On Zhng-ing My Car.

So in case I've given you the impression of me spending my days in preston weeping in despair at my new-found loneliness, and neglecting my studies and growth of facial hair, here's a clarification - I don't weep. And I do shave my facial hair regularly (mainly 'cause of hospital regulations, looking professional etc etc).

OK seriously so I've found ways to occupy my weekends and spare time here in Preston. Yes you've guessed it, I'm zhng-ing my car. Or in american parlance, I'm 'pimping my ride'. Oh yeah.

OK lah so I just changed the factory-fitted CD player-cum-radio to a Sony one. Why? Well aside from obvious differences in sound quality¹ the Sony one also has a front auxiliary input, as well as usb input. Which means that I can blast music from my new mp3 player³ directly, and if I so desired I could buy another memory stick to leave in the car as a back-up in times of emergency⁴. Oh and it has like impressive equaliser settings that when activated, make techno music sound that much more mind-numbingly good⁵.

But yah I'm proud to say that I changed it myself. Bought the stereo, bought the extra wires needed (you'd be surprised at how much more wires that useless 'remote' control on the steering wheel requires) and then finally specialised metal prongs, when I realised brute force alone would not be enough to yank the factory-fitted stereo out of its position.

So please bear with me as I describe the few hours I took to replace the stereo.
Hour 1: Yank. With metal thingies supplied by Sony (they looked vaguely stick-able in various nooks and crannies). And then with keys. And then just random metal rods lying around.
Gave up.
Hour 2: Went to search online for instructions on how to replace stereo. Presto - I needed specialised metal prongs. U-shaped pieces of metal that cost £4.97 a pair in halfords, but realised I couldn't do without. Went to buy prongs.
Hour 3: Reached Halfords. Saw numerous sets of speakers that looked daaaammn cool. And sounded powerful. So went to salesgirl and enquired about them. (Conversation below)

Me: Hi, I'd like to buy the speakers over there (points) but I don't really know how to fix them into the car, can you help me on that?
Salesgirl: Oh I don't know anything about that, I'm just standing guard here at the counter (gives a sheepish smile), but I'll ask my collegue for you.
Me: It's OK (thinking fair enough)
*calls salesguy over*
Me: (Repeats request to salesguy)
Salesguy: Oh, you gotta see, different cars haf different sized speakers, innit? You gotta get the right size for your car.
Me: Oh I heard Halfords provided a fitting service? (Read about it online) How much does it cost if I want it fitted in for me?
Salesguy: I dunno, prob 10 quid? I don't do that, my collegue does that.
Me: (Assuming at this point he'd call his collegue over) So which one would you recommend, eh?
Salesguy: Well, depends on what car you have, eh? You know what size of the speakers in your car?
Me: Eh no, I don't know how to measure it? Ford focus, do you know?
Salesguy: Eh no, you measure it using a tape measure, yeah?
Me: Eh ok. (Pretends to give it some thought.) I'll probably come back another day then yeah. Thanks.

So I just bought the prongs, and left. I mean, he probably thinks I'm an idiot (just measure the speaker size, innit?) and I know he's probably one (I wanna pay you to fit it in for me 'cause I'm lazy, geddit?!) so not much point in continuing the conversation about measuring speaker sizes with tape, is there?
Hour 4: (Outside Halfords) Yank. And yank. And yank. Give up. Drive home. Yank again. Try teasing it out, slowly, painfully, like, well I shall spare you the naughty thought. Tsk tsk, yeah I know.
Hour 4 3/4: Finally! Now for connecting the myraid number of wires. Connect, connect, connect. Done! Fix it in! Now there's only left a gaping hole I've got to cover! Go up to room, job done, buy 'fascia' online to cover up hole⁶.

Now not that I'm trying to brag, but the actual process of disconnecting and connecting the stereos was so much easier than the colossal effort required to yank out the stereo. And seriously, I think this was due in no small part to the ingenious engineers who designed them - each bundle of wires ended up in a sort of adapter, that had either protruding or depressive terminals⁷, and they just sort of fit together without much fuss. And the adapters had varying sizes, so they just sort of fit in different slots, somewhat like solving a simple puzzle, by trial and error⁸.

So there you go, my first step towards zhng-ing my car. Next thing I'll be looking at, obviously, is a company that provides speaker-fitting staff of adequate intelligence⁹.

And who knows? Maybe after that, I might just go on to those neon flashing lights you fit underneath and inside the car, and then eye that extra-ear-deafening exhaust pipe that looks humongously over-sized for the car? And rims for the tyres that radiate blue lights as the wheels spin? Ooh and those racing stripes that make the car look so much more menancing? Or better still, those obscure names¹⁰ that suggest extra-powderful zhng-ing skills lovingly applied on the car?

Ooh, watch this space man. Watch this space.




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^1. As vouched for by Ganesh, my flatmate-cum-clinical partner.^2
2. OK That does sound wrong in so many levels, doesn't it.
^3. Zen X-Fi, it's supposed to 'restore mp3 audio to crystal clarity', according to the manufacturer's website. Which I trust, since Creative's a Singaporean brand and Singaporeans don't know how to can't exaggerate, can we.
^4. Like, when I'm late for class and need to get into the get-there-quick-heck-care-about-road-manners mood fast. I mean, the Zen obviously doesn't work for me in this instance, does it?
^5. I'm joking. No not about the mind-numbing part. As I've mentioned countless times before, monkeys on cannabis can hammer keys with better accuracy than those techrologists in neon printed tees and gel-laden hair half the size of their body weight.
^6. The Sony's only half as big as the factory-fitted stereo. Talk about advances in technology.
^7. Yes they're called male and female parts. I know.
^8. Although I did make sure I'd switch off the engine in between tries, of course.
^9. Hey, the wiring involved in fitting speakers is something I wouldn't touch myself - looks much more complicated!
^10. I think I'll put Picaroon Zhng-ing Co, for the fun of it.

Weekends.

It's the weekends that hurt, really. When the hustle of the week has settled, the stresses decoupled and the buzz of work emptied, to be replaced by this void, this barren waste of energy left unspent, time left unfilled, and emotions left hanging, like corpses for the manically¹ inclined to devour, with fervour and zest.


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¹Mania, in medicine.

Distant Memories.

Distant memories, freshly imprinted on an unsuspecting mind,
Singing the joy of times gone by.

Was walking through one of the shopping centres in Preston on Wednesday when the loneliness and despair just suddenly struck me. I know what I need to do - to fill my days with incessant tasks of great importance, to pick up that forlorn guitar at the corner of the room, to pick up appropriate skills in dealing with substances of abuse, but not to misuse - but right now I just can't see beyond the empty half of the double bed I shouldn't have bought, and the half-empty boxes of tissues I know I'd never use.

Sexy Shingles.

I was just browsing a friend's blog (seriously!) when I swear I noticed the words Sexy Shingles in one of those adverts you find lining pages all over the web. Obviously, and somewhat disappointingly, on closer inspection it turned out to be the usual attention-grabbing geographically-correct rubbish littered on the used grounds of the net.

Yes I know, I need more sleep. Losing too much over this depressing SSC I'm doing right now. And no it's not about the herpes zoster virus, I honestly did not know where that came from.


Oh speaking of rubbish you know the link I put up not too long ago? I really appreciate those of you that clicked through to ipoints, but somehow they haven't recorded you as signed-up to the website, and so I have yet to receive even a single cent from that fraudulent website. I'm still keeping it up for a while more, though, in the vain hope that somehow money will magically appear and I'll be able to treat you to something nice when I'm back in Singapore. Which I will be this Sunday, the 6th of July.

Music.

The more you listen, the more you realise how it defines you as a person; as you age (graciously or otherwise) your taste changes, yet stays the same - shaped by relationships, experiences bitter and sweet; surface ruffled, core calm beyond comprehension as a meandering life takes its toll on your keepity-ups but not your ideals, nor your innate curious child peeking curiously from his round innocent eyes.

I think that is why after enduring an hour and a half of my current eclectic selection of music (Mark that was the exact same cd I burnt for you), my father plugged in the first classical cd he saw (with some relief, I felt?)

Or perhaps he just wasn't used to the words f***ing¹, arse², lying between legs³, none of these being in the good old songs he was familiar with. Or was it an overdose of the usual proclamations of love and teenage-angsty-cries for recognition⁴?

Obviously I only speak from personal experience; myself and random observations of my father aside, my first attempts at stereotyping people according to their music collection (total and ipod/mp3 player/cds in car) seem to have validated some suspicions⁵. And as I've mentioned above, experiences change - I might just throw everything out of the window and believe that humans are fundamentally good and that random thumping of the keyboard (or desecrating good vinyl) is the only euphoric way to go (in style), for there is still time - or I might, just might, write a few years later about how valiantly I tried, and failed, to appreciate the beneficial effects of alcohol, exercise (on the dance floor) and mindless rhythms⁶.

No I did not just come back from a club.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1."When you first left me, I was wanting more, but you was f***ing the girl next door, what you do that for" - Lily Allen, Smile
2. "Or you can sit on chimneys, and put some fire up your arse - no need to know what you're doing or waiting for, but if anyone should ask" - Damien Rice, Coconut Skins.
3. From the same song as above - "And you can lie between her legs, and go looking for, tell her you're searching for her soul"
4. That's not my name - Ting Tings
5. Eg. A Freemasons-dominated playlist does not augur well for potential friendship and intellectual conversations about life beyond the dancefloor (or sex. Or the difference in alcohol content between a strawberry-flavoured vodka and a Long Island Iced Tea.)
6.Yes remember that grade 3 theory exam you took twenty years ago? The one where you had to draw random notes to show you knew what a semi-quaver on the 3rd line of the treble clef meant? And had to draw a few more to show how many there were supposed to be in a bar? Maybe move them up and down a little to show you had the slightest inkling 4 Bs didn't sound that nice?

Wow (2).

Wow.

Fragrances.

I was filling in one of those surveys¹ a few days back about the fragrances you choose to wear, and was quite intrigued at the subconscious decisions we make when buying one. No not the tickling of your sensory follicles (I'm not a 'nose'), nor the associative smell theory (I'm no proponent of psychoanalysis - yet - that'd probably come next year, if it does) here, but rather the more mundane marketing tricks those nasty big corporations employ to trick us into fooling our noses.

Yes I mean the obscenely provocative² names they use, the stunningly gorgeous uniforms they make their staff wear and of course the ergonomically-shaped bottles³ you just can't handle.

And as not all men (and women) are susceptible to ladies with long legs (hey I wonder why men⁴ haven't got into the act) even the brands themselves are tools to be manipulated - 'big' names (if you aspire to be the boss) for those who follow the crowd, and 'boutique' ones for those who think they don't⁶.

More notes to take to your next fragrance-shopping, eh?





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¹Where you get points, in this case nectar points, which can be used in a supermarket chain (kinda like the ntuc link card) called Sainsburys here.
²Ha ha. Yes cheap pun I know.
³Then again, I'm glad there aren't any regulations on bottle shapes and sizes - we'd probably be subjected to perfumes with varied shocking shades of pink otherwise, wouldn't we. Which would obviously detract from the delightful perfume consultants with their pretty dresses and husky/sweet voices (depending on perfume image, evidently).
⁴And I mean muscled men with suave smiles on well-hung cheekbones⁵ and soft (yet firm) deep voices.
⁵To the anatomically-inclined reading this, I know it is a stretch to describe it in this way, so please pardon me.
⁶That's the best link I could find, unfortunately.

Scams.

I see they have progressed from scams about rich Nigerian people to scams about scams about rich Nigerian people eh.

Oh and btw, go check out how much a dollar (US somemore) is worth in Zimbabwean dollars now. (You gotta manually convert it to see it for yourself)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Compensation for Scammed Victims‏
From:	UNITED NATION COMPESATION UNIT (unitednations.compesationunit@yahoo.com)
	You may not know this sender.
Sent:	Fri 5/09/08 8:32 PM
Reply-to:	compesationunitzenithbanplc@hotmail.com
To:

UNITED NATIONS COMPENSATION UNIT,
IN AFFILIATION ZENITH BANK PLC.
Send a copy of your response to his
direct email: compesationunitzenithbanplc@hotmail.com

Dear Friend,

How are you today? Hope all is well with you and family?,You may not understand why this mail came to you.

We have been having a meeting for the passed 3 months which ended 2 days ago with the former secretary to the UNITED NATIONS.

This email is to all the people that have been scammed in any part of the world, the UNITED NATIONS have agreed to compensate them with the sum of US$ 250,000,00 This includes every foriegn contractors that may have not received their contract sum, and people that have had an unfinished transaction or international businesses that failed due to Government problems etc.

We found your name in the submitted list and that is why we are contacting you, this have been agreed upon and have been signed. This we believe is to compensate your lost effort and trial which you must have suffered in the hand os those Impostors.

You are advised to contact Mr. Ori Asiko Director Compesation Unit of ZENITH BANK NIGERIA PLC, as he is our representative in Nigeria, contact him immediately for your compesation of USD$ 250,000,00 This funds are in either Bank Draft or ATM Card for security purpose ok? so he will send it to you and you can clear it in any bank of your choice.

Therefore, you should send him your full Name and telephone number/your correct mailing address where you want him to send the Draft to you.

Conatct Mr. Ori Asiko immediately for your Compesation.

Person to Contact Mr. Ori Asiko
Email: ccompesationunitzenithbanplc@hotmail.com


Thanks and God bless you and your family.Hoping to hear from you as soon as you cash your Bank Draft.

Make sure this gesture is not disclosed to anyone for successful achievement.

Making the world a better place


Regards,

Ban KI-Moon
Secretary Genaral (UNITED NATIONS

M.

I have a feeling I'll miss the long drives back from Cambridge next year. The poignant music I like to play; the alternating darkness (some parts of the M6 are unlit) and bright lights of cities in the distance; the sense that parting is not mere sweet sorrow, for the sorrow is but transient, to be dissolved, dismissed, dissipated the next time we meet.

I know, the hairs on your back are standing up already, so I shall not torment you any further. Reason for this post - I'm currently listening to Morcheeba, Goldfrapp (latest ones) and Portishead (first one) and they somehow give me the funny feeling you probably get when you've had a few shots and feel totally in love with the person trying to stand next to you.

Yeah I'm drunk on music.

Smoking/Apathetic.

So here we go
In different directions one way the other
Masking the scent of sweet smoke yet defined
By our heart and mind

We laugh, we sing, we dance in air
We wait, till none you care

The lust lingers as we speak
Its armoury, its cache, its whole crew.

Where's your moral compass?
Where's it lead you to?



It's understandable, isn't it, how, when you're not in regular contact with broken lungs and hearts, it's so easy to be apathetic about your friends smoking their lives away - yes I'm oversimplifying here, but perhaps we should commend those who try, day after day, to help others stop smoking.

Earning Some Spare Cash.

As you might have noticed, I've added a link on the right, which leads you to ipoints, one of those websites where you earn points for shopping, gambling and doing other assorted evil deeds which contribute to global warming, bad karma and holes in pockets.

It's free to join, and I get 80p apparently for each person that joins using the link, so I'd appreciate if you can sacrifice a little of your karma for my monetary gain.

But seriously, I'm a not-so-proud member of the site and I've got 100 quid worth of amazon vouchers from my usual profligate spending and betting¹ (it's always the betting and gambling websites which offer the most points, money being the ultimate evil as we all know) and clicking through to websites offering instant riches (which you don't have to sign up to, a bonus in itself), so it's not so bad, really.

And seriously, I'm really very curious as to how much money I can actually get out of posting a link on my website, so I'll update you if and when I get any spare income from it. I promise you a treat (chocolate bar, unfortunately that's all I'd be able to afford from your clicking) when I get the good news, if I do.

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¹ No I'm not a problem gambler, for those of you who might be aghast to know that I indulge in a little bit of karma-flipping once in a while. And if you really must know, I haven't lost any money playing on those websites, though I must admit it takes a lot of discipline to stop while you're ahead². Please don't try if you're not one to gamble, though.
² It's like that succulent stick of satay you see walking past the hawker centre every day - do you succumb to the temptation and order 20, knowing that every bite increases your risk of getting colon cancer, or do you enjoy it once in a while with lots of cucumber (ask for more lah, it's free anyway) and hope for the best?

On Formal Wear.

So LM was asking me the other day, why do guys spend so much on shirts/jackets etc when they all look quite similar. My answer: it's the details that count, since black-tie literally means black dinner jacket + bow-tie. And so we got into this quasi-argument about whether men have it better - just buy a suit and heck-care it - or, conversely, have no way of expressing their individuality with bold strokes of the brush, paint or otherwise.

No I do not wish to veer into sensitive territory here, what with the size zero models (focus has shifted to malnourished young males now) and all, but the question remains - how do us young restless guys with no distinguishable achievements express our vitality and individuality at a black-tie function¹?



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¹ I attended a dinner recently as the official photographer of my dad (he was appointed president of some marine engineering society) and the attire was 'dinner jacket with decorations' - and I indeed saw many decorations. I was sat next to this ex-head of the Royal Submarine Service, ie medal around neck + smaller ones on jacket - CBE I think, and around the table were assorted CBEs and OBEs [for those in Singapore, knights in shining jackets] etc etc. Obviously I felt out of place, being the youngest by at least 30 years and suffering from an acute medallessophobia, but they were quite nice, really. Conversation was easy, with their witty anecdotes, and what not, and me just sitting there listening in awe. You know like the 听爷爷讲故事 syndrome, and with a very interesting 爷爷?

Politics.

Wow.

Quote of the Day

I normally am quite apathetic about politics, but I can't resist posting this (from a Times article) I read today:


Michael Ancram, a former Tory minister, said: “This debate is going to be remembered most for the impressive sight of the Liberal Democrat Party marching, with sound and fury, courageously towards the fence upon which they have been ordered to perch.”


Basically there was a vote in parliament on whether there should be a UK-wide referendum on the EU Lisbon treaty (don't ask) and the leader of the Liberal Democrats party had ordered (unsuccessfully) for his party members to abstain from the vote.

I really wonder if Singapore would ever get to such a ridiculous stage. Or would we ever produce individuals who can utter such excellent quotes?

Earthquake.

I've just encountered my first earthquake, so please let me describe it to you in sordid detail what happened.

(For those concerned about my well-being, it happened quite far away so I'm quite safe, don't worry - epicentre reports here)

So this earthquake struck just as I was playing C&C Generals, barely awake as it usually is the last thing that I do before I sleep (Don't ask me why, it requires little brain (and CPU) activity and is somehow soothing - I think) and as you know, I was controlling this China side with its behemoth tanks, and was mercilessly 'attacking' this USA enemy with entrenched defences and much superior airpower. So right at this exact moment, when some USA airplane had bombed my tanks, it struck.

You know how they show the bombing of an area in Generals? Well they sorta animate the ground shaking, the tanks being flipped up into the air, that area shakes a little, and sound effects of a bomb come in.

So yah. When the earthquake struck I initially couldn't believe my senses. I mean, I seriously thought I was getting too tired for playing - you know when you're exhausted, everything becomes amplified? So yah first thought was 'is this real?' Have I gained an extraordinary insight into how addicted gamers feel when they get sucked into the gaming world and lose touch with this?

And then I realised something was wrong, because the US airplane had finished its mission (I must inform you that my other tanks managed to shoot it down) and the area was back to normal. And my whole table and clothes rack was shaking violently. Not to mention my weights started rolling about - they're 10kg and usually don't move about of their own accord.

So my next thought was - had I put something wrong in the washing machine? Because my flatmates and I had just cleaned up the kitchen, and I had cleaned part of the bathroom, we had stuck the floormat (washable, according to IKEA) and a detachable mop-magic-clean-furry-thing (the furry part, obviously), as well as a throw, into the washing machine beforehand, I thought some part had choked some vital organ in the washing machine and it was making its last gasps for help.

So I went outside, and checked. It was off.

By this time the shock was over, and one of my flatmates had just popped his head out of his room, asking if I felt it. And he mentioned that it might be an earthquake, he had experienced several in Birmingham before, being a native here.

And so yes, I realised only after what lasted only 10 secs, but seemed like minutes, that I had just experienced my first earthquake. And it was quite fun, really.

Oh and the other flatmate slept through it - he swore that heard our conversation in his dreams, about earthquake and the washing machine.

Lost.

I'm feeling really lost right now.

Robot porn.

Warning: Contains strong language and sex references, might be offensive to some viewers.

So here goes: cute music video. Look out especially for 1:12.

Blogging about blogging.

If I were an arts student, this might be a thesis, but since I'm not - what do you think are the reasons behind our blogging? Why do we pick certain topics to write about, even when we know they might be mundane (or even offensive) to other people?

Since I am not taking English or philosophy, I can only implore you to look at your posts, and think of what you felt at the time you wrote them. Were they therapeutic? Helped you to vent some anger or frustration which otherwise might seem out of character?

Or did you want to show that hey, this is who I am, and let it serve as a looking glass into your life, for anyone who might care and does care?

Yeah I'm still in SSC mood, and am much too free for my own good. Interesting what life in the country does to you. (OK I know Preston is a city, as I often astound my friends with, but it's the whole staring at semi-detached houses with observatories and nice gardens, with nice elderly people pottering about [literally] mood, you know?)

Longest Traffic Jam - ever.

Now I understand what Kuan Ching said when we visited him in KL this year - I just got stuck in a horrific traffic jam today, and took 3 1/2 hours to get home when I usually take 45 minutes.

I don't mean to be evil, with a fatality involved, but (follow the link) the police took 6 fucking hours just to clear the scene and 'investigate the causes' when no other cars were involved. I mean, on the radio, I heard that it was a multi-car pile-up (which softened the blow) but now that I've the news, they closed down the ENTIRE expressway for 6 FUCKING HOURS just to investigate the cause of a Land Rover getting out of control?!

6 FUCKING HOURS. 3 FUCKING LANES. DO THEY EVEN REALISE THE TRAFFIC CONGESTION THEY CAUSED AROUND THE 20 MILE RADIUS OF THAT EXPRESSWAY CLOSURE.

Yes I am in one of those rare moments where I am just slightly inclined towards violence, and vulgarities. Just a bit tetchy, as they say.

Happy Chinese New Year!

Finally, my year (and yours, probably) has come again. Time to rule the world (financially, as it states on some horoscope thingy) and make mayhem!

On a more serious note, my mum and sis packed some 2 bags of CNY goodies, bubble-wrapped and all, for my dad to bring over on Tuesday, and I just collected it over the weekend. Now I know I might probably sound like some ego-maniacal smug guy who thinks he has it all but I'm really glad I have such a wonderful family (the bags almost filled the entire suitcase my dad brought along, honestly), and I think (anticipate, rather) getting fat on such love simply has to be worth it. I mean, I don't know if it's partially because the CNY goodies industry has blossomed in the past few years, but even the humble green pea biscuit tastes so delicious!

You can come up with all the cliches about familial love you want, but words alone can't adequately describe the the warm fuzzy feeling you get, when you're luxuriating in the nice warm tropical climate¹, tea tarik in one hand, CNY goodies in another (and much more within close reach of course²).


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¹My mum packed in a humidifier in December, when she came over, and I've quite a good strong heater in my room.
²Detailed inventory of stuff I have now:
1. Green Pea Biscuits
2. Modified love letters (they're sort of tinier)
3. Mixed assortment of biscuits (Smaller amounts, can't really describe them)
4. Coffee almond biscuits
5. Mini popiah filled with hae bi hiam - someone enlighten me on what it's called, can't remember the name!!
6. Pineapple tarts
7. Bah Kwa
8. Spicy pork floss
Yes, 1 box/container of each.

Love, and looking ahead.

I know, this is probably too mushy for most of you (so you've received your warning here) but you know sometimes when you listen to a particular song you're just overcome by emotion, and can't stop yourself shedding a few tears? I know, it's not something a guy will normally (willingly) admit to, but tonight, whilst watching this video, I couldn't stop thinking of the academic year ahead, without her (relatively) close by.

But no, I'm not going to induce some involuntary reflux of your last meal by elaborating any further, of course.

Patients With Cancer.

I met a patient, a few months back now, who suffered from Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a type of cancer, obviously. He was at home, receiving palliative care, and was given a prognosis of a few months.

Now what struck me most was that although his skin, on his lower extremities, was covered in horrible ulcers (the sight of which scars you for life), and he was obviously in pain, having to change the dressings (I was with the district nurse, who does it for him), he seemed remarkably upbeat. His wife was there too, and they were telling us the holiday they had booked with some grant they had received, and that they were going to enjoy themselves while they could, together.

The patient seemed more worried about his wife not being able to cope after his passing, and in fact had penned down a diary detailing each and every thing he wanted to do, with his wife, before the eventuality came.

And a few weeks back, I met an elderly lady, this time whilst with the GP, who had presented again with a carcinoma a few years after she had achieved remission from Non-Hodgkin's. Basically another form of cancer. Besides the obvious cliche that came to mind, "Cancer is the ideal state every cell aspires to", what struck me was that she, too, appeared calm, stoic and composed.

It is patient contact, like this, that makes you appreciate life for what it is, and steers you towards a certain complicated branch of medicine.

I bet this is gory reading for most of you, and we don't normally think of our own mortality at such a tender young age where our aspirations and ambitions take precedence over our health - but please, my friends, please take care of your health. Enjoy life, responsibly.

On Words.

What, do you think, is more effective - an essay on living, or a movie on the purpose of life?

As you know, I'm currently doing an SSC (student selected component, ie report on some topic you've chosen) on Tolstoy and the Art of General Practice, and have been asked to read a book called . Now as the book only arrived today I had a free day yesterday, which I utilised effectively to watch random movies and ponder on the role of general practitioners as artists in society. And I managed to watch "I am Legend" (don't ask why, because I don't condone illegal downloading of movies, which I didn't, obviously.)

So you may ask how and why an action/thriller/horror movie starring Will Smith toting an M16 (or is it an M4?) poses such an intellectually challenging question. Well watch the first hour of the movie (on DVD, obviously) and although you might have to extrapolate a little (considering the fact that it is a Hollywood movie) you should get my point.

And read the book, of course, if you have the time. And the article. I promise they're worth the time.

Tolstoy and the Art of General Practice.

Yup that's my SSC for the first semester this year, anybody have any insights on that, other than the 'we are all small but significant parts of society/history, just like the cells/organs of our bodies, and general practice is all but keeping it going (not making drastic changes) and letting it roll along' concept that I have three weeks to refine (greatly, of course) on?
Other than the belief that we should be vegetarians and live full spiritual lives, of course.
Philosophical and arty people out there, help me!

Professionalism in Medical Students.

We've a discussion we have to do as part of a portfolio, and the current one's on (as the title suggests) professionalism medical students are supposed to exhibit. I'd appreciate some comments about my post below, thanks!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


OK I think we've plunged straight into the murky depths of
professionalism in our medical education straightaway haven't we?
Seriously though, I believe Louisa and Sri have both made very valid and
important points in our discussion - in fact, if we look closely at the
GMC guidelines on Tomorrow's
Doctors, you have both mentioned certain outcomes we should have
attained by the end of our undergraduate education!
Further to the points you've made, however, I do feel there are certain
areas we can expand upon, namely
1. What is the 'professional' behaviour required of a medical
student? By that I mean not just what we think we should exhibit
(as Louisa has mentioned), or what our educators, or other doctors, show
(as Sri has noted), but perhaps also think about what patients expect of us.
2. What are the ways in which we can develop a professional relationship
(albeit as a medical student) with not just our patients, but also our
peers and educators?

With regards to the first point, am I the only one to find the symbiotic
relationship between patients and us medical students fascinating? Is it
not such a complex, and sublime one, where they have a vested interest
in our education, helping us (in our vain ventures into history-taking,
and clumsy attempts at clinical examinations), in the hope of moulding
us in their expectations? As such privileged confidantes, where do we
draw the line between passing on valuable medical or social information
for good use, and keeping certain facts confidential; how do we present
ourselves to patients, being too much 'on their side', not just as a
healthcare professional, or risk appearing too detached, and seem
concerned only with our own learning objectives?

I'm sure we can all congratulate ourselves on the fact that we have
demonstrated the former reasonably well through our actions, if we have
not explicitly stated so, in our presentations to senior staff and
discussions amongst ourselves (Mr X, etc), but regarding the latter,
what do you think we should, or should not do, to show our empathy for
patients, yet achieve our learning aims at the same time? Gaining
consent properly, and introducing ourselves are obvious points; perhaps
making them feel at ease, as well as appropriating shared
objectives, I feel, are areas we should improve on (at least for me!)
What do you think?

As for the second point, there is an interesting article about role
models in the medical profession and how professional behaviour should
be taught1, perhaps you'd find it an interesting post-PBL
read! An interesting point it makes is that professional behaviour
should be taught not just through group discussions (like this), but
also by people of other professions. I personally think it is an
interesting idea - remember the ethics lectures by Prof Harris? What do
you think?



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1How important
are role models in making good doctors? Paice et al. BMJ
2002;325:707-710

Art.

I read with interest today this year's award of the Turner prize for a copied piece of anti-war work they call art.
Now normally I don't really care much about modern art, in fact, I do have a rather dim opinion of those that call themselves 'contemporary artists', but the subject of today's article was really too outrageous for me not to comment on it.
I mean, what artistic value does a copied work have? One that is not even done by the 'artist' himself, for crying out loud. I mean, would you credit an imitator of the Mona Lisa, even one with subtle differences deliberately painted in (for the sake of 'irony' or 'satire')?¹
Taken together with the confession by several 'artists' (sorry I've lost that link) that they dare not create 'art' about Islam, for fear of reprisals² by Islamic fundamentalists, I really wonder what real statement these 'conceptual artists' are trying to make - are they merely tools for the rich (or media), and pander to their needs with tired works that have no real concept on their own?
You can call yourself a conceptual artist, but what distinguishes an 'artist' who can't paint from the English major who can churn out truckloads of rubbish about some inanimate object that makes apparent sense? It seems to me that too many 'artists' merely exploit the use of language and the superiority complex of human beings to come up with meaningless rubbish masquerading as art.
Take the latest piece by that same Turner prize winner, the video of a giant teddy bear prancing around in an empty art gallery. Is he merely trying to make fun of himself, the audience, or is it an idea a 3 year-old can come up with, but cannot be credited with since he/she is not an artist?
And another piece by another 'artist', the one with the lights going on and off(2001 winner). Is it an interesting glimpse into the passage of time, perhaps through the eyes of a prisoner awaiting his death sentence, or is it merely a meaningless waste of electricity environmentalists should be concerned about?³ And not to mention the famous pickled cow, a dreadful waste of meat when we've had multiple specimens preserved in formaldehyde in science for years.
It is 'art' like these that make you wonder, what is the world coming to? Why are we now ignoring real artistic talent in favour of such rubbish - are we now reduced to rewarding people who utter words with no real meaning, and 'visionaries' with no vision? It is such work that make you cynical of modern art, and reduces potentially sombre messages to ridicule.
Now if only art collectors recollect more about the true meaning of art.
No, I'm not an artist.⁴

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¹Oh sorry, was that blasphemy, my comparing this trash to the Mona Lisa? I'm sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect to Da Vinci, or any real artists out there.
²I.e. Murder, or assorted violent acts we should all probably threaten them with.
³He didn't even use energy-saving bulbs. But then again, energy-saving bulbs would create such a different effect, taking such a long time to light up (personal experience, my room) that he would need to create another piece to satirise the environmental movement, wouldn't he?
⁴Don't you even dare compare me to a conceptual artist.

Reverse-Bumming.

I've realised in the past week that too much bumming around will result not only in a larger behind, but also a dip in mood. Seriously, the more you bum, the more you feel guilty, and the more you don't feel like doing anything, resulting in a very vicious¹ cycle you can't get out of without much strength².
So from today I shall engage in reverse-bumming. Yes not just by doing handstands, obviously.



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¹And viscous, obviously. Remember the guy who died sitting in a plane for too long?
²Mental and physical.

My Car!

Yup after my long search for a car I've finally settled on a ford focus. Why ford focus, such an ugly, common car, you might ask.
Well for practical reasons, really. Insurance group low, decent size for a first car, and decent engine as well (1.6, good for speeding just that wee bit when I need to). It's a 3 door yep, because I wasn't too bothered about paying less for a 3-door car (and it's not like I'm gonna ferry too many people around, with such crazy fuel prices now) - and it's 3-door 'cause the hatch is considered 1 as well, don't ask me why - and it's "tonic" (blue, really) because try as I did, I couldn't find a decent green-coloured one.

Now I don't want to sound like I don't like this car, because I do love this to bits (I tried going at 90 miles the other day and it just felt so right, unlike the other car I test-drove, a 1.4; and handling around corners is just superb) but it's interesting how after such a long search, I settled on such an unobtrusive-looking, functional car. I mean, I really am a boring guy aren't I?

Another post from few weeks back:

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You know there are certain moments which will be deeply imbibed in your mind, even years from now.
I just experienced one just now, sitting in my chair, feet on bed, Oxford Handbook in hand (reading the introduction), Satie's Gymnopaedia No. 1 playing in the background, my gaze falling upon the bed...
It's hard to explain, really. I mean, I've made a little clip here (I know my amateur efforts - or the decade-old webcam - don't really help) but I don't think it really encapsulates my feelings at that moment in time.
I could go into a whole lot of pseudo-scientific explanation here - judging from the video, the pictures (and the military plaque) on the walls, the warm tones of the bed frame, and simple white (latte, actually, was the description on the plastic wrapping) of the duvet cover, oh and not forgetting the piglet lying down symbolising a certain someone, (and the oxford handbook of clinical medicine explains itself), everything seems to fit into what I think the general scheme of things should be.
Well come to think of it, I may not have been spouting rubbish there.

Now I know, what I've written above may seem just abit narcissistic (feeling smug about analysing your own thoughts eh, you must be thinking - or "this guy really needs to hang out more with other human beings") but heck, this Is a blog about me, isn't it. I'll write a critical piece from an armchair when I want to. Which is not too often, unless it's directed to BT customer sales, who have not sorted out my internet line in 3 weeks, at the time of writing.

I swear, if I don't manage to get my internet sorted out by mid-October, I'm gonna sue BT.*



*Thankfully, they did sort it out a few days ahead of schedule.

CD covers - part II.

I meant to blog this awhile ago (actually typed it out on my comp) so as I've now got my internet back at long last, here goes:

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You know how sometimes you can be so enthralled by a particular song on the radio you patiently wait for the CD to be released, grab it gleefully once you see it on the shelves - only to be utterly and bitterly disappointed when you actually listen to the CD in its entirety?
I should have seen the signs, right on the CD cover, featuring this doe-eyed boy staring earnestly at the viewer, along with various members of his band looking generally thoughtful and/or pensive on it. Teen girl alert! Alarm bells should have gone ringing in my head. But perhaps entranced by that song on the radio, I ignored them. (Or maybe because I was lacking sleep at that particular moment. Come to think of it, I make impulsive buys when I'm tired.)
So upon returning home, I popped it into the computer, and presto, a program came up, screaming at me to "See additional footage of the band!!!" And with yet another huge picture of the band, taken to maximum effect.
Bad news, huh.
Well so with doubts starting to form in my mind, I clicked on the (small) link to play the audio files, and wow, I immediately got an error from Windows. No extension linked, it said. And fearing the worst, I opened up windows media player, half-expecting it not to show rippable files. (I hate copyright protection, I don't like having to lug my CD collection around)
But it did.*
And so become several minutes of torture to the ear.
Seriously, the music itself isn't that bad. I mean, it's blatant pop, with the simple guitar chords, and with next to no virtuosity shown with any particular instrument, perfect for strumming to at campfires and the such.
The lyrics, though, are total t.r.a.s.h.
I know that's probably the most vitrolic words I've ever spouted at any band I've listened to (this is clearly worse than the CD with the band picture on the back cover), but I make no excuses for my blatant condemnation of it. I mean, if you just search for the lyrics to ANY of the songs on the Internet, you'll know what I mean. They sound just like those you were forced to write in secondary school by your over-enthusiastic teacher who made an unfortunate choice of topic, and rushed out in the 5 minutes before recess - but worse, seriously, considering this is for the mass market.
You may try to look at it kindly, thinking perhaps these are indeed the heartfelt emotions of an innocent little schoolboy writing about his experiences, but after countless songs about falling in love (and no these are not even pseudo-poetic descriptions of love) and out of it, you start to think to yourself - are you the cynical one, or are they merely churning out songs to perform in their concerts? I certainly wasn't impressed by what I think is crap for the masses.
And it's not just the seemingly innocent confessions that bother you - it's the simple thought that thousands of girls are falling heads over feet for such banal music, and you wonder if this is some cynical ploy by the music industry to reduce the general IQ of the teenage market to 0, and thus make it easier for other slightly more cerebral acts to sell their inferior stuff to the public.
I know I sound aloof here, but seriously, if this is going to be some top-seller I'd both be aghast and horrified by the degenerate taste in music of the market.
I warn you here, do NOT buy the CD by the Plain White T's.


*Come to think of it, it's clearly a clever move targeted at the teen girl market. Assuming my windows error was isolated, allowing teenage girls to share their enthusiasm for the band (no doubt gushing about the cute angsty boys) definitely is a good strategy, isn't it?

Drowning in Loneliness.

Seems abit melodramatic, the title, but I've been here for the past few weeks now without the Internet, and as the cliche goes, you only realise how important something/someone is until you lose it/him/her. I feel detached from the world at large, even more than usual.
And to say the truth, although there are several Malaysians here, to put it simply, I don't feel any particular close connection with them. Won't go into details here (will leave that for later) but to keep it short, I now fully understand why the Brits drink so much.
Oh and did I mention the weather, it's getting colder now (like, below 10, in the day!!!) and I dread to think what it would be like in December. And it's raining perpetually, of course, or looking gloomy in general.
But the course is alright, people are nice here, or at least seem to be, and hopefully due to a total lack of activities available to do here I'll study more, and lose a little of the weight I've gained over the past year.
Will blog again when I get the Internet back.

Realisations.

After slacking for the past few months, I think I've finally had my fill of relaxation, and I guess right now I feel so much more recharged, and ready to face the coming year. It's odd, you know, because somehow I have this nagging suspicion that it's partly due to the fact that I'm going back in a week's time - 9 days, to be exact. It's as if the body and mind somehow sense that the time to relax, get fat. and lapse into a state of laziness, generally, is up, and it is now time to get back to serious business.

I wonder if that's been the rationale behind this enforced break every year - the educators have realised how easy it is to get jaded (from personal experience, perhaps) and purposefully planned 'holidays'; indeed, the shorter breaks from next year onwards sorta symbolise our days of relaxation and scholarship are gradually coming to an end, to be replaced by the sinister world of illness, diseases (stress-induced psychological problems included) and mortality, don't they?

(To my Singaporean medic friends, the week-long holiday probably just reflects future work-life, doesn't it ;p)

Oh and I've also realised, I subconsciously place quite a huge emphasis on my family, in my life. I mean, I do admit, I am quite a lazy person, but give me a family dinner on one hand, and a meet-up with friends on the other, and it's a no-brainer, really. LM's hand on one side, and some army mates' palms on another, and unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective) it's not much of a decision either.

It's such a reality check, isn't it, when you realise after the common bond you share (school, army etc) has ended it's so much harder to keep in contact. I guess all I can say here is, if I appear to have forgotten about you, my friends (who are still reading this blog), I haven't - I've just become more lazy. ;p

And a random realisation here - whilst driving, at traffic lights, it seems like I'm more often than not faster out of the blocks (the line lah). I mean, I do oftentimes do it consciously (cheap thrill) but after the initial acceleration, I don't really care if the other cars soon catch up. It just seems so lonely and odd, in front of everybody else, doesn't it?

And speaking about driving, I'm not sure if I've blogged about this before but have you enjoyed going down the expressway, alone, just enjoying the drive, the scenery and dance music blasting out of the stereo? I think I have, but I do miss the feeling. Pray for me, my friends, that I won't encounter a pesky traffic cop whilst I do that heh.

And finally, I haven't been blogging recently because to be honest, apart from spending much time with my family (watched 2 movies with my grandma liao, not to mention numerous lunches) and LM, there really isn't anything interesting happening in my life right now. And I haven't found the inspiration *looks under the table* to blog about my views on everything silly happening out there.

You Realise You're Old When....

You realise you're old when... you pick up a CD and the band on the CD case looks a tad too immature for your liking.

Seriously, I was browsing through some CDs in search of a particular one I had read good reviews about (I'd forgotten which one it was, another sign of old age) and picked up this one from Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (or something like that). I had had thought the name looked vaguely promising, and the kind auntie salesperson had put it in the CD player for me; the songs I had listened to (about 20 secs each) had sounded OK, if not that exceptional.
And then I turned to the back of the CD case (heretofore unseen) and saw this obscene picture of the band members standing on some cliff (or something) trying to look cool. Seriously, it was like a rip-off of the Linkin Park Hybrid Theory album, come to think of it, except that they had applied some Photoshop effects, probably to hide the acne and hide their teenage youthful faces.

OK I'm probably exaggerating, and I'm not saying young people can't make good music (I know I'm a dinosaur with the face of a kitten), but seriously, that image was enough to make me put down the CD (after thanking the salesperson of course), and scramble out of the CD shop. You should have seen my expression then - or ask the salesperson, she looked at me oddly when I did that.

Up till now, I had never fully appreciated the marketing power (I'm sure some teenage girls would have gone goo-goo-gah-gah over the suave young men in the picture) a CD sleeve could harness until now.

Revealing My Dark Side.

LM was asking me the other day, why I appear so reserved even with other friends whom I've known for years.

I realise I don't know, really. Perhaps it's due to the fact that I know I can become the centre of attention in a group, and I really don't feel too comfortable with it. I mean, I do realise I was born in a privileged family, and this may confer some unfair advantages over some friends, and it just doesn't seem right to take advantage of this.

Or maybe it's just as what I've written in my friendster profile - I react (subconsciously, sometimes) to the people I'm with, and unless I'm with people I'm really close with, this self-erected barrier just automatically goes up. And even with people I'm close to, I am subconsciously aware of their likes, dislikes, characteristics, and the like. No I'm not trying to sound like I have some superpower of picking up emotive signs or anything, to me, it just seems proper, and what many people do. Doesn't everyone?

And maybe it's also because of my pride, I don't go around imitating Justin Timberlake to anybody other than LM and my sister (though she hasn't exactly heard me do a JT yet). I mean, it's not going to do wonders for my reputation is it, sonically and taste-wise.

And there are some things you just can't say out loud, I guess. Like many things I write in this blog, if I were to read them out, I would cringe in embarrassment at the convoluted crap I can come out with at times. Blogging, like writing a diary, seems detached enough to air my smelly linen, I guess.

So these are the reasons why I don't talk much. What's yours?

I.

I realise I am an inward-looking introvert who not just trusts his intuition, but also his instincts - in times of good or bad.

I guess it's the reason why I can't stand people forcing their views on me, like the random guy on the street who tries to preach to me the virtues of Christianity, or the rights of some obscure tribe of animals living in fear of us humans. No it's not like I don't respect them - I do, really, and admire their dedication to their cause(s), and I know someone who is really passionate about his/her mission, from someone merely masquerading as an activist (like that girl with the made-in-china cotton t-shirt, made-in-mexico polyester pants campaigning against globalisation); in fact, because of this, I will willingly listen (politely), and even engage in healthy argument if I deem myself ably knowledgeable of the subject at hand (and judge him/her sufficiently friendly, of course) - but it's more of the fact that I believe strongly that some things ought to be experienced, felt as epiphanies of sorts, rather than preached.

I was in Bright Hill monastery/temple(?) just now, decided to re-visit it after a decade-plus and to say prayers for my family and laymay, and I was quietly impressed by how everyone seemed so ready to help. I was lost after so many years, for much had changed, and said so to this kind administrator, who directed me to a path, where he said I might find my way back, and left me to my own devices; and this lady, who guided me on what to do to pray when I appeared at a loss of what to do.
Now I'm not making a case for Buddhism, I'm sure I would have got the same help at a church, or even mosque or Hindu temple. It was more just the simple fact that the people there didn't impose themselves on me - they offered the necessary help, but did not include any caveats with that. Walking around the temple on my own (it's huge, but there are signs on each structure and detailed explanations on the statues within, I would definitely recommend for first-time visitors) was more beneficial for my understanding of Buddhism, rather than a pompous monk eschewing the virtues one should attain.

So yeah, next time you try convincing me about something, please appeal to my logic, or let me experience it for myself. I might be impressed by your passion for a subject, but it doesn't really help in achieving whatever ends you might have.

Apologies.

Apologies for not blogging frequently these days, this internet connection I have at home is really crap. Not only do I have to share bandwidth with the rest of the neighbourhood (and several young families have moved in, not like the old days where most people living here were retiree age sigh), I also have to contend with the distance between the router (in my mum's room) and my laptop, which due to practical and privacy reasons, has to be placed on my bed. Which lowers my internet speed considerably because the signal strength's only 30-odd percent.

So apologies for not updating you on my life. Will do when I can access my desktop and feel some inspiration to blog.

Mind Over Distance?

Have you ever experienced this?

Last night, I was taking the bus back home when as usual, I fell asleep some way into the journey. And, as though on cue, I woke up just as the bus reached the bus-stop outside my house, yet again. I remember having this odd... ability? to wake up just on time since I started taking buses many years ago.

I'm not being totally serious here, but I don't think I'm alone, am I? Do you not think the brain is attuned to distances long and short, and retains some control of your sub-consciousness, such that you wake up at the opportune moment even when you're taking a much-needed nap?

Or is it the familiar smell of your home that wakes you up? I've ever woken up just as the bus was leaving my bus-stop too?

Yes I'm bored and probably imagining things.

Isolation.

It's kinda odd, now that I'm back in Singapore, I feel the urge to meet up with old friends has diminished. It is as if the only thing I miss in Singapore is its food, and I am content with my small social circle (ie family[though you can't really include this can you], laymay and mark).

I wonder why, really. Am I doomed to follow the dreaded rat race where every rat runs on its individual wheel? Have I lost my social skills, such that I've no more the courage or initiative to ask ex-schoolmates out?

Anyone reading this blog and currently residing in Singapore, please contact me now - if only to let me know you're still here. ;p

Going home.

Why should I return home, when I can't know for sure I've passed the recent exams? Why should I care, really - I should just stay here all 5 years, shouldn't I?

I haven't put in enough effort?

Ha.

Cleaning.

As you all know, I'm going back to Singapore on the 11th, and I've just started to pack. Was cleaning my chest of drawers (haven't reached my closet yet) when I noticed a pile of letters I had left untouched since last year. Cards, mostly, from those who had sent me before and whilst I was in the UK, and a few photos I had brought with me. Yes of course they made me think of home, and all the friends I've lost touch with inadvertently. Mostly because of my internet (NEVER get tiscali as your ISP, I stress again here) but I realised I just haven't been making the effort to keep in touch, and it is now that I feel a tinge of regret. So please, all my friends out there who are reaching this blog, please, please leave a comment indicating your phone number or email, so I can meet up with you when I'm back in Singapore this time. We may all be busy people (OK maybe not myself) but I do hope you'll spare a few minutes of your time to accompany this sad lonely soul in Singapore ;p

Also got a few personal words to say here to a few of my readers here,
Mei: Would you prefer a pair of (sapphire) earrings, or a wallet? 'Cause I'm gonna give either one or the other to ma, let you choose first ;p
LM: I love you dear.

Parcels.

I just received a parcel today. From myself.
Why, have I lost my mind - have I become so desperate for presents, for salvation, that I have addressed one to myself?
Obviously not lah.
This parcel I 'received' was returned, from Singapore. I had sent this a few months ago, as a christmas/CNY present to my family. Yup, mei, it's the chocolates I promised you, as well as a pair of shoes for Yang. Do not ask me why the other 2 parcels I sent with this reached my home, but not this one.
I am feeling damn pissed off about this already lah can. I mean, this one was via parcelforce (=speedpost for singapore) and cost much more than the other 2!!! And after a few months' detour it's come back to me?!!!
Grr.

I wonder if the chocolates are still edible. Will someone enlighten me? (They're still wrapped up in bubble wrap, and I am loath to open it for fear of discovering moths' eggs or something in the box.)

Feelings.

It's such an odd feeling, knowing why you feel a certain way, what others would say to comfort you, and knowing you'd still feel the same despite all their good intentions.
I feel like I haven't put in enough effort this past year, am wondering if I am really suited for this course, and other assorted depressing thoughts. And I also know I feel this way whenever I am faced with obstacles in my way, that I have to get past this psychological barrier of feeling down and out, and pick myself up from this mess I've got myself into.
I also know I may forget about all this when I receive the results end of this week (for my osce resit), or plunge into greater depths of depression - if my suspicions are indeed confirmed.
No I am not depressed, clinically, just yet.
(Incidentally from what I've studied about depression you have to fulfil quite a few criteria before you're judged depressed, and then you're given mind-altering drugs to help in your rehabilitation. In my opinion chocolates work just as well, with fewer side effects. With moderate exercise, of course.)
So yeah. We'll see what happens yah. I just wanted to write this down so I wouldn't forget. No don't tell me I'm judging myself too harshly, that I have (too) high expectations of myself, by the way. I do not want to be playing with lives if and when I graduate.

Dust.

I'm seriously horrified at how fast dust can accumulate in my room. Was just vacuuming my room in preparation for a momentous event¹ when I discovered to my utmost disgust that after a mere few weeks after my last major vacuum, my room seemed to have accumulated enough dust to cover the surface area of Liberia! Seriously. There was like dust covering the edges of my cabinets, the little thingy sticking out housing the electrical sockets, on my printer, on my speakers, on my books (oops), on my CDs, even on the remote areas² of my keyboard! No wonder I've been sneezing like that for the past few months!!!

Phew now I feel so much more relaxed - oh wait! I see yet more dust on my chest of drawers! Grr.

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¹Exams, lah. Always brings out the obsessive-compulsive side of me.
²Like that little blue 'access IBM' button. Or the power button situated so far away from the rest of the keys.

Bias.

We are all biased in our own idiosyncratic ways aren't we? I mean, much as we would like to think ourselves non-discriminative in our behaviour towards others, do we not pass judgement (pre-mature at times) on those around us, be they total strangers, or close friends? Do we not persist in our smug little ways despite contrary evidence showing up a little while later? Is it ever possible to get rid of our prejudices and narrow-mindedness?

What prompted this little rant, you might ask. Well I was reading this article about reducing bias whilst treating patients, while listening to Enigma at the same time (always prompts some heavy-duty thoughts, it does).

So how do you do it? Can you approach a total stranger without first forming a pre-conception in your mind by his looks and mannerisms - and have an unguarded conversation?

I feel I need to re-discover this side of myself, this semi-blind 'blur' self before I 'matured' into this stubborn old (mentally at least) fogey with a predisposition to judge others by their shoes.

Seriously, what do you think? As we get older, do we merely pretend to dispose of unfashionable morals (and pile on new ones), or do we subconsciously stick to some sacred set of principles throughout our lives? Why should we keep our dispositions, and why do we put on masks?

Photos.

Since there is absolutely nothing going on (aside from mugging, trying to mug unsuccessfully and playing C&C Generals as a result) in my life right now, here's a few pictures I took while my life was a little more 'happening', back when I was in SF.

Coffee.

Pardon my lack of photography skills here, but I promised more about my little escapades in the US previously and here's a sneak preview of sorts, I guess.
Basically the day before I left, Mark wasn't free so I was left to roam about the streets of San Francisco myself. After trekking for what seemed like hours, I discovered this coffee shop buried amongst the myriad of stores in Chinatown, called "Uncle's coffee shop". Yes literally. I guess the words beneath were a little more revealing - 驰名咖啡¹, amongst others.
Now tempted by the aroma of freshly brewed traditional coffee and the sight of several old uncles chatting in there leisurely (and drinking coffee! not chinese tea!), I entered the shop, and ordered a cup, as seen above. Well if you observe carefully there's actually a metal container behind the mug, the coffee actually came in that.
Well so it was quite an experience, sipping the (STRONG!!!²) coffee in a traditional Chinese (Hong Kong actually?) coffee shop, soaking in the atmosphere (and aroma) - the interior was of this dated design straight out of 真情, this never-ending serial from Hong Kong, and there were but a few old uncles and aunties having lunch (one table was having some hor fun thingy) and coffee, and hearing the uncles lazily chatting about nothing in particular (I heard them gossiping about me, at one point, in Cantonese - something about this leng(3) zai(2)³ at this corner, something something lol) and looking out of the window, watching life go by, really.
It was just tremendously relaxing, I tell you.


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¹Hope there wasn't any typo there in Chinese. Basically it means 'famous coffee', first two words 'famous' and last two 'coffee'. But it's much more than that, I guess, 驰名 conjuring images of ancient chinese heroes arriving from all corners of the countries, on horses, to sample the great coffee sold at this particular shop - at least for me.
²As you know, I am quite a caffeine addict, and you'd better believe me if I rate a coffee 'strong', especially when it's in Caps. It was definitely on par, at least, with the espressos I had in Italy. And it was so bitter that I couldn't drink it without adding milk, and wait for this, sugar. Yes I abhor adding sugar to my coffee normally.
³Pretty boy, literally. Normally used to indicate attractiveness of a young male (by those of the older generation) since in Cantonese there is no commonly used equivalent for 'handsome'. I knew they were referring to me because I was the only young guy in the entire shop. I actually did look around before acknowledging that they were talking about me. Now only if my charm extended to people my age.

Leaving Cambridge.

One of the rare times I felt a sudden rush of blood to the head, and whisked out my camera (phone) to snap a picture. It was just as I was waiting for the train back to Manchester from Cambridge one weekend, hence the title.

Is it just me, or does this picture just seem to encapsulate what I was feeling at that moment in time?

Age.

One of my pet topics again, yes, but just posting what I actually noted in the train ride back from paris the day after my birthday, and expanding a little on it. Well, quite a little, I have to admit.

It is as if once we hit adulthood, we are somehow blessed with excellent reasoning, have an infinite capacity to think rationally (hence saddled with immense responsibility), and are allowed to run free with our deluded minds aren't we? I am 23 today and still feel I am but a day older than I was 5 years ago. Granted, I have been to more parts of the world than perhaps many might dream of - and I am not being pretentious or 'elitist', if you will, in saying so - yet, I feel I have merely dissected and accumulated what I have seen, heard and experienced; it has but piled on layers upon layers of artificial guises with which to switch on(and off) in times of necessity. Looking from far, you might term this 'maturity'; at certain angles, it might seem as if these layers of textured dispositions have all but blended into my 'personality', and are thus indications of growth, literally and metaphorically (for I have gained weight, and it shows as such on my pudgy face) - have I really grasped the complexities of human interaction, though? Have I gained some insights into the meaning of life, the marvellous nature of our souls, the way this self-imposed farce of a thing we call society works?

I cannot say I have. For what I have been through thus far is just a sheltered, watered-down version of a life gone 'right'; I have absolutely no idea how Johnny feels in his 9-5 job he deems a chore, I do not know why that teenage girl wants to commit suicide, I can only imagine what it feels like to be in a different environment, only try to listen, empathise, and perhaps take off my masks - just for the moment - to feel for a fellow human being. And I have not listened enough. Try as I might, I have too often forgotten that the world is larger than myself, that we are all but tiny creatures that roam the corners of this Earth, and that everyone has a life story to tell.

And of course I haven't figured out a way to join the billionaires' club without joining the workforce.

Hmm I think I've gone off tangent, so I shall stop here. OK I have to confess I actually wrote only up till '5 years ago' in the train, and somehow squeezed out some cheem-looking words from the nether regions of my brain. Well technically not the nether regions, it's more like the back (and front coordinating as well), but we shall not delve into neuroscience now shall we? ;)

I guess what I was trying to say is that I don't believe adults necessarily make better decisions than hot-headed testosterone-fuelled teenagers (and not just in the realm of relationships), I guess we just learn to accept what is fashionable in our societies at certain moments in time, and act accordingly, don't we? Oh and we learn to crave for new toys, big and small. But definitely more expensive.

(I could go on to rant about commercialism, but again, I shall refrain myself from doing so.)

So yeah. What defines an adult? Is it merely age? Are we losing our way, and becoming over-aged kids with cash to spare? Can we justify the crap we dispense to those junior to us? So many questions, yet left unanswered, with nearly a quarter of my life gone already.

CCleaner

I've downloaded a program recently that I've found quite useful, and which I think would be quite useful to lazy people who can't be bothered to clear their cache regularly (*hint hint*). Basically it does that, and resolves some differences between windows and the assorted programs you've installed forcefully on your computer, so it starts up faster. It's worked for me, my laptop starts up in like less than half the time it used to take (really!) and so I've included a link which you can find on the right side of my blog. Sorry it's only for windows though ;p

CD shops.

I somehow recall that I used to find solace in browsing for CDs in CD shops around town, especially those that had like headphones for listening to CDs privately. I would find pleasure in just walking into any one, really, that had like random soft music playing and rows upon rows of neatly-catalogued CDs waiting to be discovered, explored, a whole universe to be traversed. Maybe it's because I've been buying my CDs online (they're so much cheaper here than shops in the city centre like HMV), or maybe I just haven't been going to the city centre, now that I seem so much further away. Or that it's just different, the record stores here seem to play mostly pop songs masquerading as emotive meaningful rock music with a god-fearing soul.
I guess it's only one of the multitude of reasons why I'm missing home.

Benches.

As you might or might not know, I was staying at Mark's place in Stanford for most of the days I was in the US. And as you might guess, Stanford is a bloody very rich and huge university, where palm trees are aplenty and BMWs are commonplace, amongst other interesting sights. Now amidst this chaos of decadence, there are numerous benches nestled amongst the multitudinous rows of neatly-pruned trees (of assorted shapes and sizes) and bushes. Now these benches are not the ordinary ones you see in Bishan park or the like, but appear to be magnificent works of art spread throughout the campus, with their interesting (for lack of a better word) and varied designs. (Yes Mark go take a closer look at them.)

OK basically I attended a walking tour of the campus when I was there, and as you had to take this free shuttle bus to the train station, that goes around the immensely magnificent campus before going past this huge shopping centre on land that is owned by the university and then finally the station, I watched quite a few trees go by, and of course, underneath them, conveniently, aforementioned benches.

So yah, I was looking at all these beautiful benches, and some neurons started firing off randomly (as usual) in my little brain. I thought to myself, how thoughtful they are! To provide these places where you can laze in during hot summer months, congregate and play hide-and-seek (or peek-a-boo), or maybe enjoy a delicate little romantic moment before the bus roars by yet again and splatters some dirt on you!

And I thought about the imagery associated with benches, the emotions that can be conjured by a simple image of an empty bench, or of a lone elderly man, sat hunch-backed, and gripping his walking stick, gazing into the horizon.

And I was truly impressed with Stanford.


Incidentally, I've discovered I quite like taking pictures of benches. Here's one I took in Sydney last year, Mei you'll recognise it.

The Pursuit of Happyness.

Somehow got reminded of this movie I watched on the plane. If any of you have watched it, you might have wondered how Will Smith got to enter the Bay Area Transit (MRT-like thingy) stations so frequently throughout the film. In one particular scene, he inserts just 10 cents into a ticketing machine, and manages to enter the station with that ticket. Now I hadn't tried it myself, but it seems quite possible, as they do have some 'topping-up' machine inside the gates for you to use if you don't have sufficient value in your ticket when you try to get out of a particular station. The toilets in the stations, however, were closed when I was in SF, they mentioned sth abt 'criminal acts', or sth like that. Which is particularly inconvenient when you need to use the washroom urgently. Like that poor dude who probably wanted to use the toilet when Will Smith occupied it in that scene.

Yeah just some random thoughts from the movie that's stuck in my head.

Back.

I am back from my holiday in the US, and have come back with appropriate bribes for various people (mei that includes you lah ;p). I have also realised certain truths, collated new experiences, re-ignited old flames (lol) and enjoyed myself, basically.

Will elaborate more, of course, in due time.

Detachment.

To all my friends here and abroad, I do apologise for appearing to have disappeared from Manchester lately. I am still around, feel free to contact me, it's just that somehow in these past few weeks I've felt myself retreating into the comfortable cocoon of my room all too often. I have not migrated to Cambridge and apart from 3 days next week (tues to thurs i'll be in Paris, Mei you didn't see this) and 3rd-13th april (in the US - Mei you didn't see this either) i'll be here in Manchester.
Really.

Perceptions.

I somehow think people think too much of me.
I was talking with this group mate just after a lecture yesterday and during the conversation, she revealed that she thought I read up a LOT before lessons, judging from what I had discussed in class. I didn't correct her perception, of course, but it really surprised me. I mean, was it the general perception of Brits that Chinese people just study much more, or was it that I had really appeared to be so knowledgeable with the utter rubbish I was muttering in class?
Reminded me of something A said not too far back - he'd said that he'd rather consult me if he was ill, rather than W (jokingly, hopefully). It was quite surprising and flattering, to say the least. But pressurising, too, of course. I don't feel I am anywhere near the state of dispensing useful advice just yet, or even in 3 years' time.
And the chemistry tutor in JC who exclaimed 'What happened? We were all expecting you to get 4As you know...' when I went back to NJ back in my NS days. When I had got CDEO for my prelims.
And LM tells me that she feels loved, with the non-existent things I do to make her happy.
No seriously, I'm not trying to be humble - you know I'm not - it's more like, I feel that disappointment is always just a step away from expectation. I'd rather people not expect so much from me, sometimes.

Portfolio.

As you may or may not know, I have this portfolio thing that I have to compile throughout my medical career, well at least for the years whilst I'm here. It's a record of everything I've done, medical training, reflective pieces about patients I've met, etc. over here. I even get to critique the lecturers' teaching styles in my 'reflections'.

I was finishing up the last pieces a few hours (in the early morning actually) before the deadline as usual last week, when I realised the usefulness of it all.

No seriously, it was through writing the countless pieces of reflective writing (mostly of interviews with patients, how I feel I've done, etc) and also this SWOT (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities to correct weaknesses, threats to my future career) analysis (of myself) that I gained a little more understanding of myself.

Of course this sounds more than a little narcissistic, but the point I'm trying to make is - how often do we actually take a step back and evaluate ourselves, and why we behave the way we do? Especially when we're all so caught up with life and our troubles, do we, should we, sometimes say, 'hang on, I've still got all this to seek solace in' - and be glad that despite all our troubles, we still have our friends and family around us?

I sorta realised I wouldn't be thinking all these, say, 8 years ago. Interesting eh, what a few years can do to you.

Roll Along.

I am sincerely sorry for the lack of posts lately, it's just that I haven't found anything worth blogging about, and life's just rolling along as it always does. Or maybe it's that I've lost my literary edge (well, sorta) after being drowned in medical jargon, not-so-random numbers and a significant screwing up of my body clock.

Oh did I tell you I missed my honours for my semester test by 1 mark, and failed my OSCEs by 2 marks? I believe I'm still smarting from that, really, though I know I should have moved on by now. Grr.

Horoscope.

Decided to surf randomly for stuff today and guess what I found - my chinese horoscope for today.

Profit by this planetary calm to return upon yourself by asking yourself such questions of capital importance as: have I given a sense to my life? Am I not spreading myself thin instead of concentrating myself on the essential? Am I living actually or only vegetating?
- from Asia1.com.sg

How apt. Am I actually living, or am I merely vegetating?

I need to join another society, really.

Phases.

I call it the Supertramp phase of music - sooner or later someone (or some group) like Mika or Scissor Sisters will come out, with his/their cartoon-ish music and lyrics that are so fun to dance to, yet so deceptively subversive.

Mmm... I like.

Spinal Column of the Chicken.

I had a quarter of a (whole) roast chicken left from 2 days before so I decided to make full use of it and make some traditional Chinese herbal chicken soup. (ie throw the remains of the cooked chicken and some herbs and let it stew [at your inattention to it] for a few hours.)
I'm currently eating it with rice (tastes alright btw, with all the marrow and fat and assorted innards) and I've just discovered two very interesting pieces of bone.

Now those of us taking medicine or the health sciences will no doubt be thrilled to find the practical applications of what we're studying. IE You can separate individual pieces of vertebrae by boiling them long enough.

No seriously, I am quite perturbed at the fact that I used to be able to enjoy my chicken soup without noticing assorted pieces of odd-looking bone, but now my eyes seem to be attuned to the sight of anything vaguely resembling structures in the human body.

On a side note, it is just amazing how animals have similar systems to ours? (Don't get me started on the creation vs evolution theory, you know where I stand, by the side of Mr Charles Darwin) I mean, looking at this, there isn't any wonder why our ancestors used to believe (and perhaps still do) in consuming animal innards to re-invigorate our organs, and fabricated (or not) tales of Frankenstein-ish creatures which had various entrails and sensory apparatus replaced by some unlucky animals' parts?

Isn't it fascinating, and shouldn't we be encouraged, by the fact that we haven't lost our sense of bewilderment in this cynical world of ours? That we don't take things for granted?

Rabbits in hats, let's hope we don't become.

Getting Old(er).

Hands up those who still buy CDs instead of the latest songs/albums from iTunes/Soundbuzz (or just download it from somewhere, anywhere.)

Shout "Yeah" if you don't understand the latest furore about Vista. (Yes I mean the interface.)

And nod if you still remember Christina and Britney both being fresh-faced teens and Charlotte Church an innocent little girl with an angelic voice.

Laugh (wistfully) if you don't know where the latter has ended up right now.

We're getting old, face it. We need to get in touch with the juice, man, the juice! The bling! The latest-name-for-US-dollars!

Yeah right.

Incriminating Evidence.

To my dear friends and readers of this blog:

Please do clear your browsing history sometimes. I have records of a kind friend who has visited this site 57 times in the past year - it is certainly gratifying to know that I have people who care about me, but at the same time, I really worry about your personal web security. There are far too many websites which have tracking cookies much more malicious than mine - so please do clear your cache (in IE it's under 'tools, internet options, clear history/cookies'*) periodically.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*I'm not providing instructions for the good people amongst us using firefox, opera or safari. I assume you do know a little bit about internet security if you're not using IE 5. Or 6.

Mac VS Windows.

I've been reading quite fervently about the latest incarnation of windows lately, and the associated mac vs pc arguments that never seem to end. (Oh 'cause I'm planning to buy a new laptop this June.)
I think, swimming past the incessant mac-is-better fanatics and oh-we-are-better-microsoft devotees and their verbal duels, I've sorta reached a personal epiphany.

Apple will never win Microsoft in the battle of the OSs - if certain conditions don't change.

1. Compatability. Yes this may sound counter-intuitive, but have you ever thought of this? The Mac OS X is built specifically for the Mac, while Windows runs on all PCs and laptops. I'm not talking about compatability with older hardware in Vista (current furore is on that), I'm talking about Windows being a platform for the many different brands of PCs that you can find in the market today. If Apple doesn't develop a PC-friendly OS in the future, there is simply no way it can compete with Microsoft in terms of market share - for it is but one company, compared to the many that manufacture PCs and laptops.
Now I know pure Mac fanatics will be seething or feel revolted at the tiniest thought that the OS be corrupted and exported to a PC (and I know of at least 3 mac users who read this blog) so I beg you to think of this - as fancy, simple and stable as Tiger is, how do you expect people to convert when Apple jealously guards its operating system and restricts it to just Macs?
I mean, the whole company is built around the idea of having total integration - you buy the hardware, software, everything bundled as one (so you don't have to worry) - which is good, but for the simple testosterone-charged student who wants to brag "I have the latest IBM model with extra-wide screen and 2 gig ram, not like your 2ghz Dell dinosaur which only has 512mb ram" it just doesn't work, does it?
For a Mac is a Mac is a Mac. Or if you start being snobbish about your latest Mac to other Mac devotees you're running contrary to the values of owning a Mac anyways. Being helpful, having a sense of cammaderie, and stuff.

2. The lack of games for the Mac. Seriously, you can read on and on about parallel games just as exciting, just as wonderful (alternative versions of Windows games, if you like), but the simple point is - there is still a lack of games that run on Tiger. There might be an increasing number of games developers that are catering for both Mac and Windows users, but honestly, far too many hardware-consuming games (such as First Person Shooters) are still designed for PC-based hardware.
And I'd like to digress here, really. I've been reading so much about running Windows using bootcamp (it's a Mac program) on a Mac to play games, and supposely it works just fine - but don't you find it ironic, that you have to install something you condemn (I have to admit, it's a stereotype, the typical Mac user condemning everything Windows-based) despite all its flaws, that you'd tried hard to avoid in the first place?
But anyways getting back to the main point. Talking about OS - and OS alone, Tiger, not the Mac as a product - it just doesn't have enough clout to convince gamers that their violent needs will still be satisfied if they switch to Tiger.

So I have to say, unless Apple manages to persuade many, many more citizens and developers to use its software, I would probably remain the casual yay-I-can-protect-my-own-privacy-well-most-of-it compulsive gamer who brags (sometimes) about his PC-specific computer knowledge. Who would not switch to Vista just yet, of course.

World Domination.

I want to dominate the world. By subjecting everyone to this mysterious illness where you lose control of your thoughts, all conscious rational behaviour, and can only direct your thoughts towards the next sweet thing you can do for your family, other half and all those around you.

This illness called love.

Yes I want to dominate the world.

Blue.

From a song (Blue by Euphoria) - 'I used to be able to do everything myself, now I need a little help; I used to do everything I wanted on my own, now I don't want to be alone.'

I don't know whether this is a blessing, curse, or a little of both.

I am so f***ed.

War

Everyone thinks they know what to say
Everyone thinks they know what to do
War is bad, war is terrible
War is the curse that brands us all
But they don't know what you feel
All your true emotions unspoken
Like a true soldier,
A true soldier.

What's the point of it all
You wonder
as you see your brothers die
Fighting the enemy,
You know they are thinking
But the same.
Oh you don't know it all,
Like a true soldier,
A true soldier.


Just felt like writing something that's been bothering me. Been sick with GE (gastroenteritis) last night and today and the stomach spasms have been terrible, hence am taking the time to do something enjoyable whilst I still can (while the medication lasts).

Chocoholism Pt 3.

Dear readers,

I am sorry to inform you that alas, I have succumbed to my temptations.
I ask humbly for forgiveness from those (Mei that's you) who would not get a taste of this delectable delight because of my weakness, my ill-discipline and my inability to keep my mouth shut appropriately.

I promise to buy you more genuine hand-made chocolates from this country.
And not to eat all of them.

Chocoholism Pt 2.

Chocolate.....

I need chocolate....

This post is dedicated to all the chocolate lovers out there - I am with you!

As the stars need the moon, so I need you -
With all the breath I take, so I think of you!

OK I am getting delirious.

Chocoholism

I just realised how much of a chocoholic I am now when I discovered, to my greatest horror, that I had run out of chocolates. That was like two minutes ago, when I started tearing (not crying) and sniffing uncontrollably, felt like I would really be able to rob a poor kid of his chocolate and send him to his mum to cry, and then rob him again of that precious stuff when his mum tries to placate him by buying more.
Yup.
And then I saw the chocolates I had bought for friends and relatives back home.
No I haven't succumbed to that temptation yet. But it looks more tempting by the minute - that stash of emergency medicine looks ever so sweet, ever so melt-in-your-mouth-chockful-of-goodness-whatever-cliche-you-can-think-of alluring!
Will keep you updated on my withdrawal symptoms as they come along, later.

Scars.

I realise my tattoo has now taken on another additional meaning - it now serves to remind me of a period in my life where I was quite a different person. Subtle changes, you might think - but indelible ones in my caffeine-charged conscious-craving over-loaded brain right now.
Coupled with that song Edwin sent me years ago (Scars - by Papa Roach)... my mind's gone into overdrive.
Yeah, some songs just take on that particular meaning you want them to; the simple act of sharing a song sometimes can mean so much, to those who believe in the value and power of music.

Our time.

I was just surfing through my music library when I came across the Forrest Gump soundtrack album hidden amidst my other songs. Now I didn't take note before that it actually contains quite a few 'iconic' songs from the 60s and 70s. So yup. Led me to recollect about the movie - what it was about, when I saw it, etc. Could only remember these 'snapshots' where my parents had rented the Laser Disc (yup it was that long ago) and were watching it intently, while I actually watched only scenes of it, having been pre-occupied by the computer (yep not that long ago) and being called downstairs to forcibly watch 'cause it was 'meaningful'.
Now the point is, thinking back, did it not contain so many scenes that my parents would have been familiar with? Apart from the running with the old Nike shoes of course (the epitome of their struggle through life; never stop running, life's a marathon, etc - which happens to be one of my father's favourite quotes, and which I happen to believe in as well), or the chocolate scene (yep that chocolate quote never fails to come to mind does it), but I mean more like the whole movie, the setting, the story, everything. I don't recall many other films specifically made for that target audience - do you?

Which led me to think, of course. What would go into a movie for our generation? More specifically - those born in the '80s? Going beyond the casual(or not?) mention of the various wars America fought for 'freedom' and 'democracy', what would be a common theme that would resonate with everyone our age?

What do you think?

Leaking Leaks.

So I've been following the news more frequently than I have for the past few months. The trial of 'Scooter' Libby has particularly interested me - it's got the classic elements of betrayal, suspense, shocking revelations and all that is required of a riveting court case you don't often get to see today. (Corporate trials, however shocking the accusations, always end up in legal mumble jumble, don't you think - but that's another story)

So anyways. I'd just encourage you to follow it, for it's probably gonna make several headlines in our time, and if the victors have (or don't have) their way - a Hollywood movie decades down the road.

Oh and personal comment - I think Pampers can make an interesting advert based on this, don't you?

Missing Home.

Perhaps it's the dreadful weather, perhaps it's the horrible exam I just had, or perhaps it's the guilt I feel for not having done enough work throughout the term.

Or perhaps you just don't need any reason to miss home.

Reminiscing.

Reminiscing about the old times, you often wonder why you've made the choices you could have avoided over the years - all those mistakes, all those painful temptations you've succumbed to, all those falls you could have recovered from; all the wonderful moments you've enjoyed, despite everything that should have brought you down.

It's all in the perspective you have, isn't it?