Another kinda busy week today. Lots of lectures and stuff scheduled for this week, and the last ones were held today. Turns out that when they said dress up for the last day of lectures, they meant dress wild. Or even dress down. A few people came in as fairies, female wannabes, racers, military personnel... a guy came in with nothing on but an open vest, big sunglasses and ultra-short shorts. Lots of hair showing through. Ewwww. Mr President came in in tights, both top and bottom. No comment I shall make here. For the last lecture, some guy thought it cool to come to the session in nothing but his underwear and a strap-on beaky paper penis. I'm not sure what Mr Bigshot thought of it himself but I'm not too sure if I'm all that impressed. It's funny of course, but it's a distasteful sort of funny and it's something that makes me wanna cringe. *Ahem* I don't know these people...

Another interesting thing that came up the other day in a lecture was this quantum booster thing. It's some form of alternative therapy device that hasn't been proven at all to help. Basically just some metal rods connected to a low voltage electric source that makes ultra-high frequency vibrations. It amazes me that some people would even think that that device can be used to cure illnesses such as cancer. The heck? If things were that easy, would people be dying such painful deaths? I find it incredible that people would put their faith in such contraptions when the people promoting it can't even explain how it works. How intelligent does confusing bacteria, or jiggling the organs so that they virate at their natural frequency sound? However that night I came over this statement which said that religious faith and science doesn't go against each other and that they have more in common than many people would think. It made me think somewhat. I guess I might have a slightly better idea now what those people who opt for those treatments might be thinking. Faith in that and faith in chemo are both just faith. Science is just based on theories after all. Though theories that are backed up with good data and research I must add. But then why not just trust in something that at least has a better chance? A little boy died for no good reason simply because his parents decided to be idiots and run away with him when he was doing well on chemo and putting him on the quantum booster thingamajig in hopes that would cure him. Very smart. Pathetic parents. Pitiable kid. I wonder how would I as a doctor be able to emphatise with the parents if they ever choose to do such a thing. Try to understand? I'm trying, but not succeeding for sure.

Went to the careers night thing on Wednesday evening as well. I now at least have a clearer idea about what I might be going through after med school. Seems like there are a lot more exams ahead of me, regardless of what I would want to do. It's gonna be hard seems to be the only thing that the speakers could promise. Can't exactly say that I'm overjoyed to hear that I must say. I can't say that I had no inkling of what might be ahead when I signed up for the course, after all the warnings that dad has given me, but after three years studying, the thought that I would have more studying for exams (1000 hours for one bloody exam he said :O!!!) is about killing me. I'm getting tired and I feel like I'm slogging on through thick mud (I would say thickshake, but I'm not sure if that's thick enough... nor am I hungry enough to think that). I don't want to remain in the PGY years where I can blissfully not face exams. Being paid nuts for the rest of my life, and being stuck in a role where most people leave after two years sounds silly. Of course, I probably am just feeling like this simply because of feeling sick of studying for my upcoming finals for which I am in no mood to do. But being able to finally reach a tangible destination seems so darn far away now. Why didn't I just sign up for a course where I'll reach a PHD in six years or so? Simply because I wouldn't know what else to do. Sure the thought of being able to make people happy sounds great and I can't wait for that, but having to plod on for a dozen or more years is scary. Eeps! Help! I'll be old and wrinkly by then!

Talk is cheap I must say. It's easy to comfort and fall into the same role as others when everyone else is doing the same. But then when reality comes back to bite it's not funny. I feel afraid that I might not be able to deliver on promises, or to do as well as I meant to. The uncertainty of the possibility of being taken for a ride, going on a nonsensical wild goose chase makes me less than enthusiastic. I guess that's me, I need hard proof right under my nose. Proof that I can see smell touch and the heck, bite. Cold hard real. The thought as well of what my promise might lead to as well is scary. But I shall keep my word. Lord Mano-mano's word is not made to be broken. Rawr! But I shall shelve it for now and worry later. *shrug*

And somehow the other thing I realised about myself is that I don't forget some things easily. Pain and hurt is stuff I cannot forget. Hard to forgive, even harder to forget. Not to mention that I'm the sort who kinda likes the idea of revenge at times (Realising again that I never got to thumb my nose properly at Mr Pig pains me a lot still, though scoring an A is revenge enough I guess... muahahahha!). Like might even be an understatement perhaps? It doesn't sound nice but it's a trait that is growing in me. Long I've tried to suppress, but the accumulation of events over the past three to four years is just trying me a bit too much. I doubt if I truly healed since the first, but having to go through so many similar ones in such a short period of time (for such a thing, I shall insist four years is too short) is just reopening the wound again and again. Why would my flesh be different from others? How can a wound heal if it reopens again and again and again? I never said I was a superhuman. No, the last straw has broken my back. I've given up. When I get the chance I shall migrate northwards, and then when I receive my wings, I shall fly and hopefully never return for a long time. At least I'm not turning back to bite I guess. The next few years would be a good chance for me to start looking around for somewhere to root and do my prep work I guess. I shall look until I find where I can truly be home (Ah, the thought of working for an MBA as well makes me tired...). It sucks somewhat at times to be a chink (when I think of such things when I'm depressed), but then it sucks a lot to be different to what I am as well, and there's a lot of good things to being what I am too, so I'm happy.