The Anatomy of Melancholy

If you find my posts rambling and incoherent at times, you haven't met the master. Saying that,http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif it is really a monumental work, worth reading - even if just a tiny selection of it. Spent a really fruitful few hours in the Wellcome library trawling through the abridged version. Probably not the most conventional way to spend part of a trip to London, but hey I did walk down to that cheap ticket office in Leicester Square, only to find that there weren't any good matinee shows on today. And this was after covering the bits of the British museum I'd missed the last time I visited. Enough walking, I think you'd agree, for a day.

Oh the reason for reading said book? It caught my eye, nestled craftily amongst the huge collection of (fake) books lining the walls of that gallery in above-mentioned museum.

In the British Museum

I found it quite odd that I was not the only Chinese guy in the Chinese section of the museum - indeed, I found it very disconcerting, the fact that there was a group of Chinese tourists wandering around, led by a tour guide who was describing the exhibits in detail in mandarin.

(Tourist) Trapped

I should have noticed the signs. Italian-looking cafe located right outside the British Museum, with signs advertising CHEAP MEALS (PASTA + SALAD + SOFT DRINK = 6.95) and an over-enthusiastic italian crew greeting customers on arrivhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifal. And the 'chef' making a beef sandwich from (admittedly good-looking) sliced beef on white sliced bread.

I guess I was hungry. And I had spotted a comfortable-looking chair, at a decent-looking table, unlike the stools and plastic table at the cafe inside. And there wasn't a queue. (Which on hindsight should have been another clue, I admit, but then the presence of several customers packing the rear fooled me.)

So I sat down, and ordered a pollo e asparagi rice dish under the authentic-looking heading 'risotti', and a cappuccino.

I must admit my doubts started to surface when I noticed the microwave located behind the sandwich counter (and what appeared to be liberal use of it¹), but the cappuccino, which had arrived with typical italian efficiency, had allayed them² somewhat.

But what greeted me when the rice dish arrived was beyond my worst imagination. Obviously microwaved (it looked like it had been emptied from a cheap inverted microwave container) it looked positively depressing, with several cubes of a decimated chicken vainly swimming against the tide of dyed³ basmati grains engulfing the dish. Oh and I spotted one lonely piece of courgette amongst the sea of red. No sign of any asparagus, tinned or frozen. At least they'd tried to add a twinge of authenticity by sprinkling some forlorn-looking parsley around the well-defined edges of the rice pile.

After that assault on the eyes came the inevitable battery of my poor tastebuds. I have to say, I was expecting a horrible concoction of indeterminable mashed-up flavours - but surprisingly, it didn't taste that bad. The chicken was rubbery, as expected, and the grains of rice anonymous, but taken together they tasted just as a microwaved ASDA meal might - cheap factory-produced muck that kept you alive in times of famine without too much distress.

Problem was, a microwaved meal might cost me 3 quid, while the price of this was more than double that.

So trapped as a tourist I had been, silly hungry fool that I was. You would do well to miss this restaurant - the only 'cafe' facing the museum that's somehow survived despite its food.

But then again with starbucks as its only competitor in the street...


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¹Judging by the 'ding's we're all so familiar with sounding out at regular intervals.
²On a score of 1-10, where 1's starbucks coffee and 10's the best you've ever tasted, it came in somewhere between 3 and 4. Which isn't much, come to think of it - but I'm so used to the Maxwell House coffee provided in hospitals (-1) now that anything greater than 1's a bonus.
³Dyed red. Why red, I really don't know.

Psychosis.

Just a little note here that I wrote a few months back about psychosis.

It all starts with an innocent thought.
A naive, half-formed notion misplaced,
Mis-appropriated,
Misguided in its quest for resolution.


It's how delusions start, I believe. A mis-reading of actions by others, where gradually the usual mechanisms that keep our wild thoughts in check get eroded, re-programmed, if you like, sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. Then layer upon layer the mistakes accrue, till you get something so barmy nobody can understand - it's that little disconnect, that differentiates an odd but comprehensible thought process, and a pathological one.

For those of you in the know I know psychosis is much more than delusions, but note I'm just trying to demonstrate how delusions can be explained in a biochemical model (imagine thoughts as neurons 'aligning' and firing in synchronicity) here, just as how the occipital cortex gets activated in auditory hallucinations.

Fascinating aren't they, our brains.

Power!

Apologies for the lack of posts, life's been just a plodding journey of baby-steps so far.

Once in a while though, you get re-energised by songs such as these. Check out Vintage Trouble on Jools Holland, if you're in the UK - preferably on iplayer; the youtube one just doesn't do it justice. Marvellous album, btw.

Going Home.

On Melancholy Hill.

Stories.

Why do we hold back, sometimes - why do we let go?

I don't know.

Maybe we all have these little spiels nestled in the depths of our minds - directing our thoughts, our actions, the words we use so casually, yet so deliberately.

There's this scene in The Weather Man which has stuck in my mind somehow. Closing scene, I think, where the protagonist explains how his choices in life gradually diminished; his paths converged, and he ended up as just 'the weather man' on TV. Interesting how little, reading the synopsis, I remember of the rest of the film.

Maybe I really should go into psychiatry.

Disaster.

Note to self: Some things in life just cannot be meddled with.

Just tried making some beef noodles with dumplings, seeing as I had spare minced beef, mushrooms and flour I needed to use up. Accidentally put a little too much water into the mixture (had turned the tap a little too vigourously) and realised I had not enough flour to compensate for it. And then remembered I had cornflour - half a packet, in fact, a relic from years past that I had to use up as well - and made a spur of the moment decision to add it to the mixture. Thought that since it looked similar and had a role in thickening stuff up it'd work. Somehow.

Seemed like a good idea, at that time.

Obviously it wasn't, and I ended up with a semi-gooey texture, similar to that of sweet-and-sour 'sichuan' soup from dubious Chinese restaurants. Yes I do mean semi-gooey, it occupies that middle ground between an ill-meaning suspension (well technically it is one, isn't it?) of unidentifiable constituents¹, and goo². Like a food play experiment gone very wrong.

Eww indeed.

Am not looking forward to eating it.


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^1.I didn't add any oil - if I did would I have turned it into an emulsion, perhaps? Need some chemists' input here.
2. Interestingly, type 'goo' into yahoo search and google dominates the search results?! Wrong on so many levels, isn't it.

Missing.

I honestly believe there's a part of you that lingers in those closest to you; a part that will always remain missing, until you meet again.

Some say absence makes the heart fonder, the passage of time brushing away the little imperfections that grate on you when you're in constant, close contact. I say the cliche is true - nobody's perfect, and we can only decide what we notice, what we remember, and what we hold important.

I think I've only become more of a softie than the one I used to be years ago.

How ah, how. Becoming an old man already, leh.

Why we listen to music.

To reminisce, to reinforce, to enrich, and to find empathy in those whom we might not otherwise have the fortune to meet in our mundane lives.

Cold!

So it's been snowing intermittently since before christmas here, and the arctic conditions here seem likely to remain here for the next week at least. In fact, the whole of the UK (not just Scotland) has been covered by snow these past few weeks. Lots of nice pictures have been taken of the wonderful scenery, I've taken some here (below) as well. Now you might think all is wonderful and nice, but note the thick layer of snow that's surrounding the car. I (along with several others) have not been able to get the car out of the carpark as it is just too slippery, and there's not enough friction to get up the slight slope; I've been forced to get the bus this week, which is in itself alright, if not for the freezing temperatures outside. It is now -6 as I type this btw, and I've included a pic of myself below. (sorry deleted it by accident) Yes I'm wearing a nike ACG jacket, and you can't see it, but I'm wearing two layers of socks. In my room, and in front of the warm laptop. (I've had to wear socks even in bed, that's how cold it has been)

Yes just rambling on here, but really there's just nothing else to do - wanted to keep fit but I can't drive to the gym, and I think it'd be somewhat suicidal to go jogging in these conditions. Oh which reminds me, I've no pictures but yesterday I was in the city centre and some of the pavements were completely frozen - it was quite some fun seeing everyone walk gingerly (and yet still slip) going up and down the street. Until I slipped too, and was glad my fleshy bum prevented some serious damage to my hip/back. But you didn't need to know that, and I did garner some sympathy (and laughter) from some old ladies standing outside the supermarket, so it wasn't all that bad, thankfully.
That's the remnants of a snowman I tried to build, btw. It had got decapitated when I came back in the afternoon.

New content.

If you were to write a book about your life, how would it run?

Would it show your mistakes, recurring alarmingly at the speed of sound; flashing chapters of ageless deeds, missing pages of lessons learnt?

If all you do, is accrue blunders that get glossed over in time; if all you excel at, is misappropriate memories that aren't there - what is left, at the end of it all?

Not depressed currently, I must clarify. Just thinking, really, if that can describe the sense of guilt you get when someone is depressed. And reflecting, really, on what I'd gone through this past year, and what I really should have done when I felt that way.

Help us all!

Excellent article.

Elbow.

There is something strangely moving about a rock band, from Manchester, collaborating with the orchestra of Manchester, and holding the concert simultaneously in a concert hall and a free open-air area open to the public.

Damn I wish I was there.

Finally.

Dear followers of this blog (if there still are any left), I'm sorry for the lack of posts since April, as I've grappled in turn with having to repeat the year, attend meetings with the medical school and dean, and all activities associated with failing exams. And not to mention nothing else happening in my life right now worth blogging about.

Until now.

Just now, actually. I've just noticed that the Nigerian scam has evolved to a new level. I will reproduce the whole email I've received below (I'll like to see someone claim intellectual copyright for this) -

ATTENTION: PAYMENT NOTIFICATION VIA ATM CARD.‏

From:	FBI Director Robert S.Mueller III (fbi.director@btconnect.com)

Attn: Beneficiary,


This is to Officially inform you that it has come to our notice and we have thoroughly Investigated with the help of our Intelligence Monitoring Network System that you are having an illegal Transaction with Impostors claiming to be Mr. Tito Mboweni Republic of the Reserve Bank Of South African , Mr. Patrick Aziza, Mr Frank Nweke, none officials of ABSA Bank, FNB Banks, kelvin Young of HSBC, Ben of Fedex,Ibrahim Sule,Larry Christopher are impostors claiming to be the Federal Bureau Of Investigation. During our Investigation, we noticed that the reason why you have not received your payment is because you have not fulfilled your Financial Obligation given to you in respect of your Contract/Inheritance Payment.

Therefore, we have contacted the Federal Ministry Of Finance on your behalf and they have brought a solution to your problem by coordinating your payment in total USD$11,000.000.00 in an ATM CARD which you can use to withdraw money from any ATM MACHINE CENTER anywhere in the world with a maximum of $4000 to $5000 United States Dollars daily. You now have the lawful right to claim your fund in an ATM CARD.


Since the Federal Bureau of Investigation is involved in this transaction, you have to be rest assured for this is 100% risk free it is our duty to protect the American Citizens. All I want you to do is to contact the ATM CARD CENTER via email for their requirements to proceed and procure your Approval Slip on your behalf which will cost you $300.00 only and note that your Approval Slip which contains details of the agent who will process your transaction.

CONTACT INFORMATION
NAME: James Smuts
EMAIL: paymentofficer111@yahoo.cn
Telephone Numbers: +27-78-130-2165


Do contact Mr. James Smuts of the ATM CARD center with your details:

FULL NAME:
HOME ADDRESS:
TELL:
CELL:
CURRENT OCCUPATION:
BANK NAME:


So your files would be updated after which he will send the payment information's which you'll use in making payment of $300.00 via Money Gram Transfer for the procurement of your Approval Slip after which the delivery of your ATM CARD will be effected to your designated home address without any further delay. Mr. James Smuts will reply you with the secret code (8389 ATM CARD).

We advice you get back to the payment office after you have contacted the ATM SWIFT CARD CENTER and we do await your response so we can move on with our Investigation and make sure your ATM SWIFT CARD gets to you.

Thanks and hope to read from you soon.

Robert S. Mueller, III
Director Federal Bureau of Investigation


Note: Do disregard any email you get from any impostors or offices claiming to be in possession of your ATM CARD, you are hereby advised only to be in contact with Mr. James Smuts of the ATM CARD center who is the rightful person to deal with in regards to your ATM CARD PAYMENT and forward any emails you get from impostors to this office so we could act upon and commence investigation.
Note the length to which the scammers have gone to create this hoax -
-Robert S Mueller Is the current director of the FBI.
-Fake return add or not, they've apparently gone to register an account with BT to send this
-Wry attempt at humour - Mr James Smuts.


The spelling still has to be worked on though, I must say.
And I really don't know why if they've gone to register the BT address, why they would use a .cn address for the return email. And a yahoo account at that. Tsk tsk - amateurs, eh.

Taking it all in.

So these familiar thoughts are back to plague me again - these undesirable friends my ma always warned me about - guilt, loneliness and sexual predation of raptorial ladies of dubious moral fibre.
OK not so much the latter.

But yes, I feel haunted by these vile thoughts that I can't banish from the inner recesses of this cavernous mind of mine.

It is at times like these that I notice the codwebs that have formed on the window ledge, the mess of miscellaneous notes tucked away into the corner, and the dust, accumulated in thin homogeneous layers, metamorphosed into mildly mocking faces of disapproval and spite.

I need sleep, yes.

Location, location.

I was just having this chat with LM yesterday when I remembered this block of condos in Yishun. They were, perhaps you might say, built in a prime location - 15 mins walk away from a certain Hokkien Association primary school (one of the more 'famous' ones), and right next to the MRT track. And I mean right next to it, like probably just past the legal limit for building MRT/LRT tracks next to buildings.*

Only problem - it was beside the MRT track, yes - the nearest MRT station, however, was, I estimated, a good half hour's walk away.

I still remember, when I went past it - how terribly infuriating it must be for the residents in that condo (if they didn't drive), to experience (literally**) the cliche 'so near, yet so far'.

And then obviously I thought of the program "Location, location"*** and the plummeting values of Spanish properties and how terribly malpositioned some of the properties advertised had seemed (even in the boom times).

And I recalled just recently, there was this comedy**** where the comedian mentioned how we'd treated our homes as assets, and mortgaged them to buy useless sculptures and copies of paintings to clutter up our property (on the recommendation of some 'experts') only to find that when put to the crunch, these are but liabilites to us and the Earth.

And it's all come together to me now.

I'm buying a plot of land on the moon.




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*Though it probably was the other way round, this, MRT track constructed before the brilliant idea of flats next to MRT lines was conceived.
**Yes, literally. Examples of how you shouldn't use the word.
***To clarify here, I was actually thinking of "A place in the sun". Which was more geared towards the Spanish-property buying market. But just in case you want to know about the show.
**** Stewart Lee's comedy vehicle. Tried to find the part on youtube but couldn't. Here's another part of the show though.

What I've been up to.

So I've decided to blog again. At an opportune time, as you know, for my OSCEs are coming up in three days' time and it's the time to procrastinate again. But I've lost most of my ability to write in coherent and jargon-free sentences, so I shall just post some photos of what I've been up to these few weeks.

What twelve weeks of coffee does to your teeth. (I did try to wash the cup, really). Before (after frantic scrubbing with detergent and sponge, really), just for comparison.

So I decided to cook myself a good meal today for lunch - forgot the gravy initially, then thought I might as well save some calories by not having any. And having an ice-cream for dessert instead.

So yes, from the pictures above you may have gathered, not much has really happened in the past twelve weeks at Blackburn. I may blog more about it, when I feel I've regained some powers of diction, perhaps in the next week.

The Temperature.

The temperature in the past week has been so cold, I opened the fridge on Monday morning to find that the milk and juice were frozen (I turned the bottles upside down to check) and after some violent manipulation of the plastic bottles, I just about managed to squeeze out some milk slushie onto my cereal, which after a minute of microwaving remained, sitting proudly atop the cereal, taunting me to sink my fragile teeth into them.

And even after turning down the cooling settings from 4 (out of 6) to 2 that very same morning (amidst frenzied muttering under my frosty breath), the juice was still in its slush-like state yesterday. It is, I estimate, 20% slush now, according to the powers of my estimation, which would probably fit in with the forecasted slight increase in temperature over the weekend.

It is now 3 degrees centigrade over here, and yes, temperatures regularly dipped below zero degrees the past week.

Bloody awful weather, this.

Conceptual Art.

Had some spare time today in London, so decided on an impulse to go visit Tate Modern - and since I'd already visited the free sections decided to fork out for the two paid ones.

I must say I was suitably impressed by both of them, particularly the one by Cildo Meireles; in fact, I'd say my impression of conceptual art, and modern art in general, has really changed. In the sense that not all conceptual art is rubbish, recycled or otherwise.

Seriously, there were quite a few pieces of his, which as he describes, were 'instantly seductive' - in other words, they required no pompous self-gratifying smugness in your knowledge of art, but offered total immersion in the pieces, utilising not just the five senses, but also the physiological advantages that fear brings out in us.

Oh and the final installation in the exhibition was, in my opinion, the best - you had to enter a dark room on bare feet (boots available for the squeamish), which was totally dark save for a faint glow from an adjoining room, and treading slowly on some powder-like substance of unknown origin, you were forced to wander towards the source of light - revealed to be a solitary candle burning near at the end of the room.

Now it was only when I came back and researched more about it (it's called 'Volatile') that I found out the powder-like substance wasn't talcuum (or SAF foot) powder, but ash, and there was a smell of gas pumped constantly in the room, which due to my blocked nose I had completely missed.

But at that moment, after trudging pecariously from the dark room, and upon seeing the burning candle, I swear I had a spiritual experience - I realised at once why wasps gravitate towards light, why the British stress so much over the 'handling' of their cars when better 'feel'+crap roads=more discomfort. and why religion seems so enticing when you're lost, fearful and have no straws to clutch for comfort.