Blog Blog Blogging away

It started out like your regular cina wedding dinner right
down to the Yanni-inspired opening number which introduced the first dish at
the end of a ‘headache-induced’ lightning display.

I was mildly surprised that my godbrother aka The Groom, would
actually subscribe to such fanfare and cina-ness…..it seemed so, mismatched. I
half expected them to do the yam-seng and champagne pouring onstage…..thankfully
they did not let insanity override their good sense.

Then it slowly transgressed into a scene similar to the
ones you’d find at Godpa’s house during Christmases or New Years eons ago with
everyone doing the boogey while godpa performed.

Only this time, Godpa had a real stage and a larger dancefloor,
more fans and a louder sound system.

Uncle Edmund kickstarted the party by doing the hustle with
Aunty Carol on the dance floor! Man, I have never seen Franz’s dad so hip and
happening before.

He was shaking and boogeying immediately after the first
dish was served. My dad was already mildly drunk by then but, I guess none of
them could compare to Arnold who had already finished a jug of beer by the time
the second dish arrived.

It was one helluva party for my parents, especially dad
because he was doing his version of the ‘potato-man’ dance all by himself at
our table while my mom tried to hide or feigned ignorance at his solo routine. Seriously,
when you let your trunk go out of shape-no matter what slick moves you had in
mind, should remain in mind only. At the end of all that boogeying, it’s still
the same potato move.

Uncle Edmund, meanwhile, had his fists pumping in the air
at one point and in his thin frame and flappish white hair, he really resembled
a seasoned dancer.

I was tickled silly observing how the youngsters sat
sullenly by the sidelines watching the dancefloor filled with people in grey,
white, artificial hair and in all kinds of shapes and sizes jiggling their
osteoporatic hips. Damn, this was Trev’s wedding! Where’s the zouk music
maestro? They must be thinking.

The last dish was served at about 11pm but the night was
only beginning. By 1am the next morning, Uncle Edmund had a stalk of rose in
his mouth as he energetically led a ‘human-train’ round the whole ballroom.

I was already shagged from mentally stressing out over the
hours before the dinner because of my blardy bioscience exam. Thanks to

Brandon though, he made the hours passed much faster and reminded me how much my job would suck next time despite  my hard work.

Most of us grew up listening to our parents espouse the
virtues of married life, the contentment of having a family and a husband who
brings home the bacon, all before we even hit puberty.

Some of us bought into it, believing in the rose-tinted
world of married life and a knight in shining white armour in a white BMW to
sweep us off our feet. Alright, that is the rather extravagant version of the
traditional fairytale.

However, some of us simply just believe that our lives were
meant to be shared. That is, to grow up quickly, find a husband and settle down
with at least two kids in tow and experience marital bliss.

I grew up reading fairy tales about Snow White and the
Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. My mother never read them to me,
only Humpty Dumpty. I never saw the cartoons until much later. So, I learnt to
read them on my own before I even understood what it was all about. My
favourite then, had been Cinderella. Something about being a poor suffering
lass denied simple pleasures in life seems to tug at my heart strings. Not only
that, Cinderella also showed that a girl could be just as tough doing all the
menial work and not give up. It was a fairytale about chic power although most
of us probably never realized it then.

So, anyway the point I am making is that, I too grew up
believing in fairytales, I knew that the world is not coloured in pastel hues
all the time because you had all these evil stepmothers, witches and may I
add-biatches as well. In my perception of Prince Eric (if you didn’t know-he
seems to be the same prince in almost all fairytales), he is nothing more than an Adonis
with a recurring cameo appearance in all fairytales.

Just last week, a friend at the ward asked me if I had a
traumatic experience that led me to become the ‘anti’ love adviser, all because
I asked her if she really loved the person she already pictured herself with 12
kids. <- yes, 12 and she had a logical reasoning for that figure.

In reel life, boy meets girl, fall in love and marry…….then
in real world, they divorce. Many times each party would cite ‘unreconciliable
differences’ as the reason, and I wonder what happened to love? Didn’t their
vows meant anything? Why can’t love survive these ‘unreconciliable differences’?
Does it mean that they never loved each other?

A friend of mine is also in a dilemma now but only because
she is afraid of commitment. As I am too. Ironically, I told her to go for it
because he may just be the one.

But really, why are we afraid of commitment? Is it because
we are actually holding out for the one true prince (not Eric)? Or is it
because we already know deep in our hearts that that person is not the one for
us?

So how do we really know?

You’ll also notice that I have not said ‘one true love’
because, is there truly one true love? However I believe there is that one
person out there for each and every single one of us. This person may be
younger or older than you but, he or she is the one. This person will be the yin to the yang and vice versa.

And by saying the one, I meant, the one person whom you’ll
trust your life with the moment you look into his eyes. The one person who will
make you feel comfortable being yourself  and the one person who will know you better
than you know yourself. 

It may not be in this lifetime, but it may be in the next.

Perhaps I am just dwelling too much into all this because
it is finally raining and, I am afterall just the girl with a broken smile.

Or I am just full of crap today.

It was amusement and curiosity that led me to actually read
an article in the Straits Times’s review section.

The article was written by a Rick Ruffin, based in

Seoul

.

As predicted, he discussed the impact of the Virginia Tech
shootings and the American culture of gun ownership. Usually, I have no qualms
about anyone discussing or speaking their minds on such issues.

Everyone has a right to their own opinions.

‘What is incomprehensible is that anyone finds it
incomprehensible,’ (Ruffin, 2007).

However, I thought that maybe he has not considered it but
the president of Virginia Tech probably meant the act of cold-blooded killing
itself was, incomprehensible.

Not the fact that the weapons of choice used were guns.

It is  amusing how
quick it is to ‘finger-point’ the recent shooting to a culture that has been
embedded in a country from the beginning of their history.  Yes, owning guns increases the risk of
violence in a country, but it is not right to simply generalize the whole gun
culture to the image of violence, terror, massacres and blood.

I do not condone the act of violence but I do not see how a
weapon can instill such fear if the intent of the welder is not one to provoke
such feelings. It is only a piece of metal that has no will or power beyond
that of the welder.

What is incomprehensible here is the fact that a ‘cry’ for
help went unnoticed.

The actions of Cho Seung Hui is not the result of his easy
access to guns but is only the means to an end. His intent had been clear and
certain, with or without the use of guns, he would have found a way to create
just as great an impact.

As a saying from Socrates goes, “The unexamined life is not
worth living.”

What is the truth behind the shootings? The heart of the
problem probably lies in a culture that is not unique only to the west but, is
slowly extending its way to the rest of the world.

As everyone from children to adults struggle to find a
place in our world, all of us have developed a sense of individualistic
morality. ‘What does not concern you, does not hurt you.’ We have blinded our
eyes to only see the path infront of us and ignore the sidelines and the
passing sceneries.

Cho Seung Hui’s actions may never be fully understood but,
he was an individual who fell onto the sidelines and was ignored.

If there is a need to blame or explain the actions of
something so incomprehensible, then blame it on ourselves.

Not on a leader, a single law, a single culture, a single
race, religion or country.

I hate weathers like these.

I had plans. Had.

It is this heat that sometimes makes me wished I had been born in another country or, that Singapore had London’s perennial grey skies.

I love Singapore for almost everything, including the government except for its unfortunate geographical location near the equator. Ironic, really because it is this geographical location that made it possible to rise as one of the world’s top shipping port.

A number of friends I know have plans to emigrate to ‘greener’ pastures where the possibility of freedom from local and social obligations here cannot reach them and, also for promises of the supposed ‘dreams’. To me, emigrating is simply an option I would make not for the reasons most people cite but, for the blardy weather.

I know I would be silly to even consider it for a reason so weak and unsubstantiated  by evidence that- cold weather may not be necessarily better for me.

That is why, I don’t think I would ever emigrate unless Singapore bans the sale of super cold aircon and raise electricity bills sky high in its bid to ’save the enivronment, save the world’.

Alright, some environmentalist friends of mine would probably want to cream my head for not trying to ’save the world’ blah blah. But hey, I am trying to save the environment, save the world!

However,unlike Peter Petrelli in Heroes, I am just clueless as to how to really go about it (minus the aircon) and at least, he knows that he had to "save the cheerleader, save the world". His instruction was much clearer with a specific object mentioned. I have only, "save the environment, save the world" and the word ‘environment’ is such a huge word on its own.

Think about this, having blasting cold air churned out from the aircon to beat the heat that dries the human skin, dehydrates the body and prevents heat stroke and blisters can, also be construed as ’save the environment’. But alas, aircon consumes electricity which consumes gas from burning more trees and reducing greenery in our planet earth and thus reducing the O2 content of our atmosphere which inturn increase the carbon released that builts up into a poisonous gas and punch a hole through the ozone layer which cause the sun’s rays/heat to enter and thus, a vicious cycle really.

So, how does one become a hero to ’save the environment, save the world’?

Bring your own paper bags to supermarkets. Have biodegradable bags instead….pay extra for them etc.

I have a better solution.

The weather in Singapore was much cooler and the air much cleaner back when ‘dinosaurs roamed the earth and policemen wore shorts’. We should all start farming our own produce and trade them with our immediate neighbours. This will cut down on transport to the blardy supermarkets, obliterate the use of plastic bags altogether. Allow for more greeneries to encroach on our urban granite city ala Hawaii.
Literally have policemen in shorts…..  haha.

Unfortunately, this would only happen if Singapore went back in time and closed its doors on globalisation.  Something which, cannot happen if we are to survive as an island country against its many states neighbours.

So, what is a gal to do under this intense heat that is forcing votes out of Howard’s drying outback?

Letting my brain fry with ridiculous notions and ideas(see above), dreaming of sukura blossoms and …. OMG Ben and Jerry’s 1 pint Strawberry cheesecake that will cost me a freaking $11.10 and is only 15mins away in a little store, placed on a mini fridge by the entrance of the shop, on the second shelf above the Cherry Garcias and Chocolate chips and Cookie dough flavors………*drooling*

Did you read the papers about the 20,000 to 30,000 people who got their free Ben & Jerry’s ice cream yesterday?

I was one of them!

I have never ever joined a queue for any freebie before and its thanks to May, who initiated me into the freebie queue for the ice cream after our shift yesterday. I must admit, I was satisfied with that single scoop of strawberry cheesecake. Absolutely.

Today, instead of cramming for my exams next week, I found myself wandering to Christina’s blog. Finally I got to see some of her wedding pictures and I thought she was truly a beautiful bride, one that deserves to be featured in a magazine!

Besides that, I read abit about her new married life dining experiences, and what got me to blog here are her recent crapping incidents.

You see, I clean sai everyday….literally. Of course, I just started cleaning sai almost 3 weeks ago and, only for this particular posting at the colorectal ward, sai is news.

When my dad initially told me that nursing consisted of cleaning sai, I bet he never expected the kind of sai I clean now. Sai that comes out from anywhere.

As to the phrase ’sticking a finger up your arse’ well….hm, yeah. Been there done that-a few times already to a few people.

Today, I did a dressing for a patient with anal fistula. My only concern up till the time the PM shift staff came was, whether his dressing would remain free from sai till tomorrow. Mel mentioned that the patient was very handsome and Jun asked if I was blushing all the way through the procedure. When I thought about it, I guess I normally would except that the person with the fistula is not me and, the patient must count his blessings that I am not a beautiful babe staring at his arse.

I mean, hello-this is a colorectal ward how much more embarrasing than an apple could an anal dressing be?

On hindsight, I admire the patient’s resilience at maintaining a routine as normal as he possibly could before the surgery. Other than his current wound, he is an otherwise healty young adult. I could tell that sacrifices had been made as a result but, he definitely deserves a pat on the back for going the extra mile because of it. Even after the surgery, I know he’ll go back to maintaining that routine as closely as he can. He is definitely one of the few real man amongst my generation. My only hope is that his current condition does not worsen due to infection because of the anatomical location and its structural functions which brings his wound in extremely close contact with sai everyday.

At the end of it all, I have learnt something from this ward,that is- nothing is too embarrasing to talk about,even your arse hole. It is part of our body and everyone has one. Also, ‘Never judge a book by its cover’ also rings true in some ways, nobody is perfect. Be appreciative of what you have now, it could have been a lot worse.

So I was at DEM for a week…I saw:

Many people with minor illnesses looking for a quick relief and MC from work…

Harried doctors and nurses..

Had blood spurted onto me…

Met a friend at TTSH…

Had the oxygen tank biting my toes whilst running to catch up with Dr Yong…

Did CCR on a resus…

Watched a beating heart slowly give up on life….

One week in the department of emergency department. Whew! That’s it?

Now…

Hugh Grant can actually sing. Drew Barrymore can actually carry a tune better than me…

I wished I could stand in the corner under the pouring rain, waiting for the guy with the broken smile to come rescue me…

Maroon 5 has some of the better lyrics…

I should be studying…no, sleeping.

Ran today, did 2.4km in 10mins…mistake cos I had not run for so long.

Blood rush…blood rush to the brain. Can really be bad for me cos I nearly blacked out again except for my pride…heheh…

I should be dancing…. dancing….sista… dancing…

I wanna go Japan…wanna find the people who could’ve been my maternal great grandparents…and show them what they’re missing out here…

I wanna buy a sofa bed, new bunk bed, a few cupboards and drawers for my room so that my sis can stay over sometimes…

I wanna save $$ for a car… hmmm maybe a suzuki swift…

I should be dancing dancing….but will be cleaning shit tomorrow.

Blog post No. 123. about so many things.