6.30.2008
Day Three
It was mind-numbingly quiet today at work. I like to keep busy so I don't have time to think. Today I had plenty of it.
I felt like a queen, surrounded by colleagues ceaselessly offering me chocolate that I didn't want to eat.
John noticed my poopyfacedness.
What's wrong sniffles, he asks. I say nothing and look at him, poopyfaced. He cracks up laughing and tells me I look like one of those miserable-looking little toy puppies with the wobble-heads that you put in the back of your car. I pout. He laughs more.
I know! He says. How about you take my Macbook Air home tonight. I tell him that would have been an excellent idea about a week ago when Jez was still in the picture, creaming over the prospect of spending the night with it.
He then hands me a box of Zoloft with a serious face. Take three. He says. I can't keep a straight face.
The thought has actually occured to me. Not three tablets, but just the thought of antidepressants. That being said it was a very semi-demi-serious thought, if that. I know the mechanism of action of those things. I don't want them potentially up- or down-regulating my catecholamine receptors, thankyouverymuch. This I have to take like a man. A sexy man. With boobies.
Back to antidepressants though. Everyone seems to be on them. I asked Eugene whether it was as simple as walking into a doctor's office and saying "look, I'm feeling kinda sad, so gimme a tablet". He said it was and I'm not surprised. There are too many doctors who prescribe anyone anything and call a cough asthma.
For a good part of the day I couldn't stop being reminded of Jez.
Train goes past Lewisham in the morning. Mirjana sent me off to buy lunch from the pasta shop that sells the risotto that Jez liked that I once brought back for dinner. The whole plaza was reminiscent of us walking through it, me chirping away at "this is where I buy my shoes, this is where I buy my sushi, this is where I buy my lingerie. Giggle giggle". The fruit shop full of things we said we'll try one day. The harbour bridge we never climbed.
There are so many things I want to do. And in all honesty I don't want to do them with anyone else, because it was never their plan. It was ours.
I've never felt so wrong doing something right.
I felt like a queen, surrounded by colleagues ceaselessly offering me chocolate that I didn't want to eat.
John noticed my poopyfacedness.
What's wrong sniffles, he asks. I say nothing and look at him, poopyfaced. He cracks up laughing and tells me I look like one of those miserable-looking little toy puppies with the wobble-heads that you put in the back of your car. I pout. He laughs more.
I know! He says. How about you take my Macbook Air home tonight. I tell him that would have been an excellent idea about a week ago when Jez was still in the picture, creaming over the prospect of spending the night with it.
He then hands me a box of Zoloft with a serious face. Take three. He says. I can't keep a straight face.
The thought has actually occured to me. Not three tablets, but just the thought of antidepressants. That being said it was a very semi-demi-serious thought, if that. I know the mechanism of action of those things. I don't want them potentially up- or down-regulating my catecholamine receptors, thankyouverymuch. This I have to take like a man. A sexy man. With boobies.
Back to antidepressants though. Everyone seems to be on them. I asked Eugene whether it was as simple as walking into a doctor's office and saying "look, I'm feeling kinda sad, so gimme a tablet". He said it was and I'm not surprised. There are too many doctors who prescribe anyone anything and call a cough asthma.
For a good part of the day I couldn't stop being reminded of Jez.
Train goes past Lewisham in the morning. Mirjana sent me off to buy lunch from the pasta shop that sells the risotto that Jez liked that I once brought back for dinner. The whole plaza was reminiscent of us walking through it, me chirping away at "this is where I buy my shoes, this is where I buy my sushi, this is where I buy my lingerie. Giggle giggle". The fruit shop full of things we said we'll try one day. The harbour bridge we never climbed.
There are so many things I want to do. And in all honesty I don't want to do them with anyone else, because it was never their plan. It was ours.
I've never felt so wrong doing something right.
Day Three
Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light
You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say goodbye
And follow the light
You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say goodbye
Day Three
We went to see Prince Caspian last night. The movie was too long for my liking, especially when I haven't seen the first Narnia movie. Prince Caspian was somewhat pleasant to look at, so I guess $12 well spent.
It was Mylinh, Derek, Jenny, Bao, Marty, and me. More appropriately put, Mylinh and Derek, Jenny and Bao, Marty, and me. Jenny spent most of the movie sleeping under Bao's jacket, and I spent most of the movie poking Marty and asking him who Ice Queen and the lion were.
By the time we were home it was past midnight. After some brief bickering with Jez over I don't even know what to call it, over talking, I guess, I went to bed. It was cute. It was like talking to an angry little boy.
It was Mylinh, Derek, Jenny, Bao, Marty, and me. More appropriately put, Mylinh and Derek, Jenny and Bao, Marty, and me. Jenny spent most of the movie sleeping under Bao's jacket, and I spent most of the movie poking Marty and asking him who Ice Queen and the lion were.
By the time we were home it was past midnight. After some brief bickering with Jez over I don't even know what to call it, over talking, I guess, I went to bed. It was cute. It was like talking to an angry little boy.
6.29.2008
Day Two
Everybody else thought we were perfect, too.
Stop making me sad guys. Please.
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
to be honest
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
im sure thigns will work out
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
i duno
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
last time i saw u
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
you jsut light up
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
when u talk to him
annie says (6:51 PM):
last time was last time mike
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
still
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
its like
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
ive never seen any1
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
like that
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
im sure u guys got soemthing special going on
Stop making me sad guys. Please.
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
to be honest
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
im sure thigns will work out
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
i duno
ryuhou says (6:50 PM):
last time i saw u
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
you jsut light up
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
when u talk to him
annie says (6:51 PM):
last time was last time mike
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
still
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
its like
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
ive never seen any1
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
like that
ryuhou says (6:51 PM):
im sure u guys got soemthing special going on
Day Two
Freida filled in for Eugene today. I thought Eugene had finally had enough of my shit and decided it was his turn to bail out just to spite me, but it turns out it was his birthday. I know this because we had scrawled our own names in black marker all over 29th of June and 20th of August on the pharmacy calendar.
I called to wish him a happy birthday and to inform him that I was right in predicting I'll be single by this weekend.
I cried all morning. Freida made me many cups of tea and customers offered me much sympathy on what they assumed was hayfever.
As a result I didn't end up tidying the store like Janet had instructed me to before she left. I bought lunch and threw it away without eating it.
Despite the above insanities I was still loving the novelty of my newly crammed exam knowledge. Freida has an aversion for scripts so it was up to me to save the day.
An elderly lady came into the pharmacy with a thick wad of repeats for a million medications. She flipped through them and was under the impression that sertraline, atenolol and ranitidine (which she referred to as "rafen") were generics of each other. She was also categorising her medication by the time of the day during which she takes them, which I suppose would be fine if she didn't have herself convinced that if two medications are both taken in the morning, they must be the same.
I recommended she visit her doctor to eliminate the drugs she won't need to avoid confusion, and typed up for her a list of her current medications, their uses, and their substituted generics.
Another woman called to ask whether she can take Digesic and paracetamol concomitantly. I calculated for her the amount of paracetamol she's allowed after her dose of Digesic, but found out later that she was developing allergies to the dextropropoxyphene and suggested she stick to paracetamol first and see her doctor for an alternative.
By the end of the day, I felt like I've done my job (despite the fact that the shelves were still dirty and I hadn't bothered to vacuum a lot of places).
Freida decided to give me a lift to the city since there were no trains between Wynyard and the northern line. I would have much rather waited a whole hour for the bus and then have it break down on the harbour bridge because Freida dropped me off at ... Hyde Park.
I called to wish him a happy birthday and to inform him that I was right in predicting I'll be single by this weekend.
I cried all morning. Freida made me many cups of tea and customers offered me much sympathy on what they assumed was hayfever.
As a result I didn't end up tidying the store like Janet had instructed me to before she left. I bought lunch and threw it away without eating it.
Despite the above insanities I was still loving the novelty of my newly crammed exam knowledge. Freida has an aversion for scripts so it was up to me to save the day.
An elderly lady came into the pharmacy with a thick wad of repeats for a million medications. She flipped through them and was under the impression that sertraline, atenolol and ranitidine (which she referred to as "rafen") were generics of each other. She was also categorising her medication by the time of the day during which she takes them, which I suppose would be fine if she didn't have herself convinced that if two medications are both taken in the morning, they must be the same.
I recommended she visit her doctor to eliminate the drugs she won't need to avoid confusion, and typed up for her a list of her current medications, their uses, and their substituted generics.
Another woman called to ask whether she can take Digesic and paracetamol concomitantly. I calculated for her the amount of paracetamol she's allowed after her dose of Digesic, but found out later that she was developing allergies to the dextropropoxyphene and suggested she stick to paracetamol first and see her doctor for an alternative.
By the end of the day, I felt like I've done my job (despite the fact that the shelves were still dirty and I hadn't bothered to vacuum a lot of places).
Freida decided to give me a lift to the city since there were no trains between Wynyard and the northern line. I would have much rather waited a whole hour for the bus and then have it break down on the harbour bridge because Freida dropped me off at ... Hyde Park.
6.28.2008
Day One
This is possibly the end of Day One.
I sat down with my parents after dinner. We talked about a lot. My faults. His. Ours.
I hadn't told them a thing yet.
My dad speculates - he doesn't love you anymore. He must have ruled out vice-versa because I looked completely miserable.
No, I say. He loves me. I love him. We want to be together. We just can't ... stand each other.
I had already told my mum about the ring. She had already berated me for my carelessness. So we fill in the gaps for dad.
He took it differently, and told me that Jez wanted the ring back because it had cost him a lot of money, and because he wanted to be able to give it to his next girlfriend. I said that was one thing I would bet my life on that Jez wouldn't do.
Besides, he has to fork out $600 to have it fixed (or ... remade) first.
So he was upset because you lost it, because that means you didn't care? My dad asked. I nodded. And then you bought a new one trying to make up for it? I nodded. Jez's dad had laughed when he found out that I had done so. My dad didn't laugh. He just looked confused.
How can he make you feel bad enough to buy a new ring? He said. You screwed up and lost the old one, but now that it's lost, what else can you do? If you're upset about it he should be comforting you, not the other way around. He should understand. You didn't do it on purpose.
I didn't say anything. It wasn't as simple as that, and it wasn't just about the ring. He went on.
If your mother lost her wedding ring I wouldn't be angry. I'll tell her not to worry, and then buy her a new one.
My mum smiles at him. I smile too, vaguely aware that I'm admiring two people who I've always been sure have never been in love.
I sat down with my parents after dinner. We talked about a lot. My faults. His. Ours.
I hadn't told them a thing yet.
My dad speculates - he doesn't love you anymore. He must have ruled out vice-versa because I looked completely miserable.
No, I say. He loves me. I love him. We want to be together. We just can't ... stand each other.
I had already told my mum about the ring. She had already berated me for my carelessness. So we fill in the gaps for dad.
He took it differently, and told me that Jez wanted the ring back because it had cost him a lot of money, and because he wanted to be able to give it to his next girlfriend. I said that was one thing I would bet my life on that Jez wouldn't do.
Besides, he has to fork out $600 to have it fixed (or ... remade) first.
So he was upset because you lost it, because that means you didn't care? My dad asked. I nodded. And then you bought a new one trying to make up for it? I nodded. Jez's dad had laughed when he found out that I had done so. My dad didn't laugh. He just looked confused.
How can he make you feel bad enough to buy a new ring? He said. You screwed up and lost the old one, but now that it's lost, what else can you do? If you're upset about it he should be comforting you, not the other way around. He should understand. You didn't do it on purpose.
I didn't say anything. It wasn't as simple as that, and it wasn't just about the ring. He went on.
If your mother lost her wedding ring I wouldn't be angry. I'll tell her not to worry, and then buy her a new one.
My mum smiles at him. I smile too, vaguely aware that I'm admiring two people who I've always been sure have never been in love.
Day One
I'm washing the clothes that smell like Jez, and not wanting to wash them at the same time.
I'm messed up. I think you only need to take a look at how many entries I've posted within the last two hours to come to that conclusion.
I know that everything we do is serious. Breaking up was not a joke. If it was we should probably break up anyway for bad taste in jokes.
I'll admit - there's a small part of me hoping that this is transient. That's the part that has always stuck with me, knowing that these moments aren't completely unfamiliar, and knowing that later, we'll come back to each other.
Right now there's nothing to suggest anything. It's a blank. I'm not naive enough to ask why two people who love each other can't be together. Not anymore. I don't want anything other than for both of us to be happy. I don't think it needs to be said that I care about Jez, and I want myself to be happy because I'd be stupid not to.
I wouldn't sacrifice my happiness for his. That kind of sacrifice doesn't work a relationship, and is pointless outside of one.
Back to my hopeful little self. Contrary to what might actually make sense, I don't want it to go away. Hope is a good thing. I don't know how to justify the disappointment in which it might eventually result. I just think it's good to have a little bit of hope.
Jez is different. I feel almost as if we don't break up because we want to, but because we think we should. I wouldn't know what to say when people start asking for reasons.
None of this makes the break-up any less real. I'm a little torn between being sad and being thankful I haven't let myself sink into delusions.
I might reminisce. It's too early, and the happy memories are exerting quite the opposite effect to their name.
Right now, everything really is zucker-frei. :(
I'm messed up. I think you only need to take a look at how many entries I've posted within the last two hours to come to that conclusion.
I know that everything we do is serious. Breaking up was not a joke. If it was we should probably break up anyway for bad taste in jokes.
I'll admit - there's a small part of me hoping that this is transient. That's the part that has always stuck with me, knowing that these moments aren't completely unfamiliar, and knowing that later, we'll come back to each other.
Right now there's nothing to suggest anything. It's a blank. I'm not naive enough to ask why two people who love each other can't be together. Not anymore. I don't want anything other than for both of us to be happy. I don't think it needs to be said that I care about Jez, and I want myself to be happy because I'd be stupid not to.
I wouldn't sacrifice my happiness for his. That kind of sacrifice doesn't work a relationship, and is pointless outside of one.
Back to my hopeful little self. Contrary to what might actually make sense, I don't want it to go away. Hope is a good thing. I don't know how to justify the disappointment in which it might eventually result. I just think it's good to have a little bit of hope.
Jez is different. I feel almost as if we don't break up because we want to, but because we think we should. I wouldn't know what to say when people start asking for reasons.
None of this makes the break-up any less real. I'm a little torn between being sad and being thankful I haven't let myself sink into delusions.
I might reminisce. It's too early, and the happy memories are exerting quite the opposite effect to their name.
Right now, everything really is zucker-frei. :(
Day One
Mirjana called with the news that Ismat is currently in hospital for ectopic pregnancy.
I missed a pill last week. This would be a very unfortunate time to be pregnant.
I'm really going to miss the sex.
I'm sorry, I had to say it.
Damn me for having the libido of a 16-year-old boy.
I missed a pill last week. This would be a very unfortunate time to be pregnant.
I'm really going to miss the sex.
I'm sorry, I had to say it.
Damn me for having the libido of a 16-year-old boy.
Day One
I told Jez last night that I wanted to say thank you to his parents for everything they've done for us. A grunt doesn't mean no, right? Riiiight.
He doesn't think it's necessary, I know. I do though. How many nights have we come home dragging his mum away from whatever she's doing to make us dinner? How many times have they invited me out with family friends? How many times have they checked for me that Jez was home and safe when he wouldn't pick up the phone?
I've never shown in any way that I appreciated all of this. Well, other than washing the dishes. I was a notorious bedroom-hermit otherwise. There was that one time when Jez's mum asked me to take out the laundry because she had to leave the house before the washing machine was ready. Just one time. And Jez offered to help but ended up just standing behind me and trying to make my dress fly up.
I called his dad. Well I didn't know who I was calling, but his dad answered the phone. He was completely oblivious to the fact that we had broken up. I wasn't oblivious to his obliviousness because I knew Jez hadn't said anything.
I wanted to say just two things. Thank you, and sorry. And then maybe a brief elaborating of each on why. But he told me that Jez had been home this whole time, and that upon re-emerging from his room for lunch, he asked him whether I was working, whether I'll be coming over later. Jez said I was at work, and that he didn't know.
Babe, when are you going to realise that they care?
Last time I posted I said we've grown up somewhat through being together. It's true. After our last break-up I would have never left his house. This time I know he's home. It's early. I have the day off. But I don't want to see him. This time I'm not trying to hold on. He's online. Reading manga because it's Saturday, or mindlessly adding friends on Facebook. I'm thinking about him, but I want to let him be.
I said to Jez's dad that Jez will definitely be mad that I'm calling to tell you something he won't. He said it doesn't matter how Jez takes it. He asked me what happened, and I briefly told him the reasons we broke up. Just like everyone else he said it was no big deal, but I knew it was. From the outside, it's a lost ring. Only Jez and I know what it means.
I didn't talk to him for long, but after the phone call I felt so much lighter. He said he'll have a talk with Jez, that he and Jez's mum want to help me, and asked for my phone number so that he can talk to me because we probably both knew that Jez isn't going to open up. It doesn't bother me whether or not he talks to Jez. I'm thankful for it, but I don't want them to help me. And I can't imagine what it would be like to be occasionally speaking to the parents of an ex. I do think that it isn't right to keep the people who care about us most in the dark, but their influence has a limit. Ultimately the decision is ours. We've made it.
There's a lot to think about, I said. And we were reluctant to let go, but we have and it's over. Finally I came to the reason I called in the first place, and thanked him and auntie for being so good to me. He said I'm welcome to come over any time. I wanted to laugh, not because it's funny, but because that was exactly what Mrs Sivan had said.
Even though I still didn't end up talking to Jez's mum, I feel that this has been enough. It's easier to move on if there's closure. I have my closure now.
There was one thing that Jez's dad said that stuck to my mind.
He said, it's so hard to find someone, it's partly fate.
It was something I didn't want to think about. Because I know it's hard. It's really, really hard.
He doesn't think it's necessary, I know. I do though. How many nights have we come home dragging his mum away from whatever she's doing to make us dinner? How many times have they invited me out with family friends? How many times have they checked for me that Jez was home and safe when he wouldn't pick up the phone?
I've never shown in any way that I appreciated all of this. Well, other than washing the dishes. I was a notorious bedroom-hermit otherwise. There was that one time when Jez's mum asked me to take out the laundry because she had to leave the house before the washing machine was ready. Just one time. And Jez offered to help but ended up just standing behind me and trying to make my dress fly up.
I called his dad. Well I didn't know who I was calling, but his dad answered the phone. He was completely oblivious to the fact that we had broken up. I wasn't oblivious to his obliviousness because I knew Jez hadn't said anything.
I wanted to say just two things. Thank you, and sorry. And then maybe a brief elaborating of each on why. But he told me that Jez had been home this whole time, and that upon re-emerging from his room for lunch, he asked him whether I was working, whether I'll be coming over later. Jez said I was at work, and that he didn't know.
Babe, when are you going to realise that they care?
Last time I posted I said we've grown up somewhat through being together. It's true. After our last break-up I would have never left his house. This time I know he's home. It's early. I have the day off. But I don't want to see him. This time I'm not trying to hold on. He's online. Reading manga because it's Saturday, or mindlessly adding friends on Facebook. I'm thinking about him, but I want to let him be.
I said to Jez's dad that Jez will definitely be mad that I'm calling to tell you something he won't. He said it doesn't matter how Jez takes it. He asked me what happened, and I briefly told him the reasons we broke up. Just like everyone else he said it was no big deal, but I knew it was. From the outside, it's a lost ring. Only Jez and I know what it means.
I didn't talk to him for long, but after the phone call I felt so much lighter. He said he'll have a talk with Jez, that he and Jez's mum want to help me, and asked for my phone number so that he can talk to me because we probably both knew that Jez isn't going to open up. It doesn't bother me whether or not he talks to Jez. I'm thankful for it, but I don't want them to help me. And I can't imagine what it would be like to be occasionally speaking to the parents of an ex. I do think that it isn't right to keep the people who care about us most in the dark, but their influence has a limit. Ultimately the decision is ours. We've made it.
There's a lot to think about, I said. And we were reluctant to let go, but we have and it's over. Finally I came to the reason I called in the first place, and thanked him and auntie for being so good to me. He said I'm welcome to come over any time. I wanted to laugh, not because it's funny, but because that was exactly what Mrs Sivan had said.
Even though I still didn't end up talking to Jez's mum, I feel that this has been enough. It's easier to move on if there's closure. I have my closure now.
There was one thing that Jez's dad said that stuck to my mind.
He said, it's so hard to find someone, it's partly fate.
It was something I didn't want to think about. Because I know it's hard. It's really, really hard.
Day One
I suppose last night was more "this morning" than "last night".
It was too late for a facial. I'm kidding, do you really think I need facials? :D
Jen was at Mel's 21st last night so I called Bao, who was at Marty's with Steven Do and Willsy leeching movies from each other's hard drives.
Bao came over to pick me up and we went to Maccas before going back to watch half of Rush Hour 3 and the other one starring Matthew Fox. I wouldn't know because Marty's bed was too comfortable not to fall asleep in. We left at around 3 am. It was soooooo cold.
I know it can't be expected of me to break some habits only hours later, but despite knowing I'm better off not doing it I called Jez before I slept. I don't know what I said. Something about helping each other move on. Jez responded with a lot of non-committing grunts and we hung up a few minutes later.
I guess it's best to stay completely away from each other until feelings dissipate. Then if we were to talk again it won't do any harm. But you know, again, once you're used to something, or someone, having them suddenly disappear feels like losing a limb. Or in Jez's case, two.
This morning I tried to put off waking up as long as possible. Mike asked me yesterday to hang out with him after work but since I was too busy breaking up I didn't get back to him. So I called and we decided to go to Bondi.
Don't underestimate the power of Facebook. I changed my status only several hours ago and Mylinh called (pretty much immediately), Abhi called, and Mike mentioned it.
I'm still missing everything. I try not to pause to think about it but when I do, I feel miserable. We struggled to work things out for so long, and we told each other everything will be okay because we had something good, something special. Despite that, we didn't make it through after all.
I know this is going to take a long time. I don't know how many days, but today is Day One.
It was too late for a facial. I'm kidding, do you really think I need facials? :D
Jen was at Mel's 21st last night so I called Bao, who was at Marty's with Steven Do and Willsy leeching movies from each other's hard drives.
Bao came over to pick me up and we went to Maccas before going back to watch half of Rush Hour 3 and the other one starring Matthew Fox. I wouldn't know because Marty's bed was too comfortable not to fall asleep in. We left at around 3 am. It was soooooo cold.
I know it can't be expected of me to break some habits only hours later, but despite knowing I'm better off not doing it I called Jez before I slept. I don't know what I said. Something about helping each other move on. Jez responded with a lot of non-committing grunts and we hung up a few minutes later.
I guess it's best to stay completely away from each other until feelings dissipate. Then if we were to talk again it won't do any harm. But you know, again, once you're used to something, or someone, having them suddenly disappear feels like losing a limb. Or in Jez's case, two.
This morning I tried to put off waking up as long as possible. Mike asked me yesterday to hang out with him after work but since I was too busy breaking up I didn't get back to him. So I called and we decided to go to Bondi.
Don't underestimate the power of Facebook. I changed my status only several hours ago and Mylinh called (pretty much immediately), Abhi called, and Mike mentioned it.
I'm still missing everything. I try not to pause to think about it but when I do, I feel miserable. We struggled to work things out for so long, and we told each other everything will be okay because we had something good, something special. Despite that, we didn't make it through after all.
I know this is going to take a long time. I don't know how many days, but today is Day One.
6.27.2008
So this is it.
I've learnt a $300 lesson (I'm not exaggerating - just including the taxi fare). Jez and I have decided to ...
Gosh, how do I even start.
I think I've known for awhile now, that our temporary fixes were just that. We admitted that we both want this relationship to work, but it's really time to pause and think about how, and if, it will.
The ring.
I don't think there can be any way to describe how hard I searched for it. You know the way you never find anything if you're actively look for it, but once you stop, it somehow finds you? I'm banking on this.
One day I hope it'll come back to me. Not to save our relationship, because our relationship isn't about the ring. I want it back because it's mine. Because it came with so much love.
Right now, it hurts so much.
I don't want to think about the past. I don't want to dwell on the mistakes or the arguments or think about what we should have or could have done.
Right now, I need to face this alone. Jez and I had something special. Something that could have grown. But relationships can't grow if the people in it don't. I have a lot to learn, a lot about myself I can improve. It's going to take time.
I know we'll both be fine. We've already grown through this relationship.
Jez has removed "iwalad" from his name.
The first step to moving on, maybe.
I've learnt a $300 lesson (I'm not exaggerating - just including the taxi fare). Jez and I have decided to ...
Gosh, how do I even start.
I think I've known for awhile now, that our temporary fixes were just that. We admitted that we both want this relationship to work, but it's really time to pause and think about how, and if, it will.
The ring.
I don't think there can be any way to describe how hard I searched for it. You know the way you never find anything if you're actively look for it, but once you stop, it somehow finds you? I'm banking on this.
One day I hope it'll come back to me. Not to save our relationship, because our relationship isn't about the ring. I want it back because it's mine. Because it came with so much love.
Right now, it hurts so much.
I don't want to think about the past. I don't want to dwell on the mistakes or the arguments or think about what we should have or could have done.
Right now, I need to face this alone. Jez and I had something special. Something that could have grown. But relationships can't grow if the people in it don't. I have a lot to learn, a lot about myself I can improve. It's going to take time.
I know we'll both be fine. We've already grown through this relationship.
Jez has removed "iwalad" from his name.
The first step to moving on, maybe.
6.26.2008
I haven't found it.
It isn't about the ring anymore. It's about more than the ring.
I keep thinking, if only we had dealt with everything as they came along. If only. Then we wouldn't need to be here now, facing so many of them at the same time.
For someone who has spent so much of their life in relationships I'm spectacularly incapable of handling them. Our relationship has taught me a lot about myself, but despite realising that I need to grow up I still haven't quite gotten around to it.
You've heard everything. You know my faults. You know yours too, and you know they are much fewer in comparison.
We both need time. We loved each other too much, and as a result have done too many things against our better judgement. And now we've given each other a lot to learn from.
Like I said earlier, there are two options. One, we stay and figure everything out as a couple. Two, we move on, and someday become a great husband or wife to somebody else. I know that neither is easy, but both will eventually end in us being happy.
I can see it in two ways.
After being through so much together our relationship is strong. Even after the past few weeks we still managed to pull through, knowing that despite the stress and fights we didn't want this to end. A relationship as strong as ours can make it through anything.
But then again, it has been a long time. We've been struggling to set things right for so long that we're both tired, maybe too tired to keep going. Do we push ourselves a little further, or do we rest? Or give up?
In the end, it's a matter of whether the results will be worth the effort.
You said today in a fit of corny that our love will conquer everything. I believe it can. But will we let it?
The lessons I've learnt came at a price that could be higher than I can afford. When I was younger and my mum gave me advice that I didn't believe in, I'd always retort with "when I make that mistake I'll learn from it then". But that was silly. Some mistakes shouldn't be made in the first place.
I think about what will happen tomorrow, next week, next year. I imagine coming over to your house, sitting in the living room with your parents and talking about what we're going to do for our 21st; cooking together, then have them lie to us about how they never thought lobster would taste so good burnt to a crisp; snuggling under the blankets, then leaving before your parents go to bed.
I try to picture walking into an unfamiliar house to meet the parents of a boy with a blank face. To do everything I just mentioned with them instead. I wonder whether I'll still be thinking of you.
Do you remember the SMS I sent to you on the night of your birthday last year? Something about our silly little chat logs? "When I'm 90 years old and suffering from Alzheimers, I'll read them and know that you, Jez, have always been the one".
It was nearly a year ago, and at the time I was so stupid, so naive. And now, I'm a little less silly. A little more realistic. But I still believe that SMS every bit as much as I did back then.
I told you I had taken money out my savings. We could pick out a new ring together. You said it doesn't work that way. I know it doesn't. It wasn't marriage or engagement, but it was a committment. And no committment ring is ever going to replace my Elsa Peretti Bean. I know it won't be the same. I knew it before I spoke, but I hadn't thought of a new ring as marking a new beginning as much as I thought it would be a reminder of what our relationship had managed to pull through.
You said that for you, it all hangs on the ring.
I'm still looking. If I don't find it I'll walk away.
I'm sorry.
It isn't about the ring anymore. It's about more than the ring.
I keep thinking, if only we had dealt with everything as they came along. If only. Then we wouldn't need to be here now, facing so many of them at the same time.
For someone who has spent so much of their life in relationships I'm spectacularly incapable of handling them. Our relationship has taught me a lot about myself, but despite realising that I need to grow up I still haven't quite gotten around to it.
You've heard everything. You know my faults. You know yours too, and you know they are much fewer in comparison.
We both need time. We loved each other too much, and as a result have done too many things against our better judgement. And now we've given each other a lot to learn from.
Like I said earlier, there are two options. One, we stay and figure everything out as a couple. Two, we move on, and someday become a great husband or wife to somebody else. I know that neither is easy, but both will eventually end in us being happy.
I can see it in two ways.
After being through so much together our relationship is strong. Even after the past few weeks we still managed to pull through, knowing that despite the stress and fights we didn't want this to end. A relationship as strong as ours can make it through anything.
But then again, it has been a long time. We've been struggling to set things right for so long that we're both tired, maybe too tired to keep going. Do we push ourselves a little further, or do we rest? Or give up?
In the end, it's a matter of whether the results will be worth the effort.
You said today in a fit of corny that our love will conquer everything. I believe it can. But will we let it?
The lessons I've learnt came at a price that could be higher than I can afford. When I was younger and my mum gave me advice that I didn't believe in, I'd always retort with "when I make that mistake I'll learn from it then". But that was silly. Some mistakes shouldn't be made in the first place.
I think about what will happen tomorrow, next week, next year. I imagine coming over to your house, sitting in the living room with your parents and talking about what we're going to do for our 21st; cooking together, then have them lie to us about how they never thought lobster would taste so good burnt to a crisp; snuggling under the blankets, then leaving before your parents go to bed.
I try to picture walking into an unfamiliar house to meet the parents of a boy with a blank face. To do everything I just mentioned with them instead. I wonder whether I'll still be thinking of you.
Do you remember the SMS I sent to you on the night of your birthday last year? Something about our silly little chat logs? "When I'm 90 years old and suffering from Alzheimers, I'll read them and know that you, Jez, have always been the one".
It was nearly a year ago, and at the time I was so stupid, so naive. And now, I'm a little less silly. A little more realistic. But I still believe that SMS every bit as much as I did back then.
I told you I had taken money out my savings. We could pick out a new ring together. You said it doesn't work that way. I know it doesn't. It wasn't marriage or engagement, but it was a committment. And no committment ring is ever going to replace my Elsa Peretti Bean. I know it won't be the same. I knew it before I spoke, but I hadn't thought of a new ring as marking a new beginning as much as I thought it would be a reminder of what our relationship had managed to pull through.
You said that for you, it all hangs on the ring.
I'm still looking. If I don't find it I'll walk away.
I'm sorry.
I'm home. I may have ingested two sips of Crown Lager but not a drop more. It tasted revolting.
It wasn't much fun. It might have been if not for the fact that we were braving Winter in the backyard with no source of heat other than a small fire which more than sufficiently lit up our faces but left our arses (and the rest) icy.
The drinkers seemed to have gotten a lot more out of tonight. Except one girl who took on Sameer in drinking and ended up half-vomiting half swallowing back vomit, then nearly dipping her head into the fire, then running into the corner of the backyard to vomit again, then having an asthma attack, then lying on the grass sobbing. As far as I know she was still sobbing when we left.
You're probably going to say, "that reminds me of someone". Or you would if you didn't already know that this "someone" has just travelled to Woop Woop and lugged along six bottles of Strongbow to warm her hands by a flame for 3 hours.
I thought you might read this in the morning.
You know babe, we've ignored our problems for too long. Now they're all finally biting us back in the arse. All at once. It'll be hard, making them go away, but I don't worry anymore because there's no point. We've made mistakes, but we're strong. If we want this to work, there's no way it won't.
So here's this. I know it's often hard for us to talk to each other when we're fighting. I know you sometimes don't want to talk, though most of the time I do. I know you need space to think, to figure things out for yourself. I'm writing my mind because I'm different. I can't keep it inside. But this time I don't want to confide in anyone else. This time it's just between you and me.
So you might have figured that I've made you my only reader. Lucky you.
Read it, or don't read it, or read some of it, it doesn't matter. It's in writing. It'll always be here. I can choose when I want to write, and you can choose when and if you want to read. Hopefully this will be a little more comfortable than being dragged into a conversation against your own will, or waiting for you to open up to me.
Is it silly? Well it's 2:00 am. It just might be.
Even though I'm sober. Just a little bit tired.
Sleep well babe. Wake-up call commencing at 6:00 am.
It wasn't much fun. It might have been if not for the fact that we were braving Winter in the backyard with no source of heat other than a small fire which more than sufficiently lit up our faces but left our arses (and the rest) icy.
The drinkers seemed to have gotten a lot more out of tonight. Except one girl who took on Sameer in drinking and ended up half-vomiting half swallowing back vomit, then nearly dipping her head into the fire, then running into the corner of the backyard to vomit again, then having an asthma attack, then lying on the grass sobbing. As far as I know she was still sobbing when we left.
You're probably going to say, "that reminds me of someone". Or you would if you didn't already know that this "someone" has just travelled to Woop Woop and lugged along six bottles of Strongbow to warm her hands by a flame for 3 hours.
I thought you might read this in the morning.
You know babe, we've ignored our problems for too long. Now they're all finally biting us back in the arse. All at once. It'll be hard, making them go away, but I don't worry anymore because there's no point. We've made mistakes, but we're strong. If we want this to work, there's no way it won't.
So here's this. I know it's often hard for us to talk to each other when we're fighting. I know you sometimes don't want to talk, though most of the time I do. I know you need space to think, to figure things out for yourself. I'm writing my mind because I'm different. I can't keep it inside. But this time I don't want to confide in anyone else. This time it's just between you and me.
So you might have figured that I've made you my only reader. Lucky you.
Read it, or don't read it, or read some of it, it doesn't matter. It's in writing. It'll always be here. I can choose when I want to write, and you can choose when and if you want to read. Hopefully this will be a little more comfortable than being dragged into a conversation against your own will, or waiting for you to open up to me.
Is it silly? Well it's 2:00 am. It just might be.
Even though I'm sober. Just a little bit tired.
Sleep well babe. Wake-up call commencing at 6:00 am.
6.24.2008
6.22.2008
So tired.
I ask the self-proclaimed wise-man, why do we continue to argue?
Well, he says, when you're the only child, you're selfish. The world needs to be the way you like it, you need to be the centre of attention. It can't be helped.
I ask, what do I do?
Why do anything, he says. He'll make it up to you. He's probably on his way to your house with roses.
No, I say. I very highly doubt it.
He does buy you flowers, doesn't he?
No.
Chocolates?
No.
Come on, at least once?
No, I say. I never wanted them.
You two are young, he says and trails off.
I guess he's the flowers-and-chocolate type. I sit and half-arsedly play Minesweeper.
It'll be okay, he says. You'll work it out soon, everything's going to be fine.
I stare at him darkly. He looks worried.
Look, he says. When people say they don't know if their girlfriend or boyfriend is the one, it's bullshit. You either know it or you don't. If your instinct tells you that he is, then everything will be fine. If you have a feeling it isn't right, then it isn't.
I pause. What if I'm feeling both?
He looks lost for words for a few seconds, then says, can you imagine being with this guy when you're older, fighting over mortgage payments and overdue bills?
No, I say. Our bills won't be overdue.
Can you imagine growing old with him?
I can.
He shrugs as if to say, then that's all you need to know.
I continue to sit and play Minesweeper. He hands me a box of tissues.
I blow my nose. I really want it to work.
He looks half frustrated, half sympathetic. You know what they say, you don't stay with someone because you can live with them. You stay because you can't live without them.
The latter, I think to myself.
You're young, he says.
I'm so sick of hearing it. We'll grow up, I say.
He looks at me seriously. People grow up, but they don't change.
I know, I say.
You two have been together for a long time, he says.
No we haven't, I snap. Not compared to you.
I can't imagine being with anyone else, he says. I can't even imagine being attracted to anyone else.
I know, I say. Me neither.
I ask the self-proclaimed wise-man, why do we continue to argue?
Well, he says, when you're the only child, you're selfish. The world needs to be the way you like it, you need to be the centre of attention. It can't be helped.
I ask, what do I do?
Why do anything, he says. He'll make it up to you. He's probably on his way to your house with roses.
No, I say. I very highly doubt it.
He does buy you flowers, doesn't he?
No.
Chocolates?
No.
Come on, at least once?
No, I say. I never wanted them.
You two are young, he says and trails off.
I guess he's the flowers-and-chocolate type. I sit and half-arsedly play Minesweeper.
It'll be okay, he says. You'll work it out soon, everything's going to be fine.
I stare at him darkly. He looks worried.
Look, he says. When people say they don't know if their girlfriend or boyfriend is the one, it's bullshit. You either know it or you don't. If your instinct tells you that he is, then everything will be fine. If you have a feeling it isn't right, then it isn't.
I pause. What if I'm feeling both?
He looks lost for words for a few seconds, then says, can you imagine being with this guy when you're older, fighting over mortgage payments and overdue bills?
No, I say. Our bills won't be overdue.
Can you imagine growing old with him?
I can.
He shrugs as if to say, then that's all you need to know.
I continue to sit and play Minesweeper. He hands me a box of tissues.
I blow my nose. I really want it to work.
He looks half frustrated, half sympathetic. You know what they say, you don't stay with someone because you can live with them. You stay because you can't live without them.
The latter, I think to myself.
You're young, he says.
I'm so sick of hearing it. We'll grow up, I say.
He looks at me seriously. People grow up, but they don't change.
I know, I say.
You two have been together for a long time, he says.
No we haven't, I snap. Not compared to you.
I can't imagine being with anyone else, he says. I can't even imagine being attracted to anyone else.
I know, I say. Me neither.
6.21.2008
Could be due to my unprecedented length of absence, but work was particularly rewarding today.
Today was also the first time I dressed appropriately in over half a year.
I arrived at work 10 minutes early. A couple was waiting to go in. Crawling out of bed on a Saturday morning to visit the pharmacy. The enthusiasm.
The morning passed easily. Mirjana sent me out of the pharmacy to run several important tasks, such as collecting a gift voucher, and browsing food courts for lunch ideas.
Slight influx of customers at midday, but Saturday customers are much more relaxed and patient, so I helped a woman pick out lipstick; discussed ingrown hairs with a girl who was unfortunate in the Brazilian department; and recommended Becoderm to a kid with awful eczema on her cheeks.
Eric came in for what I assumed to be his usual Saturday visit before going to the fish markets for lunch. He was a little too pleasantly surprised about finding me at work, and Mirjana shooed him away.
The afternoon was quiet, so I curled up behind the register with an issue of AJP and read about new dosage regimens of Cialis.
Eric returned later with perfume samples for Mirjana from the boutique in which I think he now works. I asked why I didn't receive any. He leaves and comes back five minutes later with Miss Dior Cherie and Gucci, the former smelling peculiarly like Kenneth Cole.
I met Jez after his last exam. I sulked nearly the entire time due to inconveniences caused by another of Jez's famous last-minute-changes-of-plan.
Jez seemed to have taken my complaints to heart, and I suppose on my behalf I should learn to let grudges go. Granted, we didn't do what I would've liked to do, but the boy made an effort and took me out to dinner, which was expensive and contained awful salad (my bad, sorry).
We decided to part ways after dinner. Grumbling, I headed to the station and learnt that there was 20 minute wait. I called Jez to say thanks for dinner and learnt that he was at Starbucks. Partly out of irrationality and partly out of wanting to delay going home, I followed and wondered whether he would do exactly what I predicted.
I walked into the cafe to find him sitting by the wall with a mocha and his nose in the DS. He saw me but pretended he didn't. I approached the counter and bought some tea, certain that when I turned around he would be gone. Except he was still there enthusiastically erasing noise. The Starbucks girl handed me my tea and I turned around, thinking maybe he hadn't noticed me after all. And with impeccable timing he left the cafe early enough to prevent me sitting down at the same table, but not early enough for me to miss his exaggerated exit. Despite myself I laughed.
The tea was hot so I stayed inside and studied. My options were poor. I didn't want to join Jenny and Bao until I had covered the content at least once alone. I didn't want to grab a quick snack with Mike because that boy has very different interpretations to mine of "quick" and "snack". I didn't want to go to a club with Nicole because that isn't even worth mentioning.
So I bought some stationery and caught a bus.
I came home to a new bed and bedside table. Except for some unknown reason I've grown addicted to sleeping on the bed in the tiny room adjacent to the study. Possibly because I had never slept there before. Sleep is delicious there, believe me.
Today was also the first time I dressed appropriately in over half a year.
I arrived at work 10 minutes early. A couple was waiting to go in. Crawling out of bed on a Saturday morning to visit the pharmacy. The enthusiasm.
The morning passed easily. Mirjana sent me out of the pharmacy to run several important tasks, such as collecting a gift voucher, and browsing food courts for lunch ideas.
Slight influx of customers at midday, but Saturday customers are much more relaxed and patient, so I helped a woman pick out lipstick; discussed ingrown hairs with a girl who was unfortunate in the Brazilian department; and recommended Becoderm to a kid with awful eczema on her cheeks.
Eric came in for what I assumed to be his usual Saturday visit before going to the fish markets for lunch. He was a little too pleasantly surprised about finding me at work, and Mirjana shooed him away.
The afternoon was quiet, so I curled up behind the register with an issue of AJP and read about new dosage regimens of Cialis.
Eric returned later with perfume samples for Mirjana from the boutique in which I think he now works. I asked why I didn't receive any. He leaves and comes back five minutes later with Miss Dior Cherie and Gucci, the former smelling peculiarly like Kenneth Cole.
I met Jez after his last exam. I sulked nearly the entire time due to inconveniences caused by another of Jez's famous last-minute-changes-of-plan.
Jez seemed to have taken my complaints to heart, and I suppose on my behalf I should learn to let grudges go. Granted, we didn't do what I would've liked to do, but the boy made an effort and took me out to dinner, which was expensive and contained awful salad (my bad, sorry).
We decided to part ways after dinner. Grumbling, I headed to the station and learnt that there was 20 minute wait. I called Jez to say thanks for dinner and learnt that he was at Starbucks. Partly out of irrationality and partly out of wanting to delay going home, I followed and wondered whether he would do exactly what I predicted.
I walked into the cafe to find him sitting by the wall with a mocha and his nose in the DS. He saw me but pretended he didn't. I approached the counter and bought some tea, certain that when I turned around he would be gone. Except he was still there enthusiastically erasing noise. The Starbucks girl handed me my tea and I turned around, thinking maybe he hadn't noticed me after all. And with impeccable timing he left the cafe early enough to prevent me sitting down at the same table, but not early enough for me to miss his exaggerated exit. Despite myself I laughed.
The tea was hot so I stayed inside and studied. My options were poor. I didn't want to join Jenny and Bao until I had covered the content at least once alone. I didn't want to grab a quick snack with Mike because that boy has very different interpretations to mine of "quick" and "snack". I didn't want to go to a club with Nicole because that isn't even worth mentioning.
So I bought some stationery and caught a bus.
I came home to a new bed and bedside table. Except for some unknown reason I've grown addicted to sleeping on the bed in the tiny room adjacent to the study. Possibly because I had never slept there before. Sleep is delicious there, believe me.
6.16.2008
6.15.2008
6.14.2008
In one of my Romano Fois lectures, there was a graph under which was the question:
"How do you know whether the terminal slope represents elimination (usual) or absorption (flip-flop)?"
Next to it I wrote:
"How can you not know omgsh."
I hope I was being sarcasic because I've been trying for 5 minutes and counting and I still can't figure out how.
"How do you know whether the terminal slope represents elimination (usual) or absorption (flip-flop)?"
Next to it I wrote:
"How can you not know omgsh."
I hope I was being sarcasic because I've been trying for 5 minutes and counting and I still can't figure out how.
6.13.2008
I think this is my cue.
I've read 90 lines over the past hour.
The same line.
In other news more mullets.
I've read 90 lines over the past hour.
The same line.
In other news more mullets.
I'm not very good with the liver. Both alcohol and hepatic pathophysiology related.
In other news check out this guy's mullet.
In other news check out this guy's mullet.
Remember this post from yesterday?
"If I can digest interactions between MAO inhibitors and indirectly acting sympathomimetics while Rihanna is playing in the background, does it mean I'm clever enough to pass pharmacol?"
What the fuck, they interact?!
"If I can digest interactions between MAO inhibitors and indirectly acting sympathomimetics while Rihanna is playing in the background, does it mean I'm clever enough to pass pharmacol?"
What the fuck, they interact?!
I was going to take a shower but there's a spider on the wall. I hope it goes away by the time I finish this entry.
Is there a light somewhere that switches on every time I update?
I'm afraid.
Twice a year we see the worst of us.
We always count. Three more semesters. Two more. Then instead of ending, it starts. What will we do then? Deal with them (and each other) like we do now? Say things we don't mean? Reject each other's calls? Cry? How will we avoid each other if we share the same home? I hope sleeping on the couch won't be necessary, unless it's together.
If we can function only be separating and waiting for problems to resolve themselves, how many days of our lives will we spend waiting?
I wish we knew how to deal.
Is there a light somewhere that switches on every time I update?
I'm afraid.
Twice a year we see the worst of us.
We always count. Three more semesters. Two more. Then instead of ending, it starts. What will we do then? Deal with them (and each other) like we do now? Say things we don't mean? Reject each other's calls? Cry? How will we avoid each other if we share the same home? I hope sleeping on the couch won't be necessary, unless it's together.
If we can function only be separating and waiting for problems to resolve themselves, how many days of our lives will we spend waiting?
I wish we knew how to deal.
6.12.2008
I believe
I've burnt out for the day.
Sadly, my two options to escape this retched eye-burning head-hurting arse-aching wrists-osteoarthriting atmosphere went to waste.
My mum called in the afternoon to ask whether I'm hungry enough to need her home immediately after work, because she wanted to do a bit of shopping. I said go shopping and please bring me a couple of highlighters because despite having purchased twelve of them last week I find myself completely deprived.
Then an hour later I realised there was one stress-spot on my cheek that qualified as a medical emergency, and that I was fresh out of Dermalogica gel. I had an old bottle of Oxy-10 which I thought smelled peculiar, the reason for which was that it had expired over a year ago.
I made a rather stupid plan to go emergency-shopping with a friend. Shopping defined as travelling for only-Cityrail-knows-how-long to spend 30 seconds buying one item. But you know, whatever. Desperate times.
Then when I had one foot out the door I realised I had no ticket, no cash and the train was due in 5 minutes. The one after that in half an hour, and it was already 6:30. Not worth the effort.
Since I was already dressed I had an overwhelming urge to go out anyway. I thought of joining my mum but she called hours ago and it was probably too late. I thought of going to Burwood alone but the prospect of being alone after being alone for 4 bloody whole days doesn't hold as much appeal as much as one would imagine. I thought of going out to meet Jez after his exam except I didn't know when it ended and he seems to be busy pretending I don't exist.
So here I am in my dirty portugese chicken burger stained jeans. Wasting time alone.
Sadly, my two options to escape this retched eye-burning head-hurting arse-aching wrists-osteoarthriting atmosphere went to waste.
My mum called in the afternoon to ask whether I'm hungry enough to need her home immediately after work, because she wanted to do a bit of shopping. I said go shopping and please bring me a couple of highlighters because despite having purchased twelve of them last week I find myself completely deprived.
Then an hour later I realised there was one stress-spot on my cheek that qualified as a medical emergency, and that I was fresh out of Dermalogica gel. I had an old bottle of Oxy-10 which I thought smelled peculiar, the reason for which was that it had expired over a year ago.
I made a rather stupid plan to go emergency-shopping with a friend. Shopping defined as travelling for only-Cityrail-knows-how-long to spend 30 seconds buying one item. But you know, whatever. Desperate times.
Then when I had one foot out the door I realised I had no ticket, no cash and the train was due in 5 minutes. The one after that in half an hour, and it was already 6:30. Not worth the effort.
Since I was already dressed I had an overwhelming urge to go out anyway. I thought of joining my mum but she called hours ago and it was probably too late. I thought of going to Burwood alone but the prospect of being alone after being alone for 4 bloody whole days doesn't hold as much appeal as much as one would imagine. I thought of going out to meet Jez after his exam except I didn't know when it ended and he seems to be busy pretending I don't exist.
So here I am in my dirty portugese chicken burger stained jeans. Wasting time alone.
MCQs
Advantage: You'll never lack answers.
Disadvantage: You'll always be indefinitely hovering between two options on which you'd bet your life are both correct.
Disadvantage: You'll always be indefinitely hovering between two options on which you'd bet your life are both correct.
13-hour day
I took one 30-min break to play TWEWY, but like I said - wasn't interested.
Otherwise, I've painstakingly combed through haematology, renal, and eye & ear of pharmacy practice. Right, so it doesn't sound like a lot, because it was time-consuming indeed.
Hopefully SUPA will be open some time on Monday because out of stupidity only befitting of me, I haven't retrieved my last two volumes of TG, and I have a sneaky sneaky suspicion they might come in handy.
I'm not sure what the hell else to bring. Tim Chen mentioned that there was no correlation between mark and kilograms of reference text brought into examination room, which makes sense, since there would barely be any time to put all of them to use.
Nevertheless what troubles me is the privilege of using "notes". Notes could mean anything. I could draw a penis on a piece of paper and bring it in as reference.
I've asked whether AMH and TG would suffice. Apparently they would, though I'm still not convinced. When I'm sitting in there surrounded by luggages filled with Encyclopedia Britannica of Every Single Drug Interaction Even Including Those With Limited Documentation I'm going to feel absolutely fucking naked.
Plan of action. Read "how to use this guide" of AMH. Borrow APF from Mike. Retrieve leftover TGs from SUPA on Monday. Cry.
I'm making a huge deal out of this because I'm anxious. I'm anxious because as if closed-book exams aren't hard enough - open books will probably mean that they'll base a question around a ridiculously useless piece of information in the corner of some obscure back-page of a volume of TG nobody would have thought of bringing and even if they did won't be able to read the abysmally small text without a microscope.
And this isn't your regular open-book exam, remember? This is open-book plus notes.
I just shivered.
Otherwise, I've painstakingly combed through haematology, renal, and eye & ear of pharmacy practice. Right, so it doesn't sound like a lot, because it was time-consuming indeed.
Hopefully SUPA will be open some time on Monday because out of stupidity only befitting of me, I haven't retrieved my last two volumes of TG, and I have a sneaky sneaky suspicion they might come in handy.
I'm not sure what the hell else to bring. Tim Chen mentioned that there was no correlation between mark and kilograms of reference text brought into examination room, which makes sense, since there would barely be any time to put all of them to use.
Nevertheless what troubles me is the privilege of using "notes". Notes could mean anything. I could draw a penis on a piece of paper and bring it in as reference.
I've asked whether AMH and TG would suffice. Apparently they would, though I'm still not convinced. When I'm sitting in there surrounded by luggages filled with Encyclopedia Britannica of Every Single Drug Interaction Even Including Those With Limited Documentation I'm going to feel absolutely fucking naked.
Plan of action. Read "how to use this guide" of AMH. Borrow APF from Mike. Retrieve leftover TGs from SUPA on Monday. Cry.
I'm making a huge deal out of this because I'm anxious. I'm anxious because as if closed-book exams aren't hard enough - open books will probably mean that they'll base a question around a ridiculously useless piece of information in the corner of some obscure back-page of a volume of TG nobody would have thought of bringing and even if they did won't be able to read the abysmally small text without a microscope.
And this isn't your regular open-book exam, remember? This is open-book plus notes.
I just shivered.
6.11.2008
Men men men men menly men men men.
There is now a men's version of Elevit.
Antioxidants and what not for healthy, happy sperm!
Antioxidants and what not for healthy, happy sperm!
So, like ...
I was in the bathroom not long ago, examining my stress-induced skin flaws.
When I focused my attention from my skin to my face, I was startled to discover that my regular homeostatic expressionlessness is now my regular homeostatic angry-look.
And now whenever I glance away from the computer and catch my reflection in the window, it's angry.
I'm permanently angry.
When I focused my attention from my skin to my face, I was startled to discover that my regular homeostatic expressionlessness is now my regular homeostatic angry-look.
And now whenever I glance away from the computer and catch my reflection in the window, it's angry.
I'm permanently angry.
6.10.2008
Shifty business
If doing something mischievous makes you happy, would you continue doing it?
Of course you would!
Of course you would!
Positive battery
The same person who introduced me to my "cube" suggested a 30-day plan of turning every negative thought into a positive one.
This is the shiteous example I was given, but the point is clear.
Negative thought: Shakes fist.
Positive thought: Protein shake!
Actually the point isn't really clear at all.
This is the shiteous example I was given, but the point is clear.
Negative thought: Shakes fist.
Positive thought: Protein shake!
Actually the point isn't really clear at all.
Annie
So Mike has been introduced to an average-looking girl named Annie.
Annie is keen but Mike is not.
When he refers to her as "the fat pig" I feel a slight urge to defend myself.
Who knows why.
Annie is keen but Mike is not.
When he refers to her as "the fat pig" I feel a slight urge to defend myself.
Who knows why.
6.09.2008
Smat
If I can digest interactions between MAO inhibitors and indirectly acting sympathomimetics while Rihanna is playing in the background, does it mean I'm clever enough to pass pharmacol?
Barbituates and web-messenger
I've always imagined barbituates to be angry little caveman molecules, because the name is somewhat phonetically associated with "barbaric".
Why do enzymes have such long names? Phenylethanolamine N-methyltransferase. Succinic semialdehyde dehydrogenase.
Jez is at UNSW chatting to me via e-messenger on an uni computer. I'm reminded of one of the more tedious pharmacol practicals of last year (which I don't think deserves to be called a practical if its only activity was to look up information on a computer database) during which I logged onto MSN on one of the pharmacol lab computers and chatted to him (who was home possibly due to unemployment) about all the vague and miscellaneous things that were our earlier conversations. I'm positive that the date was 21st May, 2007.
It's probably the weight of exams, but in this role-reversal of that day I feel like I'm speaking to a completely different person.
This is the time of year where frequency of posts reaches its peak. Don't try to keep up.
Why do enzymes have such long names? Phenylethanolamine N-methyltransferase. Succinic semialdehyde dehydrogenase.
Jez is at UNSW chatting to me via e-messenger on an uni computer. I'm reminded of one of the more tedious pharmacol practicals of last year (which I don't think deserves to be called a practical if its only activity was to look up information on a computer database) during which I logged onto MSN on one of the pharmacol lab computers and chatted to him (who was home possibly due to unemployment) about all the vague and miscellaneous things that were our earlier conversations. I'm positive that the date was 21st May, 2007.
It's probably the weight of exams, but in this role-reversal of that day I feel like I'm speaking to a completely different person.
This is the time of year where frequency of posts reaches its peak. Don't try to keep up.
Why can't we all be heroes?
Literally the entire family sat around my grandparents' TV tonight to watch a mildly entertaining Chinese talk show.
The topic in a nutshell was a high-school teacher who, when one of the Sichuan earthquakes of last month began, instructed his students to "don't panic" but bolted for his own life without a backward glance. The building he was teaching in collapsed shortly after, and the several students who didn't make it out in time were killed.
For his cowardly act he was given an hour's worth of shit from participants of the show, which included teachers, parents, the principal of his school, and a psychologist.
The general consensus was that his act was disgraceful and unbefitting of his occupation. One speaker even went as far as to claim that his integrity was closer to that of an animal than human. Most insisted he resign.
The one speaker whose opinion stood out from the rest was the psychologist, who reminded the audience and participants that the man was also an earthquake victim, and that it was unrealistic for society to expect self-sacrificing courage from each individual. He pointed out that nobody in the studio had been in the same situation and therefore can neither claim that they wouldn't have done exactly the same thing; nor expect being a hero to be as easily said as done.
My parents booed. They agreed with the idea that it was an occupational responsibility of the man to put the safety of students before his own, and likened it to the way soldiers are shot for fleeing battle.
I'm sitting on the fence. Theoretically, they're absolutely right. Theoretically, it's quite black-and-white. Running away and leaving a bunch of kids behind is wrong. Ensuring the kids' safety first is right. But I do think this is one case where theory doesn't quite apply to practice.
Imagine somebody who has neither experienced an 8.0 earthquake nor have been instructed to expect and how to react to one. Imagine he's writing calculus equations on the blackboard. Then imagine his reaction as the blackboard breaks in two as the building starts to collapse. He shits himself. His life flashes before his eyes and his mind is blank save for one objective - to survive. He hasn't the time or mental capacity to pause and say to himself, "I am a teacher. I'm in a class of children. Children are the future. It is my occupational responsibility to help them escape safely and if need be, sacrifice myself".
Yes, it was a cowardly thing to do. Yes, he should feel some degree of shame. And it was incredibly stupid of him to tell his students to "don't panic". But despite the above, it's understandable. He probably said it because he was panicking.
Granted, there have been thousands of incredibly brave people who risked their own lives to help others, and that's admirable. Keeping in mind that we're not Utopians - not everybody is admirable. Some people are heroes and some are cowards. This man is just another coward. Why aren't we dragging in all the other cowards to verbally rotten-tomato them on national TV?
I think those parents who have lost their children have a right to give him a couple of kicks in the balls, but to lose his teaching privileges is ridiculous.
The topic in a nutshell was a high-school teacher who, when one of the Sichuan earthquakes of last month began, instructed his students to "don't panic" but bolted for his own life without a backward glance. The building he was teaching in collapsed shortly after, and the several students who didn't make it out in time were killed.
For his cowardly act he was given an hour's worth of shit from participants of the show, which included teachers, parents, the principal of his school, and a psychologist.
The general consensus was that his act was disgraceful and unbefitting of his occupation. One speaker even went as far as to claim that his integrity was closer to that of an animal than human. Most insisted he resign.
The one speaker whose opinion stood out from the rest was the psychologist, who reminded the audience and participants that the man was also an earthquake victim, and that it was unrealistic for society to expect self-sacrificing courage from each individual. He pointed out that nobody in the studio had been in the same situation and therefore can neither claim that they wouldn't have done exactly the same thing; nor expect being a hero to be as easily said as done.
My parents booed. They agreed with the idea that it was an occupational responsibility of the man to put the safety of students before his own, and likened it to the way soldiers are shot for fleeing battle.
I'm sitting on the fence. Theoretically, they're absolutely right. Theoretically, it's quite black-and-white. Running away and leaving a bunch of kids behind is wrong. Ensuring the kids' safety first is right. But I do think this is one case where theory doesn't quite apply to practice.
Imagine somebody who has neither experienced an 8.0 earthquake nor have been instructed to expect and how to react to one. Imagine he's writing calculus equations on the blackboard. Then imagine his reaction as the blackboard breaks in two as the building starts to collapse. He shits himself. His life flashes before his eyes and his mind is blank save for one objective - to survive. He hasn't the time or mental capacity to pause and say to himself, "I am a teacher. I'm in a class of children. Children are the future. It is my occupational responsibility to help them escape safely and if need be, sacrifice myself".
Yes, it was a cowardly thing to do. Yes, he should feel some degree of shame. And it was incredibly stupid of him to tell his students to "don't panic". But despite the above, it's understandable. He probably said it because he was panicking.
Granted, there have been thousands of incredibly brave people who risked their own lives to help others, and that's admirable. Keeping in mind that we're not Utopians - not everybody is admirable. Some people are heroes and some are cowards. This man is just another coward. Why aren't we dragging in all the other cowards to verbally rotten-tomato them on national TV?
I think those parents who have lost their children have a right to give him a couple of kicks in the balls, but to lose his teaching privileges is ridiculous.
Mishaps
Yoza was saying, sometimes it would be great to laugh about his relationship with Pia. Ridiculously stupid things that are still funny years later, or what was taken seriously at the time but with increasing maturity has become a joke.
I have the same inclination, but it's just a thought, for the greater good.
We steer clear of the person(s) involved, and instead exchange stories amongst ourselves and laugh, and then wonder whether we should be laughing at all. It isn't always funny, and in fact it often isn't. Because after some time you start seeing yourself in a completely different light.
It's irritating the way that older people are almost always right. So 16-year-olds don't know love if it was pounding them in the arse. I didn't know that when I was 16. Why didn't anyone tell me? Oh wait, they did. And I don't need Eugene to remind me on a weekly basis that one day I will be 26 and telling my pharmacy assistant how naive it is for her to expect life to unfold like a bedtime story.
And you also begin to realise that your head was snugly up your wazoo when you thought that you were perfect. You wonder if you were developmentally challenged to have been completely oblivious to your selfish, unreasonable and inconsiderate self. The blame shifts a little bit, but you keep it tipped to the other side of the scale. Just 'cause.
Personally I believe my biggest flaw is hypocrisy. And yes, I'm still flawed.
I have the same inclination, but it's just a thought, for the greater good.
We steer clear of the person(s) involved, and instead exchange stories amongst ourselves and laugh, and then wonder whether we should be laughing at all. It isn't always funny, and in fact it often isn't. Because after some time you start seeing yourself in a completely different light.
It's irritating the way that older people are almost always right. So 16-year-olds don't know love if it was pounding them in the arse. I didn't know that when I was 16. Why didn't anyone tell me? Oh wait, they did. And I don't need Eugene to remind me on a weekly basis that one day I will be 26 and telling my pharmacy assistant how naive it is for her to expect life to unfold like a bedtime story.
And you also begin to realise that your head was snugly up your wazoo when you thought that you were perfect. You wonder if you were developmentally challenged to have been completely oblivious to your selfish, unreasonable and inconsiderate self. The blame shifts a little bit, but you keep it tipped to the other side of the scale. Just 'cause.
Personally I believe my biggest flaw is hypocrisy. And yes, I'm still flawed.
6.07.2008
Holy Moly
Mike graduated 4 years ago and still remembers that codeine is a substrate of CYP2D6.
Scary shit.
Scary shit.
6.06.2008
Powerbomb
I have a headache.
I have a headache because today gave rise to a new quirk.
We have bizarre quirks. Like meowing, and monkey-jump, from which we derived monkey-climb.
Except the powerbomb is different in that it's fun for only one of us. Guess which one!
Actually, it might have started from yesterday. I was in Jez's hallway when he decides to creep up from behind me, lift me up and carry me upside-down for a bit. I felt like the blood that rushed to my head was about to pour out of my ears.
Sadly, from now on I'll have to be careful what I say and do around the boy. Whenever I did something that didn't quite sit well with him today, I found myself held up by the ankles.
I find it distinctly unfair that I'm subject to these kinds of hilariously uncomfortable punishments just because I can be overpowered. Like being held down and tickled until I almost piss myself, or having raspberries blown on my stomach. On rare occasions when I'm struggling while being tickled on the bottom of my feet I kick him in the balls.
Of course, I've had my revenge, but compared to his crazy crazy antics they were laughably tame. Like drawing two faces on his ass that kiss when he clenches; writing "forest of Cheng" on his lusciously hairy shins; and today scribbling something about him having hobbit feet on the lateral side of his ankles. The boy has long legs and found it impossible to read my small text. After struggling on the couch, the bed and then in front of the mirror to no avail, he took a photo of his ankle, read the message and two seconds later I found my face inches from the ground. Again.
You can find more maturity in a ten-year-old than the two of us combined.
I have a headache because today gave rise to a new quirk.
We have bizarre quirks. Like meowing, and monkey-jump, from which we derived monkey-climb.
Except the powerbomb is different in that it's fun for only one of us. Guess which one!
Actually, it might have started from yesterday. I was in Jez's hallway when he decides to creep up from behind me, lift me up and carry me upside-down for a bit. I felt like the blood that rushed to my head was about to pour out of my ears.
Sadly, from now on I'll have to be careful what I say and do around the boy. Whenever I did something that didn't quite sit well with him today, I found myself held up by the ankles.
I find it distinctly unfair that I'm subject to these kinds of hilariously uncomfortable punishments just because I can be overpowered. Like being held down and tickled until I almost piss myself, or having raspberries blown on my stomach. On rare occasions when I'm struggling while being tickled on the bottom of my feet I kick him in the balls.
Of course, I've had my revenge, but compared to his crazy crazy antics they were laughably tame. Like drawing two faces on his ass that kiss when he clenches; writing "forest of Cheng" on his lusciously hairy shins; and today scribbling something about him having hobbit feet on the lateral side of his ankles. The boy has long legs and found it impossible to read my small text. After struggling on the couch, the bed and then in front of the mirror to no avail, he took a photo of his ankle, read the message and two seconds later I found my face inches from the ground. Again.
You can find more maturity in a ten-year-old than the two of us combined.
6.04.2008
Problem solved
Being with Jez is like eating a cookie.
Days like today are when it crumbles and melts oh-so-deliciously in my mouth.
Days like yesterday are when it adds mass to my ass.
Days like today are when it crumbles and melts oh-so-deliciously in my mouth.
Days like yesterday are when it adds mass to my ass.
6.02.2008
Stuff from all over
It's been a long time, kids.
I have 4 or 5 unfinished drafts from the several occasions during the past week during which I tried to produce an entry. Either I gave up due to lack of engaging content or it was time for dinner/sleep/Youtube.
Now I'm wondering whether this post will be joining the rest.
Lots has happened. I was about to list them all but now that I think about it, nothing much has hapened.
Except for one thing. My grandpa is in hospital for acute pancreatitis. It's been a few days since he was admitted and he's recovering fast. Tonight he practically jumped out of his bed to join us in the visiting room. We've been in and out of the hospital since Friday and my grandma as good as never left. I was beginning to worry that she might become sick from exhaustion.
Uni is stressful, which is funny because I'm never even there.
I'm still troubled about Abhi's birthday present. Normally I wouldn't be so pressured but on the Tuesday after her birthday I told her "sorry I don't have your present yet because I haven't found anything really good". So I've indirectly promised her that her present will be something "really good". Apart from packing Surfjan Stevens in a box with a guitar and a couple hundred kilograms of deep fried camembert I can't think of what else would qualify as "really good". Realistically I could talk Monaj into jumping out of a cake naked, but I bet you three volumes of my Therapeutic Index that he has already thought of it on his own accord.
I've gone shopping for her present. Three times. Each time I returned empty-handed because on two occasions I ended up shopping for myself (and coming home empty-handed anyway) and on one occasion I got sidetracked watching Mike try on pair after pair of Aquila shoes.
I was close to buying a matching set of candy bra and penis-pouch. Must have been pretty desperate. Jez talked me out of it.
Oh, as Abhi's present, by the way. I would buy them for Jez and me but we'd probably end up eating them on the bus while playing Mario Party.
In other news, an unexpected person interrupted my intense gobbling of dumplings tonight. I was halfway through dinner when he called. This is the boyfriend of my good friend, who I no longer talk to due to some minor complications, but mainly because we can't be bothered.
Let's call them my good friend L, and my good friend's boyfriend C. L and C have been going out for a few months. Don't know exactly how many. L was initially totally smitten, but during the past few months her enthusiasm has waned. We've spoken about this many times, and I've come to the conclusion that these are two people from two very, very different planets. It was interesting listening to the same stories from a different perspective, but I side with L not just for the sake of friendship. I'd elaborate but I need to get a move on with pharmacol.
And if you're wondering why I bothered to pull out code names (or rather, code letters) to write a single paragraph, it's because I actually managed to identify and elaborate on about ten of their relationship issues before realising that I was merely troubling myself.
I'm mildly distracted because it's raining outside.
I have 4 or 5 unfinished drafts from the several occasions during the past week during which I tried to produce an entry. Either I gave up due to lack of engaging content or it was time for dinner/sleep/Youtube.
Now I'm wondering whether this post will be joining the rest.
Lots has happened. I was about to list them all but now that I think about it, nothing much has hapened.
Except for one thing. My grandpa is in hospital for acute pancreatitis. It's been a few days since he was admitted and he's recovering fast. Tonight he practically jumped out of his bed to join us in the visiting room. We've been in and out of the hospital since Friday and my grandma as good as never left. I was beginning to worry that she might become sick from exhaustion.
Uni is stressful, which is funny because I'm never even there.
I'm still troubled about Abhi's birthday present. Normally I wouldn't be so pressured but on the Tuesday after her birthday I told her "sorry I don't have your present yet because I haven't found anything really good". So I've indirectly promised her that her present will be something "really good". Apart from packing Surfjan Stevens in a box with a guitar and a couple hundred kilograms of deep fried camembert I can't think of what else would qualify as "really good". Realistically I could talk Monaj into jumping out of a cake naked, but I bet you three volumes of my Therapeutic Index that he has already thought of it on his own accord.
I've gone shopping for her present. Three times. Each time I returned empty-handed because on two occasions I ended up shopping for myself (and coming home empty-handed anyway) and on one occasion I got sidetracked watching Mike try on pair after pair of Aquila shoes.
I was close to buying a matching set of candy bra and penis-pouch. Must have been pretty desperate. Jez talked me out of it.
Oh, as Abhi's present, by the way. I would buy them for Jez and me but we'd probably end up eating them on the bus while playing Mario Party.
In other news, an unexpected person interrupted my intense gobbling of dumplings tonight. I was halfway through dinner when he called. This is the boyfriend of my good friend, who I no longer talk to due to some minor complications, but mainly because we can't be bothered.
Let's call them my good friend L, and my good friend's boyfriend C. L and C have been going out for a few months. Don't know exactly how many. L was initially totally smitten, but during the past few months her enthusiasm has waned. We've spoken about this many times, and I've come to the conclusion that these are two people from two very, very different planets. It was interesting listening to the same stories from a different perspective, but I side with L not just for the sake of friendship. I'd elaborate but I need to get a move on with pharmacol.
And if you're wondering why I bothered to pull out code names (or rather, code letters) to write a single paragraph, it's because I actually managed to identify and elaborate on about ten of their relationship issues before realising that I was merely troubling myself.
I'm mildly distracted because it's raining outside.
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