The reader accepts, on reading of this disclaimer, that the Internet is a vast wasteland of crap that spews out of human minds. This blog is no different. Any assumptions or conclusions that the reader draws from this blog are not the responsibility of the author, along with any physical or psychological harm that might result from the reading of this blog.
Author
The author is a paranoid, deranged and cynical misanthrope who records snippets of her life so that she will remember them when she grows old and withered. The identities of any names or initials on this blog are based on the assumptions of the reader unless otherwise specified, and the author claims no responsibility for them.
Reality
The author somehow got into medical school. Yes, you of the general public, shudder and fear the wrath of an inept doctor.
Loves
Reading, Maisy (my dog), tea, writing (albeit badly), piano, music, junk food.
Hates
Almost everything else besides the things mentioned above.
Friends
Bao Cheng' Bernice' Chien Young' Chun Hing' Claire' Faustina' Felicia' Ferly' Gloria' Irene' Irene & Jiaying' Jac' Jiamin' Jiasin' Jiaying' Lutheng' Karene' Marissa' Melesa' Mingyi' My fictionpress' Pamelia' Pei Rong' Qiu Ting' Rachel' Satires Site' Stasia' Sylvia' The Clique' Vinette' Wenjia' Xin Rong' Xue Ying' Yanne & I' Yanne & Jamie' Zeena' 203'
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Chat area
The end of term feedback I received from my consultant surgeon (DW) was a rude awakening; I have changed. Perhaps even change is a huge understatement, with 'morphed' being a more suitable term.
Being asked to speak more would have been utterly inconceivable just a few years ago. As would the suggestion of SINGING (yes, direct quote) to please my future workmates (probably because DW thinks I am a nice, sweet little person *inserts retching noises*). No, I have not given any indications that I even sing.
In all honesty, I can't admit that this was unexpected. Previous rotations have seen consultants view me as an academically inclined and serious person, which has been useful in terms of garnering good opinions (seeing how consultants whom I wasn't even assigned to knew my name).
I guess it begs the question of whether it was a conscious decision to put on such a facade. In some ways, yes, I'd say it is. However, in retrospect, a lot of it probably stems from the fact that I am reluctant to show any insight into my personal life, which is close to non-existent at this point in time.
I view my personal life to be screwed up (in very blunt terms). When asked about family, I mention the superficial things; my brother being a med student too is a great thing to bring up, and with any probing, I mention the occupations of my parents. It's not like I can talk about the shitstorm which is the reality of what my family is. Dysfunctional, emotionally unstable... My parents quarrel on a daily basis. My mum is neurotic, with issues that would warrant psychiatric assessment.
The fact is that no one wants to know these things. Everyone sees what they want, and I just facilitate it since it doesn't benefit me for others to know about it. But I think this year has shaved quite a few years off my life expectancy, with the family problems, clinical workload and research project (which albeit interesting, is really eating up what little life I have).
And yet I carry on, seemingly stoic and 'brilliant' (no, I don't believe I am). I jump, spin and twirl to the expectations of the world. In accordance with the archaic distributions of the mind and the heart, I have dedicated almost my entire being to the mind in an attempt to ignore the 'heart'. But sometimes, I wonder how much longer I can keep going.
I'm exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. Putting it in a crude way, the fuel tank is nearly empty. I need an outlet, but I don't know how to find one. In my futile attempts to find one, I've started playing the piano again (some Mozart to hopefully ease my nerves). And it has probably subconsciously drawn me to this blog, a sanctuary which reminds me that I had a life that I actually enjoyed living once, offering hope that perhaps one day I will achieve such joy again.
But as for now, I trudge on, and pray for divine intervention to help me through this fucking mess (as reflected in this incredibly disjointed and screwed up post).
10:25 PM