Unprofessionalism Abound

Practice what you preach, they used to say. But not anymore these days. Despite all the ballyhoo about professional behavior and even topping it off with a farce of a conference, the teachers themselves can't seem to get their behavior right.

First, lecturers are not turning up for their lectures despite drawing a salary from the school. This is rather atrocious as it has not only happened once or twice, but it is occurring on a regular basis. Take for example the class: "Establishing Rapport with Patients." It seems that this lesson has been postponed a few times already and just this week, the lecturer decided that it's not worth his effort to come down. Well that's fine, but they only informed us on the day of the lecture itself. That's what "true professionalism" is about eh. Leaving people high and dry and clueless. It's no wonder some people take matters into their own hands and declare certain lectures "optional" since the lecturer is of the same opinion.

Second, despite having an agreed upon time and venue for a certain lesson, the teacher will, on the pretext of patient care, demand that we go all the way across the island to **H for lessons. It definitely did not go well with the students because it not only meant a waste of money since we have to factor in uncompensated additional transport costs, more importantly it was a flagrant waste of our time! It was as if the time of the students are so cheap and useless that we can be so readily manipulated from those atop high pedestals. Well Bah! I say. But at the very least I could say that I've learned something new from the teacher. It's just the traveling time that I'm rather disagreeable with, given that we have a rather heavy workload and we have life outside our hallowed course. Why do they not think that if they were to make the compromise they would only be inconveniencing one person, whereas if they were to force the students to compromise, the number of people inconvenienced would so much more.

No matter, the last one seems to take the cake. The teacher merely "forgot" about our session with him and inconvenienced a good 20+ students. We were all dressed up in formal attire and waited in school patiently for our arranged session, only for his secretary to call up the group i/c to say that the teacher forgot our lesson. Just like that. With a little slip of his mind, with its large and vast capacity, he has just inconvenienced another 20 odd people. Just because he thinks our time is worthless and justly so for him to manipulate. Bah bah bah.

it's a gahgahgah day

gahgahgah. that's the sound you make when your brain starts having seizures from the overloading of information. one of which is studying of metabolism of everything which is absolutely annoying since i can't quite remember it and am very certain that 4 weeks down the road i am going to be gahgahgah-ing again when i realise that all that mumbo jumbo has just been obliterated. not even a tunica vaginalis is left.

anyway, i am still stuck on nucleotide metab... i feel the allopurinol eating into my skin. and honestly i am talking crap now.
okay, so we know that UTP --> CTP (enz: CTP synthetase)
and the regulation of pyramidines is due to UTP and CTP --> which inhibits Carbamoyl Phosphate Synthetase II. And in the liver under stress, CPS I can synthesise CP for use in the cytosol. How cool is that lar. I wonder how the CP gets out.

so. i better get on cos the transdeaminases are missing me. and i really need to read up on the GABA shunt, which is really just a GAD = Glutamic Acid Decarboxylase
And what's hartnup's disease. oh yes, failure to absorb Phe, Trp... cos Phe --> Tyrosine --> DOPA --> Dopamine --> Norepinephrine --> Epinephrine. (Phe hydrolase)

Trp --> Serotonin --> Melatonin.
meh.

So much to do, So little time.

School has been quite hectic for the past 4- 5 weeks, with new work surfacing relentless and mercilessly burying us. It's really hard to imagine that CAs are just in about a month's time and there isn't really sufficient opportunities to revise. I am sure that I haven't been fully utilising my time to revise but long gone is the drive, the thirst for knowledge. I really want that drive back. It's like some part of me is missing and I really enjoy those moments back in JC, during olympiad and bio s sessions, where the feeling of eureka hits you. Maybe it's just me, taking it easy in medical school. But things aren't going to work out this way. Like a senior once said, the largest fear I have is to become a mediocre doctor. A bad doctor will be put out of practice and a good doctor glorified. The mediocre one will just float along trying to find his place in the medical system that's so heartless (to it's staff not patients). And we owe it to our future patients to be competent doctors who can fix their problems.

The main conundrum now is how to balance everything that I have in life. Schoolwork, revision and relationships. It's like Cardiac Output really. There is only so much that the heart can put out a minute and there are so many tissues that demand the extra perfusion. The only way the body deals with this without going into cardiac failure and/or shock is to prioritise the distribution of perfusion by systemic vasoconstriction and local vasodilation. Similarly, there's only so much time and mental effort i can put into things and all things are equally demanding. Medicine isn't exactly the easiest course but I don't really dislike what I study. It has reached the point of neutrality, not one where I'll get excited. I think embryology is interesting, yl asked me if i wanted to hear voon about tetralogy and fallot and the other parts of the development of the heart. My reply was no because I am really tired. Of course I am sure that would be an interesting lecture. The old kiasu me would have said yes resoundingly even before he'd finish his question. But now I am reassessing the supply and demand of time. We have no time to engage in frivolous academic pursuits. There's only one way we can go and that's forward. I am trying to forge through as much of the current workload as possibly, as impossible as it might be.

Anyhow, I do hope I do well for this CAs. As a testament to myself that NUS wasn't a wrong choice. That NUS didn't bury my aspirations and drive. And that Cambridge wouldn't have been better (i am lying to myself.)

The Olde Times

Just chatting with one of my old St John squadmates brought back memories of the stupid nicknames we used to call each other. They were usually inane and if I remembered correctly it all started with this much disliked figure. We shall call him ET.

Well ET was a snitch and liked to backstab his squadmates, he also happened to be very weak physically and an unfortunate homosexual. Then we came up with a wonderful nickname for this ostracised character - Ball-less Chicken. Well that's due to his rather neutered sexuality and the way he runs, which is uncanny to that of a chicken, unfortunately for the chicken.

Then there's the CSM (Corps Sergeant Major a.k.a. Chairman) who was named Cow. I've forgotten why he was named Cow, but I do suspect that it had its origins from the Cartoon Network programme Cow and Chicken. That's because Ball-less and Cow are always together with the teacher-in-charge. Ball-less would slime the rest of us for being slackers and errant rule-breakers while Cow, despite being in charge, would just remain silent and ho-hum to whatever tune the Teacher sang.

We have the Training Head, who was named Teddy Bear. I think it was because he like to clench his fist and stick them close to his chest giving this very act-cute posture when he runs. But damn he runs fast! Not only that, Teddy likes to make weird whining sounds too! Which further reinforces his nickname.

And then we have the Logistics Head, who was named Monster. He was a very muscular person and from what i've heard these days, he's taking part in a bodybuilding contest and weighs in currently at 107kg. Indeed a real monster. Monster was a real character during the St John days. He loved to press down the spikey hair of our platoon commander, so named Mickey Mouse, for unknown reasons. As such, he was given ludicruous punishments like run and touch the school gate. No matter, Monster still did it nonetheless and the running did play a part in bulking him up.

We also have a Mouse, just mouse, not Mickey Mouse. Mouse was called as such because he was a small person. At least, that was when he was in Sec 1 and 2. Thereafter, Mouse grew quite a lot and quite tall as well. Mouse loved to ask Ball-less to go F**k Spider, annoying Ball-less to no end.

There was also a Charcoal, whose other nickname was 1.0. Why 1.0? That's the Mean Standard Grade he got EVERY TERM, meaning Charcoal got straight A1s for all his subjects since God knows when. Anyway, Charcoal lived up to his 1.0 name and got the same for his O levels and was hence crowned one of the 11 A1 scholars in Singapore. And then, he had a new nickname. 11 A1s. Or just Eleven. :P Charcoal is currently quite disdainful of the government and is a armour signaller. The last time I chatted with him, he was slacking at the HQ.

We also had a Sloth. Sloth was a math genius but when it comes to training matters, he was very very very slow. He didn't like to move much and only did move when the situation absolutely required him to do so. Every single movement was deliberate and purposeful. Sloth didn't like moving unnecessarily. I haven't heard much from Sloth these days but I wouldn't be surprised to see him at Princeton, Stanford or Cambridge reading Mathematics. He won several International Mathematical Olympiad medals representing Singapore.

Last but not least, I was nicknamed Mink. The little furry creature that lived in a semi-aquatic environment. Why? It was because One Fine Day, I was using a bottle of Mink Oil (not mine even! It was monster's) to polish my boots. My platoon mates were interested in knowing what was that foul smelling concoction in my hands and... the rest is history. So, I was called Mink.

There were still a few other members that we didn't give nicknames to, either because they were too low profile or it wasn't special enough for me to remember.

Well anyway, the Good Old Days.

Inertia



It's funny to see how hard it is to change things. There needs to be some force, either intrinsic or extrinsic to effect some change. This mid-semester break, I've been rather lethargic. There seems to be this insurmountable inertia that keeps me within the house. It really takes too much effort to go out and there isn't really a reason to. Besides the OG lunch on Tuesday and Singapore Dreaming with YL on Wednesday, the furthest I've been is to the Prunus and Petai trails in MacRitchie Reservoir.

So what have I done so far? Nothing much I'd say. Blood, Carbohydrate Metab and Lower Limb. And I am getting pretty sick of the songs I have in my iTunes. I've been listening to the songs over and over again. Here's the breakdown from iTunes:

1. Forbidden City - 20x
2. Hang on Little Tomato (by Pink Martini) - 60x
3. The Best of Chopin - 15x
4. The Phantom of The Opera - 20x
5. Four Seasons (Vivaldi) - 8x
6. Rent - 9x

The one that totally breaks the record is 9 Million Bicycles. 140 times.

I can't believe I've been looping that song over and over and over again. It's like existing in this timeless environment, then suddenly, you realise that the day has just been wasted. Either in the company of Emeritus Professor Richard S. Snell or that of William Ganong. Which really speaks volumes about inertia because there isn't sufficient motivation for me to change the music that iTunes is playing at the moment.

Running has been rather bad lately as well. Having pull my left sternocleidomastoid (SCM), I can't really abduct my head to the left side so it's a bit hard to balance the head. I ran for about 10 minutes before it really hurt. Then I had to stop and that was on Thursday. And on Friday, I tried out this Creative MP3 player that had been lying around. I usually run with my Sony FM Radio but I decided to give Mr Sim and his product a chance. Unfortunately, it failed all my expectations. The cord length of the earphones were too short and there wasn't a clip on the player itself. I tried to hold it and run but it didn't work. I tried securing it with the elastic strap of the running shorts, but that didn't work too. It was just Bad when the music keeps stopping because the falling player pulls the earbuds off when it sinks into your pants. Very very annoying. It took quite a lot for me to try to overcome the inertia of using it, and it failed me. I used to hate running. Because my medial arches will hurt a lot as a result of a malformed talus (my guess, I have collapsed medial arches) and thus running wasn't enjoyable. But I reckoned I needed to lose weight and pass my IPPT, so I overcame that inertia. Running has become a twice or thrice weekly event nowadays so much so that the inertia is rather low. I really need a new running route because I am getting very used to the current one and it's quite boring. Perhaps I need to lengthen the distance as well, but again, there's considerable inertia.

And it took the Thais a long time before someone stood up and said, Enough is Enough. Time to stop the political impasse. Thankfully the coup d'etat was rather peaceful or it'll send shockwaves down to the Asian economies. I doubt we'll ever see that in Singapore. The military and the government are too closely linked. Top generals being SAFOS scholars and their classmates being Perm Secs or Cabinent Ministers. Speaking of politics, I've seen this great trailer on www.quicktime.com.

I've spent considerable time yesterday just looking at trailers because I can't remember the name of the movie I wanted to watch. I chanced upon this movie called "Man of The Year". It's where this comedian who comments on american politics decides to take his joke furthur by running for the seat in White House. The problem is, he didn't expect to win. Anyway, we need more feel-good films. Singapore Dreaming had a lot of tension and was generally quite a miserable film. And, the film that I was looking for: A Good Year. About this London I-banker who receives an inheritance of a vineyard and chateau in central Europe. And so the I-banker takes a break and visits his newly gained property and meets a nice lady. And so the story unfolds. Movies are great avenues for escapism. Sometimes, we just need to escape from our lives... There's just too much inertia. It's too hard to do anything.

Unless we have that energy. That drive. That motivation to overcome the many inertia. But even the most intrepid and energetic of us will soon be worn down. That'll come the day when enough is enough. No more of this rat race and paper chase. Just enough.

Forbidden City


The much publicized and promoted musical turned out to be a less than wonderful experience for me, with a hint of bitter aftertaste. On recommendation by a few of my friends, I decided to try out a local production. After all, it had the big names involved in it, including Kit Chan. Plus, I've heard a track from the previous run, which was pretty good.

Anyhow, I thought I had a good deal when I bought Category 1 tickets for $66 per pax, but alas, I was proven to be wrong. I didn't expect the hordes of little children to be filling up the matinee show. It was like a cultural enrichment event of sorts. However, the children were approximately 8 - 14 years old, with many coming from renowned schools. However, that was not the issue if they were well behaved. On the contrary, the theatre resembled a wet market. Children in the Cat 1 area were gesticulating at those seated in the circles as though it was Singapore Exchange. To add to the din, all were talking very loudy despite constant reminders from annoyed patrons (or teachers) to shush up. I was very very annoyed at the situation and felt utterly shortchanged. To be fair, I was dressed rather casually as compared to a couple who was seated next to me. They were dressed very nicely as though they were going for prom or certain Dinner and Dance event. Sadly, they seem to be rather annoyed at the circumstance they found themselves to be in as well. The caveats of buying cheap tickets for a matinee, sigh. No matter, we expected the children to quieten after the show has began. To our horrors, some of the little brats made cat calls and screamed as though this was some Jay Chou concert. It was not only disturbing for the cast, it was particularly bad for the Cat 1 seats and the sounds from the circles reveberated towards the center of the Esplanade Theatre.

Another bone to pick was that Kit Chan decided that she won't entertain the kids and took a little rest! Which was really horrid. I mean, that's the whole point of seeing the musical isn't it? The only mitigating factor was that her understudy proved to be rather good as well, so I guess we didn't feel so cheated, but still, it's Kit Chan that's missing. It's a pity that S didn't have time on tuesday evening, else I think the experience would have been better with Kit Chan sans the annoying children.

Complains aside, I'd say that it was a wonderful musical. The music was very well composed and the lyrics flow very well. The storyline was pretty coherent, however, according to Straits Times, it's historically inaccurate and Cixi (Yehenara) is portrayed as a misunderstood character. She was actually a powerbitch and a murderer who brought the downfall of the Qing Dynasty by her fears to modernise. No matter, I'll take it just as fiction and for it's musical value. Perhaps I'll be seeing more local productions in future...

Photos from the Medicine Ball.


Retro and Uber-retro


Angels and Demons. and Greeks.


Goth


Nutcracker

Hedonistic Abandon and Decadence

The annual Medicine Dinner & Dance started off with much pomp and fanfare. The various orientation groups had various table themes that involved much fancy dress and costumes. Some came as characters from Wild Wild West whereas others chose to dress up as Angels and Demons. My OG chose a Greek theme which I initially thought was ghastly. When we arrived at the antechamber to the ballroom, I was shocked at how underdressed we were. All we were wearing was a piece of white fabric adorned by a colored sash, nothing more. I ambled cautiously towards the front of the ballroom, only to be greeted by Sterling wearing a very ornate aristocratic tailcoat with a nice headdress. Similarly, there were others who turned up in pilot’s jacket and peaked cap as well as throngs of SIA stewardesses.

I was hit with an immediate low when the passing of the Prometheus Flame ceremony begun. I didn’t have a counselor. Not that it really mattered in practical sense but it gives you the feeling that you’re all alone in the crowd. Everyone has some senior looking over them, but me. I really wished that the event could fast forward and that we could be doing something more comfortable, less alienating. I didn’t really mind not having a counselor. People have done well without them and although it meant that my Medicine experience was less than complete but it’s a path less taken. Besides, there are other seniors who did more for me than my erstwhile counselor. Our success depends solely on ourselves.

The night soon whizzed past as we were engaged in mirthful sessions of photo taking. Friendships and acquaintances were cemented in the digital memories of the camera as people flocked from one table to another to document this beginning of a lifetime of Medicine. There were moments when I looked around the ballroom and thought, Wow! We’re all going to be Doctors. But do we actually act the part of the physician?

The night soon ended and the OG was deciding on what to do next. The general consensus was that we should participate in the party at Gotham Penthouse in Clarke Quay. Truth to be told, I never did like loud music mixed with alcohol. For my virgin clubbing experience, it’s just that. The bouncer was really rude about letting in patrons and being at the back of a long queue, we were getting rather disgruntled. Fortunately, someone informed us that university students had the priority of entry. Clubs are really the nucleus of moral decay. People let loose and are detached from their sane controlled self and engage in all sorts of unbelievable and downright disgusting activities. The service at the bar counter was really bad as many people jostled to exchange their coupons for alcoholic beverages. I was told that the alcohol was required to disengage the mind from the actual self to enter this trance like state. While other people jiggled on the dance floor and the more intrepid ones took the stage, I sat by the side observing these party animals. And animals they truly were, returning to their bestial origins. Males were furiously gyrating against the posterior of the females. Similarly, others were snogging and generally hands were all over. There were no rules, there was no inhibition. It really disgusts me to see some of my schoolmates turn into creatures upon hearing the loud thumping bass. Loud is actually an understatement. Even with shouting, I could barely hear the other person and my voice was gradually becoming hoarse. This is an experience I won’t want to relive anytime soon. It was just a mega orgy - a legalized session of pseudo-sex fuelled by the depressive properties of ethanol. It was revolting and nauseating. Deafened by the aural assaults, I sought refuge outside.

Perhaps it was a wrong choice to make. I would rather have spent the night talking with friends instead of subjecting my various organs to mechanical and chemical assault. And I do wonder how some people do this again and again every night without fail. However, at what cost? What have they achieved by wasting their lives away rubbing their genitalia against other random strangers? Are they so intoxicated that they are no more than primates caged?

The following night was terrible, especially after the more seasoned clubbers returned to the hotel. Every single inch of the room was occupied by somebody. At a point in time when I retreated to toilet to micturate, my place on the bed was quickly taken over by another, surprising me with the plastic nature of sleeping humans. I was sidelined and relegated to a corner. Faced with constraints of space, I retreated to the toilet and lay in the bathtub. I was anxiously hoping that perhaps S might be awake and that this ordeal might soon end when the sun has risen and banished the alter-egos of my classmates. But I couldn’t stand it any longer and took flight. However, I could not recover my Esprit shirt which was lost in the sea of human bodies. Apparently, some of them were so kind as to throw the stuff on the table onto the floor.

After this event, I will surely look at my classmates in a different light. Especially those who exhibited Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde transformations. People aren't as simple as they seem to be.

Formalin Floods my Senses.


Sometimes, I wonder what makes us different from the cadavers on which we learn our skills of anatomy from. Perhaps for other, life is more than just work, more than just medicine. I wish I could be like that too really. But it's really hard to see the difference. I am no different from an animated corpse on autopilot. I try to do all the right stuff. I study as hard as humanly possible but yet, life is more than just that. It makes me sick every time I think about what I want to do with my life. Is it just Medicine?

You know the feeling when you first step into the Anatomy Hall, and the smell of formaldehyde hits you like a sledgehammer? This disgusting saccharine smell that nauseates me seems to linger around perpetually. My life, my whole life seems just like floating in a formalin tank. Waiting for people to dissect and examine. What is my raison d'etre? I have none. When you're intoxicated with formalin, life feels like a bad movie, something that you want to see the rolling credits immediately.

"Tell me what you like to do." This is the most common introductory question, yet I find it the hardest to answer. I've searched deep within myself to find what I really like. Truth being, I don't know. I know I dislike somethings but there isn't something that I would really really die to do. I have no hobbies and I know only of work. I used to believe that I loved Biology (I still do) and that'll be sufficient. But no. Life is more than just work, more than just money. It's about people and about the experiences. I am disappointed in myself for being so 2 dimensional. There's nothing deep about me. What you see is what you get and sadly, that isn't much. I can't play the piano, I can't speak Spanish, I don't dance neither do I like to party.

I like quiet things, natural things, relaxing things. I like nature, I like soothing music, I like good books, I like intellectual debates. S says that I am an old man, I think so too. I am single-faceted and old. Too old for my age and ready to step into that coffin. What am I good for? Just breathing air and going through the motion of birth, life and death.

Of Solitude and Coffee

Sometimes it's just so refreshing to sit alone at a cafe and drink coffee. I am now at University Hall, staring into the artificial landscaped atrium while enjoying a cup of cafe au liat. Life is seriously going too fast now. Everyday involved studying 24/7. I don't know when I burn out, I hope it's not during the CAs or Professional MBBS.

I guess sometimes we've just got to take a break. Like people watch. Even though it's far too hot in Singapore to do the Paris alfresco thingy, I'm sure it's a nice way to spend a day, not buried inside Snell, Wheater's or Guyton. And no matter, my og mates were mugging in the library, but that place is so depressing.

This are just ramblings as I cannot quite compose together a string of coherent thoughts. Perhaps I shall wait for more of the caffeine to saturate my brain, giving it the additional acuity it so requires. Unlike the rest of the university, this site is rather quiet, offering one a sense of calmness and the therapeutic effect of coffee. Too bad I have no good books with me now. However, having my laptop with me will suffice. I will soon appreciate it's weight when Snell takes its toll on my back.

Why. Sigh.

Of Tea and Teapots

I really enjoy a spot of good tea. I usually drink English Breakfast as I am not adventurous enough to try Earl Gray or Darjeeling. Perhaps one of these days, on a good day, I'll venture to other sort of tea. I was tricked into drinking Kenyon Tea sold by Marks and Spencer. Although it is very flavorful, I found it too strong for my liking. Nevertheless, I have tried other sorts, even the non-tea teas, such as camomille, spearmint etc. These flower and herbal teas are very cleansing and are very light on your tastebuds.

Tea is such a classy beverage, good for anytime of the day and complementary with any sort of food. You can drink tea for breakfast, for lunch, for tea break and even for dinner. It is especially comforting when you have some refreshing tea after a heavy dinner full of grease, oil and lard. Sometimes, all it takes to make your day is a nice pot of tea, a nice alfresco position and a great book. Of course, not those dense non-fiction discourses. But all these reading and people watching can get lonesome. It is nice to have a friend at the same table, talking about issues of life, of relationships, of the world at large.

As much as tea can dissolve barriers, it was the cause of one of the most significant divisions in history. Those that can remember your history textbooks will surely recall the Boston Tea Party. The Americans rudely dumped the highly taxed British Ceylon Tea into the harbor, wasting bales of quality tea and by extension, the effort of the workers at the bottom of the food chain. Even today, the Yanks have a penchant for wasting tea by re-enacting this tea party annually.

But with good tea comes exquisite teapots. Just as the clothe maketh the man, the teapot will affect the ambiance and the emotions involved in consuming tea. I always like the fine china tea sets, with delicate and ornate teapots as well as nicely made saucers and cups. Fine teaware will only enhance the experience of consuming tea. Fine tea, good company... c'est la vie.

The August Mug Fest

The Bavarians have their Oktoberfest while we, yes humble yllsom-ers (yuck i hate this long and stilted name), have our own Augustusfest! Since day 1, the mood has generally been quite uptight. Even though lectures are easy to understand and are chugging along at a comfortable pace, EVERYONE else seems to be mugging something. I understand that some people are studying upperlimb while some others are doing blood. But honestly., it's only the first week, is there such a need to get ahead of the others? Don't tell me the dash to be specialists have already started? Right here in Year1?

Personally I feel obligated to mug. It's the general attitude of the cohort but I do not feel at all comfortable with what everyone is doing. I mean, this is university. It's more than just mugging! At least, that's the impression I have of foreign premier institutions like the Beloved Cambridge. I do hope that people learn how to relax because I think at such a pace, we're going to burn out even before Sem 1 ends. Then we watch who starts dying.

It's a Darwinian World guys. The rat race has just begun.

The Beginning of the End

Today's inauguration ceremony sparked off a torrent of feelings. The emcees and president never ceased to be emphatic on that fact that we are in NUS, as if that requires constant reminding. "Welcome to NUS" "Your long and arduous journey to NUS" etc etc. It became a drag, an aural assault that thundered down our tympanic canals. It was also a painful reminder stabbing at me, telling of the circumstance - I am no longer going to tabsville, as this blog is so named. With all the fancy gowns and the spin the management threw at us, it was clear as day that few, if any, of them actually graduated from NUS. Instead they hail from the many different institutions of higher learning, of which surely would be tabsville.

The president so fervently began his tale of the Atlantic Salmon. He vividly compared NUS to an inland lake, an enclosed and comfortable spawning pool for academic growth and development. He also emphasised the difference between the Pacific and Atlantic subspecies, that being that the former returns to spawn only once whereas the latter does so on numerous occasions. On every coin, there are 2 sides. In this quiet little spawning pool, the grizzly or brown bear awaits patiently, digging its evolutionarily enhanced paws and claws into the clear pristine waters. We are slowly, but surely, being speared and impaled by the merciless bears, of what these bears may represent is up to the readers' own imagination. Out in the open sea, wide as it may be, is fraught with dangers. Being only defenceless Salmons, NUS students have to weave past the Carnivorous mammals (orcas, sperm whales, dolphins and porpoises), the Cartilaginous fishes (sharks & rays) and the large fishing trawlers. We're not a force to be reckoned with. Instead, we just form a link in the global food chain, being feasted on upon by those from tabsville. Perhaps perhaps I would do a BA as a mature student some years down the road, to fulfill my dying dream of having read a degree at tabsville.

I refused to say the pledge. While the others chorused and chimed to the beat set by the less-than-eloquent NUSSU President, I stood my ground and kept my silence. There was neither fist over the heart nor were there any words from my mouth. There was only contempt and disdain breeding and fermenting. I know clearly that the inability to come to terms with my current situation will not bode well, but it is something that cannot be accepted so easily. It's like killing a newborn that you've kept nourished with your own ideals for 9 months. It wasn't easy.

The worst thing that can happen now is to let my hunger and dreams die. In its place complacency and familiarity will occupy. Familiarity will definitely breed contempt. In the entire campus, I am most at ease with myself in the medicinal plants garden. Being surrounded by the faculty's buildings and shielded away from the rest of wilderness, you can't help but feel the sense of calm. Though, the calm may be seen as the calm in the eye of the storm, only for all hell to break loose, and no means of escape. Perhaps, I'll die a poor GP.

Perhaps not.

Welcome to the National University of Singapore.

Reality Sucks

*Warning. Rant*

It was hard trying to reconcile reality with aspirations. For the past 4 years, I have never imagined myself being in our dear University. Not once has it come across my mind that I'll eventually settle for N*S. Clearly then, Medicine wasn't even one of my options. Honestly, after the gruelling MediQuiz sessions, I was put off Medicine. It gave me a distorted perspective of what Medicine would be like. Then, I hated Anatomy with a passion.

It was always Biology for me. I loved Evolution, I loved Genetics, I loved Physiology, I loved Taxonomy and Ethology. There is so much more that Biology can offer than Medicine. Medicine is very anthropocentric, we assume that we're all important and whatever we do is for the benefit of mankind ("Pro Utilitate Hominum"), but I disagree. This, I felt, was selfishness at its most explicit and corporeal form. It was this desire to perpetuate the Human Disease on Earth that disgusted me, from an ecological perspective. There was so much more to this world than just Us. The only logical place to do Biology would be the place where it is least tainted by the applied sciences. Cambridge, being one of the cradles of the subject and where Darwin once studied, was the best choice. By virtue of my passion for the subject (it still burns now), I managed to secure a place to read Natural Sciences, not without cost. I had to take up an *S**r scholarship and sell away 6 years of my academic freedom. I couldn't do what I wanted and had to partake in Vulgar Science. It went against my very notion of what Science should be like and how it should be conducted. The way we were doing it was a bloody joke.

But anyhow, events played itself out in a way that steered me towards Medicine. Logic told me that it was the Right choice. For someone like me, Business was out of the question. My career laid with the Sciences and Medicine was most probably it. NS became an issue, so was the potential income. I needed the financial stability, and Biology wasn't going to give me that. In fact, research work is one of the most lowly paid jobs, and if you cannot publish, that's game over.

Then I came to the realisation that if I wanted to leave this country, I must be a specialist because it is nearly impossible for a Singapore MBBS to Register in UK, AUS or US. There are just too many barriers involved and the move would be negative expectancy unless one is already a spec.

It's just too late now, and I can say that I'm hungry and unsatisfied.

I pray that this hunger will guide me out of this land.

Towards greener pastures.

Medicus In Training

Having just returned from Medicamp, I dare say that I'm still not at all at ease with the prospect of NUS Medicine. On the whole, I would say that the events were well-planned and executed with a lot of spare time in between for stoning (my fav activity so far) and sleeping (another fav). As with all NUS camps, it is sponsored by SDU and a whole host of other Sponsors, namely: Elsevier, Yakult, SingHealth, StarHub. The thing about SDU poking their noses in is that we have to participate in decidedly retarded games like Secret Pal. This game is reminiscent of LKY's antediluvian Graduate Mother policy and reeks equally of the same prejudices.

My Secret Pal seemed to be as bored as I am. After a few usual background sharing, we ran out of topics. No surprise here since Yours Truly felt like sleeping and had no impetus to continue the very contrived conversation. SP had applied for Oxbridge Law but did not get in. I still haven't yet met anyone who rejected Oxbridge for NUS Med, though people who rejected Berkeley and Johns Hopkins are around. Nevertheless, I feel that the atmosphere now is too Rah-Rah and I feel decidedly uncomfortable. I am not the sort to rah with strangers and everyone is behaving like long-lost relatives.

Another thing to note is that everyone seems to have a car! (M2s i mean) Some drive Mercs, some drive Mitsubishis and some BMWs. Of course, there are some damn rich seniors, I saw one CLK AMG convertible which was damn cool. There were also the usual Sedans (E200 and the lot) and more common Japanese wheels. On a separate note, the Fiat Grande Punto is out and looks rather nice. Though now, I'm rather inspired to ask my dad for an Audi TT Roadster or a Alfa GT Coupe. That'll of course be 2nd hand and can only come after I get my licence, which is a long while.

YW asked, Did I have Fun? No. I didn't. Certainly there were several moments of adrenaline like during the Taupok but the rest of it was dreadfully mundane, downright lame and just mind-numbing. But there were moments of relevation. Like the time when somebody shouted "Whack Thia" during the War Games. Everyone promptly dropped whatever they were doing to focus on the task at hand. It doesn't matter who won or lost the war games, but to whack Thia outright like that, was a once in a lifetime chance. With one warcry, we rallied the 4E people and even some people from other classes. We all descended on Thia like hawks and pelted him repeatedly with water bombs much to our amusement. As it was a Gang Bang, he couldn't really take revenge on any one person. So yay. It did feel good exacting revenge, though not just enough, on him.

Then on the final night, the OG stayed up at the poolside to talk about relationships. Michael had a very very very long narration of his series of Unfortunate Encounters and I think we're in similar situations though I am quite bo chup now. Yeah, so everyone had a closet full of skeletons that they aired out on that cloudy moonless night. Not that I cared really since I don't really know them that well. Shrugs.

I think the Bo Chup attitude is the way to go.

I am still very uninspired.

Go Cristina (Sandra Oh).

Saving Corporal Shalit

Just looking at Cpl Shalit's picture in the papers brings forth a surprising amount of empathy. He's a conscript in the Israeli Army, not very much different from us. A boy of 20 with a rifle thrusted into his hands, not very much different from us. A victim of an unfortunate circumstance, which will be us if hostilities do break out. It's not very hard to imagine ourselves in the position of Cpl. Shalit. Imagine doing Guard Duty at the border, all fatigued and ready to book out when suddenly several militants rush forth and kill your buddies while capturing you, not before giving you 01 x Good One (as the SISPEC people like to say).

It is evident that Israel's main motive is not to save Cpl Shalit, but to use his capture as a causus belli to restart hostilities with the Palestinians and now, the Lebanese. The entire region is heating up again but the other nations can do nothing but watch Israel flex its military muscle. They only know too well what will happen when they interfere with Israeli affairs and pose a direct threat to the Jewish state. During the 6-Day War, the Israeli Defence Force dealt a severe amount of damage to the invading Arabian Armies causing a breakdown in command and control and most importantly, breaking the back of invasion. Not wanting to sacrifice any more lives, countries such as Jordan, Iran and Egypt know very well to keep their military under check.

As for the Israeli agenda, it is perhaps to refresh the memory of the Palestinians who is in command in the region. Suicide attacks and missile strikes have long irked the Jewish State and perhaps in a bid to increase his political capital, Ehud Olmert (leading Kadima, moderate political party) wants to divert the nation's attention to conflict and strife. Saving Cpl Shalit would be a bonus but the main aim is to really give the major players in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict 01 x Good One.

On the economic front, *i think* that oil prices have been sent soaring to about US$70 per barrel which is bad for most markets and securities. The Air Transport Industry is definitely going to take a hit which will mean increased fuel surcharge. Keen eyed investors would have bought as much crude as possible before the attack and let it go now at the peak of the onslaught, hence making a regrettable situation a more pleasing one.

What would Singapore do if one of us were captured by the Northern or Southern states? I think the SAF would just say: Oh, that's just a NSF, we'll just sign a 1206. Private's pay, very cheap, only $450 a month, cheaper than even the Banglas. Why would they want to make your problem their problem. After all, you're nothing to those woe-betide regulars who regularly sponge off the system and do little/no work. Instead they arrow the work to their Serfs, bound by chains of Citizenship. Seriously, who will not abandon those chains if given a chance to do so? It's sometimes more of a curse than blessing. Every Combat NSF can emphatize with Dear Cpl. Shalit. He probably knows he's going to die at the hands of the Palestinians. But his death will be a dear one for it'll cost the lives of a multitude of Lebanese and Palestinians.

War is barbaric. So are Armed Forces.

Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen, Here's Some Bull For You.

You kid me not? Yeah. I have nothing important to say. Some people say important things, some people say inane things, some say stupid things. I just whine and grouse about how bad my life is, which isn't really that bad, considering what's happening to my contemporaries now, but oh, grass is always greener on the other side, especially Her Majesty's meadows. Heh heh.

In my fit of absolute boredom, (yet I wouldn't have it any other way, not the least SAF.), I watched 2 movies. Firstly, Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy which is all too brainless I might add. However, the next one deserves an mention. It's an instant classic - The Silence of The Lambs. This is the first of the trilogy of Dr. Hannibal Lector, psychiatrist extraordinaire and resident psychopath-cum-murderer. In this part 1, we meet his love interest (gastronomic or otherwise) Special Agent Clarice Starling. Dr. Lector develops this trust and avuncular love for Clarice, mentoring her all the way and giving her the much needed boost to net her criminal, a transvetite who likes to sew leather, made of course from none other than human integuments. No matter, Dr. Lector exhibited his well-trained surgical skills by deftly disemboweling a police officer and placing him in a most artful posture.

One must be very bored to be contented watching psycho-thrillers and daft comedies. I want my Grey's Anatomy Season 2! No matter. Hopefully school will give some direction, once again.

C'est la vie.

That's the way to go. Hooah.

Detritus of Society

Undoubtedly, the SAF takes in what would otherwise be the criminal class of society. These people have no skills whatsoever except to conduct stand-by [insert own item] or to go for tea breaks. Occasionally they might be involved in some silly sports meet thing or even cheer-leading. How apt - Military men involved in such inconsequential endeavours.

Anyhow, me and my platoon mate OOCed ourselves, pulled the right strings to get us back to Unit and essentially, the 2 of us make better administrators that all of the regulars added up together. Simply because they are incompetent and lazy people. Not to mention that most of the course material, or whatever documents they produce for that matter, have very very poor english. Unsightly spelling and grammatical errors coupled with gross run-ons make one develop a churning feeling in the stomach.

It just makes me sick when they know that you're going to someone relatively important/rich in the future, then begin to lick your boots. Like in driving school, my wretched instructor who spared us no vulgarity began to coo and pander after hearing that we won't be taking his demented test. He kept on harping on whether I'd remember the instructor who fuck me relentlessly in the future. Of course, to shut his trap, I said Sir, I'd have forgotten. What rubbish. Interestingly, he says that I'll poison him if I do see him in the OR, I guess, he may be right. Digoxin is too cliched, perhaps, morphine might make a better substitute.

And the parking instructor who takes pleasure in raining hokkien vulgarities on me for knocking the elephant of a 3-tonner into his parking poles suddenly saluted me and called me Sir. How odd, isn't it? These people are being too pragmatic. It's strange that in the army, your subordinates might become your superiors when you leave this contrived world. When the hunted becomes the hunter... the fun begins. Truly.

Especially when these people cannot find a job outside without the help of the government. Truly, we're a welfare state just like any other by giving disabled people food, accomodation and princely sum and worst of all, authority. It gives me pleasure to no end to see of their kind being booted out of the army, jobless and begging for alms. They're useless, disabled sludge of the benthic zone.

Why?

I feel very bogged down by inconsequential thoughts all the time. Clearly, I know these are not important to me at this point in time, nor should they be in time to come. But I just can't help it. It's like a leech feeding off my energies, most importantly, they are about material comfort.

I just have this urge to get a car. A bloody car for no particular reason. And I'm torn between a cheap new car and a cheap old car. The thing is that a car is supposed to be merely a transportation tool that I use to get from point A to B. But somehow I cannot override my Limbic system. As much as my logic mind understands that, I still look at cars such as BMW 320i and Mercedes C180. Evidently, these vehicles are priced out of my reach and at this point in time, or even 10 years down the road, have no use for me. Why is it that I am so enraptured by these material things?

And to make matters worse, I have a problem deciding whether to commute to school or stay on-campus. I am feeling a bit anti-social and would dislike a hall enviroment. The bustling (irritating) enviroment is at odds with my desire to mug mug mug mug mug. I just want to quiet airconditioned hermit's lair. Then again, the other side of me wants to have some social life. How do one get on the Dean's List and still have a social life? I am beginning to start mugging some anatomy. I believe it'll help, I hope. Anatomy is just pure memory. Maybe I can buy myself a skull. It'll probably be quite useful in visualising the numerous foraminae.

See. This is what I mean by inconsequential thoughts.
Cars. Accomodation. Food. Social life. Wth. All not important.

I just can't focus. and am so irritated with everything. everyone. Bah.

Think of Me

Think of me,
think of me fondly,
when we've said
goodbye.
Remember me
once in a while -
please promise me
you'll try.

When you find
that, once
again, you long
to take your heart back
and be free -
if you ever find
a moment,
spare a thought
for me...

We never said
our love
was evergreen,
or as unchanging
as the sea -
but if
you can still remember,
stop and think
of me...

Think of all the things
we've shared and seen -
don't think about the things
which might have been...

Think of me,
think of me waking,
silent and
resigned.

Imagine me,
trying too hard
to put you
from my mind.

Recall those days,
look back on
all those times,
think of the things
we'll never do -
there will
never be
a day, when
I won´t think
of you...

(Raoul)
Can it be?
Can it be Christine?

Bravo!

What a change!
You're really
not a bit
the gawkish girl
that once you were...

She may
not remember
me, but
I remember
her...

(Christine)

We never said
our love
was evergreen,
or as unchanging
as the sea -
but please
promise me,
that sometimes,
you will think
of me!

And I said to Myself: What a Wonderful World.

So begins the first week at the 3 *** Bn, which didn't go too badly I might add. They gave us a few surprises, which runs contrary to what I have heard about the place. We were denied breakfast on tuesday morning because they were conducting Tiger Trail, a hybrid between a cross-country run and a sports meet. People were just gathering around and making merry, kind of. Anyway, my superiors required all of us to spectate the event which resulted in a very slack morning. We had lots to eat too! Sumptous peanut porridge, cornflakes, soya beancurd, some kueh and stuff. It was quite surprising as this was our 2nd day there and we didn't quite expect them to be so courteous and accomodating.

Honestly however, the carnival didn't quite feel like one. Granted there were merchants selling their wares such as sports equipment, Oakley sunglasses, remote-controlled flying toys and Aviva insurance, people were just milling around for the sake of doing so. This is after all the Army, not some carnival as they try to make it out to be.

After an admittedly good start to our new home, we were acquianted with our immediate superiors who spared no effort in delegating a whole host of sai-kang for us. Of course, being cautious Privates who know too well what will happen when we don't volunteer for sai-kang, most of us rose up to the occassion and assisted in setting up tentages (not much of an issue).

Of course, the week was occupied with various inane events such as sai-kang, marshalling for IPPT, preparing of exercise stores of the other UIP Node and moving of equipment and furniture. The highlight of the week was of course our grand move from unit to driving school. As mundane as that might seem, it symbolises the emancipation from hell. (Sidenote: My vocab is shrinking at a alarming rate.)


Before we left, though, we were given a thorough stand-by area by an ultimately sadistic senior specialist with feminine name. He spoke few words, yet these words were invariably "Knock it down" or "What is this?". It was tempting to tell him,"That is clearly your finger, sir." Anyhow, he climbed into awkward places to dig out dust balls that we would never have imagined existed. He has incurred the ire of several of my platoon mates, who have miraculously procured his full name, NRIC, address, telephone number and car licence plate. God knows what they'll do with that glint of malice in their eyes. Time will tell.

Speaking of which, SAF thinks I'm psychotic.

"Your serviceman has been identified to be part of a study conducted by MMI, SAF Medical Corps and funded by MINDEF. This test aims to screen servicemen for mental illness in the SAF. By being recalled for screening, it does not mean that your serviceman has a mental illness."

Right.

So I'm psychotic.

Meh.

Torn

Things are starting to pick up again, after a long period of hiatus. When school starts, it will once again be a flurry of activity, perhaps even too much. But I'm not complaining.

Well, there's something that I totally want to complain about, which is how screwed up the admissions is! They invariably let in the WRONG sort of people. Like yiwen's brother's year, they let is Ngeah(whatever) or something. Some pretty hated guy in RJC. Certainly, they outdid themselves this year by letting in pervs and bimbos. What a great addition to the close knit medical community. Another telltale sign of how screwed up this nation is. I harbour no love, only resentment. I swear allegiance to my vocation, not some artificial boundary. I can never understand how something so artificial, so man-made as national boundary can get people all worked-up and angry. Just like little kids fighting over Lego. These politicians never learn do they?

Anyway, it's not really my problem. As long as I'm not involved.

After moving around the island these few days, I can say that I'm totally disillusioned. There is nothing here. Absolutely nothing. It's probably one of the more boring places on Earth. None of the Alpine winter sports. Limited yatch sailing. No motor racing (roads are too narrow). All we have here are shops and restaurants. If you live to eat and/or shop, well then, Singapore is paradise. Unfortunately, that's not what life is about. Not that all these matter.

The only thing I know is that I don't want to be here.

Not here.

I just happen to do a little walking in my area. All the while I thought that RJC was very inconvenient. But only now, 6 months after graduation from HCJC, did I find out that it actually only takes me 10 minutes by foot from my house to RJC's side gate at walking pace. If I ran, it would probably be 5 minutes thereabouts. What a bummer.

And from J8 to home, takes about 25 minutes walk. It's not that far really, considering I walk really slow. I haven't actually been to J8 for a long time and the place with crawling with RJC people, and also from the other places. I intended to watch Da Vinci Code (even if it was so rubbishy) but the long queue at the box office (no thanks to rafflesians) made it quite irritating.

I've just received the scholarship package from a*star. It's just a bunch of useless paper now. I have up to 10th May to decide, or so the package says. Anyway, it's probably going to be a forgone conclusion.

Salus aegroti suprema lex

The thought of embarking of medical studies send adrenaline coursing through my veins. Well, my medical report is out, and I'm HBsAg non-reactive (negative) but the concentration of HBsAb is too low and hence I would have to take a course of immunization. That aside, I'm praying for early disruption, for MOCC to deliver me from the evil and vile place called 3*** Bn.

Still, I am heartbroken when I think of Cambridge, of Great Britannia. My heart belongs to England while my body remains here on this vile patch of land. The institution known as National Slavery incarcerates those of us with Y chromosomes and disadvantages us. It's a system both unfair and discriminatory. Does the system care whether you break your arm during SOC and can never do surgery again? No, it bloody doesn't give a damn. You're just but another rotten stinking low-life Private.

I did not quit on this nation; It quitted on me. It showed me that no matter what, we're just slaves to the system. The system. If given the chance, I'd like very much to fuck the system once. Just once.

I really envy the girls. They can make any decision without other irritating factors being thrown into the conundrum already. such as national slavery. I'd probably want to do Medicine if there wasn't NS but I'd hate to think that I'm taking it up just so that I can disrupt. That's just so wrong and will do no justice to those who were not accepted. But I can't help thinking like that because I have no other choice. Either I rot and die and break every single rib, tear every single tendon and ligament or I leave for Medicine. It's a zero-sum game. I win, system.

You just imagine those HK films where the gang leader pulls out the hand of a debtor and places it on the table. He stabs at the table with a knife just nearly missing the fingers. Did he injure you? No. But you'd know better than to leave your hand on the table, lest in the next moment, a finger might decide to go on an extended vacation. I feel just like that. The longer I leave my hand on the table, the more nervous I become. A nervous wreck that is. It's not that I dislike this country - I detest it. On the Dissent vs Time graph, as time progresses, dissent increases exponentially. Everywhere I look, I see repugnance. The billowing fumes that so smothers me.

So when it's time to bid adieu, I'll. And I won't look back for I did not betray this country; It betrayed me. I didn't choose to be born here. Or to receive its education. Or to at all feed on its socioeconomic benefits. I have no moral obligation to this nation of artificial construct, held together only by a marriage of convenience - nothing more. We've only money, vulgar vulgar money. Not everything in this world can be quantized with money, certainly not human dignity and rights.

Thus the path has been revealed.

And the path forks. On the left I see a well-paved path, the path of Asclepius. And the other, the road of Darwin. Both are good and respectable paths of science. Though, I have some issues with giving up Cambridge. It pains me to see the old buildings of Cambridge and punts moving slowly down the River Cam. And the thought that I could have been there.

Oh, it so wrenches my heart that I cannot be there. Though on the flipside, being doctor, I have innumerable privileges. I guess that a M.B.,B.S. still gives me the most flexibility. In the event that I don't want to practice anymore, I can jolly well take up a fellowship and engage in research work. Well maybe when my BS-PhD offer comes, I can contact A*Star to negotiate a switch to M.B.,B.S. - Ph.D.

I think there should be no more waiting to be done. After all, all the cards have been laid on the table. It's my pick now. It's my call. Problem is, I am deliberating. Sigh.

And to those who did not get into Medicine, you guys should not feel bad you did not get into Medicine. It's their loss, not yours. May you do well in your new field of study.

The prospect of going to university is so exciting. So many new things to learn, though not going to meet much new people since MedFac is basically made up of the same old same old people. The environment is the Same Old NUS. Which actually can be quite Boring. No more punting down rivers or relaxing on the riverbank reading a good book (does that ever happen?). And with it 6 years of Civilian Life. Hooya.

I AM: a bloody NSF. Cheaper than a Bangla worker plus no OT! Sent to a bloody shitty unit to do saikang for the next 1.5 years. Wretched. Irritated.

I WANT: to draw arms and have a go at the more irritating commanders. Want to get an offer from NUS med, and Foxtrot Oscar from the army.

I WISH: to get into NUS Med so I can Foxtrot Oscar from army.

I HATE: the army.

I MISS: civilian life

I FEAR: 3signal bn

I HEAR: sgts f***ing us.

I WONDER: why i am still in the F***ing army. I WANT OUT!!! MOCC!!

I REGRET: not being british or american. CONSCRIPTION IS A TRANGRESSION AGAINST HUMANITY!!

I AM NOT: a civilian.

I SING: f***ed up army songs.

I CRY: no tears. my lacrimating glands have dried up.

I AM NOT ALWAYS: sane.

I MAKE WITH MY HANDS: death. I hold a gun and what do you do with a gun except to kill with it. I also hold a sledgehammer. To spike the ground with iron pegs.

I WRITE: rubbish.

I CONFUSE:dunno. sergeant, sergeant. horland.

I NEED: to GET OUT!

I SHOULD: GET OUT!

I START: dunno. I WANT OUT.
I FINISH: dunno. I WANT OUT.
I LOVE: OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT!!! MOCC MOCC MOCC MOCC.
I REMEMBER: MOCC.

The Week Ago

The last of the exercises had just concluded. With SumEx gone, it leaves us with the stark reality that we're going to have to leave the place called SI - heaven in army. Hopefully, I won't end up in the place so repulsive, 3signals. With the endless exercises and punishments, life will once again resemble BMT and its regimentation.

Anyhow, SumEx was a good experience. We had the opportunity to set up long distance UHF radio links between 2 locations, and surprisingly the comms were quite good. Calls on the DTMF phone got through quite easily and were crystal clear, much better than the VHF radio comms that we're so reliant on. Overall, the exercise went well except nearing the end when we have to contend with the particularly anal warrant. He was definitely making trouble for us and I playing the subservient serf (node warrant actually, but there's not much difference).

When we got back to camp, feeling all happy that everything is over, something HAD to crop up again. We discovered, much to our dismay, that the subscriber profile book had vaporized into thin air. 3SG drew 10 copies from the TCS store and we had only 9! There was one missing and dear anal warrant threatened menacingly to deal out 7 extras unto poor, innocent 3SG. Nevertheless, thanks to PL COMD's power Sherlock skills, he manage to fault find and locate the missing copy, which was taken away with a sleight of hand by a CSO (Comms System Opr).

The past week has also seen me going on a spree at Gramophone and HMV. I bought quite a few CDs (of musicals) and also a few nice films! =) Now that days have become quite boring - nobody wants to go out and there aren't anymore interviews to contend with. I have to find entertainment. Of which, I could try and finish up the numerous books i have lying around, which is plenty. It would probably take at least 2 months to finish all that.

Phantom is v.nice! Particular songs I like are "Think Of Me" and "All I Ask Of You". Sigh, bothersome bothersome irritating unis!!!!

Please come to a CLOSURE!!!

Ama Keng

The first real exercise I had in Signals was admittedly quite fun. The training programme intended to strike fear in the hearts of trainees stating ending time as 2359, however, we ended way before schedule at about 1500 and was able to book out by 1830, which is all good! -thumbs up- (:
Ex VHF is a rather Stupid name for the Excercise. I mean, where's the Uber-Cool codenames like Spitfire or Rolling Thunder or Desert Shield or Hornet's Nest. Ours was just unceremoniously named Exercise Very High Frequency. Very Cool Indeed.

Anyhow, it was basically an exercise to test our proficiency in our radio equipment. Our rovers were fitted with high-tech GPS reporting radios that can automatically update HQ with our MGRS and powerful VHF vehicular radios. Interestingly, our military vehicles are made by MG Rover of the UK, which explains why it has lasted so long. Some of the rovers are even older than Us having gone through a multitude of military exercises in ROC, Australia and Brunei. Despite the rugged-ness of the rovers, we manage to break the tailgate, making it very very irritating for us to disembark as we would have to jump off by stepping on the fender.

My detachment was allocated Ama Keng, some very remote part of Singapore North of CCK. To our dismay, we did not bring any cash, nor did we have the postal code of the building near the us. Armed with $ and postal code, one can do a lot, such as calling McD's delivery to deliver us from evil and vile combat rations. Our attempts to heat up the rations with the Rover engine failed dramatically, all we got were lukewarm rations and a very malodorous rover (ohh all that carbon monoxide -cough cough-). Ama Keng, according to Wikipedia, means The Temple of the Goddess. But we saw no temple, only an overgrown forest with trees threatening to eat up whoever may enter its depths.

Most of the time was spent talking rubbish amongst ourselves. We even had a mosquito catching contest. And manning comms. And talking rubbish. And manning comms. And stoning. And eating. And manning comms. But all in all, not much chiong sua apart from the fact that we were dressed in Long No. 4 uniform. I might get used to this type of chiong sua, unlike what the infantrymen have to go through. Run, run, run, prone, bang bang bang. Run, run, run, prone, bang bang bang. Enemy overrun. We, at Signals, merely find a nice shady spot to set up our antennae, then relax. (:

The pace of the exercise soon picked up, with many phases skipped carelessly. Perhaps that's how we ended so early, not that I mind especially since it was so boring. There were quite a lot of stupid codewords being used. PARADISE being the codeword for Return To Base and let's Book Out.

The coming week is one with numerous exercises, I pray that it will be as slack as Ex VHF.

=]

Point of No Return

Imagine a few microlitres of ink sealing your fate for the next 14 years. Imagine the 14 years a living hell. I can just imagine that. After a rather bad medicine interview, I am beginning to consider my other options, and what ifs. What kind of lifestyle do I want to lead? Do I want to stay here in Singapore? What do I live for?

These are questions that trouble me to no end.

(1) A*Star - To take up position as a research scientist and spend the next 8 years travelling the globe studying in the most renowned institutions of the World. Yet, I know not what lies ahead for me. Research is after all without security. I can be left without any achievements and a poor sullen empty shell, whose life marrow has been sucked dry by the repeated failures. Or I could lead life like Indiana Jones, intrepidly hunting down the mysteries that lie within the double helix, the blueprint of life. One caveat - the pay is bad. I'll know in a few weeks time whether they want to award me this scholarship. When it does come, I'll want to know, with firm conviction, that I am making the right choice.

(2) MBBS - I know that I want to do medicine. It's just as simple as that - it's something that's nagging at you, that makes you aware that you're missing out something great, something that's meant for you, that I would regret my life entire if I were to give it up. Thing is that, now that NUS med interview has gone so bad, chances are poor as well. Doctors are remunerated in more ways than one. Even though they complain that they are poorly paid with regards to their skill level and effort put in, they often do not talk about the intangibles such as Social Capital, Legal Capital and Political Capital. They wield a lot of clout as an exclusive group and cannot be touched even with a long stick. The only option left to me if NUS says no is to go down under. I can probably gain admission to the University of Melbourne easily as they hanker for an International's foreign dollars.

What am I to do?

I am at a lost.

De Humani Corporis Fabrica, Libri Septum

After reading Medicine's 10 Greatest Discoveries (Yale Nota Bene), I've come to a conclusion that doctors that become famous, rich and well-respected need not be at all the stereotypical doctor. The stereotypical doctor is knowledgable, noble, benovelent, unflinching at offering medical care and empathetic towards his patients. However, most of us are just but human and cannot quite fulfil the abovementioned criteria.

Let me expound on why not adhering strictly to the Hippocratic oath and the motto of "Salus aegroti suprema lex" - The well-being of the patient first, can still lead to fame and fortune.

ANDREAS VESALIUS

First, we shall look at the father of modern anatomy, Andreas Vesalius. Vesalius was a cold man. Cold in demeanour and of heart. However, he was driven by dreams of fame and fortune of being inducted into Imperial Service of the Emperor. Vesalius didn't quite fit into the stereotype for he was an ambitious one. He found glaring mistakes in Galen's anatomical descriptions including absurb (with the benefit of hindsight) assertions like venous blood originated from the liver and arterial blood from the heart, and never the twain shall meet. Galen also asserted that the heart had 3 chambers and was instrumental in pumping air, or a sort aether.

In an attempt to win favour from the Emperor and to gain fame and fortune, Vesalius sook to rewrite the anatomical books in 7 volumes, each ornately illustrated with anatomical correct and artful drawings. Vesalius was a person who could sleep with corpses he stole from graves or bought over from the local prison authority. It would take one with nerve and a inhumane sort of coldness to perform that. Never mind the bodies were festering with disease, boils and lesions. Vesalius dissected and described the organs and their relations in the body to much success. After much work, he finally contracted a famous venetian printer to print his book de humani corporis fabrica, libri septum on the finest paper and bindings available and lavishly decorated his book with gold patterns.

On presentation to the Emperor, Vesalius was inducted into Imperial Service and became one of the Emperor's most trusted physicians. However, his character and morals are to be doubted. In spite of this, he single handedly revolutionized medicine and ushered in a new era of medicine based on anatomically correct surgery.

Carpe Diem

So sieze the day people, and let not one moment of our precious lives go to waste, for we live one life and one life only. Time is seriously moving too fast. In a blink of an eye, I've spent 4 weeks at Signal Institute with 6 more weeks to go before my driving course. Every time we book in, our lives are put on hold, in weird sort of stasis and we continue from where we left off when we book out.

And on My Life This Week, I have once again been declared top cannibal whose favourite dish includes 3 month old baby girls. To top that, I am also court jester for the old men at PSC. I provided entertainment and ego inflation services for my clients who have to endure hours and hours of brilliance a day. When it all gets too much and unbearable, me and my colleagues are summoned in, masquerading as potential candidates and giving them a hell of a laugh (at us, of course).

At the PUB Scholarship, Alvin has been declared a top cannibal specialising in baby girls, on top of his other accolades of Court Jester and Insufferable Fool. He managed, among all other candidates, to stand out by declaring 3 month old baby girls as "unpalatable". Perhaps the assessors heard wrongly but it was the decision, not infants that are hard to stomach. Nevertheless, irate assessors launched into a 10-minute tirade justifying why it was wrong to eat baby girls. Of which, a plausible reason is that the unpalatable cadaver might clog up the already congested sewers and lead to a major flood problem, as witnessed by helpless residents of the Bedok region. In order to resolve the flooding issue, an inquisition has been launched to root out cannibals that were illegally dumping unsavory cadavers into the nation's waste water system.

Moving on, Cannibal Alvin has renounced cannibalism and sought to train in the fine art of medicine and surgery, where cutting up flesh does not necessarily mean having to follow through with cooking. In the event that the medical fraternity deems Alvin unsuitable, there is always the dental fraternity. Alvin will seek to improve proper dental hygiene of erstwhile cannibals that have put their pearly whites to rigourous use on sinews.

This turn of events will put Alvin at the top of the list for SI's Bookout King championships. The current scores stand at Clarence 5 and Alvin lagging by 1 point. However, Alvin will score an equalizer on wednesday where he'll finally meet The Man Himself. The Man is an elusive character that many people want to meet but cannot yet find the opportunity to do so. The offend The Man would be tantamount to treason. One could very well be hung for that.

Some people have suggested elaborate performances when meeting The Man to make full use of the audience. That would include wear a party hat and blowing a trumpet. Not forgetting spinning rapidly on the office chair at speeds that would embarrass a harddisk. One should also not forget the all-important kilt and bagpipe to up the Scottish atmosphere in The Man's office.

Till next time on My Life This Week.

I took the path less traveled, and it made all the difference?

Paths. They can either be laid with gravel or concrete. Some even have tiles, while other are less desirable. Dirt paths are just worn out bits of vegetation, sometimes, islands of grass can be seen in the middle of the path - as a sort of obstruction to the flow of traffic. Many instances, these paths usually meet with huge obstructions, like a hearty old oak or perhaps a building or two. Maybe it could be a huge boulder formed igneously, unearthed by decades of weathering. Whatever it is, paths will eventually reroute or spilt up into a fork, perhaps even at crossroads.

I have 2 paths in front of me now. Both are unfortunately rather well-trodden. Not only that, they are probably equipped with travelators, capable of sending you from the start to the end. But I know not what to choose. Currently, I have 1 UK university and no scholarships. I am expecting an offer from A*star. PUB and PSC will not offer me one unless the gods dictate otherwise. And then, there's medicine. Medicine, with all its caveats seem like an attractive option as well. I think I'd choose public service over research because research will get repetitive and boring after, perhaps, half a decade. Then what? I can't possible switch career at that time, could I? Public service allows one to see a greater deal, though I suspect it's very much the same case in the aspect of excitement. No matter, I will take things as they come.

The latest CUMSA meeting tested my social skills which failed miserably. I felt no better than a potted plant, photosynthesising next to the large full length windows. There were too many medics, too many girls (not really a bad thing, but) and too many RJC alumni. So I just stood around and observed eye-candy. Trust me, I think Cambridge is a good place for visual pleasure, with a multitude of excellent specimen of female beauty. There was Ms Aloof Beauty, who seemed lost in her own world yet exuding old world charm in the most dainty fashion. There was also a Ms Bimbo-but-I-am-actually-smart-cos-that's-why-I-am-going-to-Cam. Woo, what a mouthful. Yeah. But the way she dressed was really quite provocative with t-shirt threatening to slip off unceremoniously any moment, possibly committing a faux pas. There were others as well, but too many to be described in golorious details. They'll probably look more befitting in a Formal Hall setting or lying on the backs of Cambridge.

It'll be quite sometime before I will be there. So. Meh.

Speed Through Skills

Signals! I've just returned from a grueling week at Stagmont camp. I went there thinking that I would be an IC2 (Manpack) operator. But I was pleasantly surprised when told that my vocation was infocomm1. That would mean that I would not be carrying a5kg radio on my back and chasing after an infantry platoon. Instead, I would be part of a trunk comms team, comprising a sergeant and 2 men. I would drive a cute-looking vehicle called the Unimog with a radio comms unit mounted on it and provide trunk comms via these detachments.

Like what previous batches have said of their experiences at SI, Signal Institute should really be renamed as Sing-nang(hokkien for relaxed) Institute. The 5BX here only requires us to stretch and the most strenuous exercise of anything typical day is that of staying awake in a cold and comfortable computer lab. Unlike most people now, we spend most of our time in the com labs clicking away furiously at terminals, in a bid to re-pick up the physics we have lost and certain elements of codespeak and technical knowledge.

I do hope everyone else is doing fine. The officer cadets are still stuck in SAFTI and will not be out for another 2 weeks. Though, I think they'll have an immense amount of pride if they do get commissioned in the end. That 1-bar is hardearned with blood, sweat and tears.

REJECTED!

Signals

So. The verdict has been passed. I have been posted to the Signals formation and shall soon be undergoing the 7 weeks Basic Signals Course where I will be vocated as a Signaller for deployment into Battalion or Brigade Level service. I am ambivalent about this vocation. For one, I have heard stories about it being enjoyable with minimal physical punishment. If so, I guess this 2 years in army would be a relatively easy one, especially if I get Friday bookouts all the time.

Further more, I've been hoping really hard for a 8 to 5 vocation, which I will get if Providence so allows. I, for one, have been lucky, somewhat as compared to a few of my ill-fated section mates. China Blur got posted to Armoured Infantry, Charlie and Blur King are to become Combat Medics, which Ryan, worst one of all, got Guards. Guards! for Christ's sake. It's almost just as bad as Commandos, I would think. I do hope they survive their time there.

So now I await my new vocation with renewed hope and vigour. Hopefully, I get into NUS Medicine or PSC OMS, then, I would be granted relief from the monotony of military service.

Souvent me savient.

V for Vendetta

Remember, Remember, the 5th of November.

My first film of the year, v.good and rightly so. It's about another dystopic future, just like Aeon Flux, Just like the Classical Gattaca and Blade Runner and what have you. Hollywood just loves making films about us dying, suffering under a megalomaniac. And then, a hero saves the day.

So right. It was a great film. The female lead was Natalie Portman, which was good. And the male lead, well, we never get to see His face since he's doing the Zorro rubbish by hiding behind a Guy Fawkes Mask! Surprise Surprise.

There weren't too many twists in the movie. You knew that V was going to make a big bonfire out of the Parliament house. They tell you so right at the start after he blew up the Olde Bailey to the grandeur of Mozart's Overture. Like a nicely orchestrated event, the film flows along, at each point revealing little tidbits about V's past. But at the end, we still do not know anything about V.

Olde Chancellor Stulor (methinks) was shot by his own crony Creedy. Then ensued a scene that pays tribute to Matrix (rightfully so as this film is also by the Wachowski brothers). V does a sword dance after Creedy and gang empties their magazines into the armor-plated V. He neatly draws the blood of the cronies and punishes Creedy by sentencing him to death by asphyxiation.

Set in London, this film exudes British class. V is like the typical knight in shining armour, with a castle to boot. His personal collection includes priceless paintings worthy of Musee du Louvre, a nice jukebox with classics and many suits of armour and halbreds.

It's a good film that should not be missed.

Plenitude of Footwear

I love shoes. I don't know why but I just Love them. It feels good just having brand new cool looking footwear gracing your feet. It doesn't really matter what kind they are - be it shoes, boots, sandles, slippers. Just so long as the Feet get a comfortable environment to squirm around in. That said, I shall show off my latest acquirement.



















Yes. This beautiful piece of footwear that is Men's Fastpack Actuate Low Red
Style #16144 from my favourite footwear label Timberland. It cost me HK$790 and I believe it's every penny well spent. Since it was spent on Shoes anyway.

Next on my list is:


Men's Fells Trainer Low Brown
Style #12119

I have always had a penchant for nice brown shoes such as these. I would eventually get a pair of moccasins. I think those are rad. Especially when paired with apparel from British India. Makes you feel so... British. This being an American label is just besides the point.








And if I do go to England to study. This will be the footwear of choice. Man, I do Love Timberland.

Hong Kong

I've been trying to organise my thoughts and write something that is vaguely coherent but since I don't usually jot down my flashes of brilliance (?), my blog posts usually come out quite crappy, a far cry from the content which I had originally intended to put in. Maybe I should really keep a notebook and pen with me all the time. Just so I can jot things down before they... fly away.

Anyhow, the trip to HK has been fun, somewhat, albeit tiring. Spent most of the time eating and shopping, and walking. Free and Easy, isn't really that easy. Finding places is difficult. I tried to get some of the nice local delicacies I THOUGHT were at Central. Upon arrival, I found out that it was the bloody CBD and there was no food (besides macdonalds) for miles at 0800 hrs. Those restaurants don't open for business so early.

The poeple there are materialistic and snobbish, most of them. Hong Kong is a bastion of consumerism and Tsim Sha Tsui is definitely, without a doubt, the epitome of it. Streets upon streets upon streets of shopping. Coupled with the many megamalls that offer nothing but high-end labels like Gucci, Salvatore Ferragamo (?), Prada, LV etc. I did buy lots of Espirit stuff, but they are not particularly cheap, just that i liked them. So there.

In fact, I think if I am going to Cambridge, I would first make a trip to Hong Kong to buy all my clothes. I wouldn't want to go to cambridge looking like I just crawled out of a hole in swatow, would I? Clothes, shoes (man, I want those customised Timberland boots!), food. Hong Kong IS really the shoppers' paradise. Of course, one cannot expect to peanuts or one will have to settle for monkeys. As it happens, my mum expects things in HK to be dirt cheap. To be honest, HK has approximately the same standard of living as Singapore, thus we should not expect things to be very much cheaper. However, what should be expected is the range of goods. The volume of merchandise that passes through the erstwhile British colony is immense, hence stock and this fashion is regularly refreshed. I might get a nice Burberry's jacket if it proves then to not cost too much (~2k).

Next stop. Bangkok.

Johari's Window

Please help me do this.

Many thanks.

=)

cheers.

http://kevan.org/johari?name=alvinsoon

Rotting Vegetation


Guns unattended


Grave diggers


:o





Brothers in Arms? NOT!

Brilliance



A dying star turns supernova, exuding at the last moment (100k of years) a blinding flash of light as in consumes the helium and depleting hydrogen. Then, it implodes under a massive crushing gravity into a small dwarf. Perhaps, I am just like that. Having talked to a rj girl whom I met online on a forum for cambridge students/prospective applicants, I realised that I am just about as unaccomplished as the average person on the street. Sure, some may tout my excellent grades, one measly medal or even admittance to one of the world's best universities as justification that I am not what I claim. But truly, I wither in the brilliance of the others.

Perhaps I am too concerned about comparisons. I do not yet believe that I am incapable of what the others have achieved. I do not see myself as inept, just not having sufficient luck and opportunities. One must not deny that luck plays a great part in ensuring smooth-voyages, be it at sea or land. My rj acquaitance is extremely lucky to have secured a place at Cambridge to read Medicine (once it a lifetime? not quite, compared to MIT) and also a PSC OMS. Which raises a similar problem for me - to decide what I am going to do for the rest of my life in the next 2 months.

Apparently scholarship acceptance dates are late-April whereas NUS Medicine results come out only much later. Such uncertainty and decisions force our hand to either have the cake or eat it, but not both. What do I want really? I have no idea. On one hand, the allure of studying at Cambridge is definitely there (better still if it's Cambridge, MA :P), promises of a new experience never had before. However, Medicine being a once in a lifetime chance (truly, since it's a vocation for life) still beckons to me. Either way, I should turn out fine. Should I take the path more travelled? Or venture abroad and stay in London for good.

Well this essentially boils down to a local versus overseas battle again. I forsee I will be questioned in PSC Board Interviews (if I do make it that far) about this issue. I have lost much of the zest I had for Medicine due to the droning of biomed seniors. Biology appeals more to me as academic subject, however, I do have to be pragmatic about things and see into the future. Will it be the same? Will I still have the passion for biology after the grueling 2 years wasted in the armed forces? I doubt it'll be as strong, but will have remnants of it.

PSC, CAAS, A*Star, PUB and Medicine. These are my realistic choices for now.

I pale in comparison to the stars of Orion up there.

For I am either an embryonic star or a dying one.