Ramble

I realise that I might have lost sight of why I’m doing med this year. To me it’s not just some course that you get into and just get through.

I’m guilty of looking around and comparing myself with everyone else – just as is typical of me all throughout primary, secondary school days. It works as negative incentive to work harder, but you eventually burn out because there isn’t a solid reason behind why you do things. No good enough reason why you read up on obscure facts about glucose-6-phosphatase, or stay up at night memorising all the cranial nerves and routes of the brachial plexus. It’s been like this for me. I, of recent realise that I’ve nearly completely lost sight of why I’m really doing this: is this plainly to add more merit to my list of achievements, or am I doing it so that God is glorified?

It’s a big word, I think  – for “God to be glorified”, but for me it holds meaning in doing what I do because I want to please God, and only doing what I think God will be pleased in. This is what I started out the year with, and I did (for the most part I did try) my best, and God blessed. However, with the new semester and the craziness that came with it (I didn’t exactly have the best start to it as you may know) I think I might have strayed away from the footpath, and lost sight of my walk. I think about this and I find it terribly stupid of me. How can I possibly afford to lose sight of the only thing that matters?

I’m sorry I let too many things clutter my vision. I’m sorry I sought value and worth in superficial things. I’m sorry I ever thought that someother that You could satisfy me.

I let go.

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Take 3

I realise I should probably write more, because I let more emotion out through writing than any other form of communication at all.

It’s been a rough start to the semester, I think. It started with being felt like I was forced to leave home after a mere 4 weeks of being there, yanked out of my securities and stranded here in Townsville. Then came the insurance lettter the minute I stepped into the house (money issues don’t ask). And then a large bout of homesickness that I can’t purge out of my system.

I’m getting tired of small talk and superficial nothings about how you’re going, and somehow I’m obliged to say “good” even if I don’t really mean it, because they don’t have time, nor do they want to sit around and listen to you mope about things like that. But at times I feel that the longing surges beyond what I would like to bear, and I wonder if I am actually able to survive all of this and actually emerge victorious, because it definately seems like it’s tightening it’s grip around me right now.

I look back at the days in high school when Gingy and I would sit around and talk about studying abroad after graduation and smile sadly at how I was terribly mistaken at underestimating how much I’d actually miss my family and friends back home. At that time it was full of excitement and a new beginning that seemed nearly glamourous, but after experiencing 2.5 years of it now it’s nowhere near what I had imagined it to be. I am immensely thankful for a chance to be studying here – but the best of both worlds does not give itself to just anyone.

I turn on Skype and when I don’t see mum/dad there, I want to cry, and at times I actually do. Not that Skype lends too much of a comfort (because there always comes the time when you have to end the call), but it’s the closest that I can get to. I get torn apart by anything and everything these days, and my body isn’t taking well to it either. I break out from all these stressors,  and my bowel function has been going haywire I nearly don’t dare to eat anything now.

I even let it affect what matters most right now – in daddy’s words: my “primary responsibility”. I don’t study as effeciently as I’d like to, I’d wake up in the mornings absolutely dreading the day, and I sit in lectures only half amused at what the lecturers have to say. I feel like I’m falling apart, and it feels like it’s been going on for forever, even though I’ve only been back 3 weeks.

I said that everything and anything at all irks me now, and I meant it. Which brings a whole lot of unnecessary stress upon my life.

For some reason all this writing just brings to mind M’s post (I knew she wrote for me) from last year:

During the darkest days of my life last year, I was foolishly strong with my own strength. I refused to cry. I was angry, I was confused I didn’t understand why. And when I read Psalm 73, all the anger, hurt, bitterness, resentment was washed out in tears. Tears that said, He cried along with me and that He loved me still, and so much. God always provides. He gives us opportunities to get past the sigmoid. Psalm 73 is such a personal story with me and I pray that it comforts, strengthens and gently loves you on.

 Psalm 73

BOOK III : Psalms 73-89

A psalm of Asaph.

 1Surely God is good to Israel,
       to those who are pure in heart.

 2 But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
       I had nearly lost my foothold.

 3 For I envied the arrogant
       when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

 4 They have no struggles;
       their bodies are healthy and strong. ^[a]

 5 They are free from the burdens common to man;
       they are not plagued by human ills.

 6 Therefore pride is their necklace;
       they clothe themselves with violence.

 7 From their callous hearts comes iniquity ^[b] ;
       the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.

 8 They scoff, and speak with malice;
       in their arrogance they threaten oppression.

 9 Their mouths lay claim to heaven,
       and their tongues take possession of the earth.

 10 Therefore their people turn to them
       and drink up waters in abundance. ^[c]

 11 They say, “How can God know?
       Does the Most High have knowledge?”

 12 This is what the wicked are like—
       always carefree, they increase in wealth.

 13 Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure;
       in vain have I washed my hands in innocence.

 14 All day long I have been plagued;
       I have been punished every morning.

 15 If I had said, “I will speak thus,”
       I would have betrayed your children.

 16 When I tried to understand all this,
       it was oppressive to me

 17 till I entered the sanctuary of God;
       then I understood their final destiny.

 18 Surely you place them on slippery ground;
       you cast them down to ruin.

 19 How suddenly are they destroyed,
       completely swept away by terrors!

 20 As a dream when one awakes,
       so when you arise, O Lord,
       you will despise them as fantasies.

 21 When my heart was grieved
       and my spirit embittered,

 22 I was senseless and ignorant;
       I was a brute beast before you.

 23 Yet I am always with you;
       you hold me by my right hand.

 24 You guide me with your counsel,
       and afterward you will take me into glory.

 25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
       And earth has nothing I desire besides you.

 26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
       but God is the strength of my heart
       and my portion forever.

 27 Those who are far from you will perish;
       you destroy all who are unfaithful to you.

28 But as for me, it is good to be near God.
       I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge;
       I will tell of all your deeds

 

I am extremely thankful for M, who seems to relentlessly think of me all the time. I don’t know how she does it, but her love and care overwhelms me more than I can say. She makes living here much more bearable.

That’s also why when I fall into depression and longing that I feel ashamed that I seem not to value one of the most precious friendships that God has given to me. Thank you, M, for being you, and for all that you do.

I really don’t know what to ask for right now, because I’m a little confused I think. On one hand I feel that I have M and I am happy, on the other hand I also feel that I am extremely homesick and pained and I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t know if it makes little sense to anyone, but that’s what I’m feeling.

How now? You tell me.

I received a postcard

It is officially the most action packed postcard I’ve ever recieved (both in terms of content and space utilization). It is also officially the furthest anyone has ever gone for me in response to a fb wall post. Thankiu M, it brought a M-assive grin to my face (:

Dear M,

I think Athertons sounds absolutely amazing you are a good marketing person, high chances I will apply there for rural next year. And what good timing too, thanks for the birthday wishes and E absolutely loves the mushroom voucher idea haha. But during bday celebration yesterday E can’t help but to remember the genius cheesecake M sneakily whipped up, does M have pics? E also officially gives M partial right over mimi and iban (our pets) and E will be bringing over another pet courtesy of lynniejeengandqin (pictures soon hopefully). E misses M very much, but E shall see M very soon.

lup,
E

 

**I edit**

 

The Colour Diet

I believe that Asian magazines come up with the weirdest ideas ever.

Reading through a Chinese (gossip/fashion?) magazine at the hairdresser’s yesterday, I came across this article (pardon my crude translation):

Unconventional? But it works! The Colour Diet

I was pretty intrigued due to the length of the article, since I was half expecting a couple of pages rambling on how food of different colours provide you with a million antioxidants etc. The article was only a page long, plus pictures – the actual diet plan was only something like, 5 lines.

So here’s what you do on the Colour Diet:

• In the morning, drink 500ml warm water with a spritz of fresh lemon and a pinch of salt in a blue cup. Blue prevents you from overeating for the rest of the day.
• When eating lunch, imagine that all your food is green. This will encourage satiety.
• Dinner must include a red and orange based food. This is your boost of antioxidants (I knew there was bound to be antioxidant babble)

And that’s it! The rest of the page provided a moderately extensive list of foods grouped according to colour. I imagine that this diet banks on psychological dieting (seriously, imagining everything you’re eating is green?! witw) more than anything else.

On a side note I was at the hairdresser’s and I did get a haircut, but I can’t say I like it. I think I’ll never grow my hair past my 3rd rib, because the ends always become disturbingly ugly enough to warrant a trim every single time it reaches that level. And the length snipped off just so happens to be the length grown out since my last haircut. Very frustrating.

I realise I can’t be bothered to end this. bai.

Banana Splat

I’m guilty of misusing fb status updates and Plurk as a way of coping with my hormonal in/effluxes. I find them the places which I can be taken the least seriously (but at the same time I don’t mean that I’m in the very least insincere) and they’ve become an outlet that I’ve sometimes abused, by my standards. I also tend to blame everything on hormones.

It’s becoming distressing to me how I cope with my own stressors. I started thinking about mid-year exam results today. It’s really a semi make it or break it issue – if I didn’t do well in it, there’s a large possibility that I’m dropping out next semester. You see, if I fail, or even just pass – I foresee a great deal of counseling coming my way. It’s true that only I can make the decision of whether I go or stay in my course, but if you understand the concept of a secondary decision maker – I think I’m somewhat like that. If there’s talk going on about how I should reconsider being in Medicine post exams this round, I have a feeling that I’m going to give in. I love what I do – but sometimes I wonder if I’m just clinging on to something that I merely want, but wasn’t meant for me, as I do with many things in life.

The greatest luxury home provides me with, right now, is the faraway feeling from everything happening in my life. It’s seeing my life through a telescope, and the best thing is how I can just look away and forget it all for a moment. I totally understand broken hearted people who hop on the next flight to Norway, disappear for 3 years and come back a new person. The only difference with me though, is that I don’t have 3 years. Nor do I want to go back – new or old person, whatever. I’m quite happy keeping my life as undramatic as it is right now.

I know I’ve been playing with the idea, albeit jokingly, but nevertheless it seems very appealing during times like this: why not drop everything and be a homemaker.

The more I write the more confused I feel. The times I feel most drunk are the times when I’m physically the most sober, eg: this, and the Sydney bus incident (you can ask me if you haven’t heard). I feel lost, very anxious and numb.

I abuse fb and Plurk. Do I abuse being at home too?

 

I wish my brain had a shut down button.

Sporadic

The untruth
I had been extremely worried about weather or not my skeleton was going to be let on the plane to Townsville this morning. I’ve learnt that the best way to deal with doubt though, is to never let it show. I put on my most confident face and placed my wooden box on the check-in belt. “What’s in the box?” she asked.

“It’s uh…some learning aids, for study…uh…”
“So it’s not a musical instrument?”

I said no and she put it through. Huge sigh of relief.

Swept off my feet
I’ve confessed that I’m a sucker for chivalry, but I really am. Perched on a high stool in a cafe in QVB, at a narrow countertop waiting for my order – I had an umbrella which I sloppily hung from the counter. It fell off a few sesconds into its balancing act, and made the loudest noise ever. I groaned to myself because the floor seemed miles away - I nearly had to jump off the chair and hope I land safely. However, a gentleman walked to where my umbrella fell, picked it up and smoothed it out, folded it along its correct creases, tied it up and handed it back to me with a smile. Doing all this he took his time, each action performed ever so delicately as I just sat there and watched him. Of course, I received my umbrella from him with the sweetest smile I could muster, and actually felt grown up, for once.

Lazy afternoons and furry friends
Elizabeth and I spent a good part of the afternoon at Darling Harbour, just chilling (all meanings of the word) on the grass and doing nothing. It was good to just sit and talk and 50cents of a soft serve was plenty to keep us blissful. Although Eli was concerned (I think :p) of people giving us odd looks/in case she met anyone she knew who’d catch her sleeping under a tree in Darling Harbour – I’m pretty sure anyone whose gaze lingered in our way only did it out of envy (: When it got dark, I spotted furry things with long tails scurrying out from unknown places. Rats decided to join in the fun! But we thought that we weren’t that keen to hang with them, so we left.

Breakfast at the Fish Markets
Just the title sounds hardcore enough, methinks. It had to be the most lavish breakfast ever with a massive plate of salmon sashimi, oysters, seafood platter complete with a bottle of wine! I enjoyed seeing people I hadn’t met in ages though – Linus and James, and meeting their friend, D, who was nearly a carbon copy of XJ+10lbs. It was pouring that day, so we had to brave the rain after, and goodbyes are always hard to do.

Bento box
I stayed over at Auntie Judy/Uncle Kar Gay’s place again. We had chats about nearly everything, and Auntie Judy showed me Jessy’s bento box. Too lovable to be true, and it immediately brought M to mind, and all our culinary escapades and the Forme yoghurt boxes we had been using as our makeshift ‘bento boxes’ when we went on our picnics. My excitement showed, and Auntie Judy asked: “Would you use it if you had one?” Without a second thought I said “yes” with much gusto, but immediately after I realised that knowing Auntie Judy, she prolly would want to give me one then, and I wished I could take it back. Too late though, and she brought out a bento box, and gave it to me as my birthday present. It was indeed a gift that made my day.

When I lost my virginity to Brenner
First visit ever to MaxB, after hearing so much about it. We even sat at the countertops overlooking all the passers by, and everyone who passed by couldn’t resist but to take a peek into the cafe. It was good, but I’d only do it once.

 

Sydney wasn’t just all this, of course – there were many other wonderful moments from my trip. Especially with Uncle Freddie/Auntie Winny and family, Esther, and I got to meet up with  people that I hadn’t seen in a year. Till then, fin.

First name issues

The biggest compliment anyone has ever given me on my name would have to be this gem of a lady from church.

I’ve grown up pronouncing my name as Eve-lyn, although I stress again that it isn’t spelt that way, but Eveline. However, Australians in general have a big problem with my name, for reasons beyond my comprehension. A typical gettoknowyou conversation inevitably goes something like this:

“I’m Josh. Nice to meet you”

“I’m Eve-lyn”

“Eve…Evening?”

“Eve-lynne”

“Eve…I’m sorry what was that again?”

“E.v.e.- l.y.n.”

“…OH! A-ve-lyn!”

I then nod my head with much enthusiasm and smile, because at least my new found friend has a name to call me by. It doesn’t help when I get their names perfectly the first time too, just because it’s a josh-level name (if you get my point). Which makes me look like an idiot most of the time – apparently I can’t say my own name properly. Calvin did have a discussion about this with me before – why fight it, he says. Thus occasionally now I introduce myself as “A-ve-lyn”, something they usually get within 2 repeats.

Returning then to this dear lady from church, imagine my delight when I had the gettoknowyou talk with her:

“What’s your name, love”

“A-ve-lyn”

“What was that?”

“A-ve-lyn. Well, actually Eve-lyn, but no one here seems to say my name that way”

“No, no – Eve-lyn was it? I had a friend from the UK, and they say it as Eve-lyn too. It’s a beautiful name”

Try to e-magine my ecstasy when I heard that. I returned to annoy the hell out of a good proportion of Australians by saying my name as Eve-lyn. It does get tiring though. So, as I confided in M a few days ago, I now confide to you:

When I place an order at cafes and they ask for my name, I say Jane.

Now you know, and even better, you know why I do it.

Back to last reviews of exam material now.

I tell people my week has been productive (:

I think it suffices to say that this swotvac has turned out to be the most productive (and enjoyable) one so far. I thank M especially for being the ultimate study buddy!

Some things are going to stick as a swotvac tradition from now on I think:

• Fist brandishing. I tattoo in the subject name M is doing for the day in washable ink of my favourite colour of the day and keep it there till M finishes with it, and vice versa
• Milo breaks. Cold soy milk and milo powder, the ultimate pickmeup for droopy eyelids and a foggy head. Everyone’s looking to see if that 1kg value tin of Milo will last us both through till the end of swotvac
• Hand washing. Once we finish with the subject, we can then wash off the ink from our fists. The ultimate satisfaction

Studying with M gives me much motivation. It makes swotvac so much more bearable, even enjoyable.

So much to look forward to this time next week.