Fabuleux Destin D'Emilie

The joys and trials of new parenthood

2011-08-09T20:24:00.003-04:00

Baby is approaching his 3rd week come tomorrow. So far, my emotions regarding being a new mother seems to swing towards the low end. I suspect it has a lot to do with the fact that my mother is virtually keeping me prisoner in my own apartment, citing all sorts of dire health consequences lest I dare venture out during my first month post-partum. That said, the larger issue of course, is that now we have this little human being in our hands, in our lives, in our complete responsibility. It is overwhelming at times to think about, even though I had tried to "mentally prepare" myself for this in the previous months.

Prior to July 23rd, my mind fixated constantly on that date. As if, once that day arrives, I will deliver this beautiful baby and then a little heart will appear that encapsulates me, my baby and my husband, and the caption would read, "And they lived happily ever after. The end!"

Of course what really happened was, July 20th, his birthday, became the portal through which Jason, me and baby were transported into a completely new reality, an alternate universe. We wake up as parents, an altogether unfamiliar and strange new role for us.

The first few days were truly honeymoon days, we were in the hospital, we had all this support, food was delivered, and baby was quiet and sleeping most of the time. We gazed and gazed at his little face, smitten, awed, disbelieving and so so thrilled. Ah but reality sets in soon enough.

The baby is beautiful, don't get me wrong. But of course, I would think that, right? He is adorable, he is precious, he is the cutest thing I've ever seen. Yet he has quite a formidable temper packaged into his 6 lb 9 oz body. When he doesn't get his needs met satisfactorily, he isn't shy about thundering his immense displeasure. And of course, there's the fact that now we have to worry about everything, since it's all so new to us. Is his poop normal? Why does he have little acne? Why does he grunt like a pig? My mother too, a veteran in her role of the worrying parent, does little to ease my worries.

It's not so much the everyday worries too. I lay in bed at night sometimes gripped in icy fear of "what ifs." None of the scenarios running in my head are technically impossible, it is their very probability that haunts me and keeps me up. What if I were to drop him one day? What if I went mad one day? What if he choked and I forget how to do CPR? (note to self, I should refresh myself on that) Sigh, all negative thoughts, I agree and surely does little to help me in any way be a better parent, but oh! if I could only help myself.

In short, perhaps having a child will ultimately reap many rewards and it may be too early at this point. But right now, as we head into our third week as parents, I can only say, the trials of parenthood outweigh the joys.

Today is a brighter day

2011-03-11T20:54:00.002-05:00

I'm recovering from the surprise news I received yesterday. I admit that I was so sure that I was having a girl that I really didn't allot much of my brain cells to contemplating parenting a boy. To be sure, I'm over-simplifying parenting a daughter as well, imagining days of brushing hair, holding her hand and taking her shopping, delighting in pretty clothes and colorful trifles. Is it that simple? Of course not. I'm sure being the parent of a girl will also be challenging in ways that I've yet to imagine.

But I suppose part of my reluctance of even contemplating being mother to a boy stems from my fundamental ignorance of this entire half of the human race. Boys, men, young and old, continue to befuddle me. I can understand on an abstract level that we are all fundamentally human, more alike than different. Yet there are clear differences in how men and women see the world, see themselves, and how they think. I understand it to be partly a result of cultural indoctrinations, socialization, as well as some biological components. Teasing out what specifically results in the various differences is beyond the scope of this post, but suffice to say, I know it's a complicated amalgam of various factors.

Yet, today, I'm feeling better and more adjusted to the idea of mothering a boy. Little boys are of course adorable, and I know I will fall in love with my son as fervently as I would have with a daughter. And I went on amazon and started researching the market for books to gather more information. It turns out there's a vast supply of literature written on the subject of mothering and raising sons. I'm significantly heartened to see that, because I realize I wasn't alone in my feeling of insecurities about raising a child of the opposite gender. As the good little nerd I've always been, I'm always reassured when I see a stack of books chock full of information, just waiting to be plucked, imbibed and nourish my hitherto narrow universe of a brain.

The somewhat less complicated problem now is deciding which book to read. It's funny, just a few months back I gave nary a thought to actually being a parent. My focus was on the pregnancy and the delivery. I didn't even bother reading anything else. But now that I've hit my 20th week, the ever looming reality is that after D-day, it's just the beginning. Then it's worrying about how to be a good parent to a newborn, then a toddler, then before you know it, you'd have to worry about all sorts of things, as the child become more and more alert, receptive and aware of the world around him. That's when you really have to be careful, faithfully keeping in mind your wishes and desires in how you want to nurture your child and how you want to guide him/her into adulthood. Sigh....it's gonna to a long haul folks.

But wait! I said today is a brighter day! I really ought to have a mechanical slapper that literally smacks me out of my melancholic moods which I have a tendency to spiral into with very low threshold. It's true though. The flip side to all my worrying and insecurities is that I'm getting excited about having a little boy. I was musing to myself John Lennon's song tribute to his son, Sean, "Beautiful boy." It's truly a wondrous song and I picture myself singing that song (horribly off-key) to my precious boy as well, because I believe that song captures brilliantly the emotions a parent feels when looking at his progeny.

Not to mention, I fully intend to be that cool parent who's up for rough and tumble play with my baby boy if he's so inclined, at all times loving and emotionally grounded. I take from my inspiration, Frances, from Death Be Not Proud, she seems to have been a superb mother to her son, Johnny, in his tragically short life of 17 years. I feel that she did it by simply treating her son with respect, love and gentle guidance, and related to him as a friend and confidante, especially in his later years. It is also humbling to know that despite what I feel was an excellent example of good mothering, she nonetheless expressed some regrets in an essay in the book, wondering if she could have done things differently in some respects. We women can be very hard on ourselves and we will always feel like we could do "better."

Thus, I will try to keep that other principle in mind. If I do my best, I may be "good enough."

Boy oh boy!

2011-03-10T14:34:00.004-05:00

Today was a big day! I found out that I am expecting a little boy, courtesy of a very insistent pecker on the ultrasound. Oh the happiness! Oh the fear! The blessed mixed emotions that I felt.

I had been so sure, you see, that I was having a girl, that I had gone ahead to pick out a girl name for my baby. It's not that I thought it inconceivable for me to have a boy, but I had not really come across a boy's name that I liked and so, with part wishful thinking, part willfulness, I decided to pre-emptively decide on my baby's gender. So much for that!

Still the bigger questions still remain, and loom ever so large in my mind. Will I be a good mother? How will I guide and raise my child to become a good kid, a good teen, a good man fundamentally? I picture so many scenarios in my head (it's really very taxing on the brain, and basically amounts to idle worrying) of how my child will turn out. But first, let's focus on the good news!

According to the very fastidious U/S tech who looked at my baby today, he has ten fingers, ten toes, nicely formed humerus, tibia, fibula. All his heart valves are intact and performing as it should be. He has his requisite two veins and an artery supplying nutrients and removing waste. My two uterine arteries are also pulsing very gamely and responsibily. He has well formed upper lips (no cleft), he has nice buttocks, knees, shoulders. He doesn't have extra padding at the back of his neck, head is of perfect size, well formed vertebrae (no spina bifida - despite this mom's sporadic use of folic acid, yay!) So far so good, my little one!

I think I shall post more musings as the days go on, mostly for my own amusement, and hopefully for some of yours.

Cheers, my friends.

Currently watching....

2010-12-17T20:18:00.003-05:00

with great delight and pleasure, a korean drama called "The Woman Who Still Wants to Marry."

This drama features the lives of three women in their mid-30's, their loves, their losses, their neuroses. The lead is a reporter, who ended a long term relationship with a college sweetheart because she was focused on her career ambitions. She eventually falls in love with a much younger man (10 years her junior) and struggles with the insecurities as typical for an older woman, especially in a society that's not particularly kind to women beyond a certain age. The second lady is a renowned and accomplished translator, but absolutely desperate to find a man. She represents one extreme. The third friend is the coolest of the bunch, featuring an asymmetrical haircut, she is a woman who knows what she wants and won't settle for less. She is also a loyal friend, underneath a stylish and whip smart demeanor.

The best part of this drama is not the guys, though I have to admit that 21 year old Kim Bum, who plays the young amour (and supposedly 24 in the drama) is so yummy and drool worthy, I wish I could eat him up like cake. The best part of the drama however really is seeing the interaction of the three ladies as they support each other through the ups and downs of life's cruelties and capriciousness.

And what's up with korean dramas and coffee? and eating bbq meat for that matter? And drinking soju at small food stands while complaining and bitching about life? Life seems so very good there! Feeling down? Text someone and inevitably, the next shot would be of the coffee mugs being filled at some trendy and beautifully spaced cafe in downtown Seoul.

Anyway, I digress.

The acting in the drama is commendable, because it's not too ridiculous as to be slapstick, though it does have its moments and laugh out loud scenes. The actor who plays the doctor is somewhat over the top, he seems to be that way in other dramas as well, but he always plays the nice guy who has redeemable and lovable qualities, otherwise, he could be painful to watch with his in your face acting. His counterpart, the translator, is wonderful to watch, and has a great comedic touch. In my humblest of opinion, she is probably even better than the main actress, but they are all pretty good. The dialogue is not bad either, i don't speak a lick of korean, but I'm a voracious reader of subtitles and this drama is really quite well written.

I'm glad I stumbled on this show, because it's keeping this bored slug very well entertained in the midst of a not very fun cold and wintry season.

Stay tuned!

Two good films

2010-11-24T22:53:00.002-05:00

I saw "The Kids are Alright" the other day with Jason. The story is about a lesbian couple who raised two kids by in vitro fertilzation with an anonymous donor. Each woman had a child with the same donor. Things get interesting 18 years later when the donor shows up at their door and attempts to become a part of the family. I won't go into too much detail, as while I did enjoy the film, I'm more excited and eager to present the next film I just recently saw.

"The Secret in their eyes" by Argentinean director Juan Jose Campanella is a true masterpiece! The story is set in modern day Argentina through initially, the eyes of a retired court investigator. The film very fluidly however, brings us back 25 years to when the story actually begins, with the brutal murder of a beautiful young woman. Benjamin Esposito, played by Ricardo Darin (why haven't I known about this man before??) is a marvel to watch, he is somehow able to convey great emotional richness while saying precious little. His best friend and hapless alcoholic takes a comedic turn and turns in a fine performance, delivering some of the funniest lines in the film. The female lead is also wonderful to watch. Honestly, I can't gush enough about the acting superlatives so I'll just leave it at that, tremendous acting. Done!

But the story! The story was itself a fourth major player in the ball game. It's a crime novella, a mystery, an unwinding tale that leads us deeper and deeper, with fresh surprises at multiple turns. Even when you think the mystery is solved, you soon realize that the journey is only half way there, there was still more deliciousness awaiting!

Okay now I'm starting to babble like an Argentinean, all exclamation points and excited passion. The story as I was saying started off as a remininscing of sorts, as a man gnaws and chews on a case that's tormented him for 25+ years. A teacher and newly married, was raped and murdered, and at first, the murder was pinned on some hapless innocents. Based on some paltry evidence, the investigators nonetheless find the true perpetrator very quickly. (Here, it requires a bit of the stretch on your imagination, but play along, you will be richly rewarded) The story evolves beyond just the identity of the culprit, it also centered on the unfulfilled and unspoken passion between the two main characters, the husband of the young wife and how he dealt with the tragedy, and also Esposito's good friend. So what I liked so much about the story is how all these elements interplay and are richly woven together.

I can't say enough good things about the cinematography of the film too, it's shot in lush, richly hued tones which colors the film (literally) in a dramatic fashion, in line with the backdrop of the story development. I also enjoy the multiple ways in which the camera approaches its subjects, very creative and often unsettling ways, but it brings an arresting visual element to the film.

Anyway, I learned afterwards that the film won the Academy Award for best International Film of 2010. I'm not surprised, it deserved this accolade in spades. In 2010 I've had the pleasure of seeing many good films, but this one definitely will stay with me for some time to come.

Orlando, Fl

2010-11-22T19:55:00.002-05:00

Hello from Orlando! I've been vegging in my hotel room all afternoon. Since I decided not to get a rental, and since a quick look outside my window offered a nice but somewhat forbidding view of the downtown area, I explored the world from bed, or otherwise known as internet browsing. I didn't feel like going to an amusement park all by myself (hopefully for obvious reasons) and I didn't feel like whiling time at the local mall.

So far I think my impressions of Orlando is, it's a pleasant touristy city. That's it. The fact that there are all these awesome amusement parks in the vicinity deters me more than attracts me as good place to train. It just seems like it would be hard to be taken seriously in a place like this. I wonder if the doctors here also put on a dinner and a show for the price of one hospital admission? In their defense though, this one hospital I passed by on the way to the hotel is drop dead gorgeous. Shiny metallic building gleaming and towering in the sun, admidst clusters of palm trees. Really the hospital out of TV shows. I think it's called Orlando Regional Medical Center or something like that, and I was a tad disappointed it wasn't where I'll be interviewing tomorrow.

Dinner tonight was a lonely affair, but at least it was on the program! I had shrimp scampi, the shrimp was super fresh. I have to say, I haven't had one bad seafood dish in Florida so far, in all the times I've been in Florida, mind you.

Alright, well tomorrow is interview day and I hope it won't be too painful. In the meantime, I need to kill some more time between now and bedtime.

Adios!

Lazy Sunday

2010-11-21T17:37:00.002-05:00

Today was a much needed day of R&R. However I did wake up bright and early at 7 AM, after an attack of the insomnia monster. What did I do to capture the glorious essence of all this available free time on my hands? I went straight to my computer and plunker down to browse aimlessly for the next several hours. So well, exercising at the gym didn't happen today. But it's just as well, since I'm developing the beginning of a cold and I hope it goes away before my air travel tomorrow.

Jason and I went to Chinatown and brought back a whole bunch of goodies. Honey bbq pork is on the menu tonight, as well as a bunch of pork fat laden baked pastries. I just realized that this coming week, I'll be gone for a good 5/6 of the time, so it's really not necessarily to stock up on groceries. Whenever I'm not here, Jason usually doesn't cook either.

I attempted to start a project I've long wanted to do. I had wanted to digitalize our old family pictures for posterity's sakes. I got as far as 8 pictures scanned and uploaded. However, as I haven't figured out a way to make them the format I want (jpeg) you can say the technical difficulties are kind of running the project to the ground. I don't foresee going very far with this until I figure out the issue.

To end this exciting post, we're going to watch the film "The Kids are Alright" Typical Jason, he refuses to tell me anything about it before we watch it. I guess I'll share more when I'm done with it!

Tootaloo!

Rusty brain needs tune-up

2010-11-20T20:04:00.005-05:00

Hello folks! I'm back and roaring to go! I've hit an all time low in terms of blog posts this past year. And let's see if I can make up some of that in the tail end of 2010.

Today was an oddly serendipitous return to blogging. I was just bored and searching for something to do, anything to do, really. And I stumbled upon Jason's old blog which I promptly began to read to much amusement and mirth. Talk about blast from the past. Jason hasn't touched it in years. And sadly, neither have I. But it was really interesting to read what he wrote back in the day and having the hindsight of knowing what happened to at least one of his "housemates." What a weird wacky world we do live in!

So Yoming and Dave came to visit us in Philadelphia today. It was lovely. We went to El Vez, a Mexican place down the street. I personally love their corn soup with scallop, but I also figured out today that, that's about all I really like about that restaurant. Too bad, next time they come, we'll try to find a more exciting culinary experience. On a different note, we got into a rather scintillating discussion about how we would personally teach our future children. I became rather emotional, admittedly, on the subject of the need to treat both son and daughter equally. I think Y&D were probably surprised, but this is an issue quite near and dear to my heart. I never feel or believe that I am a hard-core feminist espousing militant indoctrinations of female empowerment. On the other hand, I do truly believe that this world still sells many, if not most, of its women short. And while I get that it's the "reality" of the world, it neither has to be, nor does it have be perpetuated by females themselves.

Yes, as a future physician, I'm well aware of the actual physical differences between males and females. But my stance has never been that women and men are absolutely the same, only that in certain biopsychosocial areas, there ought to be one standard yardstick to abide by. Therefore, I remain firm in my belief that I do not need to nor should I treat my children differently solely based on gender difference. That is ultimately doing a disservice to my future daughter, as well as conveying the message that I condone and implicitly approve the double standard applied to women of our society.

Okay done, I can get off my soapbox now! Anyway, the rest of their visit was whiled away in idle pleasantries. Jason and Dave got into playing Streetfighter on a super natty (read: old) nintendo set. It was only borderline entertaining to watch them go at it, I'll admit, not a huge fan of being a videogame groupie. Still was very happy to see my two favorite people from nyc and happier still they trekked all the way to the City of Brotherly Stinkhole to visit us. That's true friendship, eh folks?

And another one for the road...

2010-03-06T09:56:00.003-05:00

From my attending, a naturally very funny man. I just had to share this!

Attending: This is what we have to say to the patient. "Sir, the BAD news is we don't know what is going on with you. The WORSE news is, even if we did, we wouldn't be able to do anything for you. The GOOD news is, the weather this weekend is going to be fabulous. The BEST news is, I'm taking my family to Busch Gardens this weekend!"

The secret to being just a little happier

2010-03-06T09:19:00.002-05:00

Actually, like most other articles out there about being happy, or finding happiness, this post will probably be fairly chock full of cliches. I know that I've yet to come up with any truly revolutionary way to discover new and everlasting happiness in life. And there are methods which while I suspect will ultimately bear fruit down the road, I've yet to commit myself fully to, i.e. living a truly spiritual life.

In any case, enough jibber jabber. Let me share one simple but profound maxim that I've personally experienced. This is in the course of my third year medical school career thus far. It's been truly an emotional roller coaster for me, folks. I'm the type that absorbs my experiences, without necessarily a visceral reaction at the time of, but it seeps into my psyche, it fills my dreams at night, it comes out in ways that surprise me (the emotional aftershocks, or the reactions to events, etc)

Sometimes I do the horrible thing of holding on to it, gnawing at it for days, puzzling over it. Sometimes I do successfully dump it out of my mind, like so much garbage. It truly varies, depending on how personal the event gets.

But a recurrent pattern this year so far has been, I get mopey and down in the dumps when I focus too much on my insecurities. When I think of how much more of Harrisons I've YET to read, retain and understand and consolidate into my long term fund of knowledge. When the attending asks me yet another question where I'm like a deer caught in the headlights and my only recourse is to smile sheepishly and say I don't know. When I kick myself figuratively and sometimes almost literally when I failed to check something on a patient that I shouldn't have missed. When I wonder if everyone that I meet secretly thinks I have an IQ of 70 and wondered how I ended up in medical school.

It doesn't help that I feel like I might secretly be a misanthrope and I'm still in denial. That would be the ultimate joke. What is a misanthrope doing in medical school? You don't even LIKE people, why would you want a career of dealing with them? (incidentally, I once got "beach bum" as my ideal job on some prospective career survey) It's not that I don't like people per se. It's just that I find myself struggling often with very critical and angry thoughts (inside of course, and never showing on my naturally masked facies) Thoughts like "why can't these people grow up? Why can't they take a look in the mirror and realize the problem is THEM, and not everyone else? Why can't they take responsibility for their own lives instead of feeling like it's their God given right to be catered to and taken care of like a baby? I've had even worse thoughts, but I'll refrain in case you all think I'm a monster.

So two things have made me very unhappy this year. My insecurity in my fund of knowledge and my deficient or scant sense of compassion to many of the patients I've come across. It's not everyone of course. If I feel a patient is genuine, I'm all heart and Hallmark central. But those times are few and far between.

However...to this strong and potent toxin of insecurity and absolute denegration of self is a rising, surging strong and potent counterbalance. Those are the times when I soak up the knowledge of those around me. When I get excited because I'm starting to see the bigger picture of how doctors ought to approach each and every patient, and how to figure out the right way to help them. When the methodology is reinforced in my mind, and all that is left is to configure all the random facts floating around in my head so that they fall neatly into the puzzle. Yes, it's like completing a puzzle and the satisfaction of seeing the bigger pictures. Everyday, I'm realizing how the stuff we were learning back in the first two years DO matter. How biochemistry matters, how anatomy matters, how pharm matters. It's amazing to me when a doctor effortlessly criss-crosses among all these various disciplines and tie together all the knowledge from each field. I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel and medicine is actually starting to make more sense to me now. When I think, to help a patient is my duty as a future doctor, whether or not I personally like the guy is irrelevant, but that I can use my skills and expertise to help because it is the right thing to do.

So, how is this the secret to being just a little happier? Well...in conclusion, if I just learn finally to stop focusing so much on myself, and more on the medicine, the care of patients, the integration of all the knowledge fields, I ought to be one damn happy person.

Dogville

2010-02-18T23:36:00.002-05:00

Maybe it was because I let myself identify too deeply with the main character. Maybe it was because we were both female and at many times in my life, I have felt helpless and rather at the mercy of beings more powerful than myself. In any case, I was surprised that I had such a strong visceral emotional response to this movie. At the times when the protagonist is brutalized, subjected to the lowest of degradations, I felt myself gripping my knees and protesting in horror. It's strange really...that such an unassuming film, at least in the beginning, has the ability to build up such a crushing momentum.

Unfortunately, the film also troubled me deeply at the end of it. It lingered, it stayed, it insisted on staying there to make me continue to puzzle over the human condition. Maybe people would be confused at my puzzlement. Pick a side already. Humans are good. Humans are evil. Decide what would be your world view, your paradigm. This film certainly makes a strong case for the latter. It brings to mind a biblical parable. I believe it was the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, where God decided to smite the town for the evil that was within. To purify through destruction. And one man pleaded and bargained with God to not destroy the town if only, if only 20 good people could be found. No No, if only 10. No no, if only 5. As a child, I thought this was rather a ridiculous situation, and wondered why God kept relenting. Perhaps as a child, I had thought this was to show God's mercifulness and grace. But now, I see that God knew all along that there was not even 10 good and righteous souls could be found in that town. How could he not?

The end of Dogville was somewhat similar, a cleansing takes place and it was good. I watched it with satisfaction, with not the least bit of horror or sadness or pity for the dogvillians. But even as it satisfied me as a film watcher, I had to admit, it made me question deeply what it means for anyone to pass judgement.

Damn, it's too late and I'm sleepy, so I feel I'm only semi-coherent about my thoughts about this film. It's such a powerful piece and it gets under your skin (how could it not?) and it stings very deeply. I wish I could let it go, because I feel I've been tainted somewhat in my view of humanity now, and while I always wished to believe in the good of humanity, now I feel there is only suspicion and mistrust and self-doubt.

A black cloud

2009-10-29T19:02:00.003-04:00

Today I woke up in a dark dark mood. It colored my world grey and dreary. It was a cloudy day outside, but the black cloud followed me indoors, relentless. One of the veteran doctors at the practice had broken his hip the previous weekend. Being an "Attending" he couldn't possbly have easy nice patients like a 4 month old well child check. Nope, he's got the 65 year old patient with multiple chronic illnesses, something wrong in each geographical location of the body. The same type of patient every 15 minutes, I should add. And I was assigned to him, or at least, his patients.

I mustered what energy I could dredge up and tried to be cordial enough to the first patient. Soon after that visit, my patience already began to wear thin, through no fault of the first patient at all. But then followed a trail of patients all belonging to the one category: Uncontrolled diabetes, uncontrolled hypertension, multiple somatic complaints of either joint pain or stomach pain (take your pick) and childish petulance, poor compliance with medication, and very bitchy attitudes. To top it off, each and every patient had repulsive feet, with nails long disfigured and discolored by fungal infection. But since each patient had DM, I dutifully did the monofilament test on each and every patient, expertly hiding my disgust behind a smooth mask of pure professionalism.

Don't get me wrong. I have a very high tolerance of blood and gore and all things nasty about the human body. I am not fazed too easily. It only behooves me to have to be so intimate with certain people who I find, from a purely personality standpoint, utterly annoying. So their fungus infected toes notwithstanding, it's more their personalities that were rubbing me wrong all day long.

Inside I wondered to myself. Did I really want to go into geriatrics? What happened to my bleeding heart for the elderly? For that matter, what happened to my overall enthusiasm for family medicine? Two weeks ago, I was crowing about the possibility of having found my field! Yikes, is that what I was in for, for the rest of my working life?? Picking up the feet of obese annoying patients with realy gross feet, as I do my best to maintain my empathy? I'm only a junior medical student and already, I feel jadedness creeping in.

Sometimes I want to tell these jabbering patients to shut up for a little and to listen and then I fantasize that I would say, "Patient, please, stop talking. Stop whining. Stop acting like a child. Help US help YOU. Take your medication, educate yourselves better on your illnesses and stop being your own worst enemy. Exercise! Eat right! Stop acting like you're entitled to some miracle medical intervention when you aren't picking up your end of the bargain. Take charge of your own life, grow up. Because you're headed in a bad place and you really have no one to blame but yourself, though you'd LIKE to think you had absolutely nothing to do with it."

Anyway, what a spiel huh? I know I know, as a doctor, I ought to develop more compassion and empathy, please trust me when I say this, I do realize and I'm still trying very hard to maintain it. But to quote a line from Grey's Anatomy, today I'm having a real bad case of the "dark and twisties" and my twisty thoughts have led me down this path.

Okay, now that's it's off my chest, maybe I can wake up tomorrow with a more rosy-colored lens.

One of those days

2009-09-29T19:44:00.003-04:00

wherein a series of unfortunate events befell our hapless heroine as she sets out for her first day of family med...

What was originally supposed to be a 24 minute drive turned into a nightmarish, head smacking against dashboard in frustration two hour and 15 minute ordeal. Jason had called me in the morning to inform me that I-76 was really jammed up. So what to do? I thought cleverly, never fear, GPS is here! But wouldn't you know it? I sat in the car for 10 minutes trying to get the GPS to work and feeling stupid when it just won't register that it's in PHILADELPHIA. I kept thinking I must be doing something wrong, when in fact, it was just the GPS being lazy and not wanting to report to duty. Since I knew no other way to get to this particular hospital, I resigned myself to the bumper to bumper traffic of the jammed interstate.

Then...while I proceeded to go on the interstate, the GPS woke up, realized it was in Philly and began directing me to my site. I was overjoyed, my friends! I quickly put into place the directions of avoiding the freeway and took an alternate route. I thought surely now, I can circumvent the monstrous traffic and navigate my way through local roads easily and breezily....or NOT.

Very soon, I found myself in a single lane road that appears to stretch to infinity, and despite never seeing signs for construction, repair, or catastrophic accidents, everyone is travelling at the hair raising speed of 0-10 mph. I just couldn't fathom the reason for the traffic!! I hated myself for entertaining the brief fantasy that it was indeed some major accident up front, so at least there is a CAUSE and REASON at the root of my suffering. By this time, I was running quite late and it being the first day of my rotation and all, I thought grimly of the evaluation I would receive. "Student reported late on her very first day. Shows lack of professional dedication to duties and personal sense of responsibility." Yes, my thoughts turned black, my friends, and a tad melodramatic, as I tend to do.

So after further delays, including having to wait for a freight train to pass, and additional detours when one of the roads was completely sealed and yet another road just ended for no good reason, I began to wonder if God wanted to keep me away from my site for some mysterious divine reason. In any case, I finally dragged my stressed and haggard self to the site, hungry (skipped breakfast) and in pain (my butt was starting to hurt from being in one position for two hours), and still tried my best to put on a bright smile to greet my new coworkers.

My first patient case went relatively uneventfully. I mostly watched, since I didn't feel comfortable sticking 18 guage needles in people's knee joints yet. When I got to my second patient, a cute 1 month old boy here for a well child visit, it all hit me at once. Things began to swim in front of my eyes. I feebly told the doctor that I was feeling a little lightheaded and she told me to sit down right away. So here I was in the patient room, and suddenly I felt like I had turned into the patient, the sickly one. I sat down, and felt nauseous, and feverish and with chills all at once. I ran to the bathroom, but owing to the fact that I had no breakfast, I only hacked up air, very miserably. Just before I ran to the bathroom, I remembered seeing three puzzled faces looking at me, the mother and her son and her little daughter. And I also remember feeling a bit concerned that I might get the baby sick if I was coming down with something, though I knew it was more likely just my blood sugar dipping too low. I also remember I was feeling too sick to care too much also.

In any case, I decided to go home early because I felt like under the circumstances, I seriously doubt I would do much effective learning. I also felt like, though the macho thing to do was to stick it out, dizzy and in pain as I had felt, I didn't see any point in such show of bravado. In the long run, I thought it would be kinder to my body to just come home and rest it off. And so I did. I came home, ate lunch, took a long delicious nap and woke up feeling a million bucks.

Tomorrow is another day and will bring its share of challenges, for sure, but I've definitely had my fill of stressors for today!

I'm back!!!

2009-09-20T09:53:00.002-04:00

I definitely took a looong hiatus from blog writing didn't I? And I used to enjoy this ever so much, so in the interest of bringing back something I enjoy, I've resolved to begin anew.

So lots happened in the last 9 months! I encountered and slayed the Step 1 Beast in June!! Well, maybe "slayed" is a bit of an overkill. I somehow managed to sneak by it, is how I really see that. And the big nasty troll somehow did not squish me to smithereens in the process. Sigh of relief.

I began my foray into the third year of medical school, aka junior clerkships and I started my clerkship with psychiatry. With few exceptions, I have actually thoroughly enjoyed myself at the rotation and really got into learning about the biopsychosocial aspects of the patients' lives. Most of the patients were sad sad sad. There was no question about it. Their lives were absolutely derailed by their psychiatric illnesses and other comorbidities. Still while I admittedly on occasion do feel a little critical, thinking to myself "why can't you pull it together already?" my overall sentiment towards these patients run more along the lines of "There but for the grace of God go I."

Now I'm on OB and finishing up in a week. It's been an interesting rollercoaster ride. One week I'm convinced I hate OB and I'm never ever ever going to go near a pregnant woman about to deliver ever again. Then the next week, I get to see really cool procedures or just even a really nicely done C-section by one of the hospital's coolest Ob-gyns and I'm smitten with the possibilities. Most of the Ob-gyn residents I've posed the question "Why OB?" gave me the answer that they liked the mixture of medical and surgical. And it's true, there is definitely a lot more hands-on procedures to be done as well as medical management. In that context, I can see why it's an attractive field. But I'm still struggling with my own inner convictions of where my true strengths lie. And whether or not I want to limit my patient population to only women.

Anyway, thankfully I have a little more time to chew on this dilemma but I shall soon settle on something I'm sure.

In other news - my good friend Viola got married last week! It was a rambunctious wedding chock full of entertainment and food and games and laughter and merriment all around. It was your typical Chinese banquet. That said, I also had a little interesting anecdote from that wedding. I caught the bouquet on the second toss, after it fell limply to the floor on the first try. Then later, Jason caught the garter among the single guys. How cool or how lame is that? You can decide. But then Jason had to do a funky dance to put the garter on me and I have to give him some credit, because he really pulled out some moves. I don't think I've ever seen him move like that, I hope it was caught on DVD. Kiss! Honey. It was one of my personal highlights at the wedding.

Alrighty, that was a whirlwind of words upon words. I'll be more concise next time, but it's so nice to be working the keyboard again, over a breakfast of fruits and a pomegranate green tea. A lovely morning and now off to hit the books!

A successful day

2009-01-21T20:34:00.003-05:00

Today was one of those days when I didn't get in my own way. Yes, the day started off a little bumpy, but I am so glad I didn't let the setback set me back too much. I woke up at 9, a lot later than I had told myself I would, but for some reason, I just kept sleeping and sleeping beyond the alarm. Anyway, I got up and quickly began to dive into my studies. I listened to over 6 hours of pharmacology. Then I decided to be the good samaritan and took out the garbage in my apt. The reason I felt like a good samaritan is because I've been doing more than my fair share of the household chores at home but I had three choices, 1. confront my roommate 2. be passive aggressive by refusing to take out the trash and letting it pile up or 3. just take it out. I chose option 3 and secured my peace of mind. I guess confrontation is always an option, but I hate making things awkward over petty issues.

Then I went to...gasp...work out! After my workout, I went to a stress reduction session and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then after that, I studied at the library for an hour. This today was pretty much close to my ideal day for a medical student. I was on top of my work and I didn't slack too much. And now I'm relaxing in front of the TV for an hour or two, which I felt like I actually earned, so I don't feel bad about it either.

It's a constant struggle for me to stay on top of my game, but today at least, my motto was "yes I can"

Obama - 44th President of the USA

2008-11-05T12:25:00.003-05:00

Yesterday morning, I woke up and practically skipped my way to the polls while listening to Korean Drama soundtrack music. I don't know if it was the chance to get out of my oven baked apartment, the chance to breathe in the fresh air of East Falls, or simply the opportunity to cast my vote for the 44th president of the United States, but for that brief duration, my mood was oddly good. Actually, I was fairly confident of an Obama win based on all those polls leading up to the election day. One can argue one way or another about the reliability of the polls and I know for a fact that many Americans and Obama diehard fans probably lost a good deal of sleep previously as they worried about the election. Maybe medical school has induced in me a very singular mindset, insular, coccooned, everything revolves around my exams and my grades. I didn't feel like I had extra time or energy wringing my hands worrying about the "fate of the nation" when in reality, all I had within my control is to cast my vote and then let history unfold for itself.

Still last night, despite my pretty cavalier attitude towards the politics and the elections, I was oddly stirred when President (can I call him that now?) Obama gave his acceptance speech in Chicago. Many in the crowds were moved to tears, I guess I can only attribute to Obama's power of personality. There was something about his countenance, so calm, so determined and yet so wholesome still, that it does inspire trust and at the very least, hope. And as he stood on the stage waving, with his family in tow, music playing in the background - isn't it always the music? -- I too uttered a prayer that America will now see better days to come. If for nothing else, I sincerely hope President Obama lives up to the hype and start rebuilding a country where its citizens can lose its long standing feeling of cynicism, jadedness and recapture that lost feeling, something close to, I'd say, pride.

Latest happenings

2008-09-30T11:00:00.002-04:00

The last few days passed by in a whirlwind. Saturday I went to New York City and spent the day in lower East side Manhattan. I had become "country mouse" in my extended absence from NYC and I was amazed at the number of people shoving past me during the course of the day. Still I was ecstatic to be back in the city, you see, my erstwhile nostalgia for NYC was revived greatly by a recent exposure to Sex and the City, the movie, which I had watched only the night before. In any case, I was there to visit a friend and I was also there to do a little window shopping for home decor, as it was a time of transition for me, with my old roommate moving out and my new roommate moving in, all crammed packed into this weekend. So I had a grand old time time the city, it was nice to be away from Philadelphia and school.

Sunday, I woke bright and early, refreshed from a sleep that was almost comatose in its depth. (The traveling on Saturday and all the bright noise of NYC wore me out) Soon enough, I found myself pitching in to help my roommate move out. It was a funny dilemma when we had to maneuver a full size IKEA bed frame out our narrow doorway. We were like the three stooges and altogether, we carried the bedframe in and out of the doorway four different times in an effort to find the perfect angle. After many attempts, (perseverance won out here) we were able to just squeeze the bedframe out the door, not without some collateral damage to both the door and the bed, unfortunately. After that huge obstacle, everything else seemed like a piece of cake and we moved everything else out duly for the next hour and a half. The most incredibly annoying thing then occurred. When my roommate's friend was about to drive off, the truck battery went dead!! Then proceeded a series of going to Pepboys to find the jumper cables, oh no, it was too dead for the jumper cables to work their magic, then it was back to the store, to get a brand new battery. All in all, I stayed largely out of the drama, because I was meanwhile in my now empty apartment, putting together the table set from IKEA, haphazardly I might add. I had run out of steam and found it difficult to bolt in the screws and here I relied on my feminine wiles and a little sweet cajoling to get my wonderful boyfriend to finish the task. Really, he's such a darling, couldn't have done it all without him. So if you reading this, just know your help was very much appreciated, sweetums. =)

Shortly after my old roommate left, my new roommate popped in on the scene. It was literally, out with the old, in with the new in the brief time span of like 2 minutes gap. Very interesting and maybe that's why I'm finding it difficult to adjust a little. Before I even had time to get used to the idea of living with a different person, that person shows up and replaced my old roommate. It's all good though, it's just a matter of adjustment, kind of like a jet lag for roommate transitions.

So here I am, on a school day, somewhat in a semi-funk and not motivated to study. It's about getting into the groove and I know once I get on track, I'll be fine. What I should really look into is making an effort to do a cleaning process, that will probably be most helpful at this point.

Okay, just wanted to write a little and I hope to become a more constant blogger from now on, because it's a good way to exercise some creativity and it records, however subjectively, the events of my life as it unfolds. Thirdly, I've been reading these awesome and inspirational blogs that others have written. Of course, this blog is just a little personal avenue for me to rant and rave and prattle, but I find the idea of starting a blog that can help inspire others a very appealing one. But as I also learned recently (or relearned), I shouldn't bite off more than I can chew so I should probably first take an honest look at my current capacity and be careful not to exceed my abilities.

Tata for now!

Little Children

2008-08-03T20:57:00.002-04:00

I stumbled on this film tonight by a stroke of good luck. It starred Kate Winslet, Jennifer Connelly and Patrick Wilson. I've only been exposed to Patrick Wilson since Angels in America, except for the fact that he has a receding hairline, he has an exceptionally Adonis-like face, the epitome of Western male beauty, almost, almost. But regardless, I was more captivated not by the looks of these stars, but by the storyline and the acting.

The scene stealer however would have to be Jackie Earle Haley, of whom I've never personally seen before, but in this particular movie, plays a sex offender, an adult male with serious psycho-sexual issues. I was blown away by the ending of the film, actually. It was heartbreaking, it was stunning, it was tragic on the level of the best of those Greek dramas.

The film's title "Little Children" is brilliant, as it offers a satirical reading on the film's characters, most of whom are ostensibly adults yet behave in ways that makes it clear that they are still very much, children.

I suppose I ought to provide a movie synopsis like any faithful fifth grader giving a book report, but I don't really want to. All I want to say (or gush) is that this film stirred something deep within me. I've always been of the mindset that there is nothing more repulsive and reviling than a man who has to expose himself in public, or do dirty things to little children. I guess I failed to consider that these are sick individuals who are probably aware of their problems, but have not been able to overcome them, as humans often are apt to do. I fail to see them in a more humanistic light. Though I admit, it's difficult for me to draw that line. I do think though that next time I want to pass tall judgments on anyone, I should take a second or so to rein myself in and see if I can adjust my thinking to become a better human being.

My sublime day in Philly

2008-07-31T12:33:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I arrived at a doctor’s office all spic and span in my little white coat, ready to play doctor. I was to be thrusted into the role of neophyte trainee for the next eight hours but to my surprise, I enjoyed the experience immensely. We saw a total of 7 or 8 women that day, each coming in with their unique problems and requests, but in my romanticized view perhaps, all were seeking a momentary solace in the doctor’s office from the pain and stresses of their everyday lives.

If I had to pinpoint what was so fun exactly about the experience, it is hard to pinpoint. I appreciated the trust and confidentiality that these women automatically offer up and the momentary glimpse into each of their lives. The doctor I shadowed is whip-smark, fast-talking and compassionate female practitioner. She reminds me of an old time cowboy, but instead of sharpshooting from her hips with smoking pistols, she dashes razor sharp beams from her eyes as she appraises you while her mouth goes off at 90 miles per minute, barely keeping up I’m sure with the rate of her neurons firing off the thoughts. To say I’m impressed by her intelligence would be an understatement. However I’m more impressed with the degree and dedication of her personal philosophy to the betterment of women, broadly and on an individual level.

She also put me to work too. I had to take histories of patients and then write up summaries. On occasion, I took blood pressure and looked up people’s noses. I made some glaring mistakes too. For instance, one patient who had just been in an auto accident comes in the second day and I failed to ask her one of the most basic questions anyone should ask of an automobile accident. Can anyone guess? It’s “Were you wearing a seatbelt?” I am definitely not a detail-oriented person, but hey, I’m working on it!

So at the end of the day, and it was a long one too, I walked away tired but happy, satisfied that I put in a good day’s work and that I was too busy the entire time to focus on my own pitiful problems or age old anxieties. But wait! My day was not even over. God had more pleasantries in store for me

In the evening, I went to this church in Philadelphia, dedicated to advancing the causes for the homeless, among its many philanthropic arms. I was to sit in on a focus group composed mainly of homeless men and discuss their opinions on health and what healthcare means to them individually. My word, I was in for a real treat. As fast as I could write (my job was to observe and record the contents of the focus group), I was dashing off 100 words/min as these people very passionately articulated their feelings about health and the state of healthcare in America today. One woman, the only one in the group, was particularly well spoken and commanded a real presence. She had a lot of really vindictive things to say about doctors. It was truly eye-opening. I felt that as a doctor in training, I am so fortunate to be hearing all this now, so that I can learn how to become a better physician when I do start practicing. The lady railed at everything from the physician not truly caring, the physician only interested in forming a nice, easily understandable picture in his/her mind, and the physician not respecting or seeing the patient as a true human being. She said doctors don’t look her in the eye, they can’t seem to even bring themselves to touch them on a human to human level, to showing caring in an unspoken way and to reserve their judgements, biases, self-perceived level of superiority and education. Such a disgrace! I can easily see many doctors behaving exactly as she had described.

Of course there are flip sides to the coin too. Many doctors are overworked and fatigued, whatever compassion they had as they entered medical school, bright eyed in that squirrelly manner has long since dimmed as they encounter the system for what it is. And a lot of physicians probably get disheartened once they realize how little of a difference they can truly make in a person’s health, when you take into account the whole person perspective, healthcare being so much more than just popping in a pill and downing it with water, in a timely manner.

So well, obviously this is not exactly going to be easy to sum up in a few short sentences. The issues brought up were complex and at times heart breaking. But after it was over, I reflected on how privileged I was, to be given a glimpse, (yet again), an intimate glimpse, in fact, to these people’s minds, thoughts, lives and personal, deeply personal stories. I’ve been reflecting for some time now on how everything is interconnected and everyone is connected to everyone else, but I felt that yesterday, by some divine force or grace, I was shown in a very powerful and real way how that is true. We are indeed all together in this. So to borrow a rather cheesy line from the show “Lost”, we either “live together, or we die alone.” And that can be interpreted on many many levels.

Dreaming of Bale

2008-07-29T10:27:00.000-04:00

Had a fantastic dream last night, not so much in the content, but in the feelings that it aroused in me. I dreamt that I was Madonna’s adopted daughter, so I had money to spare. But more importantly, I was married to Christian Bale! And Christian Bale was talking to me about something, related to being careful, and he had this awful awful haircut with long jagged bangs. I looked at him as he was nagging me, and I affectionately swept his bangs to the side of his face to give him a more clean cut look. He smiles at me and I swooned terribly. I think that was the euphoric moment when I fell I love with him, in this obsessive way and was truly delighted to know that he was mine.

As for me, I was this awfully prissy girl, rich, spoiled, I had a ton of shoes and I didn’t seem to have a good handle on my life. Then Bale went missing, or he left, I wasn’t clear what happened, suffice to say, he disappeared from my line of sight. Then I had this project of looking through his old movies for “clues” and even the prospect of staring at him for hours on the screen delighted me and I was eager to begin.

Now, by this time, I had already awoken several times. But the dream had such a fascinating allure to me, that I kept insistently going back to sleep and as well as going back to the dream. So this was one of those times when I had fallen back into the dream, there was a bit of a disconnect, but the sequence went as follows.

I was trying to navigate my way around a building, with lots of tall steps and security. Doors were locked but I had the keys. I was at this one door and I knew this other man was coming up behind me and he was vaguely threatening. Perhaps I just didn’t want to talk to him. I fumbled with the keys, finally putting the key in the lock and opened the door. But I had to climb really high to get through the door and that delayed me further. I knew the man was closing in on me and truly, I didn’t know what threat he represented. But somehow I made it through the door and had it shut behind me. And I was relieved.

Next I encountered these ridiculous shoes, two of whom were falling apart, and I had to try a third one. It was plastic, with fur, it had blue and pink patterns, I guess I thought they looked awesome.

Next I was with a receptionist and I was struggling to grab a bag of money. Then I guess it dawned on me that I had money to burn as Madonna’s relative, and I threw the bag of money down and said, “what do I need money for?” The girl laughed too, in agreement and I shook my head and went out of the office.

Finally I met my man again. And I knew that if I had just a few minutes of alone time with him, I would make him fall irrevocably in love with me. I can’t be sure if he was Christian Bale still, but my level of delight at having him is such that I think he must have been Bale in my mind. Truly, I don’t remember being this obsessed with a movie star in quite some time.

Randy Pausch dies at age 47

2008-07-25T10:32:00.002-04:00

Actually I apologize for making that somber announcement the title of this post, though I think it will be more of an attention grabber. The truth is, I don't intend to focus on his death at all, in the same way that Prof. Randy Pausch never did, even when he was in the active process of dying.

His last lecture, which has reached millions of people across the world, gave us all an opportunity to do a fascinating character study on this individual. He represents, in my mind, all that is best about America. This is not America of the 2000's, dark, somber, struggling with foreclosures and at the back of everyone's mind, the war in the Middle East, the perpetual terrible prospect of another terrorist hijacking haunting the corridors of every major airport security. No, he represents America at a simpler, happier time. What decade that is supposed to be beats me. Maybe it's more of an idea of America that he represents, but even so, that faint, delicate idea is enough, more than enough to change some people's lives forever.

Prof Pausch espouses creativity and individuality and tenacity to overcome hardships, but not in those tiresome nagging old words, repetitively droned into the children of America. We all know or think we know that it's a good thing to be those qualities. Dr. Pausch shows us a way, teaching by example, in effect. Make no mistake, there is no one way about things. HIs way will most definitely not be my way. Still, I can grasp to some limited extent, how wonderful it's all worked out for him and it wasn't necessarily any magic formula. It's all those cliches we've heard one too many times, but instead of being dismissive, he somehow made those cliches the foundation and structure of his life.

So this is my dedication to this sincere and impressive man and to another who preceded him, another favorite professor of mine, Dr. Morrie Schwartz, both had the tremendous burden of teaching and sharing their experiences in life, while in the process of dying. My hat's off to both you men.

Angels in America

2008-07-24T13:37:00.004-04:00

I've only just recently picked up this HBO miniseries from the library to peruse in my spare time. I found the series surprising on multiple levels but ultimately, delightful.

First of all, I did not realize this was going to be about homosexuality. I am by no means anti-homosexuality, my surprise is due to the fact that one does not usually see this topic treated in greater depth within the mainstream fare, besides the token gay hairdresser dotting the cinematic landscape. Of course I have much to learn about the gay culture. For instance, the other day, I was informed of what the term "down low" meant, of which I had hitherto never been aware of its double entendre.

But back to the subject at hand - Angels in America is essentially a play that was adapted to film and it is somewhat evident in the way the film is directed that it is still very conscious of its play roots. I don't know if I can explain it adequately, but a lot of the scenes still have a stagey feel, and one can get most of the dramatic impact from viewing the scene from one perspective only. The characters do a fair share of moving around, but the camera was not as nimble.

That is all well and good, because in my opinion, the two most delightful qualities about this work are a> its dialogue between the characters and b> the sheer melodramatic weight that it brings forth at key moments in time. It was damned funny too, at certain moments, as when Roy Cohn (played by Al Pacino) fakes his death to one up a gloating dead nemesis ghost who is very likely conjured in his imagination. The acting was great, stellar, magnificent by all its cast, but I thought the words, those words, are truly brilliant and of a class that I've not encountered in a while in any movie or play.

So many times throughout the film, I was rapt, thinking, "That's amazing! Why have I never thought to phrase things like that?" I suppose it's the egomaniac in me speaking, always wishing I could spit out brilliant phrases as casually as breathing, but it's also my genuine appreciation for literary prowess, of which Tony Kushner displayed to full glory in this masterpiece.

I would be in remiss if I don't actually try to give a summary of this story (spoiler alert), for those who happen to read this post. So few visit these days, so perhaps it doesn't even matter. sniff... Okay, enough self-pitying for now. So, the story is as follows. A gay Jewish man finds out his lover, a beautiful WASP, descended from a grand and noble lineage, has AIDS. He is horrified, understandably so, and struggled to be there for him. In a parallel story, a young Mormon lawyer married and living in NYC, struggles with his own hidden sexual identity and ultimately decides to confront it openly. His wife, with a history of abuse at home, is now a grown woman with emotional issues and is addicted to Valium. She has also perhaps been long aware of her husband's lack of desire for her and struggled to come to terms with the truth as well. The third story is of an aging Jewish lawyer, very vitriolic and hateful but still formidable. He also comes down with AIDS. The three stories, at first seemingly disconnected, intertwined ultimately in a very satisfying way.

The great thing is, all these people with their significant issues and problems and angst managed to not come across as a drag, a bore, a party pooper, or just plain depressing. Even at their worst, there is something delightful in the way they try to reason their way out of their miseries and bumble and stumble about, lost, confused, talking to imaginary friends.

It's poignant, it's touching, it's funny and it's sad, but the story triumphantly paints a picture of real human beings, not postcard characters, flat and glossy.

I am thankful of being reminded yet again what happens when several major talents (literary, dramatic, production and packaging) intersect successfully at a point in space, the result? An explosion of fireworks that gave birth to a story that will forever have at least one devoted and captivated fan from yours truly.

Taiwan, my homeland

2008-05-18T21:48:00.002-04:00

Every now and then I get a stab of sharp nostalgia for my homeland, a place half constructed out of my own unfulfilled fantasies and half from real experiences. For instance when I listen to the radio station online Voice of Taipei, Mandarin voices accented in that distinctive Taiwanese way fill the air and flood my eardrums. Simultaneously, feelings of homesickness would wash over me. Homesickness? My home is here, what exactly am I yearning for?

I think this is my primordial memory. I was born there after all, and was listening to voices like that since from the womb. From the age of 0 to 5 too, that was my entire universe. Moving to America was not nearly as traumatic as it might have been for many other immigrant children precisely because I was still so young and also because I was always coccooned safely within my family. Nonetheless, I am beginning to suspect that this displacement was still fairly traumatic on some subconscious level.

It's also true of course that the grass is greener on the other side of the pasture. While I am here in the US, I experience the good and the bad. Whereas when I think of Taiwan, my lovely Taipei, all I can recall are such things like sumptious night market delicacies, beautiful gossamer bakeries, bright and inviting department stores filled to the brim with cute outfits, even the ever familiar and to me, near and dear to my heart, the hawkings of the local vendors.

Knowing all this however does not dampen my longing to visit and stay once again, in the country of my birth.

All by myself in the library

2008-05-18T04:20:00.002-04:00

I have an urge to break out into a dirge and sing "All by myself" as I sit by my lonely self in the library in the dead of the night. Well friends, I guess I really asked for it though. I've been slacking on neuroscience and the exam is in 28 hours, so I am slogging through 2 weeks of medical school neuro material in 48 hours.

Actually on a brighter side, it's nice and quiet and bright and I can do almost anything I want in this big old room, that always seemed so tiny by day.

Yawn, I AM getting a little tired...but I am determined to stay here til 5:30 AM. That's when it's light out and it's "safe" to venture out again. Hehe, I know I'm being silly but I've already decided on staying and studying to this hour and so I shall.

Excuse me while I began my little operetta to myself...

I caved in to the dark side...

2008-05-14T00:27:00.002-04:00

or i.e., I joined Facebook and hence, became one of the millions of people on this network all preening and putting their best and proudest selves forward, armed with their three million friends and ten billion messages. Gosh, within a day, I had 39"friends" and counting. I never felt so popular. But then reality sinks in. Of course, except for my close circle of good friends, the vast majority added me on their list just to increase their own body counts. I am not unaware of that incentive. But I shall not be cynical. In any case, I'll have a little romp and a go at FB for some time and when I get tired of it, I will treat it the way I did Friendster. Life can be as simple as a click of a button!

Today was an oddly productive day given the fact that I had only five hours of sleep the night before. I fortified myself with a good dose of MONSTER, that stuff probably took a few good years off my natural life span, but in the mean time, it gets the job done - and lemme tell you - keeping this borderline narcoleptic girl awake is truly no small thing! Getting her lazy ass to crack open the book? It's a miracle!!

Alright, enough rambling for one day. Toodaloo!

Stumbling on a motherlode!

2008-05-13T01:20:00.002-04:00

It's probably not too surprising that as a blogger, I've also had both opportunity and interest in perusing other blogs. To my delight, there are so many really fantastic blogs out there! For instance, I've been reading every now and again, this blog by Scott H. Young and always thoroughly enjoyed being re-energized by his latest thought pieces on productivity.

Yet like an explorer who went out and only reached the tip of the iceberg, I had no idea the vastness of resources that lay at my fingertips simply by going into one of his hypertexts. Then, truly like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole and then going off on one adventure after another, I discovered author after author all detailing their wonderful insights to accessing a better life. So enthralled was I that I spent the last two hours hop-scotching from one author to another. What particularly amused me was how they are all linked to each other and would often leave comments and such on each other's blogs. While I would like nothing better than to join this "fellowship of the holy life hackers" I am as yet still a humble padawan and sideline observer. Still, when I was reading these fantastic and inspiring articles, so many thoughts were being whipped up in my head and the frenzy of possibilities absolutely flooded my brain. I feel as if I've had an evening of stimulating conversations not just with one person, but with multiple personalities and almost seamlessly at that.

In any case, it's difficult, I think, in my current state of heightened excitement, to really calmly and effectively reflect on everything that I've either learned today or been reminded of (and we need so many reminders in life, to gently nudge us to remember lessons that we've already learned in the past). And to be honest, I don't think I could do justice to any one author either by my attempts of recapitulations. You can just read them for yourself.

Here are a couple that I particularly enjoyed:

Schaefer's Blog

The Growing Life

These two started off a firecracker of a domino effect. And at 1:34 AM in the morning, I've probably bit off more than I could chew. But I know too that I've been battling a funk for some time now and today, tonight, I feel a glimmer of radiance that promises a sure way out. As always of course, these blogs can only show me the door, but I must be the one to walk through it.

God willing, I think I will do just that!

The cyclic nature of being in a funk

2008-04-19T10:34:00.002-04:00

I've been lolling around in a semi-functional funk for some time now. It started a few weeks ago, or maybe it's been this way all my life, sometimes it's difficult to tell when a funk truly ends. However, I will say that a semi-functional funk might be stretching it - wheneven I'm in a lower state of mind, productivity goes down, drive goes down and then self-confidence takes a dive too. It is a cycle that is perpetuated much like the krebs cycle.

The good thing is that I never sunk completely into it. I have learned the "offical" definition of depression in my behavioral science class at school. Part of the definition requires asking, "Have you lost interest in things that you are normally interested in?" Well, let's see - sleep, movies, reading random books, and shopping. No, I'm still very much interested in all that! So I guess while that doesn't make me depressed, it depressingly still qualifies me as a bona fide valley girl. like, ohmygod!

Well in any case, I have these conversations often with my good friend on the West Coast. She has advised me on countless occasions that the only way to stop the spiral towards negativity and wallowing in self-pity is to jump out of the cycle. You can not hope to "beat the system" while inside the system, so the speak. This requires a brute force effort to simply stop, to leap out into the unknown and scary world of "confidence, of productivity, of energy and creativity." Yes, it can be scary and sometimes it's almost comforting to continue cocooned inside a dark, comfortable place.

Yet... not quite comfortable enough.

So I have managed to drag my arse out of the funk for now and I am back on schedule, a medical student whose a priori task is to focus on her studies and become the future brilliant physician decreed in her destiny.

Though, my very wise friend also pointed out, I must make peace with the fact that I will have my relapses. And that is okay, to some extent. The trick is to realize it when it is happening and to extricate oneself as fast as possible. Increase productivity, reduce relapses - I have a feeling these are words to live by.

Funny story

2008-03-27T12:10:00.003-04:00

I heard the funniest story yesterday via first person account. This guy who's in my class grew up on a dairy farm in rural PA. He's a jolly character, very easy-going and had lots of funny stories to tell. He was once driving down a road when he accidentally hit a deer. He stops the car and he looks at the deer. "Well, this deer is somewhat hurt" he thought and he decided to do the kindly gesture of pulling the deer off the road by its antlers and then he slit its throat.

Now, another car happened to pass by and saw this taking place. They immediately stopped and dialed 911. The cop came over and this guy explained the situation to the cop. The cop nodded understandingly and in a flash, pulled out his gun and loaded two bullets into the deer's head. The other people looked on in horror. As the guy wryly deadpanned,"I don't think the folks in the other car were too pleased with the situation, for they were, after all, calling the cops ON ME."

My dental experience

2008-03-27T00:16:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I went to the dentist to get a cavity filled. Boy was I in for a treat!

First my dentist comes in, big, tall, broad-shouldered, squared jawed. He was definitely a man's man, from just his looks. (really not a bad looking guy all told) But what really caught my attention was his somewhat bullying, persistent, aggressive and thoroughly alpha male persona.

First he tells me to open my mouth and say Ahh. He peers into my mouth and looks at the cavity and frowns. Then he says, "hmmm, THAT's unattractive." In exactly that cadence, and in exactly that emphasis. I looked at him somewhat speechless. I felt offended on behalf of my poor cavity ridden tooth. And I even briefly wondered if he just insulted my womanhood. Then I shrugged it off, I was being a nincompoop. He definitely was somewhat rough around the edges though. But by no means should I get my pretty little feathers all ruffled up, I decided there and then.

He proceeds to tell me that I have a HUGE cavity, the size of Kansas at the very least. And he's going to need to fill it with metal or give it a crown. I listened to him talk for about 2 minutes and then I asked him which one is more efficient. He cocked his head in confusion. I asked again, "which one would take less time?" He frowns and asks, "you seem to be in a dire need of expediency. What's this need for speed?" It was then that I knew, this was a dentist who likes to challenge you, he's not a Mr. Nice Easy going Fellow.

The other funny thing was that I kept trying to sit up and turn around to face him, I thought it would ease the conversation, as I was not used to talking to someone whom I had to look towards the ceiling to see. He keeps saying, "Oh, put your head and rest it down here, thank you!" In a firm, polite but still controlling way. I felt like I was grinding his gears by being so fidgety. He then asked me if I was always this energetic or if I was just nervous. By this time, he had stuck a lollipop of local anesthesia into my mouth and I was trying to talk with my mouth full. So I ended up saying, "I wus jusss nervosed." And he asked why. I said, "because there's usually pain involved." And he say, "okaaay, that's a fair answer." He gave me the impression of being a talk show host, he always has to say something in return.

But all in all, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He made sure I was completely pain free, by giving me extra shots of novacaine, even quizzing me on what nerves he was blocking, once he found out I was attending med school. Alas, I failed to impress, because i hadn't started my head and neck series yet. He also made sure I was able to see my cavity after he cleaned it out and it was indeed a big gaping hole in my tooth. He filled it with metal and then he asked me to bite down repeatedly to make sure I don't feel anything. He then had to file the filling in such a way to maximize my comfort. I walked away feeling like he was very competent and did a good job on my tooth. I know only time will tell if that's the case, but so far so good.

But it's just been really amusing for me too, that both dentists that I've had the pleasure of visiting in Philadelphia turned out to be such characters (see previous blog on previous dentist)

Restless energy

2008-03-17T12:31:00.003-04:00

Is this stress? I can't even recognize stress when I am experiencing it. Perhaps it is indicative of how little stress I've had to endure in my previous lives. Maybe I've had it easy all along. Lately I have found myself a victim of that hitherto unexperienced syndrome (at least by me) and that is called insomnia. I would go to sleep at 12 and then wake up at 3 AM. Like most hapless people whom sleep evades at that ungodly hour, I'd like in bed and wonder whether or not to get up. I would make little promises to myself. "Okay, if I don't fall asleep in 10 minutes, I'm getting up." I had even gotten up at around 3:30 AM in the morning and decided to read the Bible, I figured it would be somewhat sleep-inducing (no offense intended). INstead, I read the book of Job and found to my surprise how interesting it can be. It's a study into one man's agony and suffering and his added anguish in not knowing why, nor did he believe he deserved it. This is an aside, but let me talk about the book of Job. So Job had health, properity and a happy household. In a talk with Satan, God decides to give Job a little test of faith. Overnight, he lost everything he has ever had, including his health. His three friends, good friends that they were, kept declaring that Job must have sinned somewhere along the way as to incur the wrath of God. Job steadfastly declared his innocence and he asks to have an arbitrator between him and God! What a bold statement that is. I admire such confidence. In the end though, God rebukes Job in an indirect way by saying, you can not possibly begin to question me, you speck of a human being. And Job meekly accepts that whatever God wants to do to him is in God's right and Job apologizes for his impudence. At the same time, God admonishes his three friends and told them they were misguided scoundrels as well. I thought in this case that Job's friends meant well, even if they were wrong, they shouldn't be blamed. But then again, I tend to be very lenient on mistakes, as I am a creature prone to making them.

Anyway, what of this restless energy? I don't know, I think I need to channel it better. More focus, more drive, instead it gets permeated into useless activities and then fuel useless parts of my brain. And meanwhile I still have the main course to attend to, but then I get distracted by the trillion gazillion of little things crowing my mind, jabbering nonstop, grabbing at my attention, fragmented as it is. I need peace and quiet!!

Two movies in one day - utter indulgence!

2008-03-15T01:19:00.003-04:00

I went to see a film screening with my roommate today. It was the oscar winner for 2007 - No Country for Old Men. You know, I have a strong stomach in general and the blood and gore rarely get to me. So I can't say this film was too bloody or gory for my tastes. Yet, perhaps it's my current state of mind. I still had trouble stomaching it. In the same way There Will be Blood filled me with tense utter dread in its entirety, this film had me similarly gripped, trapped, enthralled in its horrificness.

The backdrop of this film was 1980 Texas. The landscape is desolate, barren, a wasteland. It complements the theme of the film perfectly, the hardships of living in a place like this, the pain of existing in a world becoming increasingly mad. The main story is of a hired gun, who kills for a living perhaps, but appears to be overly eager to kill for no reason at all. Like most psychopaths, this one thrives on the thrill of power and control over his hapless victims. They live or die entirely according to his whim. What is particularly scary about him and creeped me out was his page boy like hair, oddly incongruous with his stony, cold, broad face. He moves slowly too, deliberately, never in a hurry. He walks like a man who knows he has all the time in the world to kill and kill he usually does. I kept waiting for him to show a sign of weakness, anything to denote that he is anything other than a pure unadulterated demon. It appears that character complexity was not the high point of this film. Yet it occurred to me that this character later on began to become larger than life, and he represented not just himself, just another lonely serial killer with big guns, but that he was metaphorically speaking, another example of how this world has become increasingly senseless. The horrors that can take place within it, collectively, it is embodied by him.

The other guy in the film, a protagonist who stumbles on some major loot and decides to take it (as most normal people in a fit of weakness might have done) earned the audience sympathy readily enough. He is shown to have a soft spot for his family. Ironically, it is another fit of weakness that ultimately led to his demise - a momentary feeling of guilt perhaps and a stricken conscience. In any case, after he took the money, he essentially started living on borrowed time.

I watched the film with great dread. There were times when I could do nothing but wait in agony as I prepare for yet another victim to die a grisley death. It is actually, truth be told, quite tiresome for the mental psyche. I wanted to like it and I certainly had not been this tortured in a while. Still, in the end, it gave me the same feeling that I had earlier experienced in Ringu, The Grudge, There Will be Blood, and other such movies, which takes bleakness, dementia, murdering sprees to a whole new level.

Thereafter I came home from this film and in order to cleanse my mental palate so to speak, I watched Life is Beautiful and appreciated once again the beauty, the lush and glorious and iridescent hue that life can take on. And my world became a little brighter once again.

Egads I have a fat waist!

2008-01-25T07:46:00.000-05:00

Sedentary people tend to develop fat in their tummy. This is what is termed an "apple" shape. A "pear" shaped body tends to have more fat in the hips and thighs. However, as is mostly common knowledge today, fat in your tummy is the more risky fat, as it could lead to a host of health problems such as heart attacks, high cholesterol, diabetes. Have you measured your tummy circumference lately? By itself, the actual circumference doesn't mean much. But it becomes more important when considering its relationship to the hip circumference.

For instance, my waist is 31 inches. It's nowhere near Scarlett O'Hara's famed 16 inch waist, as you can see. I'm a slim girl, but my waistline can improve. My hips however measure 35 inches. That gives me a waist to hip ratio of 0.89. Ideally, for females, the ratio ought to be 0.8 or less. So I have to get my waistline down to 28 inches. Certain factors may have contributed (I just ate, hahaha) But in all seriousness, it is quite good for your health to have a smaller waist to hip ratio.

For males, if you are interested, the ratio ought to be 0.95 or less. The hourglass appearance is not quite as necessary for guys.

I also currently have a body fat percentage of about 24.8%. It's considered normal for non-obese non-athletes. A full quarter of me is pure fat, pure viscous yellow oily lipid tubby lard! I think if I think too much about this, I would be extremely disturbed. All the more motivation to hit the gym, I suppose.

Progress is a state of mind

2008-01-23T17:06:00.000-05:00

I think I'm finally catching on to what progress is all about. A state of change, a flux, a transient state of being. It's also about being at B when you were at A a minute ago. It's about being able to look back at A and seeing the distance that you have travelled. Is this vague enough for you? Let me give you an example.

So last night I was all bells and whistles about making my SCHEDULE. And I was ambitious, to be sure. I wanted to get up at 7 AM and start studying from 8 to 12. A good solid 4 hours of studying sounded like a good idea at the time. But in my excitement last night, I was unable to fall asleep for longer than I had anticipated. That usually is the domino effect for me and as things turned out, I wasn't able to get up early this morning. In fact, I got up 3 hours later than scheduled. I'm a German's worst nightmare come true.

Now, the old me would have been disgusted with myself and mentally slapped myself left and right and then in a fit of passive aggressive anger, I would have let the entire day go to hell after such a late start and a delay in my plans. I think in this way, I had an "extreme" side to my personality and usually detrimental.
The new me was still disappointed in myself for getting up so late, but I shrugged it off and looked at what was left of my schedule to salvage and by 1 PM, I was back on track. So there you go, I have progressed! It's not climbing mt. everest, but hey, I have finally learned the concept that if I fall back a few steps, i can still continue the climb. Sooner or later, I will scale this mountain!!

Getting my groove back

2008-01-23T00:13:00.000-05:00

I sat down today and studied diligently for a couple of hours. After a while, I began to nod off and the material swam before my eyes. Just so I would wake myself up again, I put my frontal cortex to work (ie. plan) by making a schedule of my next three days. I realize that writing down to the T what I have to do everyday is actually a very liberating experience. It gives me a sense of satisfaction and sense of control even before I do anything.

In any case, my new plan will involve some hard core studying. The next round of exams are looming ahead of me like that monster in Cloverfield and I have a dreaded feeling that unless I institute my plan, the monster will swallow me alive.

Speaking of which, I went to see Cloverfield on Sunday. It was a very gripping thriller and I believe it succeeds in what it tries to do, to wit, it attempts to capture the terror an ordinary average joe would feel on a day when Godzilla's cousin attacks his city. It was doubly unfortunate for the girls in this film, because they were at a party and not exactly dressed to sprint. The entire film was shot with what seemed like a handheld consumer camera. At times they made it deliberately jerky to imitate an amateur who can't seem to hold the camera steady for even 5 minutes. The overall effect was to make me feel queasy after about 60 minutes into the film. I was also, absurdly, even worried that the "amateur" would at some point, turn off the camera by accident or shoot someone's back pocket for an extended period of time. I then realize I was being silly because of course the filmmakers of this movie were professionals and they WANT you to know what's going on and the only way that would be possible is to continue to shoot relevant and interesting footage, since Morgan Freeman did not magically appear to narrate for us in this film. One word of warning though, if you are a type A personality and you watch a film and want to know all the whys and wherefores of this film, this movie is not for you. It is like a poem, it tries to capture a feeling, an essence, a partial story even, but its intention was never in the plot, it was never interested in answering "what happened next, before, after, and why".

Tell me you love me

2008-01-20T02:42:00.000-05:00

I just sped through 15 episodes of a Korean drama. Which is somewhat of a feat, since I crammed 15 hours into about 6. The story is about a happy young couple who enters a company together. An older, accomplished woman falls head over heels in love with the young man and plots to break them up. She went at extraordinary lengths too, to obtain what she wanted. And as villainous as she is supposed to be, I found myself secretly rooting for her.

The drama is called, "Tell me you love me" and it was playing on youtube. I know this is going to sound shallow, but here goes. There were more than a number of decidedly unattractive characters in the show, men with faces that looked like God wasn't paying attention when he molded them, or a little fat chubby girl with a complexion like that of rice pudding and legs that look like she has had one too many of them as well. Her height was most comical, she was almost as wide as she is tall, so she comes across oddly boxlike. Lord, they were an annoying bunch. And I didn't understand their purpose in the show, perhaps for comic relief? The reason I am going on this rant is because I think for the purposes of a soap opera, the producers ought to employ only good looking or interesting looking people to star in the drama. That is one reason why we watch them no? Eye candy. To feast our eyes on beauty. Instead, every time these odd assortment of weird looking people come on, I felt the protest of my eyes at being subjected to such unaesthetically pleasing pictures.

To be honest, this show stank. The two bright things in the show would be, the female actress is a gem and shines at her role of being both a manipulative vixen and also a pathetic woman who just loves too heartbreakingly. Secondly, even though I watched the translations, I could tell the lines are written with more care, wit and thought. It wasn't very bland soap opera fare nor was it overly dramatic. At times, there were sprinkles of philosophical statements, just the way I liked it. The minuses of the show would have to be, the show became increasingly weepy and the bawling grew both in magnitude and frequency. I was not in the mood to bawl along, so instead, I just rolled my eyes and fast forwarded. Even the male lead couldn't stop crying like a little five year old who just had his toy snatched from him. I lost a lot of my patience with him and I didn't understand why a smart 30 year old and quite beautiful woman would go completely and utterly insane over him. Over him? Surely she could have done better.

The angelic female lead, the mother theresa who is on the receiving end of all plots and manipulations, but of course also the innocent one whom her lovely young man adores - she just annoys me. Her face reminds me of other Korean actresses before her, and she's like the generic version to a brand, or a knock-off substitute. She never quite stepped up to the lead female role as well as the villainous one, with all her scheming ways, was able to. I know I've committed heresy by sticking up for the evil one. All the commentators on youtube.com were screaming for her blood by the end of the show. They got so worked up, I had almost as much fun reading those comments as anything else.

To sum, I don't always root for the good guys I guess, whatever "good" means. I am intrigued by this theme of sheer raw desire, a manic bent on grasping that which you crave, I root for mad obsessive compulsion to own or possess something, I root for wanting something badly enough that you would stoop to almost anything to get it and know it too. At times, when facing such a dark side to human nature, it takes courage to confront the enormity of one's greed and to recognize it for what it is, sheer greed, the bottomless pit in the human heart that always craves for more and more, whatever that may be. Okay, I don't endorse this, don't get me wrong, but I am admittedly captivated by this theme.

Zombies and my curious fascination with them

2008-01-19T01:21:00.001-05:00

I just watched yet another zombie movie, the ever famous Dawn of the Dead, and all things considering, not too long after "I am Legend" either. There are some common themes that run through these films.

A) When you go anywhere alone, you will most likely die.
B) If you happen to be surrounded by zombies and you know you are a goner, then the next best thing to do is to blow things up and go down in a blaze of glory. Better to die that way than to be torn to pieces by zombies.
C) The really really big burly bald alpha male zombies (you see one in Dawn, you see one in Legend as well) - watch out for those. They are the "head" zombies and will usually do something that will surprise you - unpleasantly.

I was braced for a very scary movie so it turned out to be not that bad. In a typical zombie film, a "good" ending is if these people successfully evade the zombies and find a safe haven. However ever thought about what comes next? If these people do survive, they will probably end up with stupendous post traumatic stress disorder and may eventually break down into insanity. No one can take such a prolonged stress for such a long time. Of course in this film (spoiler alert), it is hinted that nobody ultimately survives. Sad, but somewhat more realistic.

Now a comparison study of the zombies in Legend vs Dawn. Legend zombies are fast fast fast, and usually they become bald. They are afraid of the sun and they burn when exposed to UV light. They are tachycardic, (heart rate through the roof) and they are usually very pale. They are smart too, and can strategize to a point. They seem to be made of steroids and they look like golum. They also have zombie dogs. Dawn zombies are not afraid of the sun. They can be fast too, often running. They keep their hair and they are usually decently dressed but grotesquely wounded. Missing eyes, cut off legs, ripped off arm, but they still go on. Legend zombies appear to be more intact, as far as I can tell. In the absence of victims, Dawn zombies just mill around listlessly and dejectedly. Legend zombies crouch in dark places and only come out at night to feed. Dawn zombies haven't learned how to climb, but Legend zombies are great at climbing. Legend zombies will fight each other for food.

Compared to these zombies, Chinese zombies are another breed altogether. They are usually very pale and supposedly already dead. They hop, they don't walk, and they stick their arms out in front of them. If you are near a Chinese zombie, you have to hold your breath and they won't detect you. So they have wonderful CO2 sensors, apparently.

Okay enough gabbling about zombies. I am going to become my own special type of zombie now, complete with a snug pillow, blanket and bronco bear!

A Depressing Yesterday

2008-01-17T22:18:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I was under a black cloud for most of the day. I had a stomach bug after eating lunch and spent the better half of an hour white, pale-faced, sweaty in the bathroom after. Details are better off not discussed but suffice to say, I recovered to do battle yet another day.

Then I dragged my weak dehydrated self to the bed and dozed for an hour, with the intention of getting my strength back. I woke up somewhat later than anticipated and ended up going to the Chinatown Clinic later than anticipated as well. We were supposed to meet about 1/2 hour before clinic started. All along the way, I braced myself for being reamed by the attending physician. To my pleasant surprise, when I burst into the clinic and apologized profusely for being late, the doctor, normally with a reputation for being somewhat of a groucho marx, looked at me with a rather benevolent smile and just blew it off, saying, "That's okay."

I was working as a translator - well, thats mostly all I do there, translate for patients who walk in the door. I met yet another depressing case. This woman comes in. Her husband has stomach cancer and has been home for the past 2-3 years. She quit her job last October to take care of him. Their medical bills for chemotherapy and odds and ends were in the thousands. I had a feeling, before this is over, it would go into the tens of thousands. Both are not insured, and both were clearly not well off. I asked how they were getting by. The woman said her child, now 22, was working to support them. She became a bit teary eyed at that, thinking of how her child couldn't go to school because of the situation. I felt both terrible for her and ashamed of myself. I have had it so easy and I still go around feeling sorry for myself all the time. Sometimes I can truly see how tough life is and all things considering, life has been good to me, no, really really good to me...

Still, this realization didn't uplift me per se. It brought my mood down another notch. I also felt paradoxically that life is so meaningless too. They say that suffering means something, but for these wretched poorest of the poors, what added existential meaning does suffering bring to them? What lessons, or spiritual insights can they gain from this? They worry incessantly, I'm sure, about how to get by, how to not be sick, how to make ends meet, how to find their next meal, or ensure they have a roof over their heads. With all their energy tied up into worrying about such basic necessities, what spiritual value can their suffering have? I don't know the answer, but I do wonder.

Professional behavior extraordinaire

2008-01-15T20:50:00.000-05:00

Today I had to go to the hospital, put on my little white coat, get all spiffed and starched up. So I was in a group of five classmates and we were given the task of interviewing a real patient. Easy peasy - we've done this more than a few times now and most of us are getting comfortable with the process. So we stride in, cocky future doctors all and before us sat this lanky man in a limp hospital gown. He had an overgrown beard peppered with gray. He looked at us with no expression but we each introduced ourselves and he shook our hands cordially.

As we gathered around him, he alone sat in a chair and we stood in front of him, in a circle in this weird ritualistic way. I cleared my throat and ventured first (the brave little pipsqueak that I am) and asked, "So what brought you into the hospital?"

He looked at me and said, "The Airforce."

"Oh?" I was befuddled.

One of my kind classmates chimed in, "Oh okay, so the airforce brought you in?"

The man mumbled, "MmmmHmm. The Airforce."

Another pipsqueak piped, "How long have you been in the hospital?"

"1974."

"Oh....Why are you here again?"

"1972."

"So you've been here since 1972. What are you here for?"

"The airforce." He looked at us amiably, calmly, patiently.

It was at this moment, or perhaps a second after, when the dawning realization came to each and every one of us, this man is COMPLETELY incoherent and possibly demented. A giggle started making its way from the depths of my belly. To my increasing horror, I knew it would erupt from my mouth if I didn't do something soon. With every ounce of self control I could muster, I froze the muscles of my face into a botox mask. I almost lost it again when I looked at him. I literally began turning red from the effort of trying not to laugh. We just stood there in silence then, not knowing what to say. My face felt freakishly hot.

I looked down at my shoes, I dug my nails into my hands, I twisted and retwisted my fingers. Then I stole a look at my classmates and I saw the early twitchings of a smile on everyone of them, all of them trying so damn hard not to giggle like little girls. It is a feeling like you're being tickled and you can't laugh, it was excruciating ladies and gentleman, I thought I would have an apoplexy from the effort of straining myself. Two agonizing minutes later, an internist rushes in all smiles and apologies and tells the guy thanks for his time and lets us scoot out of there. We all scurried out, eager to get out, sheepish about the whole business.

It turns out the guy has had some sort of blunt trauma accident and the frontal lobe of his brain had been removed. He basically had a lobotomy. Still bad bad emily! I kept yelling at myself that I should have had more empathy and professionalism. I became a blob that was about to burst at the seams and no white coat, no matter how well sewn, could have held me together if I had done that. Sigh, much to learn this one still.

Oh my eyes!

2008-01-14T08:40:00.000-05:00

Last night I decided to do an experiment with me eyes by wearing an eye-patch on my right eye. You see, I have two eyes of vastly different temperaments. Right eye - very go-getter, very on top of things, competing to see everything first. Left eye - lazy, indolent, reliant on its stronger big brother to do the seeing, it just sits there and daydreams. I decided that left eye needs to work a little too, so I made right eye sit in the dark for a bit. It was super weird trying to read, let alone study, with one eye shut. I kept seeing, at the periphery of my vision, these pulsating bands of light. I think it was my left eye's spiteful little trick to protest.

A curious thing happened after that. Shortly after, I turned off the lights to my room to turn in for the night. The first thing I noticed was, a feeling like a curtain had just dropped over my left eye. Suddenly I had unbelievable night blindness from my left eye. To make sure I wasn't hallucinating - I alternated between my left and my right eyes. When I see with only my right eye, the room, even though dark, is like 5 shades lighter and crisper than my left eye. I felt panic rising because I thought I was losing my vision in my left eye.

I sat down on my bed and furiously massaged my eyes. Now get this paradox folks. I know to help my eyes, I have to relax them. But there's nothing like maniacally trying to relax your eyes while staving off a rising panicked feeling of gloom and doom. At one point, I even fancied that I was seeing different shades of color from each eye. Right eye - I see a bluish tint to everything. Left eye - I see a brownish tint to everything. Soon, my eyes equalized and I realize that, part of the problem was, momentarily, I was seeing BETTER with my right eye, and made my left eye seem all the weaker. Because, soon I was seeing a brownish tint from both eyes (now I was sitting in my room in pitch black while carrying this experiment out, hence the brownish look) and that's when I relaxed finally and told my silly self that I need to go to sleep.

I woke up this morning and to my relief, I seem to see okay as per my usual blind self. I do think though that I have to incorporate a system of training my left eye to see as good as my right, or else I become a physiological cyclops.

Motivation

2008-01-10T08:42:00.000-05:00

I would like to explore the topic of motivation. The way I see it, motivation is most effective when it is an unquestioned drive to reach a goal. Whatever your goal might be, you desire it enough to go to great lengths to achieve it. Therefore, your drive must be pure enough for that motivating force to be strong.

We all know what motivating forces typically are in this world: desire for wealth, status, to please those closest to us, to avoid failure, the pursuit of happiness. Is there one thing that encompasses everything else? Some would argue that everyone's penultimate goal is to achieve happiness, which all these other things are necessary stepping stones to.

While I'd argue that is not true, too many people before me have done that every same thing, so I don't want to rehash a very old and almost cliched idea. I'd like to argue in the opposite way. What if a person has reached the point where they no longer believe that wealth status and all those good material acheivements can bring you happiness? But since a person still aspires to happiness, what then is the motivating force to achieve?

For me, I have to admit that I still have a few "ties that bind." Meaning, I feel some pressure to achieve, not merely for my own sake (in fact, very infrequently for myself per se) but a desire to not disappoint those closest to me. Which, I'm told, is not exactly the best way to go about motivating yourself. Yet a part of me wonders, if those ties should break and I am liberated, what then will I become? Will I float away gently to the netherlands, unemcumbered and unweighed by neither drives nor ambitions or any singular passion to continue striving? Wow, if ever there is a junkie in the making, I think I have great potential to live in a cloud.

But that's the thing. I know it would never happen that way. My two feet are planted solidly enough on the ground and I have a solid network, social and otherwise, that keeps me grounded too. I also have a degree of status anxiety, much as I hate to admit it, and while I'm no Napoleon, I still desire to work hard enough to get that one slice of pie.

But back to my original question and it still remains: what then shall motivate us and drive us when we are no longer so "sure" that all paths hitherto to be thought to reach happiness will indeed get us there? Then perhaps, after struggling with this existential problem - we must each forge new meanings for ourselves on what defines happiness. And then we must still continue to strive for it. It is the human condition and without it, we are incomplete.

Portals

2008-01-09T09:08:00.000-05:00

I was recently introduced to this new game that is mostly a series of puzzles. I approached this game rather gingerly in the beginning, awkward with the controls, nervous about the challenges. I suppose it's just a mental thing more than anything else. But once my brain was able to wrap its mind around the concept of portals, it became pretty fun. However when I played it last, I got a little nauseous from spinning around too quickly. I felt this way once when I played Quake back in college.

The game involves a series of challenges that you have to use portals in order to get through. There are certain tools at your disposal but you can't always get to them unless you manipulate the access. Now, I know I am no "lightning Steve McQueen" when it comes to solving the puzzles - but at my own pace, I do eventually get them. I think I'm five levels away from the final test.

In other news - I am so thrilled that Hillary got the New Hampshire primary!!! Way to go! The way I see it, Obama is a nice guy and all, but he's still a little young and green. He can afford to wait another four years, gain more experience, add more omph to his rhetoric. I won't mind having him as president, but ladies first, dude. A lot of people do not like Hillary but well, I am clearly not one of them. I am very interested in seeing what she has to offer as the first female president, and honestly, I have no doubt she would run this country as well as any man.

Getting Political

2008-01-06T12:49:00.001-05:00

I watched the New Hampshire debates Saturday and it was obvious even to me, a complete idiot when it comes to politics, that Edwards had decided to join the good ol' boy's club and gang up on Hillary with Obama. It was almost a little sad because Hillary had attempted, a little lamely, at the very beginning to elicit Edwards' support to team up against Obama. Edwards very flatly rejected her entreaties and turned on her with a fair degree of viciousness and vigor. The look on Hillary's face at that moment was, maybe to my overwrought imagination, a barely contained seething. Yet she held her own against the two, coming across sharp, stinging, strong. She was getting political on their asses (I am Hillary, hear me roar)

Obama, because I have not heard him speak extensively until now, but have always heard good things about him, did not really impress me overly much. He was nice for the most part and did not attack anyone, he seemed to be very somberly listening to everyone's input and took everyone seriously. He seems afraid to show confidence and cockiness. Because of this, he was always very careful about what he says, but what he had to say was uninspiring. Still, he did come across as someone who is idealistic, nice, and decent at heart, it helps of course that he has a very symmetrical looking face that just APPEARS square and upfront and honest.

I also watched some of the republican debates and most of the guys there seemed to be more relaxed and spontaneous and ready to just jabber, gibberish most of the times, but still unafraid to mouth off. A lot of them ganged up on Romney, a thorough alpha male with a big square jaw and looks like American Dad with the same amount of "I am the shit) aura. I didn't like him very much either. All he wants to do apparently is to deport illegal immigrants, regardless of how impossible an undertaking it is and how futile this gesture is to the benefit of America. I would like to know how he plans to carry that out in reality because 12 million people and their families - you can't just uproot these people overnight, it's not only wrong, it's downright preposterous.

Giuliani carried a fair deal of weight, but I was introduced to a new guy I have never noticed before, Senator Paul. He's actually a sweet looking guy who likes to talk about economy. I liked him on a personal level but sadly, I feel like his chances of being elected nominee are slim if he's only resting on his winsome personality and cute in an old man kind of way looks. Certainly I like him more than the other Republicans but when it comes down to it, I still have a major soft spot for Hillary.

300

2008-01-05T09:37:00.000-05:00

I finally got around to watching this film about Sparta. All those nice taut and tight bodies notwithstanding, I felt like half the time, I saw a lot of men snarling at a lot of other men. Actually the fight scenes in the film are nicely choreographed, but I thought the excessive beheading was a little lame. The captain's son gets beheaded, the big monster that has a perpetual snarl (most snarliest of all the snarls) was beheaded, and even one of Xerxes' generals was beheaded by some creature/human being? with large blades for arms. Where do they find these people?? The Asia portrayed in this film was exotic to the point of being a freakshow or traveling circus. All of this was feast for the eyes mind you but also raised some befuddlement and left me scratching my head.

The main guy, King Leonidas, he's got character and he reminds me of Hector. Up until his death, he was doing pretty well on the battlefield. But it seemed to me like after his failed attempt at killing Xerxes, he just gave up and assumed a sacrifical position (the crucifix position - a favorite with many filmmakers). I didn't understand why if they so easily dodged the first onslaught of arrows by assuming a Spartan military formation, shields up, covering left neighbor, they couldn't do that again the second time around, because most of the 300 died by arrows in the very end.

The Spartan code of warriordom is simple, brutal, but effective. They train for the military in almost the same way a monk trains to serve God. Life is simple, disciplined, pared down to the basics. A simple life leaves less room for doubt, even in the face of certain death. I would have liked to see some warriors actually show fear, as it would have been realistic but you can't help but admire a group of men who are so brainwashed as to become nearly invincible in their psyche.

Nana

2008-01-03T11:35:00.000-05:00

Feeling bored last night, I scoured the internet for some amusement. First I went to Moorewatch, an anti-Michael Moore website that was mentioned in Sicko. I must say, this is a fascinating case in point of two people who sticks to the principles of things. One guy, who watches Moore's every move and criticizes him with zeal has apparently had some financial troubles and was likely to have to shut down his site because of it. Michael Moore sends him some money via anonymous donation. However later on, he tells the guy that he's the one who sent the money and the guy graciously thanks him of course and then with the new cash in hand, he proceeds to run his website bashing Michael Moore anyway. He's got a lot of enraged letters since, asking him how he could do it, but I think he's got a point that, the whole reason Moore sent him money in the first place is so that he could continue to exercise his right to free speech. Money shouldn't shut his mouth and put an end to it. From a principles standpoint, I can see why he does it. From a humanistic standpoint, I confess that it is difficult to comprehend. A guy takes another guy's money and then continues to badmouth him anyway. It's what it boils down to. I wonder if, despite all his principles, he will lose steam eventually.

Anyway, I began this post intending to talk about a Japanese film that I got hooked onto. It's called Nana and it's about two girls who are the same age and with the same name. They became friends under very coincidental occurences and though the two are as different as cats and dogs, somehow they become bonded through shared pain and mutual goodwill. I really liked the film because it is a simple one, but made with some heart. One girl is infectiously cheerful and bounds around like an eager puppy, hence her roommate calls her "Hachi" affectionately - apparently meaning "Doggie." The other one is cool, a bit insolent, very prideful but a decent girl all in all. She's one of those people who smolders under a surface of apparent calm, like a volcanoe, made all the more apt by her constant puffing on cigarettes.

I can't help but think that my roommate and I are somewhat similar to these two girls. Instead of having the same name though, we have the same or very same birthday and ethnicity. Yet we are very different animals, she and I. I think I am more girly than her, but she is more friendly than me. Still, I think as different as we are, we can still form a good understanding between us, at least, it's a work in progress.

It's a new year once again

2008-01-02T14:31:00.001-05:00

In the past I've always been inclined to make a big New Year resolutions list, celebrate the end of a year and the beginning of a new year with a decisive clink of the champagne glass, watch the ball drop, toast my loved ones. This year, 2007 slipped away quietly and 2008 glided in seamlessly. I went to bed around 11 PM and didn't even wait to greet the new year. I made no new resolutions and I didn't make a big to-do about celebrating its arrival. It's okay, I realize. I am not making any big decisions to turn my life around 180 degrees and become a new super powered emily. This year, I'm going to live through it as gracefully as I had let it arrive, quietly, steadily, softly. I don't want any big dramatic moments, but I do want a year of progressive steady developments, towards my career goals, towards my future life.

Last night I watched Sicko. It is a very humorous movie actually, lots of dry ironic wit Michael Moore style. Creative and acerbic and makes you go, "Yeah, why is that?" Jason keeps telling me it's biased and of course that is true, but I am glad he made this documentary anyway because it does highlight some glaring issues within our health system and why is it that a mere 30 some years go by and we are already accepting this as a fact of life, as something that is just how it is? We are reputedly the most powerful, the richest country in the world and this is how our citizens get by in life, this is what happens when one of our own gets sick? I am befuddled and I don't pretend I know what's wrong with the system and how it can even begin to be fixed, but I do think I owe it to myself to think more deeply about this issue because it is certainly going to involve me both on a personal level and a professional one as well.

Insomnia

2007-11-20T10:40:00.000-05:00

I had a quiz today for which I put off studying until the last day, which was yesterday. And for some reason, I have the mind of a monkey last night, it just won't quit hopping from one random thought to another. It was terrible. I must have gotten into bed and gotten out like fifty times. This rarely happens to me. Sleep is like breathing to me, I never usually have to give it a second thought. But last night, I tossed and I flopped and I flipped myself like a pancake on a frying pan, and I snuggled deep, and I burrowed like a rabbit in my big red fluffy blanket and I counted, or tried to count from 1 to 100. I made it to about 50 and I got frustrated and I got up. But good thing is, each time I got up, I studied some more, so maybe my quiz grade will have benefitted overall from my insomnia.

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I kind of had a bad dream though. It involved a monster of some sort and it terrified me. I wish I can recall it more clearly now but damn that quiz, I woke up around 8:20 in a stupor. The quiz was at 9 AM. Of course, of course, of course. Oh Emily are you a character in a korean soap opera? Emily leaps out of bed cursing having overslept (original plan was to get up at 6 AM to study some more but going to sleep finally around 5:30 AM made it a little difficult) She then throws on some clothes, wraps her skinny neck in a long flowing purple scarf and pumps her legs to move as fast as she could to the school. Luckily I got to school when there were still seats available and I sat down, feeling tired and hungry and adrenaline-rushed. It's a very interesting state to be in, a little hyper-stretched, truth be told. I wish I could remember my dream, it was so fascinating, at least to me. I want to record it so that I could read it when I'm 80 and chuckle into my wrinkled hands and think, I once dreamt that? How funny. How amusing! Hee hee hee.

Googlemania and other thoughts

2007-11-19T18:45:00.000-05:00

Google has recently "clonally proliferated" into an even bigger presence in my life, and millions others I'm sure. It has all sorts of nifty gadgets you can add to your iGoogle page, decorate it like a little girl decorates her room. I don't mean to put a disdainful spin on it, because at heart, I will forever be that little girl that loves to decorate her room, her scrapbooks, her wallpaper, her blog, etc etc.

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I recently went to visit an elderly resident at a nursing home-like facility. This woman, at 91, is sprightly and sharp and independent as ever. I admire her ability to still think critically and her interest in keeping up with the world and its current affairs. She mentioned some stuff about current politics which I thought were interesting, even though it was somewhat in opposition to mine. I didn't think it appropriate to start a heated political debate with someone who is more than 3x older than me, so I just listened politely. While I may not agree with her, I still find it interesting to talk to her.

Jason came back recently from China. He got to sample some scorpion and butterfly cocoon. I'm sure he will blog all about it later. He showed me some videos of him doing it. I don't think I would EVER want to be in the position of eating these fried bugs and sloshing bug juices in my mouth. Eegads! Apparently it's a big hit with the tourists who visit there though. I think all these world travelers who flock to China are looking for precisely these exotic out of the world experiences and some smart vendors in China figured out how to exploit that particular desire at that particular time. Apparently the locals are not exactly all that into eating bugs either, so the Chinese save their bugs for their wonderfully obliging and game visitors.

Thanksgiving is in a few days. I will be heading back to Maryland to spend some downtime with the folks. I think I will have to set aside some time to study though because I've not been keeping up as well as I should be. I also have a baby to visit and an ex-coworker to have lunch with. It shall probably be busier than even when I'm in school!

Em babbles on

2007-10-26T19:47:00.001-04:00

Today I had the first of a series of exams. For some reason, it was a real struggle. I guess I know the reason - I didn't study hard enough, or was that it? Is it always as simple as that? Usually when I'm deeply immersed in an exam, the time just flies by. All that adrenaline and focused energy makes time disappear. This time around, I was excruciatingly aware of the passage of time. I was itching to get out of the exam, truth be told. I kept flipping to the end of the test and wondering how many more questions I have to answer. I think my ADHD has kicked in big time and perhaps to the detriment of my score. Score schnore, why do we care so much about grades anyway? Why do we let ourselves get all twisted up about some numbers? Of course, even as I say that, I wonder if my ego defense isn't kicking in (courtesy of studying Behavioral science and some Freudian theories) Am I in denial? Perhaps. I deny the importance of grades (but in my defense, I have been told that first two years' of grades don't matter that much unless you are a psychotic gunning for surgery or opthalm) There was even a question on the exam about a medical student who has a big biochem test in 7 days and keeps putting off studying to do these other more "urgent" tasks such as raking leaves, cleaning closets, etc. A lightbulb went off. Hey! That's me! I joyfully reconciled with my test question self, we exchanged some hellos and how are yous. And then I had to answer the question and move on. Sigh, as I answered the question, I imagined my test question self waving at me sadly from within the page, bidding me good luck and hoping I won't turn into her fully and completely, that self-destructive, procrastinating slave, pinned down by her ego defense of avoidance and escapism delusions.

I started watching a movie called Match Point, a film by Woody Allen. I love On Demand, though it's particularly tempting when test time rolls around, I don't know why. But in any case, I really enjoy it so far. Jonathan Rhys-Meyer, an actor I've noticed before, is and can be intense. He doesn't seem that comfortable in his own skin, ever, but then again, he plays characters that require that edginess. I think in this case, he was cast quite fittingly. And Scarlet Johansson, what can I say? She's a hot little number and I could see why every man and his grandfather swoons when her name comes up. I think if I had been born a blond little girl, I would want to look like her. I am absolutely in love with the white shirt-dress that she appears in, during the first scene we witness her in. I think I'll have to try to scope it out. I've taken my shopping habit to a whole new level, with very specific ideas of what I want now.

In the mean time, I still need a good idea for a costume. If nothing comes up, I'll just have to throw on some wild things from my closet. I think I can pull off the hippie look with my longer hair and bangs now, but I don't feel like donning a tie-dyed shirt and flashing the peace sign all night long. I could go gothic, but these days, I have the face of a tired gothic woman already, and I don't need to be even more gothic. I think I wouldn't mind going for a femme fatale look, ha.

Sequel to previous post

2007-10-23T00:40:00.000-04:00

Oddly enough, based on the contents of my previous post exactly 22 days ago, today was the day I encountered my first rodent - a dead one. 22 days ago, when I first discovered to my great consternation, invaders of my Lays chips, my roommate and I laid down traps for them all around the kitchen. For 20+ days, nothing happened and we were gently lulled back into the belief that these little gnawly things are gone forever. At first when we placed the traps, I would go to the kitchen everyday and glance warily at the traps to see if we caught anything. Though I never wanted to, I was also half hoping that we would, as that would mean one less to run around, reproduce, and make more disgusting little pests. But after a few weeks, I began to think that we just won't see them anymore. Ha - boy was I wrong.

Today, after an utterly indulgent nap at 4 PM, I woke from my sleep close to 6 and lumbered into the kitchen. I thought I would make myself some dinner. Almost as an afterthought, as I was standing by the shelf close to where the trap was, I glanced down, only blurrily wondering if anything was there. And there it was, a grey plumpish gross pulp of a thing, lying there in the trap rather docilely. I don't actually know what I said or uttered at that moment folks, it was possible that my mind went utterly blank for a nanosecond as my soul popped out of my body to do an otherworldly scream of such magnitude you would not believe, or my fight or flight hormonal response spiked so suddenly and extremely that instead of jarring me into action, it temporarily paralyzed me. In any case, it was completely UNREAL. I may have turned green.

Immediately I decided that I had lost my appetite. Then I thought about what I was going to do. The evil thought was to walk away and leave it to my roommate to clean up, as she isn't lilly-livered about mice as I am. I didn't want to leave it to her, mostly because the idea of leaving that dead thing around is distasteful to me. But I didn't want to come within 100 feet of that thing either. So I played the girl card and asked one of my friendly neighborhood classmates to come and do the dirty deed. Lucky for me, he was feeling kind that day. Bowled over with gratitude, I ended up making dinner for him in return.

Anyway, the long story short is, I hate mice I hate mice I hate mice. I wish to God they don't exist on this green earth. I can't comprehend why they are around except they are these hardy little things that will never die no matter what. That one in the trap was probably not really dead, just playing dead.

Ugh, I got to do something about my phobia. And I promise folks that I won't blog about mice ever again, no matter what, I refuse to give my phobia even more of a hold on me than it already has. Now to sleep and to put an end to this accursed day!

The Irrationality of Fear

2007-10-01T23:53:00.000-04:00

Yes yes I have a phobia and that phobia consists of shrieking uncontrollably at the sight of a little animal about the size of two fingers. I know it's retarded and though people have tried to talk me through the irrationality of it all, I just can't help it. Every time I hear a noise in my apartment, I tense up. Do I fear a break in? No...that would be way too rational for me. I fear the little four pawed rodents that really could do no harm to me directly, except perhaps by inducing a heart attack. The other day I discovered that these little brats have invaded my Lays chips, which I had purchased with great delight and planned on savoring for the weeks ahead. It was with great dismay then that I found a breach in the system (aka chewed plastic bag, hole, nibbles etc) For a good half hour or so, I kept hearing noises and though I investigated diligently, I was never able to find the culprit. I finally found that my bag of chips have been invaded. Of course the bag of chips went promptly into the dumpster, but since then I've been sort of high strung and tense. I even screamed when I inadvertently scattered some decorative objects, and one of them, a ball, but the size of a mouse rolled across the floor. My phobia and hysteria was such that I thought I saw one of those little buggers racing across the rug, and so a shriek erupted from me of its own accord. I scared my roommate and also myself. At least I didn't wet my pants, geez, I am such a lily-livered thing.

Malnourished Emily

2007-09-21T17:15:00.000-04:00

As part of my nutrition course I had to make a food diary documenting what and how much I've been eating over a three day period. Although my food intake can vary largely from day to day, the overall average is that I'm only getting about 70% of what my body needs in terms of energy expenditure. Hmmm...could that be why I feel sleepy all the time? More food = more energy? What a brilliant concept, I must explore this further.

Actually, this exercise is quite good for me. It shows that I'm not getting enough of the vitamins that I need. I get a lot of potassium though, for one reason or another. Not nearly enough fibers. I have a high cholesterol and high sodium diet. I wish there was a Chinese version of this somewhere, because I would like my parents to try to document their daily intake to see where they are deficient. The site is a big pain to navigate, but if you are diligent, it actually is worth the trouble (so few things are these days...)

My Pyramid Tracker

Try it for yourself starting tomorrow! Don't be like me, accosted on the streets of Philly by some psycho because he thought he could bully some clinically undernourished waif who doesn't like food. Yes yes, I will get over this, eventually.

Chinatown Clinic

2007-09-19T23:59:00.000-04:00

Today I went to volunteer at this clinic down in Chinatown. It's a solid operation run by volunteer students and doctors. The doctor who has been running this for the last 10 years is most probably a saint, but one that can be decidedly grouchy if he wants to be. I was placed in the "pharmacy" with these second year students.

My job was to play errand girl, I would take the medicine and give them to the patients. Often the job entailed such difficulties such as reading the label out loud to the patient, like "take this once a day." I'm sure I mispronounced quite a few names though. I smile to seem less threatening, it doesn't always come naturally. I think I have something wrong with my personality. I wish I was the bubbly girl who always exude natural warmth and friendliness, but alas.

Anyway, I had a good time. A couple of my classmates went with me and it was like that first episode of Grey's Anatomy, a bunch of newbies all thrown into this medical setting together and half the time, they look at each other wondering what the heck they were supposed to be doing. It was fun in that sort of communal spirit, because we were all in it together and all somewhat lost and clueless.

Four hours on the back

2007-09-19T01:38:00.001-04:00

I just spent four hours studying, restudying, alternatingly drooling (read: sleeping) on my anatomy books. I have all told, about five different books opened as I hopscotched from one book to another. The target of my intense study? The back.

The more I study this gross anatomy stuff, the more impressed I am with the intricate designs that make up the human body. The back of the average human is sheathed in layer upon layer of muscles, some traversing diagonally right, some shooting up diagonally left, most of the muscles are paired, that is, you have a right and left version of the same muscle. Actually maybe all - I've yet to identify a muscle that is the lone ranger. Each muscle is there for a different purpose or function. Now the average couch potatoe (aka moi) do not take anywhere even remotely close to enough advantage of all his core muscles. But if you observe a dancer in action, you can bet that all those extensors and flexors are working hard to allow that dancer to create such beauty with her body movements.

Anyhoo, I shall retire for the evening and leave you to contemplate on the magnificence of such objects as semispinalis capitis, rhomboid majors, and my personal favorites: serratus posterior inferior and serratus posterior superior. Those good old profs of yore who made up these anatomical terms certainly didn't have economy of letters in mind at that time.

My Cadaver Story

2007-09-18T00:25:00.000-04:00

From day one we’ve been harped on about professionalism. Well today was gross anatomy lab day 1 and we were going to be introduced to our cadaver and I was determined to be no less than 120% professional.

Our group assembled uncertainly around B5, our assigned table. On it lay a body covered under a white sheet. We peered at the form curiously and then at each other hesitantly, I think none of us were too eager to unveil what was beneath quite just yet.

Finally the professor’s clear directive rang out. “Remove the white sheet.” We complied. I looked curiously at the body and the first thing I wondered was, “what gender?” I looked first at the chest. It was flat, with protruding nipples. I thought, “oh, so it is probably male.” But then I looked further down and saw the absence of signifying organs and then I readjusted my logical reasoning. “oh, it is a rather thin female.”

A few kids looked over at our body, made the “yuck face” as they stared in morbid fascination at the green spots that had arisen on certain parts of our body. They smirked and said, “this one has mold.” I thought it was rather obnoxious of them, though I reasoned they were in part dealing with their own nervousness. I was already feeling connected to the body as well as somewhat protective.

The professor asked us to cut the plastic bag from the body. I grabbed the scissors and started zipping down the middle. My brisk business-like gestures belie my own hidden tremulous feelings. I was, truth be told, probably hyperventilating subconsciously because I was taking care to not inhale through my nose. When I got to the area near her face, I felt for a moment how surreal it really was. I was an inch from a dead person and all I cared about was the rather technical and mundane issue of removing her from the plastic body bag, just as if I were removing artichokes from a plastic bag recently purchased at Pathmark.

At some point not too long after, I got a chance to, or rather, I forced myself to look at the face of the body and see her as who she once was. She was a thin old lady, with a rather petite, symmetrical and comely face. I imagine that in life, she was one of those people who made you feel better just by her very presence. At that moment, my nervousness or repressed tremors subsided and I felt instead a quiet that came over me. I thought of her bravery in making this decision and I thought of how we have, by chance, by destiny, whatever you would like to call it, come to be linked in this very special and very intimate way. At that moment, I said a little prayer of gratitude for her and I also prayed to God for both strength and humility in the coming months. The best thing I can do for her is to honor her body and to learn what I am meant to learn, in a diligent, respectful, careful way, one stroke, one day at a time.

A long blog after a long hiatus

2007-09-16T20:18:00.001-04:00

Morning: I went to a brunch titled Soul of Medicine. It was a pretty good event for physicians and medical students alike, all meeting and greeting, mingling and chowing. The food was good -- would have been even better hot, but as I went there late, I can only surmise with wistfulness. Some brave souls stood up before a crowd of 100 or more and begin telling their stories of doctor-patient interactions. One of the most moving of which was when a doctor shared about the time a group of patients banded together to try to save a failing hospital, testifying to the importance that this hospital and its doctors have played in their collective lives over the last 50 or so years. I listened and inwardly, I felt both gladdened and a bit saddened. The purpose of this brunch I suppose is to try and give cynical, tired doctors a morale boost and to give medical students space in which to grow their idealism again. Even amidst the chicken soup buffet, I found myself wondering, how will I manage to hold on to this idealistic, even naive desire to "help" others throughout my career, one that is sure to be full of ups and downs?

So my day started out pretty nicely overall and I left the brunch, if not exactly glowing with newfound idealism and skipping on clouds of noble dreams, I at least walked away satisfied that there are still doctors out there who really do care. I then spent an uneventful hour at the local Starbucks, unsuccessfully trying to cram in facts of spinal cord anatomy and the metabolism of glucose, two very diverse subjects, but all required and force-fed to your average med student.

I decided to take a break around this time and meandered to the local Borders bookstore to check out their goodies. It was also at this time that your not-so-intrepid heroine meets a potential serial killer. =(

So I was just moseying around when out of the blue, this middle-aged man with a metallic front tooth flashes his gnarly face in front of me and hisses, "Food and the body, they make a VERY NICE combination." To be honest, I was like, "WHAT????" I was too startled to even respond at first. My first intuitive gesture was to snap my head back like 2 feet to avoid any contact with this putrid specimen. I just stared at him in bewilderment, but to cover my confusion and because I'm Asian (when in doubt, smile politely - it's been inculcated into me) I just smiled politely and what I hope to be dismissively and walked away, like FAR away.

Later as I thought about this comment some more, I began to be more and more annoyed. This guy was insinuating that I have some sort of eating disorder, perhaps anorexia or bulemia, because he checked out my physique (probably simultaneously in a lurid and disapproving way) and decided that I was too skinny to be eating healthily. There was that little voice that rose up in me in protest whenever something injust has occurred and I smacked myself because I should have hissed right back at him, "Oh don't worry, I eat plenty, you dumbfuck" We all know it's wrong for a person to go to an obese person and tell them to eat less. It's insensitive and degrading. But what happens when it's the other way around? I've been singled out just because some shithead can't tell the difference between a healthy slender body from a clinically malnourished one. The asshole put a damper in my mood right then and there. But it got worse, or your N-S-I heroine just got more paranoid, I don't know which.

So anyway I went to the first floor to pay for my books, and lo! the schmuck was right behind me. I nonchalantly looked away but I was tense and braced for fight or flight. Flight - pretty easy, I'll just run to the nearest bookstore security guard and tell them to save me. Fight - I will be armed and prepared to scream at him if he comes near at me again to make some other invasive and inappropriate remark. Wasn't sure which, but I was set for either. But nothing dramatic happened. He seemed to be avoiding me too in his own right and not coming too close. I went to pay for my books and he did too. But then I noticed a curious thing. I told myself that I will not leave the bookstore before him. I would leave after him so that I have a good vantage point and not the other way around. This guy must have had some ideas of accosting me outside the bookstore, because he literally began to dawdle and wait around. He did everything he could to dawdle, he stared at some posters, he checked his watch, etc etc. Meanwhile I was standing a few feet from him, putting my books into my bag and pondering my next move. I smirked to myself and thought, "Oh NO you don't. I AM THE QUEEN OF DAWDLING. Let's see who can play this game longer." But on the other hand, I was caught between wondering if I'm just insane or he really is waiting for me to leave the bookstore too. So eventually the cat and mouse game came to a head and he left the bookstore, but he didn't LEAVE, he just stood outside the bookstore, biding his time. At this point, I decided that I wasn't going to leave the bookstore so I whipped out my cell phone and decided to call my parents. I thought, A, I could easily spend another 30-40 minutes on the phone talking to my mom if I have to or B, at the very least, I can tell my Mom what this evil creepy man looks like should it come to that.

So after about 10 minutes on the phone, I left the bookstore and he seemed to have disappeared to find his next victim and I went promptly to Five Guys and stuffed myself with a double cheeseburger topped with onions and mushroom. I thought I deserved it after the stressful ordeal I've just been through. And let me tell you, don't underestimate the power endorphins that can be released from the simple ingesting of saturated grease. Then I left Five Guys, if not deliriously happy, at least restored in my natural equilibrium and state of mind.

Medical School Week 1

2007-08-16T19:27:00.000-04:00

Though I don't know if this is unique to my school, the curriculum that I follow at my med school is a fairly rigid and structured one. It's been good for me I think, because it forces me to be more organized as well and it does encourage a more organized way of thinking and planning. Medical school is as much about organization as it is about memorization and other skills.

This brings me to a point of some embarrassment. I live like five minutes away from school, 3 if I walk fast. I should be the eager beaver that is usually at class 30 minutes before it starts --- theoretically. But as in biology and in life, things rarely work as they should theoretically and it turns out that I'm usually dashing into the classroom either right as the lecture is starting or even later. Since this year, we have more students than we have seats in our lecture halls, this has occasionally resulted in me glumly being left out of a seat, the loser in the medical school musical chair rendition. Then I had to trudge my lonesome self to the "overflow" room, located in a far corner of the building, a sad little room full of other sad left out creatures who get to stare at a screen for the next hour or two instead of the live action the other early birds get to enjoy.

But that's okay, this smart cookie has managed to befriend a few young unsuspecting classmates of hers who would be glad to save her a spot should she need it. She still operates under the delusion that she doesn't need a spot saver, but very soon, she will learn the usefulness of such a gift.

In other news, I hope to take up yoga on a regular basis because I want to take a pre-emptive attack on this thing called stress. I was telling a classmate today how I wasn't sleeping very well lately and she sorta cocked her head to the side and said, "could Emily be experiencing something called stress?" I replied very earnestly, "yes perhaps, but it's kind of a foreign concept to me." But seriously, I do think I will need a good coping mechanism in the days to come and yoga just might be that feel good stress buster.

More later...I just want to not do below the mean for my upcoming first exam in medical school. How's that for setting the bar high?

First day of medical school

2007-08-09T22:52:00.000-04:00

Well here I am, in medical school, sitting with all the other proud, privileged and most wonderfully earnest kids, heads up, shoulders straight, eager and bent to march down the road of selfless utility.

During orientation, I went through the usual meet and greets with everyone I met. Most people are so much younger than me, it's too depressing to inquire. I comfort myself that people usually have to ask me 20 questions before figuring out how nontraditional I am. It's all good though, we are all on the same path, though some of us are getting started a bit later.

So far, my school has done a great job of being welcoming, of being friendly and inviting. All the faculty and staff were smiles and cheers, hiding their gruffness for the sake of not raining on our parades. Just kidding, I don't know if they were pretending or not, but so far everyone has been uniformly nice, which, is truly pleasant.

But aah, we come to the first day of medical school. I arrive about 30 minutes before classes start (atypical of me, but hey, i'm in medical school!!) and I prepare my notebooks as is, I fold my hands and I sit primly to await for instruction. The professor started off congenially enough, giving us a run through of what to expect in the coming days. Very quickly though, it is clear to me that I am not going to just "play" at being a student. No siree, the message is, I will study and I will have to study damn hard. It is even more clear to me that I will have to do so simply to keep my head above the water, i.e. pass my classes. He proceeds to lecture for an hour on biochemistry, this hour being the equivalent of about 2 semesters of chemistry and biology in college. It's basically like being assaulted and battered by a tsunami of information in the biomedical sciences. And I have about 989 more lectures to go. =)

So here I am, blogging happily about my first day of class and already feeling psychologically behind. But that is no matter, I will plow on, I promise. Stay tuned!

Cancun 2007

2007-08-02T00:42:00.000-04:00

For months prior to my trip to this lush tropical island, I've been dreaming of azure landscapes, palm trees swaying in the breeze and of course, white sand lined ocean to lap at my feet. In July, this dream came true and I found myself standing in front of the gorgeous blue vista in front of me and literally not being able to believe that I was right there, taking in the gorguosity and feasting on the colors. My eyes were in heaven and I felt for a moment at least, sheer and utter aesthetic delight.

Wow, friends, it REALLY was this beautiful, it really looks like those travel magazine photography spreads, promising miles of beautiful blue water and white sand. It was a sight to behold.

Taking advantage of the fact that I'm not at an oceanfront resort every day of my life, I woke up early to greet the sun (very atypical of this lazy cat, i assure you) and everyday, in the early calm, I would find a few people, even locals just sitting there on the beach, gazing out at the majestic visage that spread before them, a centerpiece that demanded your instant awe and worship. And I wondered to myself, do the petty things in life seem to fade away when you are sitting there, gazing out at the sea? Do things seem at once more trivial but life seems at once more sacred? A bit of a paradox, since what is life but the sum of all those little things in it? Anyhow, it wasn't my desire to analyze philosophically the whys and wherefores that people feel compelled to gaze at the ocean, as if entranced. I was certainly mesmerized by its beauty. If there were sirens, they were very effective ones. I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the ocean. I did so ever so reluctantly and only after I made myself a promise that I shall be back.

I have taken a lot of pictures. But even as I pride myself to be a relatively decent photographer, with the knack for finding the right proportions and compositions, I don't think my camera really did the place justice. All I can say is, the image that is seared in my mind is one that shall stay with me for a long time to come. The Cancun of my dream, the Cancun now, in my memory.

I'm a cyborg but that's ok

2007-07-14T13:35:00.000-04:00

"I'm a cyborg but that's ok" is about a young, mentally disturbed girl who believes that she is a nonhuman robotic entity designed for the sole purpose of avenging her grandmother's incarceration into the asylum. Early on, it's clear that mental illness runs in the family. Yet, it also clearly shows that the mental illness is exacerbated by traumatic occurrences in the characters' lives and it even suggests that if left to themselves, they would have been perfectly happy and content.

Instead, the traumatic separation of the young girl and her grandmother led to a sequence of events which culminated in her own incarceration. Soon, she enters a world of mentally deranged neighbors, each in their own way quite lovable and pathetic at the same time. The young girl, among other things, believes that she is to derive her energy from licking alkaline batteries and to connect with her world by talking to machines. She longs for the understanding of the purpose of her existence, for in the world of machines and robots, each is designed for a specific purpose. She aches for the simplicity of such an existence and bemoans the reason for her own construction. Existential angst, apparently, among other things, also greatly ails this frail, anorexic girl.

One of the sweetest and strongest selling points of this movie (besides the lush and brightly colored cinematography - it brings to mind the look and feel and certainly the lyricism of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) is the romance that develops between the girl and a fellow inmate, a smart, sweet young man who was terrified of his own shrinking physicality. Despite his own issues, he is led by compassion to draw the girl out of her world so that she could physically carry on in this world. At first tentatively, but soon wholeheartedly, the girl literally entrusts herself into him. The young man is played by Rain, apparently the hottest thing to descend in Korea for decades. I knew girls all over Asia were going crazy for him, but I never understood his appeal until this film. In this film, I am charmed by his natural sweetness, which shows through despite his own mental problems.

I've read other reviews of this film and it has been compared to Amelie, a comparison I wholeheartedly agree with. This is a film about a woman living in her own fantasy world, because that makes the world a little more manageable to her. Yes, there is overacting, because in a film that mixes fantasy sequences with whimsicality, it's almost necessary for the characters to be "out there." However, I believe that the overacting in this film serves as an enhancement, not a detractor. In the end, it has proven to be a film with surprising heart and that alone made the experience overall quite sweet and moving.

Photo frenzy

2007-07-11T23:59:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been spending some time playing around with my new notebook. I am testing its limits so to speak. I try to run a lot of things on it all at once, to test its multi-tasking ability as well as its processing power. I'm also rediscovering an old joy that I've always had - poring over pictures and tweaking them and printing them out. I get a little kick out of organizing my photos, a very visual representation of my life as it unfolds neatly into 4"x6" rectangles, little snapshots of moments in time that proclaim that I exist, and ever so fabulously. =P Now if I only apply this zest to all the other more important areas of my life.

Oh yes, yesterday I watched a movie entitled Sabrina, starring Audrey Hepburn. A wonderful movie actually, the man opposite Hepburn is played by Humphrey Boghart, you may have vaguely heard of him. To be sure, I didn't really see anything too physically appealing about him, especially with his rather dour looking demeanor, but wasn't Boghart supposed to be THE man of the 40's silver screen? Anyhow, boy meets girl, boy brother meets girl, boy brother and boy fight over girl, boy win girl, that's the short gist of the movie. But I'm not trying to disparage the film, it was actually delightful mainly in the conversation and dialogue, quite witty and still relevant even to today. I'm sure it's better than the Harrison remake, if that was a remake.

I'm also researching possible activities to do in Atlanta, a short little excursion I've planned not too long after I get back from Mexico. My aunt is suggesting that we hit up Chattanooga, TN. Great name eh? For that reason alone, I say, Chattanooga it is!

The bliss, the agony, the blah blah

2007-07-03T17:26:00.001-04:00

Last Friday I said goodbye to yet another job and hello to a month of bumming around. Today is my official fourth day of bummin' and it's been fun my friends. Monday for instance, I took blatant advantage of the fact that I no longer have to get up at the ungodly hour of 8 AM to go to work (my workaholic friends may gasp here at the unbelievable laziness and self-indulgence of author) and I slept in until 11 AM!! Admittedly, this is okay for a day or two, but even I really couldn't justify such waste of time on a daily basis. Today I got up at the more reasonable but still indulgent hour of 9.

And off I packed my booty to the gym for an hour of kickboxing with Seigfred. It was intense. I was drenched, and I mean, sopping wet with sweat just 30 minutes into the class. I had on this tight red jumpsuit of sorts which outlines my skinny silhouette to disturbing precision. I watched myself in the mirror, shaking my ineffectual fists, pumping the air, left hook, right hook, the image of Oliver in all its absurdity comes to mind. If I had a little more meat to my bones, my punches and kicks would look less ridiculous and a little more substantial.

In any case, it was a great workout and I left the class feeling glad to be alive.

Now however, I am stuck in computer troubleshooting hell and it's like an endless loop. All I had to do was install a simple driver for a new hp printer my aunt bought and it sounds simple enough. However a 10 minute routine job turns into a 2 hour ordeal and still counting. I suspect, after the umpteenth time of cursing at the computer screen to no great avail that the usb connection I'm using is a piece of crap and the root of all problems. Either that or HP just makes really crappy drivers.

Ugggh...anyway, this blog is a vain attempt on my end to maintain some semblance of sanity, which is currently being shredded to microscopic threads by good ol' nonfunctional technology.

stream of unconsciousness

2007-06-27T18:13:00.000-04:00

Lately I’ve been feeling sluggish, dragging my 120-lb body, slinking to work, slinking home, plodding along like tired and cynical eeyore. One of the nights this past week I had a nightmare where I had to confront a serial killer and I was very futilely inserting knives all over his body. Was I stabbing? It didn’t feel like it, it just felt like I was trying to pin him down to some surface with long sharp knives and then he did the obligatory “aah I am keeled!” posture where he lies down and plays dead for five minutes, but since I’m Miss movieathon, and I’ve watched too many scary movies to be fooled, I looked at him rather suspiciously and sure enough, he gets up rather nimblely and runs off across the street and disappears into some other house’s garage, they looked like they were having a frat party there. Me and my surviving friends all locked the house and looked out with scared eyes. I woke up from that dream with every nerve stretched taut and I was just like, oh for crying out loud, how is this a good way to start the day?? And with that, I somehow managed to rouse myself and went to chow down on coffee and eggs.

I am currently reading this book on improving vision naturally. It’s an extensive treatise on how to improve one’s eyesight, based mostly on Bate’s books. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had an ongoing fantasy that I would cure myself of my major physical ailment – my poor myopic astigmatic pair of eyes. It’s actually been semi-actualized one summer when I was in Taiwan. At 14 yrs old, I set about using as much of my own eyes as possible to see everything without my glasses. When I returned to the states and got an exam, my eyes did get better! However, after that time, high school and the stresses of college hit head-on and I think my vision faced a steady decline after. So now that I’m the ripe ol’ age of 28, I think I’m way past the age where vision still changes and fluctuates. So it does disturb me that it’s gotten worse still, (went to eye doctor recently) and honestly, I think it’s just bad posture, overtaxing my eyes with the computer, etc. I have a fair degree of confidence that I can improve my vision or “revert” it back to some baseline vision. The only way to objectively test this out of course is to begin a schedule, say a 3-month stretch where I work on my eyes and then go back to the doctor to get tested.

Ocean's Two Hot Men

2007-06-13T11:57:00.000-04:00

Last night I went to watch Ocean’s Thirteen because I had read a nice review of it in the NY Times. While it was clear from the beginning that even the movie maker didn’t take his own work too seriously, and this sort of bonhommie jocular attitude was evident amongst the actors too, for me, it soon came to a point where I am rolling my eyes at the unrealistic unfolding of events much as George Clooney himself, did at one point in the film.

So it’s an interesting film because on the one hand, it seemed to be a satire of all those star-studded big blockbuster films and at the same time, it is undeniably one too, unable to shed its grandiosity – it wears it like a giant monster suit.

Danny Ocean and his gang are back this time to right a wrong done to one of their own, a loopy naïve old gamer named Reuben who was screwed over by a shrewd but finicky businessman Willy Banks. So distressed by the turn of events Reuben’s heart decided to turn on him as well and caused him to retire to his deathbed. As the comrades gathered around their fallen friend, they swore vengeance on his behalf. And of course, the object of their vengeful fury is none other than a very orangely tanned Willy Banks.

The problem is, Willy Banks was not an altogether dislikeable character. He shows his pathetic and almost endearing side when it became clear how important the Royal Five Diamond ratings are to him. The way he bragged about his past awards make him seem less like a 60 year old and more like a first grader. So the gang of thirteen swoops down on his newly opened hotel (which by the way, was spectacular and stunning) and wreaks appropriate havoc on Willy Banks’ bank.

And it was all…too easy. The lack of dramatic tension is the most notable element in this film. At no point was the audience in serious concern over the lives and welfare of any of the characters. The film went down as smooth as a creamy cheesecake and required little stress or emotional involvement on the part of the audience. The film was good eyecandy however, with two studly males strolling casually down the Vegas strip, gabbing about relationships and women problems. At one point, the two of them teared up while watching an Oprah show. There are moments of self-conscious satire and really really light humor.

I walked away feeling yeah, Brad Pitt still got it, so does Clooney. But beyond the fact that I just spend 2 hours oogling two hot guys over 40, I had little else to take away from the film.

Patience

2007-06-07T17:59:00.001-04:00

People often think I am a patient person, but they generally make the mistake of confusing patience with indifference. I will admit with complete honesty that I am indifferent to many things. What some people hold so near and dear to their hearts, I am either oblivious or nonchalant about. Example? My two coworkers who care so deeply and passionately about how well their kids do in school. I nod politely when listening, and meanwhile I’m drifting 300 miles away in my imaginary Cancun. So point number 1, I am an indifferent person. But why does that follow that I am an impatient person?

I notice that I am impatient because of my general greed for faster results in a short amount of time. I want whiter teeth – instantly. I want a more toned body – tomorrow. I want to be skilled at tennis – no more than 2 weeks from now! Everything is, I want it soon and I want it at minimal effort. Of course the logical side to me realizes the impracticality of such desires. And sometimes my greed gets the best of me and I am crushed with disappointment at how slow the progress is. So point #2, I am impatient.

Point #3, perhaps my indifference is linked to impatience. If I care more about getting those results, I would proceed with greater care and patience. I would laboriously apply myself to the tasks at hand and have the patience to see things through. Since life is never black and white, an example of what I did care about: going to medical school and then the patience I had to muster up to endure the long waiting game – well, I did get through it somehow and no nervous breakdowns to boot. =)

But anyway, ultimately, the point I really want to make is, in my own best interest and in the interests of those I will serve in the future, I should switch the two characterisitcs around. I’ve gotten my share of half teases/half complaints. Oh Emily, you’re a reptile, you cold-blooded thing. You have no emotion. You’re botox girl. You hide all your feelings. You don’t care about anything. You’re a whatever girl. Blah blah blah ad nauseum. Haha, true to my nature, I didn’t care all that much about all these little insinuations and snide remarks either. But if only…if only I can learn to temper my personality more. I would choose to slide myself down the gradient from being less caring to being more caring, and then from being less patient to being more patient. Now essentially I am preaching my own favorite gospel again – how to become a better person. If only I have the patience to see it through!

Emily Antoinette

2007-06-06T17:33:00.000-04:00

Confession I am an impulsive shopper. I say “impulsive, not compulsive.” I don’t have the urge to go buy something nice for myself every week. However, after extensive self-analyses, I do realize that I tend to be impulsive when I do get in the mood to shop. The times when I am most vulnerable to impulsive shopping are when I’m in a bad mood. I remember distinctly how I was under this black cloud one day several years ago and I went to Macy’s and promptly purchased an ankle-length denim jacket – totally impractical and totally Matrix-like. As I was strutting out on 34th St and 7th Avenue in my hot new jacket, my mood skyrocketed to 100. Such is the power of purchasing something at the right moment to temper the blues.

Yet another example of how I am just one of many among the malleable herds, I too am very easily swayed by visuals and suggestions and media. As mentioned in previous post, I am currently watching this korean drama. One side effect of watching such dramas is that you always get into a more superficial state of mind as you ponder such important matters as the type of hair you’d like, the type of shirt, the next cute outfit you’d like to put on. The underlying message of all these dramas is, “you can have a million different things going on in your life, your life could be an absolute disaster, your relationships are failing left and right, but HEY, you can look cute through it all.” Indeed, more and more I think I’m falling prey to that mentality. No matter what, I better look good while life is happening.

Actually something that I’ve always fantasized about is to give my closet an overhaul. I would like to give away all unused clothing and decide on a “look” for myself. I don’t know what look I should settle for. Should it be the sex kitten look? Nah…too obvious and over the top. Should it be the over-accessorized Japanese look? Too cutesy and cheesy. The classy Ann Taylor or Talbots look? Yawner. The Forever 21 pop teen chick look? I’m 10 years too old for it now. =( This is why I’ve always kept my style more fluid and eclectic, because my look tends to match my fluctuating moods. I think I tend to wear comfortable casual clothing, but I think I need to go it up a notch. Comfort and casual is sometimes a thin line away from sloppy. Oh well, perhaps I will never decide on the “look” that I should have, but I don’t want to be one of those people who wears a black turtleneck for the rest of their lives as a fashion statement. It would be too monotonous for my ADD tendency.

The other side to my fantasy of overhauling my closet is to pare it down to the absolute essentials. I’m not sure why it is that I need 20 pairs of shoes, 30 pairs of pants, 40 skirts, a bazillion gazillion tops to function and operate. I say I am not materialistic, but here I have a walk-in closet that I find too small!! Sometimes my own excesses surprise me when I bother to think and reflect on it.

To be a Na Ra

2007-06-05T13:22:00.000-04:00

Recently I started watching this Korean drama with the somewhat awkward title of “Exhibition of fireworks.” Except for the one scene where the main characters watch a display of fireworks, the relevance of the title is at best, tenuous to the story and themes in this drama.

One thing I find interesting in the drama is the expression “Aigoo!” I think the closest counterpart in Chinese would be “Aiyaa” it’s a verbal expression of dismay, surprise, resignation, annoyance – well basically, it can be used quite liberally at the beginning of each sentence. I watch the version with English subtitles. Everything would be translated just fine into English except for this expression. So the subtitles will literally say, “Aigoo! How could do this to my daughter? Aigoo!” It tickled me to read the translations and the word appeals to me in the same way “droogie” from Clockwork Orange appeals to me.

So what have I learned from this drama? The main character is 30 year old Shin Na Ra, a woman who was dumped by her boyfriend of 7 years and then promptly falls in love with a younger guy who, unfortunately for her, believes himself to be in love with another woman. That woman, coincidentally, was the same woman that her 7 year boyfriend left Na Ra for. Now you see how the plot gets interesting.

Although not much happens in this drama besides the usual petty jealousies and misunderstandings and fits of possessiveness, what I like most is the character of Shin Na Ra. She ultimately realizes that she can’t place her hopes in men. They will disappoint, as they have demonstrated repeatedly. Instead, she has pulled herself together admirably after being successfully “dumped” by two guys, each time for the same woman no less. She throws herself into her work and she is determined to do her best at something other than relationships and matters of the heart. I applaud this determination and willingness to strive for independence and achievement.

The Korean culture is very interesting. In the home, you can see how the man tries to dominate the woman. Many times, their tyrannical father has thrown Shin Na Ra, her mother and sister out of the house. That is something I can never imagine happening in my own house. Yet on the other hand, the show also portrays a successful business woman who obviously holds tremendous power and influence over all the characters in the drama. I suppose this is a reflection of the times. Even as traditional Korean culture favors male dominance, modern influences, rising numbers of capable and financially successful females are nonetheless changing the fabric of society. In this respect, the Chinese are somewhat more advanced than the Koreans because there is less of the alpha male mentality in Chinese households and I’d like to think that we are moving towards a more egalitarian mindset regarding the gender roles. However, I do concede that among Chinese familes, there is still this strong preference for male heirs.

Memorial Day Weekend 2007

2007-05-30T12:00:00.000-04:00

Having just completed a whirlwind tour of New York City and Philadelphia, I am exhausted but filled with wonderful memories (oh man, I’m in danger of turning into a Hallmark spokesperson)

Saturday was a day filled with so many highlights, that they were virtually competing with each other to be the crowning glory of the day. Was it the adventure-filled bumpity ride en route to the wedding? Was it the beautiful, very sweetly nuanced ceremony and reception that I attended? Was it the sumptious food and multiple alcoholic beverages, pina coladas galore? Or was it seeing once again old Columbians from days of yore and having nostalgic memories flood the gates of my hippocampus? I don’t know exactly. All I remember is the general feeling of excitement and euphoria, of laughing a lot, of drinking quite a bit, of dancing and shimmying around and just having a grand ol’ time. Later in the evening brought more social engagements - dinner in lower east side and party in midtown. Through it all, I appreciated more than ever the feeling of being young, alive and vibrant and at every turn, life was brimming with possibilities. There was a lot of girlish banter and giggling of “eligible men” at the wedding – all in good fun and to the mild exasperation of one of my friends’ long-suffering husbands.

Oh New York! As I was driving from Queens into New York City on the Queensboro bridge, I was able to catch an expansive view of the cityscape that is Manhatttan. As the skyscrapers rose into view, they seemed to me proud stalwarts of civilization, standing tall in the sky as if to declare to the world their beauty and significance by virtue of their existence. Flowing in front of the building is the glistening water that danced with the rays on its surface and though I was driving, I was even more tempted to just park my car and admire the view, and butter up NYC’s already puffy ego. Sometimes before beauty, one is helplessly lost in admiration. I suspect my love affair with New York will continue for quite some time to come.

Not so sanguine after all

2007-05-22T15:06:00.000-04:00

On Friday I went to the blood bank intent on making a liquid deposit. The nurse pricked my finger to test for my hemoglobin content. Minutes later, with what seemed like genuine disappointment, she said, “Ohh, your hemoglobin is too low! You can’t donate today.” She then launched into a crusade to recruit me to join their iron study. I thought about it for five seconds and then I said, No thanks. I didn’t want to deal with all the hassles of lab tests and followup questions. Enters Sarah, a young and frank looking nurse. She tells me that even if I don’t want to participate in the iron study, she can still draw up a few blood vials and run some tests to see if its anything serious. The hypochondriac in me relented, driven as much by morbid curiosity to see if there really is anything “terribly ill” about me.

She settles me down in a cushioned seat and has me lie on my back. She asked me which side of my arm would I prefer to have the blood drawn. I pointed to my left arm. Already though, I had a glimmer of thought that perhaps I should choose my stronger, more well used right arm. This thought came and went, and later I was to regret my choice…

She starts to wrap a rubber strap around my limp, skinny left arm. She feels for a vein that pops out. Across the smooth span of my arm, not a ripple can be seen. Everything is hidden well beneath. She tells me to squeeze a rubber ball with my left arm to get more blood action going. I complied graciously (my arm being at stake and all) She seems a bit hesitant but she brings out the needle anyway. Here goes, I thought, and I braced for the painful plunge. She injects me with the needle. Yowser!! It hurts! I looked away, because I have this belief that if I were to look at that metal thing sticking into my arm, it would hurt even more. I grimaced. Seconds later, she is still peering confusedly at my arm. She pulls the syringe back and nothing. No blood. She maneuvers the needle which is, must I remind you all, still stuck in my flesh!! She tries to poke it in the northern direction. No luck. In the eastern direction, PAINFUL!! All the while, I braved these assaults on my arm with admirable stoicism, but inside, I was screaming, Dude, lady! Hit the vein already, stop digging around! She probably caught a glimpse of the agony that was my face and she said, I’m going to take this out and not bother trying anymore. She pulls out the needle, (another sharp sensation of pain goes through me) and then she peers again at my arm, rather suspiciously. She asked, “do you have ANY blood in you? “ Indeed, not one drop welled to the surface to give testimony to how violated it was just seconds ago.

After all this, I thought I would be spared further pain and torture. Instead, the next thing I knew, she turned to me, smiled and said rather brightly, let’s try your right arm shall we? I managed a weak smile. Shall we indeed.

Darkness then light...

2007-05-16T17:30:00.001-04:00

Today started out badly for me. Before 10 AM, I have found myself writing out two apology emails. One was addressed to a person whom I inadvertently stood up this morning because being the incorrigible doofus that I am, I forgot about my appointment to meet with her. This was supposed to be a little shadowing experience for me at the NIH hospital and I blew it by one too many snooze and a terribly distracted mind. =( The other email I sent out in apology was to a girl from small group who invited me to her wedding and requested a respond by date of yesterday. Coincidentally, I saw her last night and she asked me point blank if I was going to go. I had not planned to, but caught off-guard as I was, I could only say that I would get back to her on this. Then I went home and looked at the date to respond by and it was OH SHIT, oh Crap, oh goofey Emily strikes again!! Let me tell you, having to start the day off with a round of apologies is a stinky way to start a day. I spent all of this morning with a strong urge to kick myself in the behind.

However, the bright spot in my day was a seminar that I attended in the afternoon. It was a topic on the Chinese traditional medicine treatment of SARS. A historian from JHU delivered the talk and her primary focus was on how traditonal Chinese medicine practitioners frame the idea of SARS within the context of traditional medicinal views. It was both enlighening, refreshing and familiar all at once. I felt as I did back at Columbia, back in one of my old East Asian profs’ classes, engaged and attentive and absorbed.

Anyway, crux of her argument is one of a paradigm shift. It’s not a shift necessarily from Western traditional views to Eastern traditional views, it’s a shift from unilateralism to multilateralism. It’s a conscious effort to move out of one view of seeing an idea to being able to see that there are multiple ways of looking at the same thing. She points out how western medical professionals tend to view SARS within the context of a viral pandemic, an outside entity that invades a body and can be transmitted from host to host. However, within the context of traditional chinese medicine (TCM), SARS is looked upon as a “type” of condition, a wenbing, one that is a result of multiple factors such as climate, environmental conditions, one’s own physiological conditons and predispositions and that SARS is categorically a “wind-heat” illness. She also mentions how the isalis root or “banlangeng” was employed to counter the effects of this wenbing. I am actually quite familiar with banlangeng myself, because whenever anyone in my family has a cold or sore throat, they are immediately directed to make a banlangeng potion for themselves to combat the onset of the fever or cold.

Anyway, to sum up my feelings about this talk, I feel the topic has ignited my interest in understanding traditional Chinese medicine further. This is all in coherence with my natural affinity and disposition to understand more of my ethnic and cultural heritage. I have resolved before the end of the talk to begin studying this more in earnest, because it is such a mysterious yet astounding tradition to me. Even the language of TCM appears to be couched in esoteric and rather mystical language like “wind”, “heat”, “yin-yang imbalances.” My private hope is to one day achieve a level of competency in TCM to the point where I can even incorporate some of it in my future practice. But let’s not yet count the chickens before they hatch, right?

Bits and pieces of drabbery

2007-05-15T22:54:00.000-04:00

Assuming that I don't take whimsicality to a completely warped dimension, I do want to share some random things that I have either thought or encountered over the past several days.

A) Two squirrels trying to make it. The guy, overeager as usual, tries to pin the girl down and bounced on her rather enthusiastically. She fought him off and starts scampering around with him hot on her tail. When will guys know that "no" means "no"??

B) A member of my bible study group brought her two kids to join us today. Normally I'm the Scrooge's twin sister about things, but I have a soft spot for kids. Not today. I looked at those two little blond vermins suspiciously, trying to see past their innocent little angelic faces to the brattiness that lie within. I didn't find them very cute at all. Yeesh...kids...what a bundle of annoyance sometimes. The one boy won't stop whining. I thought back to my recent conversation about spanking kids as a form of discipline. That kid was definitely spank-worthy.

C) I researched how much in the hole I will be post four years of medical school. I don't know, I am usually traipsing around in my own little world and sometimes I admit that I spend money very casually. Anyhow, I realize I need to start getting more serious about budgeting. Money isn't going to spout from my wishful thinking after all.

D) Rewatched Howl's Moving Castle. It's a film that deserves its own posting and not just a bullet point among many. However I do want to quickly say that I enjoyed it immensely the second time I watched it. For what it's worth, in all its glorious idealizations of love and cheesy valor, it's a film that celebrates true beauty, true courage, true camaraderie and sometimes, a little magic can go a long way.

E) I love the word "wicked." I'm going to start peppering my speech with that word. It's just wicked good fun.

Thelma & Louise

2007-05-14T15:33:00.001-04:00

The film of Thelma and Louise is the story of a journey and a transformation of two women, verging on middle-age, who finally found themselves and had the courage to face the crumbling, sorry shell of an existence they’ve always known as “their lives.” In their fight to defy that existence, they pay a high price but it is a decision in which they will probably never regret making.

This film which started off prosaically enough, fooled the viewer into a comfortable little nook at the beginning and its humble small town feel belie its ultimate transcendent messages of transformation, of breaking free, of fighting back, of embracing liberty. You see two women, good friends, yapping at each other over the phone, planning a weekend getaway. One woman, as you can see is a neat, tidy woman, always in control. The other woman is a loosey-goosey sort, scatterbrained, packs for a 10 day vacation when she is only out of town for two. The two women couldn’t be more different, but you also know that this is the right dynamic for the relationship to work.

From that point on when they roar off into the streets, there was no turning back – though they didn’t know it quite just yet. Neither, for that matter, do the viewers.

The first turning point which turned the girls into a tailspin was when Louise shoots a would-be rapist of Thelma dead on the spot. The girls have now irrevocably stepped over the line between their past lives and their future incarnations. Living life as a fugitive, on the run from the law, had its high points. They’ve lost all chances of turning back but when they were honest with themselves, they didn’t really want to turn back all that much anyway.

A series of other unfortunate events led the girls deeper into the path they had accidentally strayed onto. In between reflections on their vastly transformed selves, they actually take moments to enjoy the freedom of where they find themselves. At one point, they were driving down the freeway and they marveled to each other that it was “some” vacation they had been on. Then they grinned at each other and they shared a wonderful moment of complete camaraderie.

The final scene in the film was brilliant and beautiful. As had been evident for some time now, they crossed a line way back when and there was no turning back for them, either physically, metaphysically, socially, psychologically, whatever. There was beauty in the simplicity of having no choice but to go forward. And go forward they did, into the abyss, into the future, into an infinity that awaits.

My Poster Session

2007-05-09T20:36:00.001-04:00

Today I participated in a poster exhibit at NIH and very proudly displayed my not-so-successful-thus-far research project, only one of among hundreds of very nerdy, very earnest research here. I can say unequivocally that my poster carried the distinction of being the simplest, most childish looking poster there, with its large fonts and even larger pictures. I took a quick walk around and every single poster had no less than 5-6 complex, color-coded diagrams, fluorescently dyed cells and iridescent scientific imaging. Everything was so high-tech and sophisticated that my poster was very much the shabby cousin amongst its rich and flamboyant relatives.

Much like my amusing speed dating experience a while back where I had the dubious fortune of sitting next to this buxom, vibrant Australian redhead and thus had to endure the veritable traffic jam that piled up as guys lined up very patiently to get her number, at the exhibit, I’ve had the similar pleasure of watching people congregate at all the sexy looking posters AROUND me while I stand there, neglected, lonely and sad.

Just kidding! I am being a drama queen, true to my nature at its core. The truth is, I had a few people come up to me and ask me decently intelligent questions about my research. Hopefully, I was able to articulate my research in a clear enough manner. Most people went away, if not bowled over by the genius of my research, at least very pleasantly happy that they found everything easy to understand and digest.

This rather cute guy approached me at one point and we had a pleasant conversation. As it turned out, he’s attending the University of Maryland School of Medicine and I told him that I wanted to go there, but didn’t get in. He laughed and told me that a friend of his wanted to go to Drexel but didn’t get in. We both shook our heads at the bewildering phenomenon otherwise known as med school acceptances. He said he wasn’t loving the city of Baltimore though, to which I comforted him by saying, well at least you can look forward to an awesome library. I said that not without a twinge of envy, because I truly was very impressed with Maryland’s library.

The other standout person that I met was this Chinese guy with a mop like hair. He works for the FDA and is interested in small, silencing RNAs. He approached me and began asking me questions in Chinese. Now, folks, explaining science in plain English was hard enough already. Imagine that I had to explain it in mandarin Chinese!! I did my best but a couple of times, he asked me some questions to which I had no frickin’ clue what the hell he was referring to. I was only able to shake my head apologetically and say, “Bu zhi dao” and then I apologized for my Chinese but to be perfectly honest, I probably wouldn’t have understood the same question if asked in English. The great thing about this guy was that he got all mystical and he said it is his belief that RNAs are the original genetic materials on Earth and that it precede both DNA and proteins. Not only that, RNAs, he asserted, were introduced to Earth by extraterrestials and thus, that was how life began on Earth. I listened to all this in awed silence, because it felt surreal to hear of such sci-fi beliefs at a science convention, at the NIH no less. But whether or not there is any validity to his beliefs, I really can’t say. However my encounter with this person definitely stood out in my mind as one of the more interesting encounters I’ve had in a while.

Emily rant

2007-05-03T17:04:00.000-04:00

The other day I was watching this television show where an exclusive interview was being conducted of the 2004 Olympics women’s tennis (doubles) gold player Liting, from China. Having lately acquired a real predilection for tennis and all things tennis related, I watched the program with piqued interest. My interest soon turned to disgust however when the television host, sitting there looking all pale and smarmy, decided to zero in on one specific topic: the color of Liting’s skin. Now, she’s no southern magnolia with cream colored skin, that is true. However I looked at her and my first impression isn’t, My God, look how dark she is! Nyuk nyuk nyuk! But this television host decided to turn to her college-aged studio audience and proceeded to conduct her own little survey. She goes, “How many of you find dark-colored skin attractive?” I rolled my eyes but I continued watching. Of course like 90% of the audience prefers pale skin, because Chinese people are just biased like that. This one guy did stand up and profess his particular preference for dark-skinned girls because he asserts they look healthier. Anyway, it just dragged on and on and to be perfectly frank, I thought what the TV host was doing was insulting to her guest of honor. This woman was clearly in need of a crash course in basic professionalism and perhaps common decency. Why instead of focusing on Liting’s tennis triumps and sorrows are we focusing on the color of her skin?? Who cares about her skin? She’s not in the running for the title of palest beauty in all of China after all. What relevance does that have to her tennis ability? Really, if I could roll my eyes more than 360 degrees, they would take a road trip to California.

Lawn-mowing

2007-05-01T16:06:00.000-04:00

It is curious function that once a person is able to defeat the powerful stagnating force of inertia, momentum kicks in with relative ease and agility. All this mumbo jumbo is just to say that I finally got my lazy arse to the yard the other day and faced down the lawn mower in a contest of willpower. The first five minutes were the most frustrating because the mower refused to start. I grabbed that handle and boys and girls, did I pull and pull! I nearly yanked my own arm out of my sockets actually and if the mower could chortle, it'd be rolling on the grass at all the effort I was expending. After about 5 minutes of futile struggling, I finally wised up and actually read the instructions. It said to push this button five times (a cold start primer) and then like a lazy tigercat, it purred to life. What beauteous music to my ears at that moment! However the giddy feeling of success lasted but a nanosecond as I started pushing the mower across the fat, overgrown fur that is our lawn. Soon again I was pushing the mower in what seemed like an uphill battle. I held on to the mower with tenacity however and even though the tremors of the motor were pulsating against my palms, I just kept right on going. I amused myself by cutting patterns in the grass and then going in concentric fashion til I hit the bulls' eye. 1.5 hours later, I managed to give my lawn a successful haircut, very brisk, businesslike, no fuss. The whole time I was doing it, I was also plotting how to become super yard girl by mulching my trees, pulling out weeds, killing off the evil little things taking over the front of our yard, trimming the hedges and so forth. But at the end of 1.5 hours, with my hands literally shaking and numb from all the "massaging" action of the mower motor, I told myself that he who paces himself lasts longest and there's no sense in trying to do it all in one day. With that in mind, I bid my yard responsibilities a pleasant adieu and went on to enjoy the rest of my day in reverie.

This guy

2007-04-27T13:50:00.001-04:00

I’ve been wanting to blog about this one guy for some time now. Every once in a while, on my way to work, I’d pass by this bus stop and see this guy just standing there waiting ostensibly for the bus. He is a trim, clean-cut and neat guy in his 40’s, with light gray hair. He would invariably be standing there and he would play with this one metal ball, the size of skeeball. What he does with the ball is very tai-chi like, he would undulate his arms and have the ball travel up and down the length of his arms and he would have the ball travel to the tip of his hand at which point he would let it flow very gracefully to the other hand. It’s difficult to describe what he’s doing with the ball, but it requires great control, dexterity, grace and balance. Generally speaking, he allows the ball to flow down the front and the back sides of his hands and the overall effect is like the ball is dancing in the air very close to his arms and hands.

In all this time, I’ve yet to see him drop the ball. But Alas! Today, he dropped the ball! The ball then rolled into the street and he very nimbly hopped into the street to scoop it back up. Because the red light allowed me to stop right next to the bus stop, I very shamelessly indulged in voyeurism by watching the whole incident in its entirety.

The other thing I like about watching him is that, he seems so focused on what he is doing as to be completely oblivious to all the gawking passerbys, such as yours truly. He just does his own thing and exhibits very tangibly that sometimes lofty, sometimes elusive thing called “independence of spirit” so trumpeted by proud Americans. More than his skills with the ball, I hope to display that spirit more and more as my hair slowly makes the shift from black to gray.

Dr. Paul Farmer's talk

2007-04-26T16:57:00.000-04:00

One of the things that I find fortuitous about working where I do is the wealth of opportunities to go hear interesting talks given around campus. Today was one of those blessed days when I was actually able to hear Dr. Paul Farmer, live and in person, give a presentation about the work he has been doing to deliver community-based health care modules to the very destitute in Haiti, Rwanda and other such places.

Dr. Paul Farmer did not disappoint. With his studious look but boyish voice and mannerism, he gave a very buoyant talk that was punctured with clever little jokes. You can tell this is a guy who thinks quickly and who thinks deeply. He is impassioned and he is not afraid to point out what he thinks is completely absurd or ridiculous.

This is in sharp contrast to the very measured, rational and almost banal tone that most researchers/scientists have when delivering a presentation on the protein mediated transport through cellular membrane in s. cerevisiae for instance. He has a bit of a bulldog approach to adhering to his vision of what rural healthcare should be like. And he said quite frankly that he’s not afraid to just tell patients what they need to do to get better.

Of course, there are already enough people out there singing his praises, so I think I won’t devote my entire post to just that. Judging from the size of the audience there today (I had to stand for a whole 90 minutes and if you know me, that’s asking a lot of me), he is a man widely admired and known at least through the NIH community.

Anyhow, this talk gave me a good reminder. Whatever it is that we want to do, we should pour our hearts and our souls into them. For people like Dr. Farmer, with the brains, the energy, the vision and the abilities, he can go very far with dedication to boot. With smaller, more modest people like me, with perhaps ½ the brain of his, with 1/3 the energy, with ¼ the vision and 1/5 the abilities, I can maybe at least go a third as far as he’s gone with the proper dedication and heart and single-mindedness, and that’s probably farther than I would ever go if I were just to wander aimlessly through pleasure or comfort seeking corridors. So it’s not so much that I want to go out there and save the world in typical superman fantasy-like machismo. It’s more like I want to create my own niche where I can achieve my own modest goals.

Scribbles et al.

2007-04-24T14:57:00.000-04:00

Lately all I can think about is how to best jam in everything I want to do before medical school all within my schedule and at the same time, fulfilling all the various obligations of my multi-faceted roles within society. So far it’s not been working out too well.

I even got an organizer. I find myself compulsively making To Do lists. The problem with To Do lists is that, prioritizing them is very important. I’ve not yet mastered the art of prioritization. Therefore, I’d find myself dilly-dallying with low priority tasks like organizing my latest collection of clothing and meanwhile, forgetting to ah..well, let’s just say, neglecting some more important and pertinent tasks at hand. I’m also horribly and unrealistically ambitious. I want to swallow that elephant whole. I want to go to the gym and work out everyday. But as soon as I don’t make it to the gym one day, I am super annoyed with myself and then pretty soon, I don’t go for a week. I don’t know why it’s always a do or die for me, I guess at heart, I am a binary creature, not making enough room for the inevitable fallacies of human nature.

Sunday, I went to play tennis. It was a gorgeous day, a day you’d imagine to be the typical lovely day someone in the Great Gatsby would be able to enjoy on a lazy afternoon, it was warm, breezy, perfect for sipping lemonade and sitting out in the shade. It was however, a bit warm for tennis. So there I was, playing tennis, all the while wishing I had the wisdom to bring a little cap to protect my “southern belle” paleness. Just kidding. I am the black sheep in my family – quite literally.

So there I was playing tennis and I was conscientious about not breaking out into an all out sprint after every ball. I knew for one thing that it would be too much for my poor beating heart to exert so much effort. I proceeded to play a lazy man’s tennis. Any balls that are too much out of reach, I’d just let it go, quite contentedly. I noted philosophically that it’s not unlike my tendency and approach at life. I’m no bulldog that’s for sure. But on the other hand, I’m pleased to report that I’ve gained some measure of control and grace whenever I do make contact with the ball, and 8 times out of 10, the ball is a nice smooth shot back into the opposite court.

Today I took my folks to the airport. En route, I made an illegal left turn, mostly my fault of course, but it didn’t help that my easily excited Dad yelled, “Left light!” and caused me poor head to spin in confusion momentarily. So I gassed the pedal and proceeded to make a left turn and very narrowly missed being (I was in the path of collision too) made into Emily hotdog. We made that narrow escape and all of us suddenly had the feeling of having been through an Indiana Jones episode. It took a while for the collective nerves of the Yenstones to calm down. Then we were on our merry way again.

And so it is...

2007-04-19T18:12:00.001-04:00

What now, can be said about the massacre that occurred this past Monday at Virginia Tech? I read an article on the New York Times about how Korean-Americans are immensely uneasy as the news of the massacre trickled out and revealed a psychotic Korean-American who was responsible for such brutality. Indeed, they should be uneasy. The American public hasn’t been known to be very kind to the colored races in general, whatever their range of colors may be. I am not surprised that bigoted white Americans will take this opportunity to let their long repressed racism rise untempered to the surface and explode in the form of expletives uttered at the Korean race, or hate mail, or property damage, or even physical violence. That’s how an emotional, unrational world operates, an eye for an eye and these people would feel properly justified to give voice to their inner bigot.

What’s more so, I am to some extent uneasy myself, wondering if strangers on the streets will take me for a Korean and randomly beat me up for an event that truly has nothing to do with me OR my race. But this isn’t an issue of race and it never should be. It’s an issue of mental illness, social isolation, deeply simmering anger and dysfunctionality. I also read in the papers about how the family is supposed to be a very nice family, helps neighbors shovel snow, etc. That’s all well and nice, but I can’t help but think, they really could have done more on their end to prevent what happened on Monday. But as someone very angrily and cogently pointed out, (see jason’s blog), it’s not exactly useful at this point to play the blame game.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the families of those who were gunned down this Monday. I can only imagine how dark the world seems right now to those that are in mourning. I saw one picture of a grandmother gazing with forlorness at the picture of her beautiful grand-daughter, only 18 years old and now dead. As for the family of the killer, I don’t even want to imagine what they must feel now, having raised and contributed to the society their monster of a son. Yes truly, this is a tragedy that appears to lack the least bit of redemptive value.

Onward brave soldier!

2007-04-16T11:41:00.000-04:00

Recently I learned of a phrase that I found intriguing. The term is coined “counter-factuals.” I first learned of this phrase while listening to a series of lectures on the History of the United States as presented by The Teaching Company. It’s a wonderful companion for the early morning rush hour and I highly recommend it to everyone.

In any case, the term “counter-factual” was used to denote the speculation that had Japan not attacked Pearl Harbor and enraged the roaring beast that is America, then Japan may have been able to hold on to its massive Asian empire that stretches from Korea, through many parts of China and almost all of Southeast Asia. When I consider that scenario, I do shudder for all of Asia, because it would be a vastly different world today and everyone would be speaking Japanese and all non-Japanese Asians would have been second-class citizens in the hegemonic Japanese empire. I would never have been born in Taiwan and never would have immigrated to America and never would have started my hobby of blogging and in short, I would not be here today.

Of course, that is where the “counter-factual” comes in and douses muddled heads with a splash of cold rationality. The truth is, this is mere speculation and too many events could have occurred in place of a nonexistent Pearl Harbor attack that it is simply presumptuous at best and imaginative at worst to conjecture such a scenario.

But as I tend to be moralistic in my blogging, I would venture to say that the active use of such speculations occur commonly in our everyday lives and could use a dosage of counter factual realizations. I often fantasize that had I not chosen A, B or C, perhaps I would have ended up in med school years earlier. By now, I would have been almost finishing up residencies and I would have saved my mom and dad the multiple gray hairs that they have had to spout during the course of my meandering. But true to my sheep nature and my wandering soul, meander I did until I finally meandered to where I’ve always, at the bottom of my heart, wanted to be. Yet is it true? Is my regret founded on something quite untangible, too many layers of speculation and uncertain factors? Yes, I would have to say that is possible. Had I not chosen A, B, or C, I may very well have chosen D, E or F and ended perhaps even farther away from my very original goal than I am now. I may have meandered still farther into the pastures of exploration and who knows? I could still be in Asia, teaching English, traveling with the Peace Corps, convinced myself that I should become an English teacher, worked my way through an East Asian studies PhD, ended up marrying a philosophizing hippie and traveling distant lands. Or I could decided that practically trumps all and gone back to school and got a degree in something useful and marketable, be spit back out in a couple of years and proceed to climb the corporate ladder.

All these speculations, no doubt can be boring to people unrelated to me, but I just want to demonstrate the endless possible permutations of life unfolding. This is all to say that, it is best to think of life in this manner. All that has happened was meant to be. All the choices that had been made were meant to be. Some were erroneous perhaps, but they can provide a lesson well learned. Some will prove to be beneficial in the long term, though were painful in the short run. The best thing that counter-factual has taught me is to steel myself against useless regrets and lamentations. And with this belief, hopefully I can be instilled with bright hopes for the future. The best is not what has not happened in the past. The best is what will happen in the future.

More to this life perhaps

2007-04-12T13:39:00.001-04:00

When two or more females congregate together, invariably the topic of conversations turns to relationships and the subject of love. This has been my experience time and again with all my female friends. In fact I cannot really think of even one female friend with whom I have never discussed this topic. People talk of male bonding over beer and football, but for women, there is ever only one thing that truly glues: the subject of men.

Which brings to me to my second point and lately, a point of ire. Is it possible that we women focus too much on members of the opposite sex? What finally is the endless intrigue and fascination, what is all the to-do about these creatures? Men are just men, boys are just boys and truly, in and of themselves, they are not all THAT inexhaustibly interesting. I suppose I can chalk it up to the age old evolutionary drive in all women to establish a healthy and robust nest for her future egglings. Therefore, with so much at stake, it is endless exciting to discuss the ways to figure out what relationships are all about and what makes for successful, good, lasting relationships. As for dysfunctional relationships, well, one can’t possibly understand what is good about a “good” relationship until one thoroughly analyzes the myriad ways in which a relationship can flounder and dramatically sink to the bottom.

Really, women approach the topic of relationships with the microscopic zeal of the craziest, maddest and baddest scientists out there. They scrutinize every angle, they comb for underlying meanings, they sniff for the unsaid implications, and they concoct fantastical theses on what a man really means when he says X, because of course, he can’t possibly only mean X.

I don’t know if I can offer any true insights on the topic of relationships but I think one very cliched phrase bears repeating here. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Lord knows life is stressful enough as it is as we juggle our career aspirations, being good friends to our group of hyperstressed female friends, fulfilling our various obligations as good daughter, good sister, good girlfriend, we really need to at some point learn to let the little things go. In other words, don’t be anal and resist the urge to psychoanalyze every thing your guy does. At least psycho-analyze something else that might be more interesting – like what is God thinking today? Yeah, the big Kahuna up there deserves some more scrutinization than I confess to giving to Him recently. But I do believe that.

I think I will make it a personal point to NOT talk about relationships every time with my various friends. Maybe we will talk about famine in Africa, the gross neglect of the Japanese government to make sufficient reparations and expression of regret over its atrocities, the latest movies, the unique style of Jack Keroauc, etc etc. With so many things under the sun, we are doing ourselves a disservice by being overly myopic about our focus.

Here’s a list of things I would like to do before I head off to boot camp in the Fall.

1. Finish editing my video of Grandpa
2. Donate like 25% of my clothes, or sell on ebay, I won’t mind the extra cash
3. Donate 50% of my books to the public library – decluttering is on my mind recently
4. Find good housing in Philly
5. Plan an awesome vacation for July
6. Read every single book I have recently checked out from the library – 10
7. Help rehaul my house’s sad little lawn, currently overrun by evil little weeds
8. Re-memorize all the countries of the world, I’ll do this every year til I’m 80
9. Mmm…more to come when I think of them

The Namesake

2007-04-09T14:03:00.001-04:00

Saturday I went to see The Namesake, a film by Mira Nair. I came from the film with mixed feelings. Firstly, this is one of the few films that I watched that made me feel like I was watching a three-day serial in one sitting. It was like watching the third installment of LOTR, the film could have ended probably half an hour before it finally did and not be worse for the editing. That said, there are moments in the film that I really enjoyed, and I have to agree with Stephanie Zacherek of Salon.com that the two brightest jewels of the film were the parents, who came together in India and immigrated to America to begin a new life for their family.

Whenever the two of them share the screen together, the poignancy of the moment deepens and thickens. The time when Ashima locks herself in the bathroom to shed a few self-pitying tears at being scolded by her newly wed husband for shrinking his clothes at laundromat illustrated the typical domestic disagreements of any young couple. What was particularly sweet however was how the husband, immediately chastened, coaxed his wife out of the bathroom by cooing a litany of little sweet nothings, “my ashima, my crazy ashima, come out, my sweet sweet ashima.” Inspite of her tears, she starts to grin nonetheless. It was not only a realistic portrayal of a young couple, it was a glimpse into the tenderness that the two shared.

As a first generation immigrant who was raised in America however, I can empathize deeply with some of the themes of this film. I can understand feeling both ashamed and proud of one’s ethnic heritage and the jarring conflicting feelings of this duality. I can also understand seeing a person who is Caucasian and mainstream in every way and feeling like we are light years apart in terms of our life perspectives. At times, that feeling occasionally turns into outright rejection (as Gogol did to Maxine). And even as I do so, I am meanwhile sipping my Starbucks mocha latte, surfing the web and chatting on my cellphone. I am no more or no less different than I choose to think myself to be. I can also somewhat empathize how the parents must feel whenever they look at their children and see only strangers. Surely at times my own mom has looked at me in astonishment, thinking, “How on earth did I give birth to this…creature?” Because as if the generation gap isn’t a wide enough gulf, often there is a cultural gap, contributed in part by the environment I grew up in, a world vastly different from their own.

The film by Mira Nair is the film of every middle-class immigrant who has sought a new life in America. The film highlights the tension for children caught between the old and the new who are not sure, often times, which way to go. For all its good intentions, it sometimes became overly ambitious, trying to say too much at once and ending up not getting anything very clearly across. The film would have benefited from slowing down, splicing out unnecessary footage, and forming a stronger cohesive vision. Yet irregardless, it was nice for me, as a Chinese-American, to sit through a film about an Indian-American and to realize, aah yes, I can relate. I’ve been there.

Call me Emo

2007-04-05T15:41:00.000-04:00

When I was in middle school, I once observed a feud that developed between this Asian girl and this semi-white trash girl, we will call her WT girl. It was junior high and the middle school I attended at the time wasn’t known for its stepford children. Some pretty mean kids from the ghettos of Maryland suburbia attended that school. So the feud between these two girls got intense. In the locker room, I observed as sixth or seventh grade girls surrounded this Asian girl and then dished out ugly and hurtful insults at her. Her looks, her body, her b.o., her choice of sexual partners even. I don’t remember what the insults were, but I highly doubt they were all that original or creative. Nonetheless, it was quite painful to watch this girl get bullied. She was clearly outnumbered and ostracized.

WT girl kept talking about “beating” her up and “kicking her ass”, classy comments like that. So the big day arrives and the two of them faces off in front of a large crowd of people. I was one of the onlookers. Even before WT and A girl started anything, A girl starts crying hysterically and says brokenly that her mother told her that she shouldn’t fight because it wasn’t the Christian way. That Christians don’t fight and aren’t violent. I swear, I’m not making this up. So WT girl goes up to her and pushes her around, roughs her up a bit, but almost uncertainly and half-heartedly. All the while, A girl has her face buried in her hands and she was crying, but she didn’t hit back.

I guess I’m relating this story now to illustrate two things. One, I’m a big wimp. I didn’t try to stick up for her at any point in the game. Granted, she wasn’t my friend and I had no real obligation to, but I did think it was wrong that everyone picked on her. I guess WT girls had a lot of WT friends. Anyway, the mob effect can be kind of scary and for a 12 or 13-year old kid, I wasn’t looking to join the party and get some nasty blows coming my way.

Secondly, I think ever since then, I developed a protective shell of my own. Although this incident had really nothing to do with me, I experienced it somewhat vicariously and I was always scared to think about what if I had been that A girl and I had to be bullied or pushed around by a whole mob of angry, overly hormonal teenage girls? Case in point, back in elementary school I was quite a tough little cookie. I got into fights with kids before, mainly because it was like a knee jerk reaction. You don’t like what someone said? Just push them. Pretty soon I earned the reputation, well undeserved, of being “the one you don’t mess with.” But that was after all elementary school. Then the small fish graduates to go to a bigger pond and there, she sees all these scary ass big and tough people that she doesn’t want to mess with either. Then she realizes that she is a small fish after all and contented herself to floating quietly in the background, to avoid the predators. I am now that fish.

Ah yes...updates...

2007-04-03T11:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a highly satisfying day. I saw the culmination of a few years’ of hard work and intense innard knotting. I have to thank many people who helped me get to this point in my life and truly, I consider myself a lucky lucky girl.

Last night I made the very deadly mistake of rubbing toothpaste on an emerging pimple in the effort to dry it out faster. However, I compounded on that mistake by putting a band-aid on it and then going to sleep. It became a sauna and hotbed for the pimply virus all night and this morning, I woke up to a grossly mishapened face. I was all hot and panicky as I tried to mold my face back to the way it was before. Then I had the brilliant idea of pressing ice on it to make the swelling go down. As I’m writing this, my face has thankfully resumed its erstwhile shape but I now have a big ugly flaming red something or another in the vicinity of the pimple. I’ve even taken ibuprofen to tame the reaction. The score at this point: Emily 1, Pimple 4. But the war will go on.

Woman, your name is cuckoo

2007-03-30T16:11:00.000-04:00

My coworker told me about this girl in China, who is 28 years old. When she was 16, she once had a dream about Andy Lau and ever since then, she's lived her life for him. She recently went to some official Andy Lau fan club meeting and everyone there got to pose with Andy Lau for a picture. however, she wanted to be able to "talk" to Andy for a longer, more intimate, one-on-one session and was, unsurprisingly, denied permission. Get this...enraged, her father jumped off a cliff and committed suicide. The daughter is now demanding that Andy Lau apologize to her family, read the suicide note and then arrange to spend alone time with her.

I'm sure I am missing some details but this is seriously where major thresholds between sanity and insanity have been crossed. Now I don't feel so pathetic about my own life.

Dental Day

2007-03-29T13:50:00.001-04:00

Today I went to the dentist to replace a loose filling. She gave me a shot or two of novacaine before proceeding to wreak all sorts of damage and havoc on my tooth. Okay, she probably was just trying to clean all the gunk out, but with her pliers, and picks and tiny tooth filers, I swear a whole mine crew was in the caverns of emily’s mouth, digging for treasure.

Curious thing about having a numb side of your face – when I touch it, it feels really soft but it also feels like I’m touching dead flesh. I try to rationalize that this is what it feels like to touch my face, from another person’s perspective. But the more overwhelming impression was that, I was touching soft, pudgy and slack meat. It felt really strange. Also, I think this must also be what it feels like to have a stroke and have one side of the face collapse from damaged nerves. I was never so happy to enter once again the world of actual feeling, of pain sensors, of movement and agility. I guess I experienced vicariously a little bit of what death must be like.

I need to start taking better care of my teeth. Flossing, rinsing, brushing, whitening – the whole works! The other day I was told that I wasn’t making enough of an effort to make myself “hot.” Despite my heated protestations and indignant retorts, I guess I have to admit that I’m a slacker about that sometimes. But tomorrow is a brand new day as Miss O’Hara famously said, and tomorrow is a good time to start becoming the hotness that is somewhere deep inside yours truly, waiting to be excavated, waiting for its day in the sun.

Tick tock

2007-03-26T17:38:00.000-04:00

The waiting game has turned a new corner for me and like a roller coaster, I feel like my heart is in my throat and my stomach some 10 feet below me. I can't say I relish the feeling overly much. There is, in that agony of being suspended, almost a despondent, morose desire to just rush to the end, no matter how badly that end may be. Because nothing can be quite as bad as having to hang there, right before the impending drop.

Somewhere in my head, the two words "intervention prayer" dance around tantalizingly. If I pray hard enough, do you think the outcome will be favorable? I know it's not the way to go, and I know God is no Santa. Yet, this is where the logic loses its sway, to some degree.

Okay, I'm just babbling forth complete garbage. As Philip in Of Human Bondage would say, (crossly I may add), "Oh you do talk rot!" I do indeed sometimes.

This is because the outcome greatly matters to me, I must say. I readily confess that, even as I have no intention of disclosing what such outcome pertains to. Those who are close to me know what I am talking about, so that's all that really matters. I just want to sit here and wail about the difficulty the hardship oh the torture! But then again, I think I'm getting a bit nauseated by how cliched I sound.

They say that what does not kill you will make you stronger. Hmm...will this make me stronger? Tougher? Or just more wilted? More defeated? I guess only time will tell. But to be more scientifically accurate, seven days should be about right. To be honest, I know I will be okay either way. Sorry for all the theatrics earlier, folks, it comes and goes you see. I have an inner dialogue with myself pretty much all day. Okay fine, okay I will be okay. I just want to brace myself for the worst and hopefully, by sheer willpower, bully it away. HAHA. This is wishful thinking on steroids.

A little bit of Michael Scott in…

2007-03-23T14:34:00.000-04:00

Let me introduce the character of Michael Scott, from NBC’s comedic show, The Office. It is sometimes difficult to put your finger on him and predict exactly how he will react to certain situations. For people he likes, he turns a blind eye to their faults and to the people he really really likes, he comes across as painfully needy and emotionally dependent. For the people he does not like, he is the cardboard cutout of a jerk and an insensitive clod.

Michael Scott is all I.D., he simply does what he feels like doing. Sometimes he feels like a heterosexual and behaves accordingly. But I believe there are times when he feels like swinging to the other end and he just does, his feelings for men can be just as intense as they are for women.

His ego is so blatant, it’s practically and (literally) in one episode, a second head on his shoulder. He wants to be liked, he wants to be popular, he wants to be known as funny and he gets extremely upset when he feels like he is going to hurt someone else, that is, only when he actually realizes that he might upset someone else.

Perhaps the best way to describe him is that he is a vulnerable, obnoxious but still needy 10 year old stuck in the body of a 40 yr. old. Somehow over the years, his mental age has failed to keep step with his physical age.

On to a more self-reflective note: there is a little bit of Michael Scott in everyone. I see a little of Michael Scott in GW Bush, because I’m willing to bet two dollars that GW Bush thinks he’s a pretty well-loved president, despite strong evidence to the contrary. I see Michael Scott in the quirks and nooks of the people around me, and certainly there is even one in me. There are definitely times when I feel like being a jerk to somebody simply because I felt like it and there was no better reason for it. There were times when to some people, I want to display a clingy, desperate “like me like me” side (okay, that doesn’t happen very often) but usually on the rare occasion that it does, I usually dredge up sheer pride and the last vestiges of dignity to refrain from such behavior. When I was five or six for instance, I remember going to a family friend’s house in Canada. There were these two older girls there and I was so eager to impress them, I was talking a mile a minute, gabbing happily about red firetrucks or something to that nature. It was the first time in my life I remember wanting to impress. The two older girls seem mildly amused by me and decided to pay attention to me and that made me feel triumphant. I remember brushing off my mom when she tried to come talk to me, because I wanted to bask in the attention of these other girls. That was my most distinct memory of being a complete sycophant and since that day, as I said, my pride overcame my I.D.

Michael Scott is not without pride either. He floats around in a universe of his own making, where he’s the best-looking, most friendly, funniest and most importantly, well beloved manager at DunderMifflin. It’s a good thing he suffers from a poor memory because he always manages to forget the times when his employees openly laugh at him or defy him or exclude him from their activities. He has an uncanny ability to see things the way he wants to see him. He is married to his self-delusisions.

This brings me to my final point. Michael Scott represents some of the worst qualities of adolescence – selfishness, inconsideration, desire for attention and adoration. A character like Michael Scott is the perfect foil to exasperated, alert Jim, who watches all these shenanigans and then turns to the camera to produce a wry face. If I may say so in my defense, there is at least a little bit of Jim in me too. =)

Reflections on choices

2007-03-21T12:15:00.000-04:00

In Chinese, there is an expression “yi bei zhi” which denotes a “lifetime” or in some cases, “forever” and “eternity.” Sometimes this is used in the context of “you will regret something” for “yi bei zhi.” Back in the time of my grandparents’ and even parents’ generation, they believe in making so-called “right” choices early on in life or else one suffers the consequences forever and ever (or at least for the rest of one’s natural life.) There is a certain, unspoken but tangible dread of taking that one wrong step, down a slippery slope, and for what one will regret bitterly afterwards.

For instance, the other saying is “nan pa ru chuo hang, nu pa jia chuo lang” which signifies that the worst thing a man should fear is entering the wrong profession, the worst thing a woman should fear is marrying the wrong man. Because, these are mistakes that will resonate a lifetime.

I was just reflecting on how that is no longer true in today’s day and age, and especially no longer true in America, the land of opportunity and the land of second chances. In my relatively young life so far, I can sense that had I lived in a different time period, some of the choices I made earlier in life would no doubt be a curse to me to the day I die. However, because I am fortunate enough to exist at the intersection of time and space where it is indeed possible to reinvent myself on a daily basis, to redirect the forces of my destiny and alter the direction of my future based on the exercising of my will, well, what can I say, in this respect, it’s great to be an American.

Therefore, the term “yi bei zhi” has lost most of its power and terrorizing element. That term does not mean as much today as it once did. What is “yi bei zhi”? 10 years, 20 years, 30 years? At any point, you can change the old yibeizhi to a new yibeizhi. Of course, I’m not unaware that as with any change, sometimes the baby really does get thrown out with the bathwater (since I’m using all these aphorisms, might as well keep right on going) and sometimes, the eagerness with which people embrace new things, change, excitement and just perhaps, something different from their humdrum lives may cause them to also throw away something that they will regret losing later on. So it’s as with many things in life, a double-edged sword, the power to choose, the power to reinvent yourself and the power to put something down and pick something else up.

So just to borrow from Spiderman’s wisdom, “with great power, comes great responsibility.” Only if you exercise your power wisely can you say that you are making the most of the opportunities given to you, instead of becoming overwhelmed and dominated by the plethora of bewildering options and beckoning sirens. Be wise, my friends, be wise.

Conditioning Disaster

2007-03-20T13:24:00.000-04:00

Last night I decided to condition my hair to a beautiful luxuriant shine. I shampooed meticulously, got out, towel-dried my wet hair and then raked some conditioning cream into my hair. I then wrapped my head into a shower cap to let the moisture really soak in. The instructions say to let it sit in hair for five minutes. I thought it would be fine to go for sixty instead (because I’ve been brainwashed by society to think that more is always better). I settled down and chatted with my friend. The call ended up being over an hour and twenty minutes long. After this extraordinary exercising of tongue, I decided to call yet another friend and tongue exercise another 40 minutes or so. After that, I lay back on my bed exhausted and promptly dozed to morning.

I woke up the next morning with the horrible realization that I had slept all night with a very wet, very moisturized head. It may have been psychosomatic, but I literally felt a headache coming on as I imagined all that moisture seeping into my skull, penetrating the deep recesses of my neural cavity. I wonder if I have done irreversible damage not only to my hair but even more distressing, possibly to my brain. I then leapt into shower once more and prompty doused my poor soggy head in hot water for five minutes.

Epilogue: So now my hair feels somewhat more substantial, heavier. I still feel cold though and the chill may entirely be in my head. The moral of the story, don’t be such a putz about these things, sleeping all night with an insulated mess of wet slimy hair is no fun at all!

Kiss Me, Kate

2007-03-18T18:15:00.000-04:00

Friday night I ventured off into Northeast DC to watch a play rambunctiously titled, "Kiss me, Kate!" It's a play within a play, about a production company putting on the show of The Taming of the Shrew. The lead roles were to be played by a man and a woman who were once married but have since divorced. Onscreen, the man plays the suitor who must "tame" the woman, Kate. Offscreen, the man and woman fight like cats and dogs, often going for the jugular. Still, it is obvious they still have strong attachments to each other. How the offscreen romance is resolved directly affects how the onscreen romance crystallizes in the final act. The breaking point for the man is perhaps the famous "spanking" scene where, onscreen, the man, as Petruchio, gets so fed up with his ex-wife's verbal and physical abuse that he grabs her, flips her over his knees and gives her a thrashing. It is unclear to me whether or not the thrashing was supposed to take place in the actual "Taming of the Shrew" although it fit in with the theme rather well.

Now I have a question for my dear readers to ponder. Are shrews typically portrayed by skinny, hot-tempered women? For reasons I can not comprehend, but somehow the image of a corpulent, fully resonating woman doesn't quite mesh with the image of a shrew. This shrew was no different. She was skinny, angular, flat-chested and very plucky. She sang a number called, "I hate men" to rousing applause. However, there was something in the way she carried herself that was very crone-like and off-putting, not in the least feminine and graceful. Still overall, I enjoyed the show. I especially enjoyed the number where three suitors dance around the gorgeous Bianca (the shrewish Kate's younger sister) asking for her hand in marriage and she blithely sings,"I'll marry any Tom, Dick and Harry." They proceeded to do the train, with her at the forefront, wiggling her head side to side and chanting, "Ah Dickety Dick ah dickety dick!" That was funny. Of the plays I've watched in the last year or so, the common thread that runs through them is how bawdy and naughty they can be.

U4eeya!

2007-03-13T15:46:00.001-04:00

Today is such a lovely day! I went out during lunch and as I was driving along, I noticed the plate in front of me. I couldn’t resist the urge to say it out loud and then it clicked! What a clever little way to say the word euphoria and how apt it is to encounter this word on a day like today, full of sunshine and good cheer.

Yesterday I was doing my taxes, very grudgingly I might add. Emily was NOT full of good cheer then, especially when at the end, I saw how much I owed. So began the mad scramble to check and recheck figures and data entry, trying to see how many more deductions I can squeeze back from Uncle Sam’s grubby hands. I saw a place where I could list my expenses for having some sort of aquamarine oyster farm and that if so, I could get not just deductions but actual credits! It’s so random that I had to smirk. Usually I think of tax incentives as the government’s way of encouraging certain practices or behavior. I guess this was the (state govt)’s way of encouraging us all to grow our own pearls.

The Office

2007-03-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

Lately I was bestowed the gift of "The Office." At first I wasn't thrilled with the mockumentary style and the whole talking to the camera bit. I'm not sure that actually adds to the show. I also had to get used to the lack of music accompaniment because there were awkward moments in this show that appeared all the more awkward for the dead silence that occurred sometimes in its trail.

That said, I think I'm catching on to the genius of the show. It is in the little movements and the unsaid portions. These people, who think they are participating in a documentary of their daily workplace, usually put on a particular front to present a side of themselves to the audience. But when they stop talking, when they look down, or away, or pause uncertainly, that there is the gold.

I just saw a scene for instance of Pam talking to the camera, telling them how she wants the best for Jim and wants him to find somebody to be happy with, etc. Then the next scene shows her finding out that Jim has a hot date for the weekend. She smiles in an effort to appear supportive and casual and then walks back to her desk. Later on, she puts on some gloss and looks both self-conscious and dejected. Feelings of inadequacy and loneliness and perhaps a touch wistfulness? Not one word, just a gesture.

Currently my favorite characters are Pam and Jim, not hard, they are the only two remotely likeable, more fully-fleshed out characters at this point. Dwight is too far left field for me to relate to and Michael Scott ranges from being mildly annoying to extremely obnoxious. But I'm willing to bet that out there in the real world, there are more than a few Michael Scotts floating around. The only question is, do they know it too?

Encountering Pan's Labyrinth

2007-03-09T11:51:00.000-05:00

Last night I finally watched the film I’ve been curious about for some time now – Pan’s Labyrinth. Ofelia, the female main character reminded me of Violet from the film “A Series of Unfortunate Events,” an altogether unfortunate film in itself. Both girls have the chestnut dark brown hair with very pale, very delicate complexions and oddly sensuous and full lips for a child. The child was luminous.

The film takes place in Spain during a particularly tumultuous time when two warring factions struggle to gain control of the country. One side has become the guerilla side, the other side seeks to claim legitimacy through organization, manpower, and uniforms. Yet essentially, we see this is a country at war and spies and undercover agents abound, as in most wars. Similarly, torture as a means to extract information was readily employed, which mercifully, we were mostly spared from. This was a dark, dark film, with an ominous undertone throughout. Even when the fantasies of the child led her into an enchanted and creepy netherworld, we as the audience are conscious throughout that true evil is not within that kingdom. It is outside and everywhere else.

I was extremely tickled by the appearance of the mandrake root in this film. The mandrake root was placed in milk, upon which it became an imitation baby, flailing its little plant stubs around and wailing like a child. It was adorable. When I was a kid, I watched this Asian drama where a little “mandrake root” walked around and all the villains fought each other to consume this delicacy. A four-year-old girl or boy played this plant. It was adorable too, often tripping from one place to another, and was only capable of saying, “Ya yaaa Ya yaaaa.” It relied completely on the kind fairy to protect him from becoming someone’s medicinal herbal broth.

What to say about Pan’s Labyrinth? It is a beautiful film, with tremendous creative energy employed in the birth of certain monsters. I shall never forget the grotesque figure of the mummy like creature with eyeballs in his palms. His bloodstained finger nails were a great touch too. He was almost too exotic and interesting to be truly terrifying. The part that was no fun at all was the gory, sickening aftermath of a captured and of course, mutilated guerrilla, who pleaded to be killed in the end to the doctor. Death, in this film, appears to be a blessing and a gift. The film may well be saying that, only through that portal, shall we enter a kingdom infinitely richer and more majestic than what life as a human can provide. After watching this film, I can’t say I disagree.

Thoughts before lunch

2007-03-08T11:38:00.000-05:00

Today an angry man tried very hard to ruin my morning by irrationally and rudely blaring his horns at ME for letting people cut in front of me, as we made a single-filed trek up the ramp to the freeway. I debated whether or not to shake my fist at him, for all the good that would do. I couldn't bring myself to seriously ponder flicking him off. At first I wasn't even sure what gender this angry creature was, and I thought it was a female. So I muttered a few gender specific expletives under my breath. Then I look closely and it was a man and I quickly switched to the other gender specific expletive and also uttered a silent apology for females everywhere.
It was such a stupid incident though that I think I am doing him too much of an honor by even bothering to memorialize this incident on my hallowed blog grounds. Stupid man, you need to be slapped.

I've been reading the best Travel writing of 2006. A woman went on a daring journey to Lhasa in a rickety broken truck driven by a silent taciturn Chinese man. They had to carry their own gasoline because there weren't exactly rest stops along the way. At one point, the trucker managed the incredible feat of setting himself on fire because he had gasoline all over him. But being stoic and strong, he apparently continued to drive, third degree burns and all.

I also read about this American who went to Japan to partake of the ancient art of tattooing. He made it sound all mystical and profound and sacred. The Japanese are very good at turning the ordinary and the mundane into high art. They are also very good at being disdainful, whether deserved or not. In any case, they look down on American tattooing and believe theirs to be supreme. The tattoo master uses something crazy like 10 needles bound together to pierce the skin. The person being initiated into this crazy ritual must bear the pain and not show one grimace or cringing, so as to earn the respect of the master. Masochism was never a foreign concept for these people.

Updating for the sake of itself

2007-03-06T20:59:00.000-05:00

I just came back from an interview up North. It was a pretty good drive both ways, I thanked God that I wasn't stuck in traffic at all and that, I didn't have to resort to slapping myself to stay awake, as I have had to do on previous long drives. The interview itself was pretty decent. I think my faculty interviewer liked me enough, though for 10 nerve-wracking minutes, I had to ramble on and on just to "tell a little about myself." I also had a student interview by this Taiwanese Asian kid. He seemed a bit tired, he explained it was his second interview for the day. Anyway, I had the feeling I didn't knock his socks off, but hopefully he liked me well enough to reocmmend a green light. Such power in the hands of the little ones. I probably should have tried to squeeze more of a connection with him regarding Taiwan, falling back on good ol' common ground, but something told me that he wouldn't fall for it.

The night before I had dinner at this awesome sushi place called 1225 Raw. or maybe it's just called Raw. Anyway, I can't recall the name exactly, because it was soo freakin' cold last night that once I was outside, my mind began chanting, "must get inside must get inside" in an obsessive liturgy. The special sushi rolls were fantastic though and my palate was greatly pleased. I also enjoyed the ambiance. The only thing I disliked was the so-called "mochi" dessert at the end, which is by now, the epitome of clicheville for Asian consumers. Maybe it's still suppose to shock and awe the rest of America.

Mom's friends

2007-03-01T16:42:00.000-05:00

Last night Mom had some guests over for dinner. I sat around after dinner and listened in on the conversation among these "adults" as I like to do. I often think that it amuses me to hear what other people have to say and then reflect on what type of person these people are. The husband has a slow, deliberate way of speaking. His sentences are logical, ordered and neat. You can see that his mind probably operates like that too, in a very deliberate, step-wise fashion. He recounted the experience of his father, who passed away last year after spending five months in the hospital. Some of the experiences must have been painful for him to recount, but he was very in control, very calm and placid. I admired his calm. I also realize that I want to think like him, in a step by step, logical manner. I don't like having undercurrents of thought that act like a monkey scrambling around wildly, from one point to another. It takes great effort to grab ahold of that monkey and keep it planted firmly in one place, all the while, it's struggling wildly to break free and scramble about again. I digress, bad monkey!

So the wife of the dynamic duo is an interesting character too. She talked about her experiences child-rearing. She had two daughters, roughly around my age. Growing up, she disliked the sound of crying. When her younger daughter would cry (after being whipped around), she would tell the girl to go into the storage room and cry, so she didn't have to hear it. However, this one time, the girl wouldn't stop crying in the room and she kept hearing it, so annoyed, she went to the room, yanked the girl out and promptly gave her a second beating. Her daughter, feeling very wretched and wronged, said, "you told me I could cry in this room!" and her loving mother snapped, "Yes, but you were crying way too long. You were just asking for another round!" Holy Canoli, I didn't know Moms come in such shapes and sizes. I mean, I thought my mom was a fierce one for once breaking the hanger in beating me and my sister up, but that probably only occurred once in my life. This mom makes my mom seem like a gentle lamb.

Regardless, now we can look back on such times and laugh (especially me, since I never had to undergo such a treatment).

Lean years ahead

2007-02-28T14:30:00.001-05:00

Lately with typical narcissistic zeal, I realize two things. I’ve gained weight! I have color on my cheeks, overall, I’m looking healthy and well-fed, maybe too well-fed. But I console myself that I’m like a penguin, I’m trying to get fat during these months before med school (aka the lean years) and hopefully by the end of four years, I would not shrivel away to nothingness. I’m trying to stockpile on the blubber. Like most girls, the reason I can feel my expanding self is through squeezing into my skinny jeans. Hitherto, none of my jeans are “skinny” per se, but now, putting myself in these jeans in the morning has become very much a “sausage making” experience, if you can picture that imagery in your mind.

I heard a good sermon recently, courtesy of my monkey sister, who thought her sis could use a little financial wisdom 101. The main message by the speaker was, “saving” money means keeping money with you while “spending” money means removing money away from you. Very simple message right? Funny how people don’t really get it, yours truly included. In the past years that I’ve worked, I realize that I’ve exercised very poor money management on the whole and well, let’s just say, this message is very timely. Before I jump into this pit called higher education and bury myself alive with hundreds of thousands of med school tuition debt, it may help to have a little financial management know-how to weather the “lean” years ahead. At the very least, I should try not to take a shovel and too gleefully dig an ever bigger hole to rest in all eternity.

Mmm…got to know a nice group of ladies last night, most of them seem either my age or slightly older. Almost all are married, one’s expecting. We are going to study the Bible. Now, I have to admit that I don’t have the most religious temperament on the whole. From a positive standpoint, you can call me a free wheeling spirit, not given to being tied down by dogma too easily. From a negative standpoint, perhaps it’s also because I’m a lazy pug. But my intentions are good. I very earnestly hope that I will get something out of this by the end of three or four months. Like some of my friends right now, we are all, one way or another, embarking on some spiritual quests in search of greater truths.

Two anxious teenage mothers asked me today of my opinions regarding AP exams, high school grades, college competitiveness, etc. I could barely stifle a yawn. I realize how little I care about such things and because they seem so very unimportant to me, it was hard to fathom why these two mothers flutter around these issues like their lives depended on it. Then I chided myself for my lack of empathy. Obviously they care because they care abour their precious poodles. If poodle enters community college, well then, all hope and dreams are dashed. Okay, I’m being harsh. Anyway, my point is, I don’t know whether or not your undergrad colleges really have to be so great. I do think that wherever you go, you can choose to make the best of it..or not. So in short, much depends on the poodles’ own mettle. Same goes true for you and me, folks, in all stages of life.

2007 Chinese Lunar Year Performance

2007-02-25T15:45:00.000-05:00

Friday night I was privileged to be invited to a show put on by the Chinese Broadcasting Arts Company held at Strathmore Music Center in Bethesda, MD. Such a distinguished acoustical hall in suburbia Maryland brings pride and joy to all Montgomery County denizens. Even to a musically challenged person such as myself, I was impressed by the glass or crystal panes that hung in the high ceilings of the music chamber to bounce or reflect sound to all parts of the dome. It paid off prettily when singers on the stage expanded their lungs and brought forth mellifluous notes to grace our eardrums. I was on the "upper tier" which is about four stories from the stage. My coworker next to me brought a handy pair of binoculars, that's how far away we were, the people were lego-sized to me. But enough gab on the surroundings, let's get to the meat, shall we?

My personal favorites of the show were: six dancing mermaids on the stage, in iridescent glittery blue green sequined costumes. They wriggled so delightfully up and down, giving a visceral impression of really swimming in water. I am astounded once again at the possibilities of a human body and its feats. I wish I could wriggle like that.

Another performance was given by this charming young man, singing about paper airplanes and going home. I don't really know what the heck he was singing about, but he had a nice singing voice and with the help of my friend's binoculars, I got to see his nicely chiseled features as well.

My third favorite performance was a skit by a husband and wife duo (on stage and in real life). They were "divorced" and both ended up going online to search for a second love. The skinny, effeminate husband called himself, "GORGEOUS MAN" and the middle-aged wife portrayed herself as having Gong Li's dentures and Zhang Ziyi's lips. Naturally, they ended up on a blind date together and more than a few sparks flew. It was very funny. The guy was also really effeminate.

My fourth favorite performance was by this woman who goes onstage and starts to yodel. It was incredible how high and clear her voice was and how fast she can yodel. She spoke a completely insane language of notes and pitch -- before hers, my vocal chords will surely develop an inferiority complex.

Through this entire performance, I felt a bit like Polly in "An Old-fashioned Girl", all excited to be dressed up and "going to the opera house." There was a tinge of glamour in the air but I realize it's only because such an outing is rare and far between for me and I always relish it when the opportunity arises. I also realize of course that if I were to make a habit out of going to shows or operas, say, on a monthly basis, it would soon lose all magic and excitement. Therefore, best leave it to the rare blessed occasion and allow such things to retain their eternal appeal.

The Great White Tower

2007-02-25T15:12:00.000-05:00

Last night I finished watching this Japanese drama about two physicians. The ending was perfect. I cried. I was intensely moved by the entire story and more specifically, because the show attempted to define what a good physician entails. Overwrought and anxious as I am about my own future career, watching this provided me a timely reminder that, ultimately, my goal is simple: I want to become a good doctor, and that, is entirely, up to me.

I was also genuinely touched by the mutual respect and fullness of feeling these two main characters (both physicians) have for each other. It goes beyond friendship, it has rivalry, and jealousy and competition, but also, tremendous respect, concern and care. In Chinese, "zhai hu" comes to mind. They very much "zai hu" each other, because they are conscious that on some level, they are yin to each other's yang. They are engaged in a battle of will, a dedication to their art, and loyalty to their own creed, yet at the same time, they long desperately to reach out and touch the other person, obtain their approval and understanding, or somehow land on the same page. In the end, their differences outweighed their similarities, or perhaps, they shared a true fondness for each other that overcame their vastly divergent beliefs. They were bonded to the end.

Jaded and cynical and stone-walled as I am to mawkish sentimentality, this drama resonated a stirring within me and I felt compelled to respond, or at least, to turn it over and over in my brain until it hurt. Even as I watched the weakness of Zaigen Sensei for fame and glory, I confronted the exact same vein of pettiness within myself. I'd LIKE to think I can be like Satomi Sensei instead, a Japanese male version of Mother Theresa, selflessly devoted to the sick, the tired and the poor. Between what I'd LIKE to think of myself and what I truly am however could not exist a wider gulf.

So I am humbled by this drama and I am reminded of what my own destiny will be. Fame, fortune and glory? Maybe not in store for me. But perhaps, if I keep my focus on that which is most important, my destiny will be fabuleux indeed.

My MogHam moment

2007-02-22T14:51:00.000-05:00

I stayed up til past one last night, reading Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham. Since this is my personal pick for my book club, I am naturally more inclined to spend the time and effort to read this book thoroughly. So far, because this book is over 600 pages long, the members of my book club are struggling a bit, but I have confidence that we shall overcome.

Funny coincidence. I was in the lab on the weekend and ran into my ever so diligent coworker. Before I was heading off, I decided to introduce Maugham to him, because good things ought to be shared. As soon as I mentioned his name and showed him the book, he grinned and zipped out of his bag, The Razor's Edge, also another book by Maugham, and one of the first books I had read by him. We ended up, of course, having quite a lively discussion of Maugham.

So why do I like Of Human Bondage? I guess because I can relate quite intensely to Phillip, the introverted but voracious reader born with a club foot. I am quite aware of course that I carry with myself my own cross and symbolic club foot. In any case, Maugham is not only an astute observer of the human condition, he's also so so good at putting into words some of the more nebulous feelings and sentiments that lesser minds like myself have encountered, but nonetheless was unable to package into verbal maxim.

My personal nightmare, as I've mentioned before, is to have the sum of my life put together in a succinct paragraph or two, and that the paragraph happens to be mainly filled with negatives and that it also happens to be quite dead on the mark. That fate befalls perhaps 98% of all characters in Of Human Bondage.

Topics that were covered in OHB include passion, lust, pretentiousness, self-delusions, disillusionment, contempt for artsy-fartsy denizens, waste of life, true love, healthy love, unhealthy obsessions, self-anaylses, critical assessments of others, etc etc. The list goes on and on.