Final Sprint

Strange how once upon a time, like 3 years ago, I was writing about my faculty which doesn’t believe in giving breaks in between final examination papers. Back then typing out bombastic microorganism names and dental terms were cool. Whining about exams and how stressed I was used to be safer. It was a better option than voicing out the truth that I didn’t sweat as much I claimed I did. I didn’t study 24/7 like my other classmates. Of course my marks were pretty average, unlike many others, but I was content.

I’m sitting for the first mega final paper of my degree course in 5 hours time. So, this is it? Two years of pre-clinical and three years of clinical experience – and it’s down to 3 hours of a cumulative assessment paper. This is going to determine how competent each one of us are. If I happen to misdiagnose a recession and state an incorrect flap surgery, I can’t turn back and say no, I don’t have enough clinical exposure yet. Life is strange. Knowledge is undervalued. Rather, we run after A’s and gold medals. Only that, I can’t use the similar argument with my mom and win it. Teacher mothers are the hardest to please. Though they are the most dedicated one you could find.

Rats, all the best. Pour your heart out. Two written papers, one practical and a viva. You’re about this close.

Price that you pay.

There were times I wanted to escape the reality and run to some anonymous land, to be a completely new person. Because I was so bored being me. Of the daily routine, of the same facial expressions, of the playlist that I didn’t change for 3 years now.  I was craving for attention for myself, from myself. I read novels and indulged myself into the fiction, hoping to be various persona at the same time. I ran through different plots in my head every night and I’d wake up to various dreams. Dreams that somehow fulfilled the boredom. When the dreams are off in the real world, I started doing few stupid things here and broke some rules there. And on the way, perhaps broke some relationship here and bits of trust there. Am I proud of what I have become? Not now. But one day, I shall tell myself these stupid mistakes molded me into someone I am going to be.

I don’t want to run anymore. I want to stay. To make amends. To prove myself. To feel proud of myself – again. It’s never too late to collect your pieces and start building up your rapport. Both personally and professionally.

A friend noticed my recent short posts and intended to follow it too. To avoid people judging based of what we write. I agreed to him, I still do. Though honestly, how can you expect people not to judge, when you say things more likely to be judged? I had this huge argument, rather childish I’d say about how non-judgmental I am, with another rather much elder person than I am. He claimed there’s nothing wrong at all in being judgmental and to be judged. I still can’t see the exact point, but I hope I will be as wise as him too. I may not judge, but to be judged is something I can’t avoid. Especially for the things that I say and do.

On the other hand, I could go to bed in peace. Thank you, Lord; for the little iloveyoutoos, IDDs and requited affection, may it be legal or not.


Want me, like I want you.

I was told that I am such a 2000, millennium person – by a guy younger by 3 years to me. Because I am so attached to my mobile phone. Yeah, I get restless when the phone is dead. I always keep my charger in my handbag. I walk around finding for power ports and when I find one, I settle right there, on the floor. I drain my battery surfing internet. I literally feel useless when it gives up on me. I stare at the screen till I fall asleep. My homescreen wallpapers are the current happenings in my life. We are attached like a pair of Siamese twins.

Therefore I have decided. When my King arrives, I’d know it. Not by jiggles of bells or lighting up of bulbs. But by me ditching my mobile, completely – without a care in the world. When a man could distract me from my mobile, the King has finally arrived.