I kill online forums.

Whenever I reply to any thread, the thread just dies there. No more replies forever. THen the post slowly slides down the list into page 2, then into history.

Weird

I can't fall asleep.

I'm typing this to the rhythm of Blur's Girls and Boys.

I think I'm manic depressive because I'm staring at my book and trying to memorise dermatomes, myotomes and etc for Neuro all of a sudden, and uh, to the beat of Blur.

Here comes the crash cymbal again. And the snappy snare beat and the shrill and buzzy guitar.

Jazz?

Seriously, jazz ain't as bad as its reputation. No, not the jazz that you hear in elevators, not the jazz that stiff upper lipped yuppies in their custom-tailored shirts and platinium credit cards listen to over their candlelight dinner.

But real jazz. The kind that stirs an indescribable feeling in your soul. Improvisations on the saxophone against a background of cleverly syncopated drums that defies all your preconceived ideas of what a rhythm stands for. To some, it's noise. to me, it's a right mix of genius and rebellion.

The Malmsteen of jazz, the Steve Vai of the saxophone. And best of all, it's for only $12.90.



In other news. I'm retarded and dyslexic and have attention deficit disorder. Can't get any reading done today.

Neurology

is a bitch to read. I just gave up on it. Which smart aleck decided to give all the little parts of the brain such complex names? Which other smart aleck decided to give every symptom complex more weird names?

Sunday night reading is never effective.

Speaking of neurology, when I was a kid of age 5 I was hospitalised once because my legs suddenly became weak and I couldn't stand or walk. I dunno what exactly happened, but after 2 days I recovered fully.

My parents told me it was some infection that made me 'weak', but what actually caused it? Perhaps some autoimmune post-infectious reaction? Perhaps altered electrolytes and subsequent muscle conduction/contraction weakness? I wonder.

Random Photo

Long Time No Blog/ Pretend, smile, nod (double A-side blog entry)

Long Time No Blog
I wanted to blog earlier but stupid Blogger was down, like always. So this week marked the start of a new clinical posting, and I still don't know what to make out of it.

The classmate I can't stand, is still as selfish and uncaring as before. I think I cannot tolerate her anymore. The next time she POKES the patient while I'm doing the physical examination, I'm not going to just politely ask her to stop it.

I mean, that's a person she's poking and causing pain. A fellow human being. For all we know you and I may be the ones lying in the hospital bed instead. I think lessons on empathy are totally lost on people who don't even treat anyone else as human.

I think it's a crazy conspiracy but perhaps my classmates are trying to make me look inferior and stupid. This is a posting I'm better at. This is a posting where I have expressed my intellectual curiosity and seriously cared about what I was learning. I think they're not comfortable with realsing that I'm no inept slacker.

Enough about school, because there's nothing much that would interest the average blog reader.


Didn't get to watch Snakes on a Plane because i) schedule changes, became a bit of a rush if I had wanted to watch it 2) had a bad headache on that day - I have frequent headaches, mostly due to my habit of abusing caffeine.


Been having quite reasonable amounts of fresh air lately. 2 bike rides and a jog. Took some photos of nature with my new camera phone. Then after every bike, endure the splitting headaches that often come next. I shouldn't abuse so much caffeine.

Clinical attachments are depressing when you see that all the medical professionals, and even senior students have become a deathly shade of pale, after spending so much time on work and study that they hardly have any time out there in the sun. It's depressing. I don't want to end up like that, and rest assured, I'm trying my best.

So there's my life for the past week, some good some bad. Last night, I got thinking.

Pretend, smile, nod.
My generation grew up with the Internet. We learn about how people live overseas, the things that they value and the entertainment they have over there.

Well you already know that cultures, beliefs, traditions and lifestyles aren't one-size-fit-all. Assuming that a Singaporean lifestyle would be the most appropriate for everyone born in Singapore would be naive. There are many who leave a country and find themselves much happier elsewhere. There are others who, despite derision from family and friends, found happiness in another religion.

And so on the Internet we find beliefs that we think suit us better, music that soothes our senses better than what we hear locally and most of all, adopt a global view of things. No more blindly proclaiming 'I love Singapore, because that's where I am!'.

And then we find that we can't realy fit into where we live in.

Personally, I am disgusted by the very place I live in. I live in a country whose media constantly makes westernised nations appear racist and nasty, while locals have so many racial slurs - for the Chinese, they're so nasty I can't quote them here.

People refuse to sit next to a person of a certain race in the bus in the belief that they are unhygenic and all reek of coconut oil.

People who can insult westerners for being decadent while in our own backyard we forget about our own local religious hero who raped his 5 daughters repeatedly. Somehow, for a misdeed that severe, the media coverage was short and quick.

When I was young I was proud of how Singapore seems to have citizens who are virtuous and upright. Now I'm embarassed that this facade is built on a scaffold of selective media reporting and draconian laws. People don't obey because they are virtuous and upright, but wish to keep their job and their money. If they're really that great, how come they don't follow road signs?

And the music I chose to listen to doesn't receive any significant airplay locally. When my schoolmates talk about the latest album by whatever Taiwanese singer, I have no idea what they're gushing about and I just gotta smile and nod my head like they're speaking a language I don't know. Pretend, smile, nod.

The practical and global views I have are incompatible with local culture. Every seventh lunar month, I choke and cough because Chinese culture dictates that we should burn paper offerings for the dead. Maybe we shouldn't pollute our own environment for something as absurd as that I say. I have no respect for tradition, they say. Pretend, smile, nod.

The local jokes people tell all the time, I don't understand because I don't know the Hokkien dialect. I'm terrible in Mandarin and barbers, hawkers and people all over ask me if I'm local just because I can't speak fluent Mandarin. Pretend, smile, nod.

I'm Singaporean, but for all it's worth, I'm a foreigner to Singapore's culture. Pretend, smile, nod. Maybe it's all the Internet's fault.

Bad Day

Small things. Not being able to find a pen before leaving the house in the morning. Rushing to school only to find that everyone else is late.

Then I shrug them off.

Then some bad, some good.

More bad. A crowded bus, sitting behind an Indian female with a long ponytail that kept on whacking my arms and almost whacking my face in the shaky bus.

Reaching a place late.

Alone.

Crowded.

A mess.

Can't find the people I have to find.

Stranded in school, all the buses full.

Waited for 40 minutes.

Gave up and walked outside.

Can't find a proper path.

Can't find any other bus I could take.

Had to flag down a taxi - with difficulty.

Had to pay $10 for the trip back.

Then I realised it was a bad day.

At least the taxi driver was a friendly guy and he drove safely. Kudos Citycab.

Sleep

Sleepy? Narcoleptic.

Narcoleptic? Sleepy.

Sleepy. Narcoleptic?

Narcoleptic.

Sleepy?

Sleepy.

Sleep.

It sucks.

When it rains it pours. When it pours it floods. When it floods, there's destruction. When there's destruction, I just want to hide a corner and wait until it's all over.

But that's not a choice for me.

One reason why I can't stand Singapore is...

... its citizens' can't spell or write grammatically correct sentences.

Poor spelling makes me cringe.

Bad English frustrates me. Very often I have to re-read a sentence to even get a rough idea of what many Singaporeans mean.

Just take a look at any online forum. The people who can't spell, can't write relevant post topics and can't express their thoughts, happen to list Singapore as their home.

Uhhhh

Spidey sense tingling. Is something suspicious going on?

Today

wasn't too bad.

I guess I have nothing new to complain about for today.

In other news, Wee Nam Kee chicken rice in Novena is great stuff.

Run (Collective Soul)

Are these times contagious
I've never been this bored before
Is this the prize I've waited for
Now as the hours passing
There's nothing left here to insure
I long to find a messenger

Have I got a long way to run
Yeah, I run

Is there a cure among us
From this processed sanity
I weaken with each voice that sings
In this world of purchase
I'm going to buy back memories
To awaken some old qualities

Have I got a long way to run
Yeah, I run

Most of my friends are leaving soon, to get themselves a shiny new degree from really nice universities from far away.

I can predict my social life ending there. Who else can I watch movies with, hang out with, talk about the latest music and stuff and etc?

Sadly, I'm quite sure the answer would be, almost no-one. All the witty intelligent and successful guys are flying off to the places I dream of going.

I feel wretched. I should have seen this coming. Should have worked harder in secondary school, should have made myself something more than what I am.

And this concludes today's whine of the day.

Thought of the day: Does paranoia hurt more than terrorism? The British Police have shot an innocent man, anti-terror measures have hurt our lifestyles, security funding might have saved more people if put into health or food for the poor, we're selling our privacy to governments, and the paranoia is simply making everyone miserable.

Back

Been away for a while because I had to cram for an evil test at school.

So I guess it went alright, I mean, in the context of the test being particularly evil in the first place, as expected.

Now I guess I shall devote more of my time on more earthly activities, such as riding my bike to visit the monkeys in the forest again.

More to come up soon, depending on how much happens in my life.

Smoke

I hate it during the 7th lunar month when people burn incense paper and joss sticks, and hold noisy concerts in open spaces to entertain the spirits.

The smoke irritates my throat, makes me cough, makes my eyes water. The noise distracts me and irritates me.

I'm sure I'm not the only one.

There are practical reasons why I disagree with blind adherence to tradition.

What happens after the last bus?

Do people wait, not knowing if the last bus has passed them by then get frustrated after half an hour with no bus in sight?

How long would it take for them to realise that it's too late?

The last bus is never empty - people do go home only that late at night. People rushing to make it back home in time, people who know that it's their last chance for the night.

Most people make it on to a bus. But what about those who miss the last bus? Who will walk home with them?

Luck

I'm so down on my luck it's not even funny.

I'm tempted to think that the whole world hates me. The sad thing is, that's probably true.

Sleeping on Buses

Awake, asleep, drifting between these 2 states while cocooned up in a corner of the upper deck.

The air conditioner didn't seem to be working very well. There's a pimply gangly guy sitting next to me, engaging in an enthusiastic conversation with 2 guys opposite the aisle.

Me, I'm drifting. With my earphones on. Placebo's Without You I'm Nothing was playing on my MP3 player.

About 7 years ago when I was 14 I used to take this very same bus home after programming lessons in Singapore Polytechnic. Placebo's Without You I'm Nothing was one of the few albums I was hooked to then, whick I listened to on my way back. 8 years later and some thing's don't change. I still like that album. But I now listen to it on an MP3 player, not a shabby old CD player.

And that time, there were very few air-conditioned double decker buses. Only old rickety ones that swayed side-to-side whenever it hit a pothole. But the bus route never changed a single bit. Things change, things stay the same, in the end, what power do we have to control what goes and what stays?

And me? I guess I've changed too. For the good or the bad? I dunno. I guess the me of age 14 never expected me to reach where I am academically. But I'm sure he would have thought that I'd lost alot of my creative drive since.

He'd be quite mad about it.