IQ of 2000, an appearance of an alien and a very bad speech pattern, this guy is a genius. Unfortunately, since he had never experienced any problems in school he can't understand what the general population goes through in his lectures - constant hypnosis and disrupted sleep patterns via unplanned naps. He talks INTO the wall, thereby inhibiting the class from taking decent notes. He also is a complete tech idiot, and does not plan his lectures, throwing the avid note-takers into utter confusion.

The Hyper TA - this guy isn't a TA, actually. He's a full-fledged lecturer... unfortunately he has an appearance of a second year college student and is just juvenile in every way possible. Braces? Check. Nerdy smile? Check. Much awkwardness around single female species who just crowd around him so that they can get the extra points in the exam? Check. He is also constantly hyper compared to the more somber fellows, thereby giving an impression that the only reason he got to such an educational status at such an early age is because of overdose of cafffeine and sugar. Which is most likely the case anyway.

McGonagall Reincarnate - If you thought the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a figment of imagination, think again. SHE EXISTS. This bitch has an amazing tendency to start class on the dot despite the fact that half the class is still rushing among the throng of businessmen or stoned and in bed. She is also strict as hell, has WAY too much time on her hands which will be spent on hunting down students who were too tired to show up for class (hello, it's university, not kindergarden). She also has one of the primary school teacher handwriting, talks in a typical middle-class British accent, is organized to death, and will expect you to be the same. So, no late-night drinking on Tuesday nights, fellas.

The mad scientist - THIS GUY IS CRAZY! He's a great guy, great teacher, but something tells you that he kind of slept through "Common sense 101" during college. As the result, he's a wacko. Oh, and he sort of remembers safety procedures, but sees it as a a guideline, not rules, sending you into utter horror, increased by the factor of one trillion by the fact that he has an innocent smile on his face.

The Evil - This guy is just damn evil. He doesn't intend to, oh no. But see, that makes it even worse. He likes to give long-ass lectures on Fridays when everyone's ready to dash back to catch up on sleep, party, work, or just plain stuff. He also is in desperate need of speech classes; his lack of ability to speak properly in the public sends you to utter hell, because this disability prolongs the lectures by the factor of four. Oh, and he also always have a congenial smile, then fails you with the congenial smile still on his face. Simply put: he's a lying bastard.

I hope you enjoyed my observations. Now I have to go read 100 pages (literally) for cellular biology for tomorrow. And I haven't even started.

Craaap.

5 more minutes

2007-10-12T09:28:00.001+01:00

Statement: I actually shouted "MUUUUUM, FIVE MORE MINUTES" this morning when my alarm played a LOUD version of KT Tunstall.

I'm pathetic. I'm ashamed of myself.

Collegitis

2007-10-11T15:20:00.000+01:00

You know your first day of Senior year, your teachers lectured you about "Senioritis", a commonly mysterious phenomenon when the Seniors just start slacking off? Well, I do. And I distinctively remember one of my lecturers - I mean, teachers - saying something like "Don't drop into the pit called Senioritis - you can never get out" or some weird metaphor like that.

Well, if that was a pit, then Collegitis is a Mariana trench.

Away from parents, freedom (and relatively more money, now to think about it), I've been slacking off. Not like "I'm going to procrastinate this paper till tomorrow" slack-off, because I never get any homework (I have one coursework, three labs, and final exams in most of my classes to make the grade). The thing is, I stopped going to lectures (ahem ahem, Chem), mainly because it's a waste of time.

So what do I do? Well...

I'm usually studying some other crap (read: Advanced algebra, Statistics, Clinical Psychology, nuclear physics), or I'm sleeping. Or watching House (Episode 3 just sucked, honest). Or writing out notes for my two biology classes, which makes AP Biology look like a fairy cake. Serious. All the transcriptase and lipase and -ases are driving me nuts, and Mammalian bio is no better - who the HELL spends THREE lectures on thermal control of mammals? Argh (and tomorrow fares no better - lecture from 10 til 4:30, hour breaks in between. Shit.).

So... to my younger people (AKA Ian, yes, you)... DON'T get Senioritis. I didn't get one till post-AP exams, and then there were about two weeks before graduation. And now I'm getting Collegitis, and it's seriously taxing me...

So... Finnell, what DO you see here?

2007-10-08T17:01:00.000+01:00

Honestly, I have no clue.

See, every year, my former math teacher, math idiot extraordinaire (and I hope to GOD that he doesn't read this) takes about 40 kids to... where else but London. In my opinion, his obsession with this city is beyond disgust or pity - it piques curiosity. It's that bad. His room is cluttered with London stuff that I'd never even DREAM about going near to, let alone buy.

...

He stays with kids in Royal National Hotel, which is apparently in Bloomsbury, which is just about ten minutes from one of my campuses at Strand (who would have guessed that Kings College London had over 5 campuses... not me). Incidentally, the only time I was in Bloomsbury was when I accidentally took the wrong turn from Covent Garden back from school (well, I was trying to get to Picadilly, oops) and ended up right by Gower Street. Therefore, have I ever seen the hotel? Nope?

But coming to think about it, I think Finnell's little group knows more about London than I do. Sure, I can tell you if Boots or Superdrug has cheaper soap, or where you can buy the cheapest carrots (which is not Borough Market, but Tescos at Monument... who would have guessed). I can tell you how many Prets I pass by when I get to Strand Campus, or what's in the London Bridge station, but beyond my home ground, I'm clueless. I have no idea how to get to Tower Bridge, although I can explain to you about 4 different ways to get to Stamford Street in Waterloo (well... I can see it if I walk about three minutes from my residence... would that help?). If you ask me which way to Harrods, I'll probably end up leading you to Leicester Square instead. When it comes to the famous parks (AKA Hyde Park), I can't even locate them on the map. As for Stonehenge? Well, anything outside of London is a mystery for me - there's Scotland up in the north, Wales down somewhere in the southwest (and even that's dubious), Ireland is to the west. The other places are... well, they don't exist on the map for me. So there we are.

So all in all, London isn't a fun place, folks. Especially when you are dodging gruntled businessmen to get to the class on time.

Oh, and the best sandwich around: Tescos.

Dante

2007-10-07T23:47:00.001+01:00

Just one word today: Dante Sparda. The Sex God.

Just kidding. But he is hot.

Out of the frying pan into the fire

2007-10-06T23:34:00.000+01:00

I currently hate everything and everybody.

First of all, my watch wristband broke. So now I have to get the damn thing fixed. I hate spending money, period.

Second, I just bout $200 worth of books - Nuclear Physics, molecular biology, Psychology. And I feel bad, although I'm going to use them a lot, because again, I hate using money for myself.

Third, this stupid postal strike is CRIPPLING ME. I HATE ROYAL MAIL!!!!! I hope they crash and get banned or something, so the stupid postal workers can get fired and go on the streets. It's a PUBLIC SERVICE, STOP STRIKING, DAMN IT. If this was States nobody would care because people'd just use FedEx or UPS, but nooo, this is the UK. So people just bear with it. In the US if the postal service was the only service available, they'd be crippled, and the entire country will fall down. ARGH. Now I won't get my books within the next week, it's doubtful my lab coat will be here on time, my bank stuff wouldn't be here for another week, and it's pissing me off.

Fourth, I've been averaging 3 hours of sleep a night, high on caffeine, and 6 to 10 hours of study per day, and this is making me CRANKY AS HELL. I've been averaging around 1000kcal a day, mostly sugar (yeah, I'm really a health nut).

Fifth, I hate my Mammalian biology professor. Can't he JUST GET TO THE POINT AND STOP GIVING OUT INDISCREET INFO, like HOW TO KILL PEOPLE WITHOUT GETTING TRACED? I KNOW THAT INJECTING K IONS WILL KILL YOU WITHOUT TRACES, I READ THAT IN HOUSE OF GOD, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! STOP REPEATING YOURSELF 30 BILLION TIMES, I KNOW THAT THE pH OF THE FUCKING BLOOD IS 7.4 WITHOUT YOU SAYING IT 13 TIMES, I'M NOT A DUMBASS. AND STOP GIVING 6 HOUR LECTURES, I HAVE LIMITS, ESPECIALLY WHEN I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN 36 HOURS, ON THREE DOSES of 200mg CAFFEINE, ATE NOTHING BUT TWIX ALL DAY! AND STOP SAYING "FINAL WORD" THEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR 10 MINUTES! AND STOP TALKING ABOUT CAMELS, I'M NOT GOING TO BE A VET, I DON'T CARE IF ALL THE CAMELS DIE IN THE WORLD! GOD.

Sixth, THE GUYS WHO COME BACK TO THE FLOOR PISS-ASS DRUNK, STOP SCREAMING. I'm EITHER SLEEPING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 2 DAYS OR RIPPING MY HAIRS OUT DOING BIOLOGY. NEXT TIME I'LL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT, AND THEN YOU CAN SCREAM AS MUCH AS YOU WANT.

SEVENTH, STOP MAKING ME DO EVERYTHING (that's to the people over here, not you guys in the US). I'M ALREADY SWAMPED, I'M CRANKY, I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME STUDYING NUCLEAR PHYSICS AND PSYCHOLOGY ALONG WITH THE COURSEWORK, HAVING 2 JOBS. DO THE SHIT THAT YOU CAN DO YOURSELF. I AIN'T YOUR MOMMY.

Argh. I'm SO PISSED OFF.

Introduction to University Class - Lesson 1

2007-09-25T16:33:00.001+01:00

So, the first two days are over, and already I see some stereotypes springing up in my head. Some of them are nice, some of them are boring, some of them are just plain damn annoying. So here it is:

The Studious Idiot - this type just annoys me. They are the ones who read diligently (which is fine), then proceed to answer retarded questions that the professors ask. I mean, seriously. We all understand that two plus two is four, you don't have to answer it proudly and look around to make sure that everybody thinks you're clever, we all know you're stupid trying to look intelligent. Now SHUT UP.

The Jock - These people look down on you because you simply aren't in their class for some reason. It's usually because of your ethnicity, your accent, your extracurricular, or simply how you look. They also are moderately intelligent; however, they have no aspiration and absolutely no spark of brilliance whatsoever.

The Lazy Genius - These people sleep through class, listen to their iPods, some of them never even show up. Then they ace the exams.

The Pseudo-Lazy Genius - This group study their butts off during the night while everybody's partying or sleeping, then turn up next day for lectures and casually fall asleep, listen to their iPods, relax, e.t.c. But owing to the 3 million hours of study, they ace the exams.

The Clever Jerk - This guy's clever. Really clever. Unfortunately, he didn't get educated in "let's share and get along" facet of school education, and he has successfully turned into the official jerk of the class.

The Silent Asian - This guy is silent, mainly for one reason: he can't speak English. He studies hard and well, and when it comes to paper exams they ace it. But when it's practicals, they're down the drain.

The Bubbly Chatterbox - These girls are CONSTANTLY talking, giggling, laughing, and living in Barbieland. That's fine, but hello, this is university. So please come back when you get a brain installed, preferrably by Linux.

The Bookworm Idiot - Very similar to the Studious idiot, these guys just spit out random facts that they probably read on Yahoo news to the professor, distracting the class from the topic and pretty much confusing everybody. They love to ask rhetorical questions, long questions, and irrelevant questions to the professors, thinking that this makes them look clever, all the while annoying everyone - including the professor - in the class. Quite the opposite of the Lazy genius.

The Nice Guy - This guy's just NICE. He looks good (above average to excellent), has a nice physique, relatively clever, and his personality's gold. Too bad he's already taken.

So far, I've met these people... some people are nice, one of them's me, some of them I'm going to kill someday with a terrible case of botulism that's probably flourishing in the kitchen fridge.

So that was Lesson 1. Lesson 2 to come very soon.

Fire Alarm

2007-09-21T16:44:00.000+01:00

So around 3:40AM, I was just about to fall asleep after sorting everything out, checking e-mail, tidying the desk, doing the dishes, e.t.c. I was fatigued and exhausted, my body felt like a sponge. As soon as I dozed off...

came the high-pitched siren.

My first thought was, "IS THIS A DREAM?" It was a fire alarm, but it's rather a precipitous start to the schoolyear if my dorm catched on fire before I even went to my first class. Anyway, I thought it was a real fire, so wearing naught but my Fenwick gym t-shirt light yellow checkered shorts, I ran down the stairs and outside. It was freezing.

It wasn't a fire drill. Three firetrucks came, and we had to stay outside for thirty minutes while the lazy firemen looked around - leisurely - for fires. Then we went back inside.

And by then I was so wide awake that I couldn't go back to sleep.

At London

2007-09-20T18:00:00.000+01:00

I arrived in London on the 15th. The luggage was so heavy that I really thought I'd die, but apparently I wasn't the only one who overpacked stuff from the US.

Right now, I have two friends. For whatever fate, they're both males. One is Chinese who lived in the UK from age 1 to 12, then came to the US. Then he returned to England for university. He's in the same dorm as me, and lives one floor down. The name's Kevin. He's in the dentistry course. He has a very determined personality and eats a lot - generally a nice guy.

Another guy is a Japanese from Waseda Academy who came to Kings for some reason that I still can't figure out. He got into Waseda University (The Princeton of Japan), but didn't get into Keio (The Yale of Japan), so he came to London. I did hear many times that there are Waseda-type students and Keio-type students, but I didn't know it was true. He speaks relatively gof English, and true to his past in Waseda Academy, he's very interesting to talk to. He told me he wanted to study International Relations. He also had to suffer through the fate of being dragged around the world, since he moved to Chicago 8 months after he was born, then to Nepal, then to Hawaii and came back to Japan when he was 8.

I realized this while I was watching people, but maybe those who had moved around a lot in the world stick together with people with similar past. It's not on purpose, but people like Kevin and Akira and I see so many things, see so many priorities, that we don't really fit in anywhere as a nationality. For example, an ordinary Japanese may ask for help to me, but Akira never does that. I think he's used to doing things alone. As a British, Kevin doesn't speak British and lives at a much faster pace, and as a Chinese he's slightly more nervous about "give-and-take". Maybe the same thing can be said about me as well.

"Can you help me carry this in?"

2007-09-05T03:00:00.001+01:00

WHY CAN'T I HAVE ROMANTIC DREAMS?!

Ahem. I mean...

Well, let me explain.

I was sitting on the front steps; apparently I just graduated from high school. I was in shorts and a Fenwick T-shirt, hands propping up my head, staring into the sunset. My daydreaming was jarred awake by a silver sedan that parked right in front of the house (illegally). And out came...

Sephiroth, from the driver's seat. In a Harvard sweatshirt and jeans, his hair in a ponytail.

My first course of action was to scream "ARRRRGH! SEPHIROTH IS HERE AT MY DOORSTEP! I'M GONNA DIE A GRUESOME DEATH!" but ignoring my panic, he went to the trunk and pulled out two duffel bags.

Erm...?

"Can you help me carry this in?"

My next thought was that he was visiting my neighbours. Maybe he was their son that I never had the chance to meet before. Alas, that was not the case. He casually walked up the front steps to MY house, got out the keys, and opened the door.

Next course of action in my head: "ARRRGH WHY IS SEPHIROTH GOING INTO MY HOUSE"

"How was school?"

"... huh?"

Before I was able to answer the Sephiroth Nobilis' question, my parents were running to him, hugging him, playing the loving parents. No, they were my parents, not Lucrecia and Hojo (ew). Turns out Sephiroth is my brother, just finished his junior year at Harvard, a government major and is planning to go to Harvard law school. A student, a Rhodes candidate, e.t.c. He happened to be a normal brother.

Anyway, after he stored his duffel bags into his room (which is not in the real-life floor plan, but happens to be right next to my room), he took me to Borders because I wanted to use a gift card I received. We went to Oberweis after that, we had ice cream, he drove me home, only to find out that there was a bright red car in the parking lot.

My thought: "Great. A lunatic is going to be in my neighbour's house, possibly the kind who plays Nine Inch Nails at two in the morning."

My brother parked, I got out, and we went into the house, only to see a redhead at the dining table, eating... cookies.

That's right. Reno eating cookies.

He was dressed in jeans as well, but lost his goggle-like shades, and was wearing a COLUMBIA T-shirt. Turns out he's my older brother as well, now going into his sophomore year at Columbia, in Engineering.

He asked me how school was. I told him how I missed out prom and graduation. Reno assured me that those two events were meaningless wastes of money. Then he called me "sis".

So... to summarize: I'm their baby sister.

'Accept this sacrifice, o Great Lord of Darkness'

2007-08-31T23:17:00.000+01:00

That's just one of the things you don't want to hear in an OR.

To be honest, going to a hospital should be a trembling-inducing, fearful, nightmarish experience. Basically you're handing your life over to a random stranger and saying "here, take my life and my happiness, even though I don't know that you have an anti-social personality disorder plus a history of three divorces and is on three different anti-depressants." Even after that you have no clue what the heck the doctor is doing, and for all you know he might be sending you to an OR pretending that it's some bizarre, crazy disease while you just might be having a migraine. Bad luck for you.

After scaring the bejesus out of you like that (because, you know, I will be joining the anti-social, thrice-divorced, depressed population called MD's), I would like to finish off with this list:

TOP TEN THINGS YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR IN THE OR:
1 Don't worry. I think it is sharp enough.

2 Nurse, did this patient sign the organs donation card?

3 Damn! Page 84 of the manual is missing!

4 Everybody stand back! I lost a contact lens!

5 Hand me that...uh...that uh.....thingie

6 Better save that. We'll need it for the autopsy.

7 "Accept this sacrifice, O Great Lord of Darkness"

8 Whoa, wait a minute, if this is his spleen, then what's that?

9 "Ya know, there's big money in kidneys. Hell, he's got two of'em

10 What do you mean "You want a divorce?"

Childhood Dreams

2007-08-31T01:49:00.000+01:00

I think I had a lot more dreams when I was small. Not just me, but in general children have more hopes and more dreams and everything seemed possible. sadly, as the child grows older each dream pops like a bubble, until the child finds him/herself doing things that he/she doesn't want to do, seeing things he/she doesn't want to see. Nothing that the child wants to do or want. I wonder how such people live.

In my case, I think I was pretty focused. I decided I wanted to become a physician when I was three, and I kept running at it. When I think about it, everything I did, from reading to listening to talking were all focused on becoming a physician. I don't think I was suited to a life as a physician when I was small. Slow, vague, undecisive. Not clever and not ready. Since a physician is required decisiveness, cleverness and readiness, if I went on like that I probably would have liked to be an English major. I also believe that since I wouldn't have had superb grades, I probably wouldn't have made it into a medical school anyway.

Well, something went wrong, and I wanted to become a physician. I didn't have the qualities to become a doctor; I had to change myself. From a slow, quiet child, I changed myself into a fast teenager who did not care to pay whatever the cost for the objective.

My senior year was pretty hard. Since I still had AP's to complete, while other kids were going to prom and movies and playing around, I was sitting at home solvng problems. Friends left and summer vacation wasn't a vacation since I was going to summer school to knock requisites out of the way. To think about it, this is the first summer when I can do anything I want to do - which, at the moment, is to be lazy. This is probably the last time as well; I still have license exams and OSCE's coming up.

At times like that, I feel irritated when people casually say they want to become physicians. I paid so much more to get where I am (which is a baby medic). While others were having fun I was sitting at my desk solving equations. I won't be able to understand if the people who were having fun and I got to the same place.

Thankfully, I still believe God is here, since those who had fun ended up in nasty holes. Some ended up taking multi-grand loans, or going to schools that no one had ever heard of.

the bigger the thing is that you want, harder to get it by suddenly thinking about it. Those who went to med school from my year were pretty set on becoming doctors Freshman year. That was why we could start prepping early.

On the tangent, it's a long way to a medical practice. When I calculated I still have 17 years to go before I get to the place I want to be. 17 years is how long I've lived in this world; since I began schooling at the age of 5, I'm not even halfway there.

Mr. Grinch = Mr. Bush?

2007-08-27T22:43:00.000+01:00

I had an awful dream last night. It wasn't as wacko as the Reno dream, but it was still just as strange.

I was coming home from college. I got off the plane, walked casually to the gate, where I got stopped by a customs guard.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Erm... I'm home for Christmas?"

"You are under arrest. You have the right to keep your silence."

"Wait, WHAT?"

Turns out that President Bush suddenly came up with this bizarre idea that he wants Christmas all for himself (No, I wasn't reading How Grinch Stole the Christmas...). So, he asked the Congress to pass a law stating that it was now illegal in the United States to celebrate Christmas unless you had a specific permission signed by Bush. Since I was coming home to celebrate Christmas, now a crime punishable under law, I was under arrest.

I started to cry.

Then I woke up.

Getting into med school - How?

2007-08-26T08:09:00.000+01:00

For those of you who read this blog (is there such person?), there are probably those who want to get into medical school. for the masochists like you, I will tell you how to get into medical school. Yey!

Yes... there are two types of those who want to get into med school. One is a masochist, who just isn't getting enough pain in universities and wants more. The other is a sadist, who wants to inflict pain on others, also known as the patients.

Anyway...

I think the most defined location to enter med school is Japan. If you get the score above the cut-off, you're in. How do you clear the requirement? Study, of course. How you study is up to you. There are those who memorise after just reading; there are some others who need to write to remember things. Then there's some who need to read, write, and solve to remember (and that would be me). No one can teach you this. To figure out how to study is also part of studying.

The United States? This is a little more vague. First, you have to do your senior year of university in the US. Superb scores on MCATs is usually a must. You have to do an interview. If you're a foreigner, TOEFLs are also required. Essays are usually part of the admissions process... there is no certain factor that'll get you in, so if the judge likes you you're admitted and if he doesn't like you, well, too bad.

Great Britain... well, you have to have a certain level of English. First you apply through UCAS, and then you take an exam. When you get a score above a certain level on those tests (and you may ask, what is the cut off? The answer is... I have no clue. My university didn't release that information), then you have an interview. The interview will examine how much you want to become a physician and how suited you are to the career. There is no right answer; so, I suggest you carefully think about why exactly you want to become a physician and if you're really suitable to the pressured career personality-wise (hint: if you're slow worker, this job may not be for you. Physicians are required on-time, split-second decisions.). Then you get an offer, usually a conditional, stating "if you get so-and-so scores on such-and-such tests, we'll accept you". Clear the requirements and you're in (for your information, I was officially admitted early July. That means if I didn't clear my conditions I'd be a useless unemployed oxygen-to-carbon dioxide converter for a year).

Well, anywhere you go, it's a tough road. Competition is fierce. All-nighters and lack of sleep will follow you around. As Christina from 'Grey's Anatomy' had said, "Aren't doctors workaholics with god-complex?" I see my seniors and she's damn right.

If you still want to become a physician after reading all this... good luck.

Grey's Anatomy

2007-08-24T19:50:00.000+01:00

No, I'm not talking about the anatomy textbook "Gray's Anatomy". (Well, I think the population who knows that Gray's Anatomy is a textbook is very few, but that's not the point.) I'm taking about the TV show.

I started watching it because I was bored but to my surprise, the show itself could not be farther from the truth. I'm not an intern yet, but I still am a medical student, and I've seen some facets of a life in a hospital. And this is what I realised: sure, there are people who want to be doctors because it's a noble cause and wonderful and blah blah blah, but that's just a pretty hullabaloo. What you have to keep in mind is that most people only meet the general practitioners for their entire lives, and those people don't get covered in blood and feces. Besides, not many physicians see their patients covered in blood. They always smile and have nice stethoscopes around their necks when they meet their patients.

That's nice and dandy, but as a medical student or an intern, there's no way you can be smiling. 36 hour shifts are ordinary schedules, and everyone ends up looking like zombies and there were no pretty female doctors like you see in Grey's. Sure, I saw some physicians who might have looked pretty, but their dead tired expressions ruin everything. Patients scream at them and nurses order them around and their daily lives consist of just perseverance and patience.

This TV show is weird from the setting. Why are the patients getting carried into the ER being treated by interns? Aren't they supposed to be treated by, you know, the professionals, called ER physicians? Additionally, the scene from Episode 1, when they treat the appendicitis? Just by common sense what kind of a hospital lets a first-day intern treat that? Just that weird enough for me.

Even more, you know when Grey guesses what's stuck in the throat of the rape victim? When you think about it, that's pretty weird. The doctors in the surrounding are all experienced. If they don't know what's stuck in the girl's throat and a spanking new intern can guess it, that's WEIRD. As if that's not enough, the main surgeon is a guy. As those who have watched that episode may have noticed, there is no way that an experienced male surgeon doesn't have a clue what it is and a brand new intern - Grey - can know what it is. I guess it's same all around, but interns are usually yelled at, warned, and taught in most hospitals; I've never seen the vice versa. If the opposite happened, we wouldn't know which one's the intern and which one's an attending! Interns are apprentices. If the apprentice was teaching the teacher, we wouldn't know which one's an apprentice and which one's the instructor.

On a tangent, apparently my personality resembles Christina's the most. I don't know if that's a compliment or not.

Dorm Life

2007-08-23T03:36:00.000+01:00

My dorm was finalised today. I was rather afraid that they'd change their mind after all and stick me in this place across the town, but luckily I'm in a place two minutes away from campus. The area isn't... exactly safe, but it's not like I'm in White Chapel where there were murders recently, so I'm not too worried. The bank is close by, and the Borough Market and other supermarkets are within walking distance. The underground is facing the back of the school. It's a compact place, really.

An English boy of Chinese decent is going to the same dorm as me. Since we're pretty friendly to each other and he takes same classes as me, I'm pretty thankful.

I'm coming home for Christmas. I'm pretty happy about that. Just like the Japanese go home for New Year's, it's kind of miserable to spend the Christmas alone. My friend is coming back for Christmas as well, sit it might turn out to be a pretty happy homecoming.

I have three friend(lies) at the uni now. One is the same person as the one sharing my accommodation. He moved to the US in sixth year. His parents are from UL as well, so his history is very similar to mine. Additionally, he plays the violin, just like me.

Another person is in the residence at Russell Square. She's from Thailand, and she told me she's studying Business. She's extremely friendly and always cheerful, so she's the opposite from the grouchy and not really friendly me. Her hobbies are shopping and cooking. For someone like me, who cooks because he/she wants to eat good food but can't get it readily, or for someone (like me) who goes shopping because it's necessary, she's a completely different type. I think she thinks I'm interesting.

The last one (but not the least) used to live in Cambridge. She's a British. She's studying music (specifically piano) at Kings. She has short hair, and there is no doubt from her appearance that she's a British. She's in the same residence as the Thai girl. She was my first acquaintance at KCL.

I'm leaving in about twenty days, but I can't really believe it's true. Since it's me, I can just see myself packing three days before the day I leave. I can't really believe I'm going to be living alone either. Well, since it's a dorm, it's different from living in an apartment alone, I think.

I finally bought the Return of the King movie. Since I didn't think the last couple of scenes weren't well made, I decided to buy it when the price got lower... and two years passed before I actually got around to buying it. I watched it last night, but since I was reading 'The Elladan Show' right before then I couldn't stop laughing. The Middle-Earth depicted in the fanfiction isn't the beautiful, romantic Middle Earth, but it's a land where cars are running and cell phones are jingling and there is an unstated rule that you must never eat in Uni cafeterias if you don't want to risk mystery food. Basically, the Earth with Middle Earth geography. His father, Elrond, is the Prime Minister of Rivendell, and Elladan is a senior at Grey Havens University. He thinks he's the only one with common sense, but just like his family and his acquaintances, he lacks what he thinks he possesses. His twin brother (Elrohir) is a kind of an elf who just grew up while keeping a mind of a three-year old, and his sister Arwen was on the volleyball team in high school and married Aragorn right after graduating high school. There was no sense of solemnity or mystery.

But apart from the setting, the events in Lord of the Rings is very well depicted, so it adds even more to the humor. The things Elladan is worrying about is extremely trivial; each character is very well created and that adds more to the laughter.

Apparently most of my high school classmates leave either this week or the next. I guess my school starts extremely late.

Why I decided to do medicine

2007-08-22T03:32:00.001+01:00

On a tangent, I've never been reccommended to be a clinical physician. Rather, people usually stop me. For a female medic student, this doesn't happen very often, and I often find people losing their smiles at this.

Now, thinking about my own wish, I don't mind being a physician who cares for patients, but I don't care for anything else but university hospitals. Rather say, clinical researcher.

Pediatrician? Nope. (I pity those children who would be my patients anyway.)

To think about it, I think it's clear that I shouldn't be that kind of a doctor. I like to be backstage but I don't like to be in the front. I don't like dealing with people. I find it tiresome to constantly watch for people's expressions and cater to their happiness. For someone like me who likes to do things alone, clinical medicine just isn't the thing.

What about research? Let's see. I like to do things alone. I like to control things in the back. I'd love to leave a legacy behind. Besides, it is practical and I get to feel good about myself if I could leave a substancial research and saved five million people at once instead of just one.

Simply put, I'm not feminine. For me who likes power, being the center of envy, and fame, I'd rather leave my name in a thesis after research than treating hundreds of patients and ending my life in a hospital as "just another doctor". I guess I want to be the brain rather than the hand. I know it's not lovable, and if I were a male I'd probably run away from such a girl.

Ethically speaking, I don't think I'm clinically inclined anyway. Most likely I'd see the patient as a guinea pig for a new set of data rather than poor human beings who are in desparate need of help. I can't slice people up if I were looking at them as humans in the first place.

Completely off topic, I saw my friend leave for her university today. She's going to a Mormon school in Utah. For me, who had always left people behind, the experience of being left behind was rather novel. I've been friends with her since I was nine; that makes it eight years of friendship. When I think about it, we've been friends since we were little girls. That made feel a little odd.

People who go to med school

2007-08-21T05:17:00.000+01:00

A lot if people who go to med school are those who, in my opinion, should never go there in the first place.

Mostly, the motive is impure. It's on the cute side when the motive is "I wanna get rich". In my case, I think I just wanted to slice people open. Of course, when I was little I probably was burning with this high spirit to save people's lives, but that was when I was three. Now that I'm 17, no such thing remains in my mind; it was out of sick and sadistic desire that I applied to a med school.

If that was it, it's not too bad. The most I see is "I wanted to look clever", "I wanted to change people's lives", "I wanted to play god", which is extremely close to insanity.

If it was just the motives, there's still salvation. What's even worse is that there are many people who are just not suitable to medicine from the ability or mental stability. And you find them everywhere.

My high school is probably one of the best in the area, and we have two who are going to private school pre-meds (I'm already in medical school so I'm out of count). Well, I'm not proud of my school, but compared to other schools around it's dramatically better. It's not easy to get into pre-med, so it's a good thing, I guess. Now, let me introduce you to the two young pre-meds who were my classmates.

One is a Spain-born Spanish. Both parents graduated from the school of medicine at the University of Barcelona. Very smart. Since he's the elder boy, both parents expect much from him. He gets pretty good grades, and he works hard. He was in my chemistry class, and since I rarely attended classes he was a good friend to borrow notes from.

But...

When he was little, he told me, he wanted to be a cook. Both parents adamantly were against it, and he gave up his dream. His current future career is a cardiologist. For me, cooking and cutting up hearts were pretty much the same thing, so I thought maybe it was going to be okay. That was last summer, when classes just began and I didn't know him too well.

But as classes progressed, I began to worry if I could trust the heart let alone cooking, and it began to bloat. He happens to be extremely careless and clumsy. For the proof, my chem class was given two boxes of Pyrex test tubes from Procter and Gamble, because the CEO of Procter and Gamble was my school's alumnus. For them, they were probably just giving away some junk that was sitting in the storage, but for us, getting nice, good expensive test tubes is a happy thing.

The first day we used those test tubes, our dear Mr. Clumsy managed to break two of them. Not only that... it was on a different day but he managed to burn half my classmate's tie. He repeatedly caused similar accidents.

"Erm... if I got some heart attack, I'd rather die than have him treat me," I thought, and I'm sure you'd understand why. But apparently college admissions don't really care about those things, and he got into pre-med with no trouble.

Another person is an US - born American. He was in my fifth year diff. eq and English class Senior year (since I took summer pre-cal, we were a year ahead). He looks like what President Clinton might have looked like in high school, and he acts like him too, if a little more vulgar. He sucked at English, and was constantly the class duck. He also happened to get 18 out of 80 on one of the English tests. Of course, he just grinned and let it go. He was the captain of the golf team and was apparently a good scorer at the state tournament. He told me he started golf when he was three.

He was a normal student at first. But when we were Seniors, he began to show his true colors. First of all, he had a wild party with drinking at his house and got arrested. Then he got pulled over in Florida for speeding. In the end, he got drunk, got talked into by a friend to get a tattoo, and went ahead and did it. Apparently this tattoo looked awful - you know the kind that you seen on ramen bowls in Chinatown? Those. He said it was pretty painful.

This idiot's aspiration is COSMETIC SURGERY. I couldn't stop my mouth and asked him:

"Is that to get rid of your tattoo?"

He gestured around his thigh and said, "Like this?"

"Yep."

"Duh."

A year ahead of me was a dude who got straight into medical school - the same school as the tattoo boy. This one was weird as well - he had no friends. His parents gave him a complete inventive education in sciences, and he completed Calculus freshman year. He is OCD and probably paranoid in some bizzarre way; during lunch when I was a junior, he always went up the stairs right by the place where I was waiting for my teacher to arrive. Well, he just HAD to go up the left side of the right staircase, and if someone was there, he'd come back down and start over again. I was with him during the math team, and not once have I seen him laugh. He originally wanted to go to engineering, and got into CalTech, but he decided to refuse the offer and go to med school. To me, he would have been better off going to engineering. Medicine is something more than "fixing", after all; it's healing, with mental and spiritual care. But before we even talk about him thinking patients as humans, he needs to work on recognizing himself as a human.

Then there's me. One day in math class, the tattoo boy asked me what I wanted to do after med school.

"Brain surgeon."

"Why?"

"Well, first of all, my patients are all knocked out, so they won't talk back. Second of all, it looks fun."

His expression became really tense and he said, "you know, you'd probably fix the problem but you'd probably change the patient's personality as well."

Considering the fact that these kind of people will take care of so many people's health and welfare and possibly change their lives, I'm feeling a little cold. But then, I find myself that I just need to be careful to the doctor I go to; after all, I won't be my own patient. There must be some moral physician somewhere, right? I just need to find him.

By the way, lectures at Kings College London will start from 24th of September. I'll see you then.

Bizarre Dream

2007-08-07T23:15:00.000+01:00

Okay, so this post was originally in my "summer" blog, but this one qualifies as one of the top three that are just plain weird. I'm pretty famous for having vivid, odd dreams, but even I think this one's weird. Here it is.

Apparently, Reno was my brother (just as if my life couldn't get worse). He was a Turk, so that should have meant that he has excellent reflexes, but no, that wasn't the case. His idiocy was still intact, though. I guess I was meant to be happy for having him as my brother, but that wasn't the case either.

He managed to get run over by a ferris wheel which meant that both of his legs got amputated, and I had to become a door-to-door salesman of invisible clothes to procure enough money to get a Hobbit surgeon to reattach his legs (?!). In the meanwhile, Elrond, who was apparently my father (does that mean that he's Reno's father too?), came to me and screamed at the top of his lungs for showing the orcs the way into the front yard. Mind you, there were no yards as far as I could see, front or back. We lived in a dingy apartment.

It is rather obvious that I probably needed a mental therapy from all the pressure. I probably still do...