Sunday, October 23, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
One day, I want to look back and remember all the wonderful people who helped me scrape through dental school. Who stayed back to do my work for me, who went out of their way to help me rush things and find patients. Who truly personified the saying 'Many hands make light work'.
For now, I shall persevere through this phase where I feel like a workaholic husband neglecting his wife who is on the verge of divorcing him. That's me, married to dental school, about to be disowned by my family.
For now, I shall persevere through this phase where I feel like a workaholic husband neglecting his wife who is on the verge of divorcing him. That's me, married to dental school, about to be disowned by my family.
Clinics have been going so much more smoothly than I expected. Uh-oh, now I've jinxed it.
Anyhoo, suddenly everyone I've spoken to seems to share the same sentiments, that we would like to have one more year of school. It's only now, in the 2nd last term that we've started getting into the groove of things, that we can finally diagnose and treatment plan. Just when it's all starting to make sense and become enjoyable, to quote BW, 'Now bye-bye, no more fun for you.'
If only there weren't requirements, then we wouldn't have spent all of our time chasing cases instead of properly learning. Though I'm sure every system has its faults, we might turn out worse without requirements. It would be great to see more complex cases and have more experience before going out to work, where it all becomes routine.
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Hello, Halloween!
The last time I did anything for it was Phyllis' party where I went as Sherlock Holmes in a trench coat that reached my feet. We used grapes as 'eyeballs' in our haunted house and spaghetti as brains, because I read that in a Baby-sitter's Club book.
Can't wait to check out the costume scene for the first time ever.
Anyhoo, suddenly everyone I've spoken to seems to share the same sentiments, that we would like to have one more year of school. It's only now, in the 2nd last term that we've started getting into the groove of things, that we can finally diagnose and treatment plan. Just when it's all starting to make sense and become enjoyable, to quote BW, 'Now bye-bye, no more fun for you.'
If only there weren't requirements, then we wouldn't have spent all of our time chasing cases instead of properly learning. Though I'm sure every system has its faults, we might turn out worse without requirements. It would be great to see more complex cases and have more experience before going out to work, where it all becomes routine.
-----
Hello, Halloween!
The last time I did anything for it was Phyllis' party where I went as Sherlock Holmes in a trench coat that reached my feet. We used grapes as 'eyeballs' in our haunted house and spaghetti as brains, because I read that in a Baby-sitter's Club book.
Can't wait to check out the costume scene for the first time ever.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
As I see some (gorgeous) friends turning 24, I suddenly find myself freaking out about reaching the mid 20s. Age is just a number. And that explains precisely why I still feel like the same noob teenager after all these years.
Thing is, I don't feel like I've become the person I expected to be by the time I hit this age. I am not my own idea of a 20+ person. I guess I expected to be less pampered, to be in a serious relationship, ready to move out, paying my own bills and being more adult. The irony is that I'm too comfortable to do all those things, yet I don't want to get left behind as the only old kid around.
On the other hand, as one who should count their blessings for being able to live such a spoilt and comfortable life even at such an age, I shall aim for more realistic goals. Becoming more 'grown-up' isn't about adopting a more serious and boring attitude. It's about taking more responsibilities cheerfully while staying exactly who you are, even if it's weird like Zooey Deschanel in New Girl. It's about no longer expecting life to be easy and smooth sailing but still staying optimistic that things will work out.
So as the numbers get bigger and our commitments heavier, we should balance it out by getting wackier. Heh.
Thing is, I don't feel like I've become the person I expected to be by the time I hit this age. I am not my own idea of a 20+ person. I guess I expected to be less pampered, to be in a serious relationship, ready to move out, paying my own bills and being more adult. The irony is that I'm too comfortable to do all those things, yet I don't want to get left behind as the only old kid around.
On the other hand, as one who should count their blessings for being able to live such a spoilt and comfortable life even at such an age, I shall aim for more realistic goals. Becoming more 'grown-up' isn't about adopting a more serious and boring attitude. It's about taking more responsibilities cheerfully while staying exactly who you are, even if it's weird like Zooey Deschanel in New Girl. It's about no longer expecting life to be easy and smooth sailing but still staying optimistic that things will work out.
So as the numbers get bigger and our commitments heavier, we should balance it out by getting wackier. Heh.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
My parents are here, without my sisters. Since it's a 3 bedroom flat (with one bedroom converted into a study room), I'm left to sleep in the study on a mattress on the floor. Mom's typing away on her Thinkpad.
The whole scene is giving me memory flashbacks. It's like pinpricks on the fringe of my mind. I remember how it felt to use Mom's Thinkpad, back when the Internet was dial-up and noisy. Back when I thought Thinkpad was a common noun, before I found out what a laptop or notebook was. Back when we used to get half hours of computer usage that we had to ask permission for way in advance, and when we had to bid for the prime time to go online and chat.
Even before that, I used to be so excited to open my Inbox. For the life of me, I've no idea what I was looking forward to receiving now. It was incredibly thrilling creating an email ID that existed, and telling my friends my email address. A whole new portal of communication. It was even more thrilling, typing away until 3am to an ex boyfriend, muffling it with a pillow, terrified my parents would come out of their bedrooms and find me way past computer curfew, hiding in the dark.
Amazing how strong the feelings still are, when I let myself drift into nostalgia.
The whole scene is giving me memory flashbacks. It's like pinpricks on the fringe of my mind. I remember how it felt to use Mom's Thinkpad, back when the Internet was dial-up and noisy. Back when I thought Thinkpad was a common noun, before I found out what a laptop or notebook was. Back when we used to get half hours of computer usage that we had to ask permission for way in advance, and when we had to bid for the prime time to go online and chat.
Even before that, I used to be so excited to open my Inbox. For the life of me, I've no idea what I was looking forward to receiving now. It was incredibly thrilling creating an email ID that existed, and telling my friends my email address. A whole new portal of communication. It was even more thrilling, typing away until 3am to an ex boyfriend, muffling it with a pillow, terrified my parents would come out of their bedrooms and find me way past computer curfew, hiding in the dark.
Amazing how strong the feelings still are, when I let myself drift into nostalgia.
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