On Spitting

Maybe its because I grew up in a different country where gum is supposedly banned. And for the millionth time, we can chew gum, we just can’t sell gum. So if you somehow manage to find gum somewhere, nobody is going to catch you. Same thing with illicit drugs (i think!). If you possess enough on your body for your own consumption, they can’t charge you with trafficking.

Anyway, spitting. When I was growing up, I distinctly recall social studies lessons and civic lessons and commercials featuring the famous (but now defunct) Courtesy Lion telling us that spitting is bad. Spitting spreads diseases. It dirties the environment. In short, its bad. And yes, I realise its rather hypocritical of me to be talking about keeping my environment clean especially since well, my room looks like a pigsty. My previous roommate(s) and current roommate can testify to this. I have an inert inability to keep my room and surroundings clean. My version of what is clean is definitely bordering on the low-normal. But that is besides the point. At least I don’t spit on the floors of my room. IF you don’t spit on the floors of your house, you shouldn’t be spitting on the roads either. Ah. BUt then some would argue what if you spit into the sink. Well, don’t you normally wash that off with water? Are you going to tell me you are going to be washing your disgusting bacteria-filled spit off the side walk too?

I was walking to my shift today at the hotline, and there was this dude who kept spitting as he was walking behind me. I swear I felt the hairs on my arm stand up and I almost wanted to go up to him, twist his ear (as my teachers from my school would have done) and said, “that is not nice!”


another one down…

Finished my OB/GYN rotation yesterday.  Let’s hope I pass the shelf so I won’t have to re-take that exam.  I was a little upset because I knew I had studied really really hard for that exam and I felt I knew the material well.  But when I was taking the exam, it felt so foreign to me 😦  But then again, that’s not a new phenomeneon.  These shelf exams hit you hard.  Unless you are one of the AOA-bound geniuses.

On another note, got a pleasant surprise yesterday.  Found out I was accepted into a research progam for next year.  Which means I’m going to be on the 5-year med school plan instead of the traditional 4-year med school plan.  Sounds like college all over again.  But I’m really excited about it because I really didn’t think that I stood a chance at getting in.  Hip hip HOORAY!  I’m moving to DC 🙂  Assuming I can get all these visa problems sorted out.  sigh.  Its a good thing they sent this email to me this week because at least its Spring Break and I can sit in the OME office and cry for help…

Roommate made a subtle hint about how disgusting our apartment is so I’m going to take the hint and actually attempt to ‘clean’.  How, I don’t know.  I’m not the cleaning sort of gal.  Sigh.

Roommie is staying here for residency, something I’m sure she really wanted.  The boy I was seeing last winter (and who broke my heart *sob*) is staying here too.  That was a surprise because I thought he really wanted to go somewhere else.  I suppose the lure of the city is hard to resist.

Match Day

Match day is tomorrow. The 4th years found out whether or not they matched on Mon. Tomorrow they will find out where they will be interns starting July. Match day is a major day for medical students. It signals the end of one journey, and the start of another. Wait…isn’t that supposed to be graduation? When they are ‘officially’ doctors? yeahhhh, if you watched ER back in the day, you’ll realise graduation is just another excuse for those people who rent graduation gowns to skint more money off us, for our parents to take pictures and show off their prodigal offspring. Match Day, that’s where the true rite of passage lies.

My roommate will find out where she is going tomorrow. So will a whole bunch of kids who I went to college with. And two guys that I’ve had crushes on for the past 3 years. So guess who will squeeze into that room where roughly 104 medical students every year op

The light at the end of the Tunnel

Of all the rotations that I’ve done so far (surgery, peds, neuro, ophtho), Psych has to be the most exhausting of them all. Yes, I can see people falling out of their chairs in shock. Some probably laughing their pants off. Some groaning in disbelief.

But Psych is exhausting. I thought psych was a strong possiblity. I liked neuro even in college. But I thought Psych was mysterious. And that it would give me the opportunity to pursue some of the other advocacy work I am interested in doing. It would allow me to pursue both my interest in neurology and my advocacy work.

But I can’t do it. It is too emotionally draining. And then it makes me physically drained too. I dread going to work (something that has never happened before). Maybe its because its the Winter that is making me cranky. But everytime I find the silver lining in the cloud, and every once in a while, I do look forward to going to work …my day ends up in a million shattered pieces. I will take the long ass hours of surgery any day (not that I’m actually going to go into surgery … just using it as an example). At least I will have a damm good excuse for not doing my laundry the past 3 weeks.

The beginning of the end

I was there.  I saw the start of their beginning.  And I saw the hints of the end.  But when he told me that the end had arrived, I could not believe my ears.  And now that he is doing his best to fight the ending that has come, I can’t help but feel for him.  I want to tell him that he is wasting his time, his energy.  But he needs to fight this fight.  Its the only way he can breathe and live.  I can tell him that it is hopeless.  But one cannot live without Hope.  Not even when we already know otherwise.  And so he will keep trying.  I wonder if I will ever find a love that deep that I will be willing to live a life of delusions.

cold turkey

I was originally blogging on a different server.  And then I started to get antsy.  Commitment-phobia perhaps.  And so I started to look around and found wordpress.  But I like the famililarity of my old blog.  Old habits are hard to break.  And then I started to read Ms. Heather’s blog, the originator of dooce.  I started to get worried.  After all, my blog contained a lot of my rants.  Rants that might ‘do me in’ when I apply for a job in the real world.  But still, I ploughed head on.  But I also started to get distracted by the immature voices within the community I was a part of.  The year was coming to an end.  It is time, I decided.  So I stopped.  Cold turkey.

It is the 15th day of the new year.  I lasted 15 days.  I need to blog.  I need somewhere to express my thoughts.  A new year.  A new broken resolution.  A new start.