The Road to Wimbledon

Continuing the sudden Tennis faze, my non-tennisplayer friends and I have been even more hooked on the game as of late. Well, don't blame me. I have always been an avid follower of Grand Slams - I can't say the same for the others. I'd like to think, like what LX said, that I sparked this trend, but then again, it wouldn't do to be THAT full of yourself, or anything like that.

With the Roland Garros rounding up and coming to a stylish end, I have started discarding my immense distaste of Rafa Nadal since this tournament. No one probably deserved to be at this Final more than he did, and he had emerged the strongest fighter amongst all the top-seeded players this time round, for sure.

I might even *GASP* consider watching him play Soderling in the Finals tomorrow - amidst my procrastination from digesting some real medical stuff (don't even get me started) - although I am pretty sure Rafa could probably just carry the trophy home right now.

MI (Myocardial Infarction, Heart Attack) Inducing Event of the week had to belong to Wednesday when Djoker crashed out on me right before my very eyes after I switched to watching Nadal's match because the streaming sucked and because I was quite certain that 'Djoker would be alright'.

Don't even get me started.

There were a few strokes of genius from the man (who was a shadow of his Australian Open '08 Champion Self) but generally, he failed to impress.

I have to say this again: ARRGGGHHHHH!!!

Okay, done. I am done clinging on to the past. Djoker is out. I will move on and look towards Wimbledon.

Despite the universal fact that I would be in the same city as this massive Grand Slam, and having known that for almost a year now, plus all those trips on the bus past Centre Court on the way back from GP and so forth - it had not fully sunk in until NOW.

Now I am excited! (Yes, kill me. I will do anything to procrastinate, including rave about a sport that I don't even play. Even the World Cup seems to fade in comparison. But we'll go there another day).

So....fastest fingers into play. Ticketmaster. Night before. Hyperventilate. Exams....what exams?

Centre Court, anyone? ;)

AND in collaboration with all the Tennis Festivities, it only seemed natural to come up with a Poll.

Who Is Your Favourite Tennis Player?

My 'Roland Garros'

I have been diligently watching any Live matches streamed on BBC Sport that I can get my hands on to be in tune with the Roland Garros fever. It is amazing how you can just sit there and watch them drive those powered shots down the line, across the court, pound those aces....and you almost, ALMOST imagine that it was actually that easy and you could achieve all of that too.

Like I said, reality bites. I have never been a gifted athlete, and your mid twenties isn't exactly the best time for any of that to change.

So after 10 or possibly 12 years of not touching a tennis racket, I decided to try playing the game again. Much thanks to Chekkie for lending me her racket.

Prior to today's scheduled game with LX and friends, I remembered again how easy it was for me to be obsessed with the game all those years back - which was why my cousin and I decided to beg our parents to let us join the tennis club and take up lessons.

I have been much deprived of tennis matches with no TV in my place...but I remember how easy it was to OD on the Wimbledon, on the Australian Open - shouting to myself while watching them play, or most of the time....gaping in awe at Federer and his complacent composure. I remembered as well, how I went overboard buying tennis outfits, mixing and matching the skorts with different tops - I should have sensed my shopaholic tendency back when I was a mere 13 year old teenager - to be decked out in the fanciest tennis gear possible, only to drop the game after less than a year.

So, today, my first dapple at tennis after a decade proved to be....interesting. I had underestimated how different it was to squash in terms of speed and the height of the ball bouncing. Of the importance of body positioning and how difficult the tennis backhand was. And how I could not even hit a single ball straight down the line - which was shocking because this was my specialty in squash.

I had forgotten how much I missed being able to play racket games regularly, whenever I wanted, with people who could actually play the game. It took me this long to realise how much I missed playing at the National Squash Centre with Bikash and Chui Munn and other people who could play. And it took me this long to remember that JH was a tennis player, not a squash player, and that I should have probably started picking up the game when he was still around.

Oh well, it's never too late to start. I have missed being sporty. I have missed being athletic. And even though I am no regular multi-talented athlete at heart, I am willing to give tennis a shot. Who knows.....I might turn out to be a shadow (at most) of my Djoker ;)

RPK in London

PS: Excuse the frightful quality of pictures. This was the most my BB could do.

Last weekend, Hanna and I decided to be EVEN more insightful and learned and attended a political lecture by 'hardcore' (some might even go as far as infamous?) Malaysian blogger, RPK (Raja Petra Kamaruddin) at the BPP Law School in Holborn. Much thanks to LX who informed me that he was speaking that Saturday - the pseudo Malaysian that I am does not follow Malaysia Today. Time to turn over a new leaf. What say you? ;)

I did not regret attending the lecture at all. Was a little skeptical at first. Again, emphasising on the 'pseudo Malaysian' bit in me, there was little that I actually knew about the Internal Security Act (ISA) apart from the fact that, well, there WAS an ISA in Malaysia. But then I realised, this was almost as though I was going to meet a Malaysian celebrity in London *puts on Bimbo cap* and definitely not a chance to be missed.

The two hours flew by without my realising it, and I was enthralled with every single word that he spoke. It is possibly rare, and shocking even, to find a writer who is equally charismatic, captivating, unafraid to speak his mind with an equally fabulous sense of humour to boost - and RPK was all of the above AND more. My Saturday was made just by laughing aloud at his quips of sarcasm and dry humour, and my heart went out to him when he recreated the horrendous scenes of the detention centre. That much courage, I certainly did not have. And kudos to him for that amazing showcase of indigence, or more simply put in his words 'being a stubborn bastard'.

On the previous 'bimbotic' note, you know that you are in a celebrity's 2 metre radius when he is flanked by two massive, sunglass-clad, scary-looking, KGB Member Lookalikes who stood on either side of him throughout the entire event, and even escorted him into the lift at the lobby before it began. Again, because I have been watching and reading radical, political and terrorist-themed material all weekend (read: Munich), this made me realise how easy it would be for someone like him to be in a great amount of potential danger, because there were as many people out there who probably thought of him alot more than merely a 'stubborn bastard'.

End note: There is much that we lament every day about our country and the state it is getting to these days. How corruption used to be a thing of deeply-sworn secrecy in the past, but now the cheating even went on with the cards on the table. People think that the government is screwed up, and a tsunami of a change could bring about 'revolution'. I say this is true theoretically, but it isn't all as easy as it sounds. And coming from me, who is almost pseudo Malaysian (only in terms of Food, I insist!) and lacks patriotism rather significantly - all I can say is that I wish I had done more in terms of following up on politics and getting to know the country better before this.

After all, home is still home.

And Malaysia, TRRRUUULLYYY Asia, is mine.

Insight

In the midst of some late-night skyping with bestie Pei Hua on Friday, I came across the 1972 Munich Massacre while randomly googling stuff on Wikipedia (Don't ask me how I got there. I certainly wasn't googling 'Crazy Terrorist Acts of the 20th Century'). And this reminded me of those years back when I watched the movie 'Munich', starring the very endearing Eric Bana, with a bunch of guys, and was so horrified by all the violence and shooting back then. Did not, I might add, gain much insight into the actual historical event that this movie was based loosely on as well.

So, in my resolution to be more learned and insightful, I thought I'd download the movie again and re-watch it through different, more perceptive eyes.

Good move.

Even reading text of how the 11 innocent souls were so brutally slain during the 1972 Olympics on German soil had sent shivers down my back. To imagine yourself as one of those who was awoken in the midst of beauty sleep by gunshots and blood spattering on the wall, only to find yourself bound and dragged along to impending doom. But watching snippets of the massacre as flashbacks in the movie was an entirely different thing. By the end of it, I was horrified and incredibly sad. Both by the inhumanity of the terrorists and the huge fumbling of a rescue that the Germans had so clumsily executed.

The aftermath was of course, an entirely different tale of its own. A part of me realised this is possibly how schizophrenics actually COULD go off reeling on a different direction of their own. And how doing something as innocent as walking down a dark, rainy alley on a London road or picking up a telephone call could just end in bloodbath.

My point?

I'm not entirely sure I have one. This weekend has been filled with alot of reading of non-medical related stuff (KILL ME NOW), revisiting History, reviewing political pages, reading blog entries, listening to political lectures....but we will go there another day....and of course, catching up with my best friend.

And we have both agreed that life is short. We only live once. So seize the moment and make the most out of it.

No emo nemo. Time to buck up!

Ahoy Sailor!

You know summer is here when the sun pokes through your blinds at the unearthly hour of 5 am, waking you up, and at the very next extreme, you look up at the clock, only to start and realise it is 9 freaking pm, and you have not done any work, because you thought it was merely 7 pm or so.

Ahhh these summer days.

I grabbed the opportunity of not having to go into the wards and meet patients on Wednesday to prance into lectures / tutorials with my much-awaited unveiling of summer attire for the season - shorts and gladiator sandals, which got quite a number of comments from fellow friends. Lol. Sorry, this is what sun deprivation does to you.

One of the summer trends that I have been coveting after, and which have hit the streets hard this season, however, has got to be the Nautical look, which Hanna and I both have a huge thing for.

After much scouting around the High Streets, I finally got my hands on a nautical-inspired, striped shirt - and I love it already! I was able to dress it up with high-waisted black pants and a bib-style necklace to make it hospital-worthy for meeting patients on the wards; and on the other hand, I could possibly just throw it together with one of my many pairs of shorts or with three-quarter rolled-up chinos for a laid back look.

I love how it is so easy to pull off, yet defines that preppy look almost in an instant. Definitely my style! No-fuss yet structured.

I know the Nautical look isn't something particularly new - in fact most designers come up with Cruise Collections every summer, and I was first introduced to this by none other than the Fashion Queen herself, Blair Waldorf in Season 1:

Remember this look?

I don't think I'm quite ready for that, though. That would take some serious strutting of style, and an inch-perfect figure to date. So for the moment, I'll just stick with the understated and this:

So....what is your favourite summer trend?

The Foodie Club

I have never been a Foodie. Trust me, coming from the person who invented and popularised the 'Water Diet' (and has now failed to stick to it herself), there are many times when I eat something and I have entirely No Comment, for the simple reason that I can't really be bothered. Unless something is undeniably, glaringly bad, most of the stuff pretty much taste the same to me. In that way, I am no picky eater. But at the same time, I could do perfectly fine with foregoing alot of food as well.

But contrary to JH's popular belief and kind volunteering on my behalf that 'She doesn't eat!', I have improved tremendously in the past few years or so. Much thanks to my many food adventures with Pei Hua, Keng and Nick. (*ahem*loushufancoffinshop*ahem).

My biggest achievement to date, though, has to be our visit to Archipelago last Friday. I had been slightly apprehensive beforehand upon reading about scorpion, zebra, kangaroo, ostrich dishes, but decided what the hell. Hey, you only live once right? And since the restaurant gave Daph so much grief with its seemingly ever-full reservations and constant changing of our reservation times, I figured it had to be worth this hype.

And it didn't fail to disappoint, really!

(Pics credited to Daph and her amazing DSLR)

Menus in the form of Novels!

Kangaroo (Possibly the unanimous Favourite)

Zebra and Soba Noodles

Crocodile wrapped in leaves

Wildebeast

Next up: Foodie's Festival on 28/5/10 at Hampton Court.

I foresee the pounds piling on already. Might have to consider resurrecting the Water Diet after all these :)

Those Lovely Tresses

It is insane how fast my hair grows! Four months since my last haircut and I absolutely can NOT stand it already.

ARGHHH. Might just chop it all off next week. I foresee myself turning into Rapunzel by the end of July and boy, it is not a pretty picture, I assure you.

Long, long hair is definitely not my thing. DEFINITELY NOT.

Anymore of this and I might just go crazy and hack it all off....neck-length, bob-style. Pfftt.

Au Revoir. Till We Meet Again.

Had a fabulous fun-filled afternoon belting my lungs out with my 4 fabulous friends who so kindly offered some Singstar therapy to lift my spirits. Here's to Wei, Matun, LX and YL. You guys are the best! And also, kudos to the hidden talent of YLH who vehemently refused to participate, only to turn out to be a POPSTAR. Heheheh ;)

Weather unfortunately took a turn for the worse this week. Goodbye to shorts and coatless scurries to and from the hospital. Pfftt. I spiked a bit of a temp on Monday, which explained my incessant complaints of the cold in Hammersmith and to and from Heathrow. Seems to have turned into a bit of a flu as of now, but ahh well. I can't really be bothered about Vascular Surgery anyway. Have been in a bit of a 'cant be arsed' mood since Monday. I would rather spend some of the time working on more Learning Objectives rather than faffing around doing nothing productive I reckon.

So much for being an emotional roller-coaster. So much for the gung-ho enthusiasm that I maintained throughout Colorectal Surgery. So much for really enjoying the rotation. So much for earning a medal for not letting my guard down and shedding any tears for the whole week prior to Monday.

I guess I shouldn't really complain. I had purposely planned my Monday so that I was free and so that I could max out the time possibly spent with JH right until he left. And I was perfectly fine for most of it. Maybe it's because it is Wednesday night and just a week ago, we were eating my failed attempt at reinacting Kch's authentic Kolo Mee and reminiscing about the good old times for a full 4 hours or so, and I even ended with an optimistic "It's okay. I'll see you soon."

And now my couch is filled with a good 6 kg worth of clothes/shoes/laptop bag/laundry bag/hairdryer/glass (!)/and laptop manual guides that I had lugged back from Heathrow because I had predicted this massive excess in baggage weight, and I felt that it was the least I could do to prevent any panic or lack of better judgement on the spot.

Maybe because the past few years have flown by just like that, and it had never occurred properly to me that one day the reality of Farewell would appear right ahead.

Maybe because you will always be one of the only people in this world whom I can click so well with and who can make me laugh genuinely from the heart.

And you will always be irreplaceable in my heart. BFF, Greatest Friend Ever. Buaya. HPY. Whatever.

Thank you for everything. For all the good times. For all the patience despite my thoughtless tantrums. For picking me up when I needed support the most. For helping me find myself again. For all the laughter and 'intellectual banter'. For just being there and being you.

And hopefully you will come back soon and we will meet again :)

Retrogade Amnesia

Close your eyes.

I'm closer than you think. You're closer than you think.

Yet every time I think of you, I die, a little.

-

I cannot remember anything.

I remember nothing.

I have forgotten Everything.

Shingshing in Tenerife

April 1st - April 4th 2010

Rocking the Canary Islands with my favourite girls in the whole wide world.

Here's to 5 years of unwavering, rock-steady friendship and more :)

I miss the sun, the sea and you girls already XX

Lost, and Found

This wall was one of the few things that I loved best at the Tate Britain. LX and I spent a good 15 minutes staring at all four walls, trying to figure out which quotes we liked best.

So many of them struck chords deep in the heart. A couple actually sent a shiver down my back.

If I had four empty walls in an empty room, I would do the same.

For the first time in ages, the GG episode triggered something within. Remarkable, by GG standards because it has been churning out empty-headed stuff for a very very long time. When Vanya declared his reason for loving Dorota being that he was 'the best possible person' whenever he was with her, I teared with Blair. When B went out to proclaim that she did not like who she had become with Chuck, my heart went out to her.

Deja Vu. I am reminded of the scene in the bar last Monday when we were drinking into the dead of the night - a feat which I still hold as a true accomplishment, with me leaving at 3.30 am and waking up at 7.30 am the next morning for PBL.

JH's evident disappointment and vehement declaration of my momentary lapse of judgement at a certain point in time triggered irrational emo responses on my part. I was defeated. Emotionally and verbally.

But all is not lost. Like he said, We all learn from our mistakes. Such is life.

From trying to become someone I was not, to losing sight of my priorities, to trying to mould something into shape that we never meant to be.....to paying a price in the end.

From someone lost, to someone found.

I am almost completely there. Welcome back, Alyssa Sim. And hopefully you will be here to stay forever and always.

Shingshing in Venice

Of Gondolas, San Marco's Basilica, San Marco's Piazza, the Rialto, Murano, Gelato-overdose and the lot.

Some of the more memorable moments:

This pic definitely deserves a caption. Reinactment of Gossip Girl's 'Lunch on the Met Steps'. Lol.

(Note: No one sits higher up than Queen B. Lol ;). Jokes! I am kidding myself. I can be Queen Blair in my dreams).

And my possible favourite picture of all: 'Holding Hiro Hostage'. Dangling Keng's toy above the sinister murky waters of the canal while he watches on helplessly. Hahaha.

Too much fun in a week-long Easter break. Much-needed though.

Thank you my travel buddies. Take care you all, and may we all conquer this thing called Medical Finals :P

People Change, Places Stay The Same

My laments to JH about how quickly time just zoomed by were completely genuine. Indeed, it had seemed like just a while ago that we had watched the first leg of Liverpool vs Man Utd for this season. Who would have thought that that was all the way back in October.

How much had changed since then?

Liverpool had gotten progressively worse, to the point of possibly no return. From Champions League title contenders to the Europa League.

The dreary English weather had turned from its unbearable frostiness to sunny, bright skies and more amicable temperatures (bar yesterday's rain).

The company with which we watched the first match had been modified drastically as well. How ironic was it that at the end of the day, it was only JH and I who remained the constants in this silent film of scenes changing through time.

I told JH I refused to visit the same 'GG.COM' bar that we had watched the first leg in, for reasons that were blatantly obvious, to me and him. I didn't want to be reminded of a time of transient happiness, only to be in the same environment and realise the brutal reality of the present.

So we rewrote memories. And these will be around to stay for a very long time.

Even though Liverpool played horrendously and offered no real threat at all after Torres's goal at the 5th minute. Even though the final score justified defeat compared to the first leg's triumphant victory of 2-0. Even though the only possible real entertainment of the entire match was watching JH squeal with excitement about Park Ji Sung and letting him 'educate' me about how superior Man Utd was to Liverpool. Even though my good luck vibes did not work at all this time around. Even though I had not followed football in so long that my knowledge had deteriorated beyond mention....

I would say that this time I was able to leave the place with a genuine smile.

And remember that Man Utd vs Liverpool will always be associated with only the best memories ever, even if they are not in Liverpool's best interest.

I think we have definitely come full circle. Period.

Push, Climb, Go

"They take pictures of mountain climbers at the top of the mountain. They are smiling. Happy. Ecstatic.

They don't take pictures along the way. 'Cos who wants to remember the rest of it?

We push ourselves because we have to. Not because we like it.

The relentless climb....The pain and anguish of taking it to the next level. Nobody takes pictures of that.

Nobody wants to remember.

We just want to remember the view from the top.

Because it's worth the pain.

It's worth anything."

Who would have thought that I would have gravitated towards Lexie Grey amidst this season's drama and turmoil.

I'll get to the top some day. I will.

Gratitude

To my bestest friends in the whole wide world :)

To Jenn, for the simple act of being so concerned and entertaining me on MSN just to make sure I was alright. Thanks so much. I haven't spoken to you in ages but when we do talk it is as though time had never moved an iota. I have missed you tons, and I'm glad I have sort of managed to keep on par with your updates regularly, but I will write you that long email soon just to keep you adrift with my shenanigans. Alot of the time, when I encounted fair-weather friends in my life, I am reminded of you and our friendship and how it was built to last - and that no matter how sporadic our conversations may be, I am indefinitely here for you as you are for me :)

To Manda, my one-in-a-million, Pri1-through-F5, and favourite person in the whole wide world, for calling me alllll the way from Adelaide despite the time difference and your being so exhausted. Even though we only dwelled on the serious bits for a fraction of the conversation, the entire hour or so was therapeutic beyond words! I miss you heaps.

To Janey, who has so kindly shared her similar experiences with me and dished out all her sentiments just to assure me that it was okay to be not okay. Thank You. I will email you / speak to you online soon, even though I wasn't there when you left me those msgs....but I am beyond words trying to describe how much they meant to me.

And finally to CK, whose simple BBM of concern meant soooo much to me, plus the sharing of her stories - short as my stopover was at her place, really hit home and reality, and made so much sense that I was amazed at how sometimes you just need another person to point out the obvious to you, even if it was something there all along that you never saw yourself.

Not forgetting as well, the rest of my incredible friends for their support / texts / well wishes / concern. I have not gotten around to telling everyone yet, but I will eventually. I am infinitely grateful to have friends like you all. And not to worry, I have shed one of the final few tears for my grandfather, for now at least.

'He who does not weep, does not see.'

I remembered one episode of OTH where there was a death in the school and someone quoted this phrase from Les Miserables, which I found to be suitably appropriate.

Thanks again, people xx

Loss

I do know that my tear threshold is incredibly low, although it has improved tremendously since I started this year.

Swollen eyes, a headache and a distracted mind. Not good timing for an exam. But I've compromised by telling myself I can do all of that after tomorrow.

It wasn't surprising, whom I chose to turn to right away after I heard. And they have all turned out to be no fair-weather friends indeed.

My grandfather will definitely always be one of the best people I have ever known.

London Fashion Weekend

London Fashion Weekend: 25 Feb '10

When I first heard about London Fashion Weekend back in September, I was immediately tempted to pay it a visit, despite the well-known fact that it would cause more damage to my bank account than the insight I hoped to gain about the official London Fashion WEEK in general.

(NB: London Fashion Weekend is a special event held over a 4-day period - over the weekend - where the official venue of London Fashion Week is opened up to the general public to shop the various creations of a host of participating designers)

Fortunately enough (for my bank account), the planned trip in September didn't materialise, but when Hanna suggested visiting LFW this year, I jumped at the opportunity. Hey, I'd never been before, and I probably will never go again (Yes, scoff all you want, but I AM serious!).

We opted for the Gold Ticket Entry which included a chance to watch the Fashion Show / Catwalk / Runway Extravaganza taking place that night. It was all pretty exciting at first, being seated at the foot of the runway, when all the lights dimmed and the blasting music came through the speakers, and the rail-thin, 6-feet tall models started tottering out in heels one by one. Towards the end, I got a little tired of constantly having to arch my neck in various angles because the guy in front of me was busy blocking my plane of view with his tripod and his gigantic DSLR. Which explains the only decent picture I managed to snap with my BB. Pfft.

I had to admit, though, that all the names of the designers mentioned by the host that night drew blanks in my mind, but the different trends introduced this season proved to be interesting enough. Most were too 'Over The Top' for any sane human to wear on the High Streets, but I noted a couple of dresses that caught my eye, only to lament to Hanna afterwards that I never ever saw them anywhere. Blame the lack of time and the hoards of people crowding Somerset House, as well as the fact that the entire place wasn't exactly the easiest to navigate when the clock is ticking profusely.

I later related the experience to my friends as 'Kiasu Shopping'. And there was nothing I could have done wrong more than my attire of a pencil skirt and heeled ankle boots. Anything but comfortable and allowing a good range of movement. Nevertheless, we managed to visit the few outlets that we had eyed on the list of designers: Luella, Juicy Couture, Sass & Bide and Michael Kors being a few of them. I never saw Herve Leger anywhere, though, and I ended up buying two long-sleeved, formal tops from a label I had never heard of when the rest failed to deliver. This just proves my theory again and again that it is not ALWAYS about the label but the garment itself. They were, however, bought as impulse purchases rather than proper contemplating, because we were determined not to leave the place (having paid so much to enter) with empty hands. Most of the smaller sizes of 6/8 or Size Zero were gone by the time we browsed through the racks, which again, reinstated my description of 'Kiasu Shopping', and this was on the very first night itself that the event opened!

A good experience of impulsive buys, nonetheless, but definitely not my kind of thing. I had been afraid that a couple of my purchases would turn out being too dowdy for a 20 something to wear, but they have fared well so far, with much racking of my brains to jazz them up with accessories and pair them with funkier add-ons. Squeezed up all that was left of the creative fashion juices, thank you very much. Not that I had much left, to begin with.

No more 'Kiasu Shopping' OR Shopping for a while now.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

1) On Sunday, while happily chugging along back to London from Edinburgh, the train suddenly stalled in the middle of nowhere and we were informed that some other train had broken down ahead in God-Knows-What station, and was blocking both tracks, causing this massive traffic congestion. YL and I were stranded for 3 whole hours. Thank God for the free food and beverage that they offered to prevent our extreme irritability from mounting to insane heights. Finally got back around 1.30 am, and my BFF JH did not help by reiterating the fact again in subtle ways that I made the wrong choice of going to Edin.

2) On Monday, while innocently walking down the High Street from the hospital in broad daylight at 4.30 pm, I got stopped by this insane stranger who was positively drunk and kept grabbing my arm and blocking my path, so that I could not run away or shake him off. He tailed me all the way from the High Street to the Post Office (I made the mistake of not walking into the nearest shop and calling the cops right away), making me increasingly annoyed by the second, and then progressively more nervous when he almost gave me no way of leaving. I called for help in the end, and managed to leg it in heels alll the way to the tube station in 5 minutes flat.

And both these have masked a positively awesome weekend in the Burgh. Arthur's Seat, Chocolate Soup, PS3, StreetFighter, Honey Mustard Salmon, Canto Movies and Thai Commercials - amidst bountiful laughter from Tham, ChowChow, Hoo, Wynken and Yeap.

I don't think I've had this much fun in ages. Really :)

And this is when you know some friends are meant to last a lifetime.

CNY'10

I have never been a very big fan of CNY. Firstly, post-High School, I spent a significant number of years not being at home for CNY. And even when I was in Malaysia during some rare occasions, my family would usually take vacation trips to Spore or KL or the likes, making it another shopping spree on my own accord. Haha.

Hence, this year, I couldn't really be bothered to do something very festive-related to get into the hype or the mood of ushering in the year of the Tiger. Trust me, I didn't even know what year it was until LX mentioned it a while before.

I did end up having a very nice reunion dinner with the CC people and my BFF Khoon who popped up after though, and an equally good Sunday night potluck at a friend's place although the whole night was tainted by formative OSCE preparations for the next day. It turned out to be unexpected, and a tad weird in many ways. Either way, I passed it, and gained much crucial knowledge about techniques of approaching some situations after.

Wednesday was much anticipated because it marked my first solo attempt at reproducing my version of Sarawak Laksa, much to JH's skepticism. It turned out pretty good, although evidently there wasn't that much hard work involved at all (my paste was instant muahaha) and all I had to do was stir in appropriate proportions of water and coconut milk.

And this was the end result. Much thanks to all the help from my Sous Chefs. Hehe. Much calorie-overdose on a Wednesday afternoon, but the company was awesome. As was dessert!

YL made absolutely scrumptious Tong Yuen for dessert in a ginger-based soup along with peanut paste for dipping the Tong Yuen in. Two thumbs up!! Mmmm :)

Friday was initially planned to be quiet time at home catching up on much-needed reading and attempting practice questions, but LX got conned into going for a society CNY dinner the night before, and I ended up going along as well. Deciding 2 hours before the event started AND getting ready in 20 minutes flat (Note: Hair, Makeup, Deciding my outfit) was definitely my achievement of the week. Anyone who knows me will understand how long a time I take to do my hair and choose an outfit before an event, so kudos to me for this one. Haha. Obviously, the outcome wasn't entirely flawless, but ah well....presentable to some extent.

Busy week indeed. And more happening a CNY celebration than I would have anticipated. Now for some much-needed mugging time to catch up.

Life, Gymming and Such

I've had a very enjoyable week indeed. Possibly a much better week than the last. And so much of it due to the fact that I am enjoying the GP placement SO much more than my previous rotation. So many times, when I find myself really, really enjoying a clinical rotation, doing well and being in the loop of focus, putting in productive days at the hospital / practice, I know over and over again that this (medicine) is what I am meant to be doing. No further qualms.

True, I have not done enough to know whether I prefer Surgery, want to maintain my High School dream of becoming a Cardiothoracic Surgeon, dapple in a more reward-seeking, business-minded path of General Practice, stick to my initial preference of General Medicine....it's still early days. So far the only thing I have done is cross an item or two off my list.

When Momo labelled me as 'a very focused person' earlier, I was slightly amused. I must be the least focused person in the world in terms of prioritising academic items for reading on the agenda. Yet, lately I have become better and better at harbouring emotions and controlling my daily life in a way that I only look at the priority that is staring me in the face, which leaves no time for silly mind games with myself and unnecessary emotional turmoils.

May not be perfect, but A for Effort, that one. Proud of myself, if anything.

And much to the pride of Hoo and JH, I have picked up regular visits to the gym again. Am trying to build up my stamina, if anything. But every time I fall into this regular habit of gymming, along with it comes the ever-existent paranoia that nags me from time to time, making me obsessive about my weight, the possibility of piling on fat above fat, that I might just morph from losing all my muscle mass to the skinny minnie I am now to untoned AND bulky. It doesn't help either that I am hopeless at diet control.

On a happier note, will be looking forward to several CNY get-togethers to attend this weekend. With some reading and catching up on work slotted in, hopefully.

Not My Style

I picked up a new phrase over the winter break at home, and influenced Dasiy Hoo into using it during one of our many conversations recently.

"It's not my style."

Since then this phrase has cropped up countless times in my conversations with numerous individuals, mainly, of course, about fashion and the way I dress. And at times, about various other subjects which were breached as well.

Last year when I picked up a beige leather jacket, which I spent ages standing in front of the mirror with a salesgirl by my side offering a zillion and one tips, trying to decide which colour and style suited me best, I was offered the following:

"Yes, you are very girly, aren't you?"

To which I replied, "Yeah. I'm not really into the biker chick look."

Today, while picking up my bow messenger, I decided that 'very girly' wasn't entirely my style either. I was definitely not girly enough to pull off a lavender pink bag, despite agreeing with Daphne a while ago that that colour was indeed oh-so-pretty. I ended up going for a pale bluish-grey tone, to which I thought definitely suited me better.

I am definitely into colours. I love colour blocks and jazzing up an outfit with bits of colour or accessories, but there is just a huge difference between liking pink as a colour and actually wearing a pink bag. Later, I tried defining with Hanna the exact parameters of my sense of style, and could only come up with a couple of negatives. Definitely not low-key. Definitely not understated. Definitely not biker chick. Definitely not cutesy teeny-bopper. Definitely not British-rock-model-KateMoss-esque. Definitely not dowdy.

All I can say is that I like structured stuff. I am versatile (well, to a certain extent). And as much as I know my sense of style is never Vogue-worthy or always perfect, I like it because it makes me comfortable in my own skin.

There are hardly that many items of clothing that one can spot in a store or on a mannequin and exclaim that that is 'soooo Shing'. Simply because there are certain styles that I have a weak spot for (This would be where Daisy Hoo goes: ahempuffedsleevesahem) but it is also a well-known fact that I hardly ever stick to the same style ALL the time. I'm always up for modifying new trends to suit my own style, and not just go with the typical British High Street Fashion TopshopMissSelfridgeEverythingElse Flow.

As much as I try to sound like I am some contributor for a High Fashion magazine, I can hardly deny that my sixth sense of fashion is going rapidly down the drain.

How can it not be when I wake up bleary-eyed and grab the first thing I see, spending most of my days in slacks, shirts and cardigans? Plus, my most recent encounter with Norovirus was pleasant as hell indeed, and sure did contribute even more to my unplanned agenda of shedding more weight. Something that has been happening ever since I got here. Ah well, what can you say? The grass is always greener on the other side. A couple of years ago, I had to have JH lie through his teeth to tell me I was 'oh-so-thin' because I was determined to lose weight on my water diet. Now, I wonder everyday how it is that I try to eat more junk but the opposite happens.

That's what always happens, people. Life.

Happy Birthday, Superstar

Because this turned out to be one of the better birthdays I've had so far, out of my expectations.... thanks to all my BFF's :)

And because all this could not have been possible if I didn't have a superstar BFF like you.

Highlight of The Week :)

The Liangster on BBM :)

I swear this is the best thing that has happened to me all week. Nobody can put a smile on my face like you do. Thank God for BB Messenger and the new Blackberry Bold 9700.

BFF's indeed ;)

XX

Memoirs II

I once blogged about the power of the mind and the incredible, almost tangible picture that one can relive by fusing the mere memory of something with pictures and words.

Then I realised I had forgotten one major element in the recreation of this 'picture'.

Music.

There are a great many songs on my iTunes playlists that can transport me back to a certain scene and recreate that very picture right before my eyes, larger than life. And not just those labelled 'Our Song' or 'The Song That Reminds Me Of You' but random snippets of music where I can actually see, remember....and feel.

I revealed to a friend recently that BoyzIIMen's 'Four Seasons of Loneliness' will always remain one of my all time favourites. Simply because it has travelled with me through 5 years of my life and watched a great love turn into horrendously ugly drama and then settle back into an unbreakable bond of friendship.

This is the song that saw me through the days of 'Alyssa's Songs' on our iPods, the days of DJ-ing, of chatting in the dead of night till the sun rose, and more recently, of you being the selfless friend you were and comforting me in the most ironic of situations when I needed you most. And so it is that when I listen now... instead of the choked-back feelings and pent-up emotions that could not be expressed....I listen with an open heart, and smile back on the good, colourful moments of it all.

Then again, there are a great many things that can evoke the strangest and most irrational of emotions in one's mind, overruling the universal fact of mind over body. Because it is only human for your heart to react completely differently from the way you plan it to.

For a day or two, it was the blatant thought of having only yourself to rely on that struck in a place where the wound couldn't be seen. The emptiness of that gloved hand in the cold December rain. The purple umbrella and the swirl of events that came to play prior and latter to that. All these reignited this feeling of choking-back a zillion emotions, of choking back bile, and of that sheer emptiness somewhere within.

For a good 3 days, I avoided listening to 'Superhuman' on my player. The story of how I got to know of this song, how I came to love it, how we listened to it on repeat - this was a long story that I would easily have let to brew in the past. But age and experience have taught me to bottle up my thoughts and sweep them under a rug, and to not talk about them - or rather, to choose not to talk about them.

And so I decided point blank that there is a time to cease all silly obsessions. At the end of the day, when I have decided enough is enough and I will only shed this many tears for this man of the moment, because this is all it is worth, I realise it is easier achieved than I had deemed possible.

So I listened to the song for a good many times, determined to halt this phobia of songs which had the ability of planting an array of moments I had once deemed 'happy' before my very eyes. Happy moments which were no longer to be, and never to be.

And when I felt nothing, I took that step further. Stripping off all my sheets and finally changing them because I knew.....I knew that that wafting scent of Hugo Boss in my room was a mere phantom smell, and that there is a time to stop recreating memory as such in your head. Especially when these memories have been induced by a broken heart.

When the cloud has lifted and you see, you SEE clearly. There is a time to do what is right rather than what you would preferrably wallow in. What is meant to be or not meant to be. I may be a skeptic for now and will forever be guarded against further matters of the heart, but maybe....maybe one day I will believe again, and hopefully along the way I will cease to meet people who continuously obliterate all that is left of those few shreds of optimism within.

This Feeling

"When I was a little girl, my life was just music that was getting louder and louder.

Everything moved me.

A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much.

A calendar showing the wrong month. I could have cried over it.

Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested on the edge of the table."

- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

I spent my latter years after that trying to feel less.

Everyday was about feeling less. Everyday I feel less.

Is it growing old? Or is it something worse?

They say you can't protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.

Maybe it's time to let that go.

Leaving

Last night I turned down going to dinner because I was knackered from a gung-ho afternoon of teaching at the hospital and I basically had not finished my ACS Presentation for my consultant tomorrow yet. And also because I had been misinformed or misunderstood somehow and thought that K was leaving on Saturday instead.

A part of me was horrified that he was leaving today instead, and that I would probably never see him again. Then again, a part of me silently agreed that I had done the right thing and had not gone to see him 'one last time' before he left.

I called K last night to talk to him before he left and for some reason, my voice broke off halfway and wavered dangerously in the midst of my sentence.

"I can't believe you're leaving for good. It seems like just yesterday that I met you and we became such good friends."

Sporadic though I must admit our conversations have been over the past 2 years or so, it is impossible to deny that he was always there for me, through my darkest moments, through tears and laughter, and through the quotes he left me for encouragement that sometimes did not make sense at all!

So many people enter and leave your life.

Hundreds of thousands of people.

You have to keep your door open so they can come in.

But it also means you have to let them go.

So much for never being an emo wreck when it comes to friends.

Thank you for everything all these years xxx

Walking On

Just came back from a Liverpool vs Man Utd match, which ended in a victorious 2-0! WOOTS! I had gone with little hope of a win, saying that I would be happy with a 0-0 draw, as Liverpool's run had been horrendous before this with 4 defeats in a row. But who knew, Man Utd was shyte today.

Like JH said, I should definitely watch more football from now onwards and give Liverpool all my good luck vibes.

Saw 'The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus' the night before with Hanna and Hugo, of which I did not understand one bit at all. I had to run off halfway for a booze session in honour of my Daisy Hoo's birthday, which did not end well at all because I was completely wasted by the end of it. The worst I've ever experienced so far. Thank God for a friend like her who took care of me and patiently attended to my needs although I was a total mess. No more booze for a while now.

And the booze has also made me lose my voice, almost completely. How am I supposed to clerk patients this week now?

ARGH.

Busy Bee

I thought I would be home early on Monday since my consultant didn't have clinic at Epsom this week. Teaching for that day was cancelled right after my radiology tutorial ended at 9.45 am. Technically, I had the entire freaking day free. Instead, I decided to go to the ECG room, and after finding that it was being taken over by a bunch of surgery med students (pffttt go to your theatres or go somewhere else!), I suggested we go over to A&E to irritate some of the poor doctors there. I ended up on the service of this reallyyy nice SpR around - who just reminds me of my dad btw, although I lent him my pen to fill in a form and he ran off with it and I could not locate him after! ARGH! - and V was taught some amazing ECG stuff by this SHO.

Finally spotted a pneumothorax and collapsed lung on the CXR, attempted ABGs but it was too difficult so the SpR took over. And ABGs totally are not easy by the way, because today during rounds, our team's SpR tried on this old lady and after two people jabbed her like ten times, everyone finally gave up. Then assessed a priority chest pain patient with another Reg, and then was asked to run through the ECG (ARGH!! Well, at least I got better after ystdy), and after that another CXR. Managed to put some of my well-acquired knowledge from my IJN Elective days to good use. Then the Reg shooed me back home saying that it was 5 pm and she thought I had been there long enough. And I was! From around before 11 am till 5 pm, and missing lunch in between too!

V was exclaiming later how she thought A&E was really cool, and this reminded me of how a couple of my friends have been professing their interests in Emergency Medicine. Compared to yesterday's fast-paced experience, ward rounds this morning was realllyy snoozy with the team's new Reg and the F1. After that I tried to clerk a patient who obviously had a very large multinodular goitre but to no avail because she was completely confused and could not even answer the first 5 questions of the MMSE. V and I just trawled through the patient notes after that and looked up a couple of the follow-up investigations on Clinical Manager.

Then I had clinic in the afternoon with my regular consultant. Rheum clinic, is as V puts it, 'mindblowingly boring', but I love Dr D heaps. He is like a kindly father and so funny at times too, although he may be a man of few words and little constructive criticism. I still have a soft spot for Rheum, however, because it is a running problem in my family.

Now I need to do my incredibly boring essay. Argh. Such a buzzkill after two such lovely, busy days.

Transitioning Through Time? Or Not

While talking to some friends last night, I realised, at that moment, how much I had changed as a person, along with my interests and habits.

I remember a time in the not-so-distant past when I loved Classical music. I loved going for concerts and worshipped anyone who played the violin well. When I later took up the flute and was made a part of the orchestra for the opening ceremony of a certain church, it was the best thing that had happened to me, indefinitely.

As of now, I have not touched my flute for a good 4 years. My piano reminds shut beneath its dusty lid in Malaysia. And when F brought up the idea that I could get a keyboard and use headphones to play here, I bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying that I had completely lost interest in everything music-related.

I remember a time when I knew absolutely everything and anything about football. The EPL, The Bundesliga, The Serie A, The World Cup.....name the tournament and the team, and chances are that I could break down a short analysis of tactics and styles for you in great depth. Now, it has been months since I have watched an EPL match on TV. Name me any other EPL team besides Liverpool and I would not be able to provide you with much input at all, apart from *gasp!* 'How CAN you say Liverpool sucks?!'

Then there was the time when I loved writing. I wrote short stories, proses, poems, articles about my opinions on life, and later blog entries....and everything seemed to flow naturally from the tips of my fingers on to the keyboard. I loved reading, and I loved writing, so much so that it was almost a daily thing to do without further thought to it.

Now, when I think of writing, my mind is blank from inspiration. I feel nothing, I know nothing, I care about nothing besides the mound of work piling up around me and making and organising my notes into files.

A few years ago, I had a love-hate relationship with David Gray's song 'This Year's Love', simply because I had started off hating the song, only to move on to a time when listening the song could put a wistful look on my face.

A couple of days ago, I came across the MV on someone's blog and decided to watch it, just because I had never seen it before. A good minute or so into the song, I decided to close the window because I was bored out of my wits.

I am a person of many extremes. And after all of the above, I realise how fickle I can be when it comes to my obsessions or flinging off stuff into my 'Been there, done that' box. Sometimes I wonder how it is that I spent years of my life labelling this guy as 'fickle' or 'absolutely having no idea about what he wants' when I am about three levels worse than him myself.

Again, another case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Bits and Bops

It's been one long week indeed.

When Monday swings around the corner, the long week just looms ahead and you feel tired just thinking about it. Then Wednesday comes and suddenly everything fast forwards and it's TGIF! And then once again, the weekend disappears all too soon.

I haven't blogged in ages, with the excuse that I am busy and caught up with too many things, and my days are so filled with tasks to do that I don't even have time to open up Blogger and update my blog. But truth be told, I haven't mugged properly in ages, and as for finishing up tasks, I am still stuck halfway through my mind-blowingly boring essay on Health Inequalities which I had vowed to finish last week. Pfft.

I guess that in short, nothing very much has happened at all since the last time I updated. Well, apart from the fact that about a week and a half ago I was bestowed with an incredible gift of seemingly idiopathic abdominal cramps / epigastric pain / bloating, which I had mistaken for menstrual cramps in the beginning, but then proceeded to drag on for 10 days and made life extremely inconvenient for me!

Thank God that now with Proton Pump Inhibitors the bad gastritis has gone, and was not something more than that.

Was on-call last Thursday, from the day till 10 pm, amidst grand rounds, presentations, lectures and so on, which turned out to be one incredible experience. Although I had been warned that the consultant on-call was one tough cookie at first and was a no-nonsense kind of woman, she turned out to be an incredible teacher and I actually found her sarcasm extremely funny at some points. In short, it was one of the first times I felt like I was doing real medicine throughout the past few years.

Having said that, it is only the first week, and I've got to keep up the spirits for the next 6 weeks or so. So hopefully we'll fare well in that department.

On another note, I have been pondering about the definition of 'maturity' these past few days. How do you consider a person 'mature'? It is easy for me to scoff off everyone as 'childish' or 'immature' or 'clueless about life', and yet how much more seasoned am I to judge people as such? I have not gone through a whole life of World War II with battles scars as proof to show that I have slaved through life to be considered worldly enough. And here we are in a profession that demands mental strength, maturity and a level-headed attitude amongst all other things. Many times I have found myself to be increasingly childish amongst my recent dapples with Junior Doctors, Post Grad students and so on, and here I am writing off others as the same. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Definitely food for thought, this one.

I like the busy schedule that is taking over my life, to be honest. I like having countless things to do and long hours away from home, and the ability to shut out everything and everyone around me and just focus on the main thing right in front of me, i.e. the patient, case notes, investigation results, and so on.

Although I must admit, I do miss shopping. Hur hur.