Last weekend, I was home straightening my desk. I unintentionally spotted Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff by Richard Carlson, a book I bought when I was in Canada. I flipped through the book. I realized that I forgot all the things I have learnt from the book. As I opened the first page of my “Goals Proposal” notebook—stop complaining. And I have completely forgotten about it and done the opposite way. I tended to look for the cracks and flaw of life or the people around me. I think I have been sweating a lot with the small stuff recently. So, for this last journal, I decided to talk good.
This week is our last week’s posting in Sg. Buloh Hospital. Good or bad, I know I’ll miss every moment of it: I’ll miss the smiles on patients’ faces every time they see me; I’ll miss the contentment I get every time I learn something from the CI or staff nurses; I’ll miss the satisfaction I get every time I complete a mission, like changing patients’ clothes or bathing them; I’ll especially miss the relationships we have built up among the group members. Changing pampers for patients who have just passed motion is no fun, but doing it with another group member has made this job better.
Yes, we never stop giggling and—gagging—every time when we do the changing of pampers.
I’ll even miss the yummy waffles from the shop at the lobby.
My point of view about the nurses has slightly switched. I can see the possibly reason of the bad attitudes among the nurses. Think about it, I’m sure everybody loves helping and doing some charity works for people in need sometimes. A lot of student nurses say they loving nursing because they like helping people. However, the days of posting in the hospitals are temporary, and they have no long-term responsibilities about it. Posting is basically just like doing voluntary works. When this virtue is changed from voluntary to become an obligation, the meaning is altered along with it. Willingness and passion are no longer coming out from their hearts, but stress, boredom, apathy, and maybe displeasure. Unless you are very firm with your purpose, you will be like what most of the people are years after: lost of their initial aims and visions in their jobs. In order to prevent myself from turning someone that I really don’t want to be, I know I have to find an ultimate meaning from this job and stick with it. I guess I have to give my good friend in Canada a ring and ask her to give me a lesson about how could she still love her job as a nurse 5 years after. If Mother Teresa is still alive, maybe I should write her a letter.
Since our CI Ms Poh Poh did an evaluation about everyone of us, I think I should evaluate her performance as well. She is a very strict CI. There’s no doubt about the experiences and knowledge she acquired after so many years of nursing, and I admire that. I can see a lot of similarities between her and myself. We both live our lives with strong principles. We both are sometimes being very “difficult” to other people. We both sometimes get angry without really looking into the truth. However the differences are, I’m more open-minded, that I know there’s more than one way—my way—of doing things. And I’m more “new fashioned”, that I know for some situation, I cannot always use my past experience to deal with the new ones. I need to keep updating myself.
My conclusion about her: I hope this will be THE ONLY time she becomes my CI.
Lastly, what I have learnt during these 5 weeks (or not exactly) are invaluable. Not only did I learn a lot of medical terms, machines, medications, and diseases, I also learnt how to communicate with co-workers and patients, and the most important: how to be a nurse. I have developed my compassion. I learnt to put myself in other people’s shoes, and hence to open my heart and greatly enhance my sense of gratitude. The grandma’s dead is still a great shock to me. I realize that I have spent too much time regretting the inevitable, worrying about a variety of things—all at once. I allow past problems and future concerns to dominate my present moments, all that has made me often ended up anxious, frustrated, depressed, and hopeless. In short, I think I miss out on life!
For this, I think I need a starbucks’ latte to appreciate and enjoy my present moment a bit.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Hospital posting-- journal 3
Monday I excitedly and happily walked in to my familiar ward. I couldn’t wait to see the sweet and kind auntie again, who said she could eat some ice cubes to reduce the fever. I couldn’t wait to see the septicaemia grandma again, who refused to open her mouth when I tried to clean her teeth. I couldn’t wait to see the auntie again, whom I got lectured by the CI for not tidying up her clothes properly after bed bathing. I couldn’t wait to see the grandma again, who cried out loud and asked us to erase the “8” behind the 37.8◦C so that she could discharge and go home. But I was disappointed after searching for a while—the patients in the whole ward have been changed except two.
On a second thought, I knew that I shouldn’t be disappointed. In fact, I should be happy for them.
They could finally discharge from the hospital and go home. Isn’t it great?
It is funny to come to realize that what a great number it is, of people or strangers you meet everyday, and they come in and out of your life quietly, hastily, and somehow, without you even notice it.
Except the septicaemia grandma; she passed away last Friday.
I was not surprised. It’s not that I’m being cold-hearted, but who can survive with this kind of blood disease?
Tuesday, it was just half an hour before we called it a night. A grandma was crying hard. She was in a misery of abdominal pain. The staff nurses refused to do anything, which I had no idea why. All we could do was, stood beside her and tried to comfort her.
11pm that night, she passed away.
And that, I was shocked.
I was shocked in two ways: first, I couldn’t grasp why the staff nurses stayed still for over 4 hours. Second, I couldn’t believe the patient, whom I nursed not too long ago, passed away. I couldn’t imagine what would it be if she died in front of me. Never in my life have I experienced someone passed away before my eyes.
Will I be calm? Will I cry? Or just shrug my shoulders?
I wondered had she fulfilled her dreams. I wondered if she had had any regrets in her life.
She reminded me of my regrets again.
Sometimes I wonder when can the not-so-care people will stop whining and start bucking up their lives? I guess the only way is—they go through the mistake they have made, and then come to realize that themselves.
Yes, life is short. Don’t repeat your mistakes again, and live your life to the fullest.
As for Iskeen (really have no idea how to spell her name), she really needs to build up her confidence more. During the 2-day practice in the same cubical with her, I could tell that she really has no confidence in whatever she does. It was frustrated, but I understood. She is only eighteen, and I am twenty freaking four. She just needs some time to learn.
After all, I was her when I was eighteen.
Some people said my ego is strong.
Ego and chicken, what would you choose?
On a second thought, I knew that I shouldn’t be disappointed. In fact, I should be happy for them.
They could finally discharge from the hospital and go home. Isn’t it great?
It is funny to come to realize that what a great number it is, of people or strangers you meet everyday, and they come in and out of your life quietly, hastily, and somehow, without you even notice it.
Except the septicaemia grandma; she passed away last Friday.
I was not surprised. It’s not that I’m being cold-hearted, but who can survive with this kind of blood disease?
Tuesday, it was just half an hour before we called it a night. A grandma was crying hard. She was in a misery of abdominal pain. The staff nurses refused to do anything, which I had no idea why. All we could do was, stood beside her and tried to comfort her.
11pm that night, she passed away.
And that, I was shocked.
I was shocked in two ways: first, I couldn’t grasp why the staff nurses stayed still for over 4 hours. Second, I couldn’t believe the patient, whom I nursed not too long ago, passed away. I couldn’t imagine what would it be if she died in front of me. Never in my life have I experienced someone passed away before my eyes.
Will I be calm? Will I cry? Or just shrug my shoulders?
I wondered had she fulfilled her dreams. I wondered if she had had any regrets in her life.
She reminded me of my regrets again.
Sometimes I wonder when can the not-so-care people will stop whining and start bucking up their lives? I guess the only way is—they go through the mistake they have made, and then come to realize that themselves.
Yes, life is short. Don’t repeat your mistakes again, and live your life to the fullest.
As for Iskeen (really have no idea how to spell her name), she really needs to build up her confidence more. During the 2-day practice in the same cubical with her, I could tell that she really has no confidence in whatever she does. It was frustrated, but I understood. She is only eighteen, and I am twenty freaking four. She just needs some time to learn.
After all, I was her when I was eighteen.
Some people said my ego is strong.
Ego and chicken, what would you choose?
Friday, August 8, 2008
Hospital posting-- journal 2
This week we were switched from orthopaedic ward to general medical ward. The overall experience was good. The staff nurses are better, and I got to learn and practice a lot more in this ward than before.
After three days in the female ward, the strongest feeling I had was—I don’t want to be like them when I am old. Additionally, caring them is a lot more frustrated than male patients.
I’m sorry, but it is.
If you compare a 50-something female patient with a 70-something male patient, you will get what I mean. Obesity dominates majority of the female patients. Additionally, some of them are very lazy. Yes, very LAZY.
They just lie there and expect you to do every thing for them, although they are able to walk normally. If you try to turn their bodies, they whine. If you ask them to lift up their buttocks, they say they can’t. If you ask them to lie properly, they ignore you because they want to sleep.
What the headache!
Anyways, having them as my reflection, I know I want to be healthy when I’m old. Maybe I should start practicing yoga and commit in a healthier lifestyle. On the other hand, I can’t imagine myself living without cheese, pancakes/waffles, KFC, fries……
Today I cleaned a diarrheic patient. As I removed the pampers, the smell of “flower” instantly hit me straight on the face.
Oh my god.
Due to the CI disallowed us to wear mask, I had to hold my breath, get my head down, wipe it, and then quickly turned around, inhaled the best air as possible before the next round began again.
After I finished, I felt so happy, not that because the procedure was finally finished, but because I felt so achieved and proud of myself. Except my little dog, I had never done something like this before, not to anybody. Let alone my parents, my brothers, even my lovely boyfriend. I remember many years ago, my uncle got a stroke. I even refused to help him to pass urine. Today, am I actually pulling my pride down and doing this. It really means a lot to me. I’m sure it goes same with the patient herself.
I’m still having a conflict about the whole mask and gloves thing. The CI said we ignored the patient’s feelings if we wore gloves and masks for every procedure. Yes, some of the procedures really need no protection. But when I feel like I need to protect myself for certain procedure, why can’t I? Yes, being a nurse, caring the patients is the top priority. It doesn’t mean the nurse should love herself less. It is not that I’m being selfish; it is just that I want to be more cautious. I mean, I have to protect myself, to prevent myself—or the patient himself—from falling in sick, in order to be able to continue to care for and help the patients. Have people ever thought about why MRSA disease is common in the hospitals here, but 0% in UK hospitals?
Today, a doctor was supposed to clean the pressure ulcer of a patient. Because the patient got diarrhoea, the doctor scolded at the patient’s mom. She asked me to clean for the patient and then tell the stuff nurse to clean the ulcer site instead. She herself then disappeared right away. What a good doctor.
Why there are so many doctors’ malpractice cases here? I think the doctors are addicted to the powers they get from their superior job, and have forgotten about their core of ethics—to cure the patients. Every morning, they come around the ward and do check up for every patient. All they do are just asking patient some questions, maybe palpate a little bit here and there, and then disappear. Once they have the diagnosis, they keep on prescribing the same plan and medicines for the patient. If the patient persists the condition for quite a time, aren’t they trying to figure out the reason? Maybe it is not the fever they have diagnosed, maybe it is pneumonia that causes the fever? Like years ago, my brother got an appendis surgery. It took more than three physicians to finally find out what had happened to him. I mean, appendis is not as hard to diagnose as fever, how could it take three physicians? Maybe the first and second physician shouldn’t have being a doctor. I think there are actually a lot of illnesses can be cure, apart from the scientific technology, one of the reasons is probably the misdiagnosis from the doctors.
I always jot down the illnesses that I especially concern and then ask my boyfriend’s brother rather than asking the doctors here directly. Yes, I’m still having a hard time to trust the doctors here.
While the people here are “worshipping” the doctors, I treat them equally as how I treat other people. Of course I still show my respectful manner when I work with them. After all, I know I have to be professional. Are you a doctor? You think you deserve my respect? Prove me that I’m wrong.
After three days in the female ward, the strongest feeling I had was—I don’t want to be like them when I am old. Additionally, caring them is a lot more frustrated than male patients.
I’m sorry, but it is.
If you compare a 50-something female patient with a 70-something male patient, you will get what I mean. Obesity dominates majority of the female patients. Additionally, some of them are very lazy. Yes, very LAZY.
They just lie there and expect you to do every thing for them, although they are able to walk normally. If you try to turn their bodies, they whine. If you ask them to lift up their buttocks, they say they can’t. If you ask them to lie properly, they ignore you because they want to sleep.
What the headache!
Anyways, having them as my reflection, I know I want to be healthy when I’m old. Maybe I should start practicing yoga and commit in a healthier lifestyle. On the other hand, I can’t imagine myself living without cheese, pancakes/waffles, KFC, fries……
Today I cleaned a diarrheic patient. As I removed the pampers, the smell of “flower” instantly hit me straight on the face.
Oh my god.
Due to the CI disallowed us to wear mask, I had to hold my breath, get my head down, wipe it, and then quickly turned around, inhaled the best air as possible before the next round began again.
After I finished, I felt so happy, not that because the procedure was finally finished, but because I felt so achieved and proud of myself. Except my little dog, I had never done something like this before, not to anybody. Let alone my parents, my brothers, even my lovely boyfriend. I remember many years ago, my uncle got a stroke. I even refused to help him to pass urine. Today, am I actually pulling my pride down and doing this. It really means a lot to me. I’m sure it goes same with the patient herself.
I’m still having a conflict about the whole mask and gloves thing. The CI said we ignored the patient’s feelings if we wore gloves and masks for every procedure. Yes, some of the procedures really need no protection. But when I feel like I need to protect myself for certain procedure, why can’t I? Yes, being a nurse, caring the patients is the top priority. It doesn’t mean the nurse should love herself less. It is not that I’m being selfish; it is just that I want to be more cautious. I mean, I have to protect myself, to prevent myself—or the patient himself—from falling in sick, in order to be able to continue to care for and help the patients. Have people ever thought about why MRSA disease is common in the hospitals here, but 0% in UK hospitals?
Today, a doctor was supposed to clean the pressure ulcer of a patient. Because the patient got diarrhoea, the doctor scolded at the patient’s mom. She asked me to clean for the patient and then tell the stuff nurse to clean the ulcer site instead. She herself then disappeared right away. What a good doctor.
Why there are so many doctors’ malpractice cases here? I think the doctors are addicted to the powers they get from their superior job, and have forgotten about their core of ethics—to cure the patients. Every morning, they come around the ward and do check up for every patient. All they do are just asking patient some questions, maybe palpate a little bit here and there, and then disappear. Once they have the diagnosis, they keep on prescribing the same plan and medicines for the patient. If the patient persists the condition for quite a time, aren’t they trying to figure out the reason? Maybe it is not the fever they have diagnosed, maybe it is pneumonia that causes the fever? Like years ago, my brother got an appendis surgery. It took more than three physicians to finally find out what had happened to him. I mean, appendis is not as hard to diagnose as fever, how could it take three physicians? Maybe the first and second physician shouldn’t have being a doctor. I think there are actually a lot of illnesses can be cure, apart from the scientific technology, one of the reasons is probably the misdiagnosis from the doctors.
I always jot down the illnesses that I especially concern and then ask my boyfriend’s brother rather than asking the doctors here directly. Yes, I’m still having a hard time to trust the doctors here.
While the people here are “worshipping” the doctors, I treat them equally as how I treat other people. Of course I still show my respectful manner when I work with them. After all, I know I have to be professional. Are you a doctor? You think you deserve my respect? Prove me that I’m wrong.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
White Angel part 2
Oh my, oh my, what can I do?
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, so I’ve got to be good
So I can help the patients like him when I become a nurse
I walked in the ward, and I saw an old man
He’s just returned from the OT
There he was lying, looking at me
Leg was swollen; wound was bleeding
I couldn’t help, but looked at him
I’ll never forget the face that day
Tears in his eyes, pain on his face
Asking me for help
Oh my, oh my, what can I do?
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, so I’ve got to be good
So I can help the patients like him when I become a nurse
There was his son standing next to me
Looking worried, and I didn’t know what to say
He was brought to the X-ray room
But somehow he managed to smile at me
The end of the night, I went to see him again
I held his hand; I looked at him and said,
“Just a little while, you will be fine”
But somehow he’s still smiling at me
Something warm rollin’ through my eyes
Today I went to see him before I left
He was smiling, waving his hand
He shook my hand and said, “thank you”
Oh my, oh my, what can I do?
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, that I’ve got to study harder
So I can help more people when I become a nurse
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, so I’ve got to be good
So I can help the patients like him when I become a nurse
I walked in the ward, and I saw an old man
He’s just returned from the OT
There he was lying, looking at me
Leg was swollen; wound was bleeding
I couldn’t help, but looked at him
I’ll never forget the face that day
Tears in his eyes, pain on his face
Asking me for help
Oh my, oh my, what can I do?
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, so I’ve got to be good
So I can help the patients like him when I become a nurse
There was his son standing next to me
Looking worried, and I didn’t know what to say
He was brought to the X-ray room
But somehow he managed to smile at me
The end of the night, I went to see him again
I held his hand; I looked at him and said,
“Just a little while, you will be fine”
But somehow he’s still smiling at me
Something warm rollin’ through my eyes
Today I went to see him before I left
He was smiling, waving his hand
He shook my hand and said, “thank you”
Oh my, oh my, what can I do?
Lord please relieve the pain he suffers
I realized I know nothing, that I’ve got to study harder
So I can help more people when I become a nurse
Friday, July 25, 2008
White Angels part 1
What’s happened to the little white angels?
Smiles no longer hanging on their faces
Left with numbness and apathy
What’s happened to the little white angels?
Glorifying the nobility of their deed
Drips are drying, medicines are forgotten, patients are crying
What’s happened to the little white angels?
Promoting the professionalism of their works
Shaking their heads to English and pointing their fingers to doctor
What’s happened to our little white angels?
Has they turned to become evils?
–Or, has god taken their beautiful hearts away?
What’s happened to our little white angels?
When can the patients in this land be free from suffering?
And when is the day our little angels return home with lamps in their hands?
Smiles no longer hanging on their faces
Left with numbness and apathy
What’s happened to the little white angels?
Glorifying the nobility of their deed
Drips are drying, medicines are forgotten, patients are crying
What’s happened to the little white angels?
Promoting the professionalism of their works
Shaking their heads to English and pointing their fingers to doctor
What’s happened to our little white angels?
Has they turned to become evils?
–Or, has god taken their beautiful hearts away?
What’s happened to our little white angels?
When can the patients in this land be free from suffering?
And when is the day our little angels return home with lamps in their hands?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Hospital posting-- journal 1
I have been ambivalent for the past few days since I came back from my first-week posting in Sg. Buloh Hospital.
I knew that it is ridiculous to compare the real-life environment with the embellished, fancy, and, if I can say, glamorous scenes you often see on the show like ER, or Grey’s Anatomy. I also knew that I am being too hypercritical or biased if I compare the nurses in Canada with the nurses here. Somehow, I just couldn’t help but felt disappointed, especially when I witnessed how the staff nurses treated a patient who just returned from the operating room.
Looking at the patient’s face wretched by tears, I was heart-broken. A wave of anger rushed over me. I wanted to stand up for the patient. On the other hand, I was uncommunicative. After all, what kind of power a student nurse has over senior staff nurses? I wanted to release the pain he was suffering. On the other hand, I was stuck in the mud. After all, what kind of skill or knowledge does a three-month student nurse really know?
I decided to talk to the patient. As I opened my mouth, I realized that my tongue, somehow, got stuck in the throat.
There was no word coming out of my mouth.
I had used to think that communication with patients would not be a problem to me as my previous employment has given me an adeptness in handling of customers. That day, I realized that communicating with healthy people and communicating with sick people are two different things.
You just cannot set off the conversation with “the weather is very nice today”, can you? I mean the patient is lying on the bed suffering. He cannot even enjoy every minute, and you are telling him that the weather is nice?
When Ms. Noorlida assigned me to a unit, I was standing there and frozen for quite awhile. I was shock—no matter how well I thought I could handle it, and no matter how well I had prepare procedures prior to the theories and the practice, my mind went off instantly. I didn’t know what to do.
“It is my first time ‘working’ in a hospital. Being panic is understandable,” this was what I told myself afterwards.
Nevertheless, the experience that I gained was marvellous and precious. Although I was upset by the attitudes of the staff nurses, at least I still learned a lot from them. And I finally had a taste of how it is like working in a hospital. Having bad nurses as a reflect, I now know how to be a good nurse. Since I cannot tell them in face, this is what I want to say—if you really hate your job, just quit. Don’t put your sufferings on other people and treat them as your scapegoats. As what Ms. Celine said, what goes around, it comes back around. One day, when other nurses take care of your beloved ones, they will do the same.
I knew that it is ridiculous to compare the real-life environment with the embellished, fancy, and, if I can say, glamorous scenes you often see on the show like ER, or Grey’s Anatomy. I also knew that I am being too hypercritical or biased if I compare the nurses in Canada with the nurses here. Somehow, I just couldn’t help but felt disappointed, especially when I witnessed how the staff nurses treated a patient who just returned from the operating room.
Looking at the patient’s face wretched by tears, I was heart-broken. A wave of anger rushed over me. I wanted to stand up for the patient. On the other hand, I was uncommunicative. After all, what kind of power a student nurse has over senior staff nurses? I wanted to release the pain he was suffering. On the other hand, I was stuck in the mud. After all, what kind of skill or knowledge does a three-month student nurse really know?
I decided to talk to the patient. As I opened my mouth, I realized that my tongue, somehow, got stuck in the throat.
There was no word coming out of my mouth.
I had used to think that communication with patients would not be a problem to me as my previous employment has given me an adeptness in handling of customers. That day, I realized that communicating with healthy people and communicating with sick people are two different things.
You just cannot set off the conversation with “the weather is very nice today”, can you? I mean the patient is lying on the bed suffering. He cannot even enjoy every minute, and you are telling him that the weather is nice?
When Ms. Noorlida assigned me to a unit, I was standing there and frozen for quite awhile. I was shock—no matter how well I thought I could handle it, and no matter how well I had prepare procedures prior to the theories and the practice, my mind went off instantly. I didn’t know what to do.
“It is my first time ‘working’ in a hospital. Being panic is understandable,” this was what I told myself afterwards.
Nevertheless, the experience that I gained was marvellous and precious. Although I was upset by the attitudes of the staff nurses, at least I still learned a lot from them. And I finally had a taste of how it is like working in a hospital. Having bad nurses as a reflect, I now know how to be a good nurse. Since I cannot tell them in face, this is what I want to say—if you really hate your job, just quit. Don’t put your sufferings on other people and treat them as your scapegoats. As what Ms. Celine said, what goes around, it comes back around. One day, when other nurses take care of your beloved ones, they will do the same.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
My Future Dilemma
It is 31 degrees outside, sunny, hot and humid; in my own little world, it is cloudy, and I feel cold and depressed.
Some people say uncertainty in the future is fun. The process of working hard and watching how your future unfolds is a pleasure and privilege. You are an artist. Your future is like a plain banner. How and what you color on the banner determines how your future will turn out to be like.
The thing is, there are too many options—too many colors to choose from and too many ways to paint the banner.
I have stumbled and got stuck in the dilemma.
I try to visualize and imagine my future: if I paint it with green, how it is going to look like? What about if I paint it with blue mixed with red?
After all, I am afraid that regrets will arise in my heart eventually from the color I have chosen to use. However, no matter how hard I try to foresee the end product, it is all obscure.
I am panicked.
Being stressed enough issues about school and returning home, I now am trying to calm the big waves in my heart caused by an unexpected presence of a stranger. In order to prevent Jun from finding out what has happened and getting his heart broken, I lied. In order to prevent “E” from knowing deeply about my past, I lied. In order to prevent myself from hurting and getting hurt by anybody and falling into the melancholy trap again, I even lied to myself. It is not fair for all of us in this incident. I know I am wrong, but I just can’t help it.
I am so frustrated. I hate lying, but at the same time, I find myself making up lots of prevarications and living in my own fabricated world.
Who can assure me that I could return to my home if I choose to stay with Jun? Who can assure me that Jun is still going to remain devoted to me 2 years after? Who can assure me that “E” is the right mate of my life? Who can assure me that the color that I choose to paint with will definitely turn out the picture to be the one I have been longing for?
Sometimes I really wish I am a fish that lives in the ocean. I get to go anywhere I like in the world, and swim freely without worries. I am simple but happy—not like human’s brains, which are full of complications.
Uncertainty in the future is, in fact, depressing.
I’m lighting a cigarette, and falling into deep meditation again.
Some people say uncertainty in the future is fun. The process of working hard and watching how your future unfolds is a pleasure and privilege. You are an artist. Your future is like a plain banner. How and what you color on the banner determines how your future will turn out to be like.
The thing is, there are too many options—too many colors to choose from and too many ways to paint the banner.
I have stumbled and got stuck in the dilemma.
I try to visualize and imagine my future: if I paint it with green, how it is going to look like? What about if I paint it with blue mixed with red?
After all, I am afraid that regrets will arise in my heart eventually from the color I have chosen to use. However, no matter how hard I try to foresee the end product, it is all obscure.
I am panicked.
Being stressed enough issues about school and returning home, I now am trying to calm the big waves in my heart caused by an unexpected presence of a stranger. In order to prevent Jun from finding out what has happened and getting his heart broken, I lied. In order to prevent “E” from knowing deeply about my past, I lied. In order to prevent myself from hurting and getting hurt by anybody and falling into the melancholy trap again, I even lied to myself. It is not fair for all of us in this incident. I know I am wrong, but I just can’t help it.
I am so frustrated. I hate lying, but at the same time, I find myself making up lots of prevarications and living in my own fabricated world.
Who can assure me that I could return to my home if I choose to stay with Jun? Who can assure me that Jun is still going to remain devoted to me 2 years after? Who can assure me that “E” is the right mate of my life? Who can assure me that the color that I choose to paint with will definitely turn out the picture to be the one I have been longing for?
Sometimes I really wish I am a fish that lives in the ocean. I get to go anywhere I like in the world, and swim freely without worries. I am simple but happy—not like human’s brains, which are full of complications.
Uncertainty in the future is, in fact, depressing.
I’m lighting a cigarette, and falling into deep meditation again.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Event + Respond = Outcome
What would you do when you encounter a problem? Would you take courage and face it? Would you ignore it? Or would you detain and worry about it later?
It is so stunned to come to understand that these stages of our lives are at right now is the decisions we made in the past.
You receive a bill with balance of -$2,000 from your credit card company. You simply ignore it and think, “I can pay it next month.” You use the same excuse every month and 6 months later, you receive a collection letter.
You work hard everyday and when you get home, you are so tired; you just want to relax. Your kids ask you to accompany them. You say, “I’m tired!” Your wife wants to have a talk with you, and you say, “Let’s talk about it later!” This goes on for years and one day, you come home to an empty house and a “bye-bye” note.
A year ago, your boyfriend hit you suddenly in the middle of arguing. Instead of avoiding the truth, you alerted that your boyfriend’s tendency of violence is a problem. In stead of keeping it quiet, you stood up for yourself. After times of failing of demanding him to join you in counselling, you decided to break this relationship. One day, you relieve that you have left him before you both got into serious matters; your friend just told you that he is charged of physically abuse his wife yesterday.
How you respond to an event today affects your future. What a simple principle, yet so many people take a life time or even have to put their lives at risk to finally learn and realize it.
So please think carefully before every movement. If you are not happy about your current situation, face it and change your response.
It is so stunned to come to understand that these stages of our lives are at right now is the decisions we made in the past.
You receive a bill with balance of -$2,000 from your credit card company. You simply ignore it and think, “I can pay it next month.” You use the same excuse every month and 6 months later, you receive a collection letter.
You work hard everyday and when you get home, you are so tired; you just want to relax. Your kids ask you to accompany them. You say, “I’m tired!” Your wife wants to have a talk with you, and you say, “Let’s talk about it later!” This goes on for years and one day, you come home to an empty house and a “bye-bye” note.
A year ago, your boyfriend hit you suddenly in the middle of arguing. Instead of avoiding the truth, you alerted that your boyfriend’s tendency of violence is a problem. In stead of keeping it quiet, you stood up for yourself. After times of failing of demanding him to join you in counselling, you decided to break this relationship. One day, you relieve that you have left him before you both got into serious matters; your friend just told you that he is charged of physically abuse his wife yesterday.
How you respond to an event today affects your future. What a simple principle, yet so many people take a life time or even have to put their lives at risk to finally learn and realize it.
So please think carefully before every movement. If you are not happy about your current situation, face it and change your response.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
PCD Present: Girlicious
I fell in love with the newest TV reality show—PCD Present: Girlicious. This show is actually the second season of the previous smash-hit show PCD Present: The Search for The Next Doll.
Like The Search for the Next Doll, but this time, Girlicious is about looking for three girls to create a girl group called, as mentioned, Girlicious. I suppose Robin Antin, the creator of The PussyCat Dolls, after the successful of the first season, felt that there are so many gorgeous and talented girls in across America. It would be a good idea to create a new hot “sexy, sassy but classy” PCD-alike girl group.
I am totally hooked by the show. I just love every bit of it. The girls try their best to win the challenges and practice their butt off in order to be saved from elimination at the end of the performance every week. The girls who especially win my support are the most hated—Natalie and Chrystina.
Like The Search for the Next Doll, but this time, Girlicious is about looking for three girls to create a girl group called, as mentioned, Girlicious. I suppose Robin Antin, the creator of The PussyCat Dolls, after the successful of the first season, felt that there are so many gorgeous and talented girls in across America. It would be a good idea to create a new hot “sexy, sassy but classy” PCD-alike girl group.
I am totally hooked by the show. I just love every bit of it. The girls try their best to win the challenges and practice their butt off in order to be saved from elimination at the end of the performance every week. The girls who especially win my support are the most hated—Natalie and Chrystina.
Contestant: Natalie. Picture taken from Myspace.
Contestant: Chrystina
I know. But I just admire them. Most of the people disgust them two because of their attitudes—that I admire the most. They are not only gorgeous, talented and full of confidence in themselves, but they also dare to speak up. They express their feelings and what’s on their minds directly without trying to withhold it, although sometimes it sounds arrogant and mean (and I sometimes disagree against them too).
You know, I wish I could do that. And although I try, I always tend to end up the opposite way—being a sucker.
I’ve learned a lot from these two smash-hit shows. When you want something, you have to act like you want it, so bad. When you want something, you have to strive to attain it, and never give up. I now know why there are so many successful people in the States. Either they are trained or educated or helped by the environment or the society, they do whatever they can to achieve it once they set the goals. They are fighters. They just don’t give up their dreams (that probably also explains why there are over 2 millions millionaires in the States). I’ve also learned how to improve my look and my wardrobe. And most important—their attitudes—that helps them to achieve big.
Hopefully one day, I can be like them—gorgeous, confident, and successful.
Can’t wait to see the finale!
Monday, March 10, 2008
The True Story of a Cambodian Childhood
I’ve just finished reading a great biographic book—The Road of Lost Innocence by Somaly Mam.
And it put me into real depressed.
She doesn’t have a marvellous writing skill; nevertheless, it is simple and straightforward (And for a woman who never has a proper education like her, it is really praiseworthy.) Every word is conveyed from her feelings. And it touches my heart tremendously.
In Cambodia, girls as young as five years old are sold into prostitution every day. Somaly Mam fell into a similar fate. As an abandoned baby, she was looked after by her grandmother until she disappeared. She was then taken into the care of a man she called “grandfather”, but was treated no better than an unpaid servant. Raped at twelve and forced to marry at fifteen, Somaly was then sold to a brothel. After years of abuse she managed to escape.
In 1997, Somaly Mam co-founded AFESIP to combat trafficking in women and children for sexual slavery.
In 1998, she was awarded the Prince of Asturias Prize.
In 2006, she was the winner of Woman of the Year from Glamour magazine.
“I share everything they’ve been through. It’s as if we are the same person. I wear their scars on my body and in my soul. We don’t need to say much to understand one another.”
“If I had been there, if I had had a gun on me, I don’t know what I might have done. I felt real violence. There is no law, no police, no justice to protect little worms like us. We have laws in Cambodia, but everyone ignores them. Instead, what prevails is the law of money. With money you can buy a judge, a policeman—whatever you want. There are moments when I want to throw in the towel in and stop doing this. I feel it is too big for me to fight all this—the pimps, the corruption, the judges.”
“When I sleep my dreams are filled with violence and rape. When you see the marks on your skin, the scars of torture and cigarette burns, the shape of the chains on your ankles, you feel the past is ineradicable. You carry the marks of the suffering. People ask me how I can bear to keep doing what I do. I’ll tell you. It’s the evil that was done to me that propels me on. Is there any other way to exorcise it?”
“Coming back to life, to some kind of innocence, felt impossible. I didn’t know where my youth was, where to look, if not for happiness at least for a kind of peace. When I cuddle with the girls, giving them the love I never received, then I do feel happy.”
I was devastated. I felt sorry for her; I felt angry at myself. I always thought the 2006 incident is the most shameful and the gloomiest stage of my life—nobody has been through a similar situation as mine. I have been through the toughest times compared to most of the people. She has been through the worst situation a girl could probably get. When she was my age, she already accomplished such big achievement in her life. She has such a huge impact to the country, to this world. I am in my mid-twenties, and I have done nothing in my life to the contrary—only know to complain about my luck, meditate upon my misfortunes and do nothing about it. Today, she made my thoughts and belief tremble.
Now I feel like slapping my face.
And it put me into real depressed.
She doesn’t have a marvellous writing skill; nevertheless, it is simple and straightforward (And for a woman who never has a proper education like her, it is really praiseworthy.) Every word is conveyed from her feelings. And it touches my heart tremendously.
In Cambodia, girls as young as five years old are sold into prostitution every day. Somaly Mam fell into a similar fate. As an abandoned baby, she was looked after by her grandmother until she disappeared. She was then taken into the care of a man she called “grandfather”, but was treated no better than an unpaid servant. Raped at twelve and forced to marry at fifteen, Somaly was then sold to a brothel. After years of abuse she managed to escape.
In 1997, Somaly Mam co-founded AFESIP to combat trafficking in women and children for sexual slavery.
In 1998, she was awarded the Prince of Asturias Prize.
In 2006, she was the winner of Woman of the Year from Glamour magazine.
“I share everything they’ve been through. It’s as if we are the same person. I wear their scars on my body and in my soul. We don’t need to say much to understand one another.”
“If I had been there, if I had had a gun on me, I don’t know what I might have done. I felt real violence. There is no law, no police, no justice to protect little worms like us. We have laws in Cambodia, but everyone ignores them. Instead, what prevails is the law of money. With money you can buy a judge, a policeman—whatever you want. There are moments when I want to throw in the towel in and stop doing this. I feel it is too big for me to fight all this—the pimps, the corruption, the judges.”
“When I sleep my dreams are filled with violence and rape. When you see the marks on your skin, the scars of torture and cigarette burns, the shape of the chains on your ankles, you feel the past is ineradicable. You carry the marks of the suffering. People ask me how I can bear to keep doing what I do. I’ll tell you. It’s the evil that was done to me that propels me on. Is there any other way to exorcise it?”
“Coming back to life, to some kind of innocence, felt impossible. I didn’t know where my youth was, where to look, if not for happiness at least for a kind of peace. When I cuddle with the girls, giving them the love I never received, then I do feel happy.”
I was devastated. I felt sorry for her; I felt angry at myself. I always thought the 2006 incident is the most shameful and the gloomiest stage of my life—nobody has been through a similar situation as mine. I have been through the toughest times compared to most of the people. She has been through the worst situation a girl could probably get. When she was my age, she already accomplished such big achievement in her life. She has such a huge impact to the country, to this world. I am in my mid-twenties, and I have done nothing in my life to the contrary—only know to complain about my luck, meditate upon my misfortunes and do nothing about it. Today, she made my thoughts and belief tremble.
Now I feel like slapping my face.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Little White Lies
Everybody has lied. As kids, we were punished by our parents or teachers for lying. As adults, when we lie, we are putting our career, marriage, or even our life at risk. We all know that lying is a bad virtue; yet, we always get trapped by it. We are always torn between telling the truth to hurt someone, and telling a lie to make someone feel better.
Your friend lost in a singing competition and she was upset about it. Knowing your friend had been prepare for that for long time, although you knew the fact that she is bad in singing, you wouldn’t say, “You are really talentless in singing. That’s why you lost.” Would you?
You are applying a shopping card. On the application form, there is a blank for you to write your yearly income. Your yearly income is $24,000. Let’s admit it, would you write $24,000 or $25,000?
You like shopping. You have bunches of clothes and your closet will be exploded if you put any more clothes in it. This morning you were walking the mall, and you saw a gorgeous dress. You were so excited because this dress goes well with the pair of green shoes you bought last week. On the other hand, your mind was warning you that if you bought it, your husband would give you a long lecture, or it could even cause a big fight between both of you. You still bought it in the end, but would you tell your husband the truth or say that it’s a gift from your friend?
In other words, lying is not necessarily bad. The intention of telling a lie is what it matters. Perhaps there is a fine line between it. As long as it doesn’t cause any harms, but brightens up someone’s day, why not?
Come on, it’s just a little white lie.
Your friend lost in a singing competition and she was upset about it. Knowing your friend had been prepare for that for long time, although you knew the fact that she is bad in singing, you wouldn’t say, “You are really talentless in singing. That’s why you lost.” Would you?
You are applying a shopping card. On the application form, there is a blank for you to write your yearly income. Your yearly income is $24,000. Let’s admit it, would you write $24,000 or $25,000?
You like shopping. You have bunches of clothes and your closet will be exploded if you put any more clothes in it. This morning you were walking the mall, and you saw a gorgeous dress. You were so excited because this dress goes well with the pair of green shoes you bought last week. On the other hand, your mind was warning you that if you bought it, your husband would give you a long lecture, or it could even cause a big fight between both of you. You still bought it in the end, but would you tell your husband the truth or say that it’s a gift from your friend?
In other words, lying is not necessarily bad. The intention of telling a lie is what it matters. Perhaps there is a fine line between it. As long as it doesn’t cause any harms, but brightens up someone’s day, why not?
Come on, it’s just a little white lie.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
I'm going to miss you, Grace~
Early today, I received Grace’s call.
“Hey hun, I’m going back to Canada on March 4th!” I could tell she was screaming and jumping on the other side.
After we hung up, I quietly sat there and looked at the walls blankly for quite awhile.
She is going back to T.O, a place where we met each other, a place where our hearts are at, although we both physically present at this country.
Then, I found myself bursting into tears.
I am going to miss her.
And when will be my turn?
I have been knowing Grace for 7 years now. Although we have some divergences on the way we see things and the way we do things; nevertheless, she is my best friend. We have been through a lot of tough things together, and we are always there to help each other out. Back in Toronto, she hooked me up with her hairstylist Tom, who has since then become my favourite hairstylist. She introduced Doug to me, the nicest person on earth, who has never grown to despise my requests for help. She introduced her group of friends to me, by whom my acquaintanceship has since then stretched from a mini pond to sea. Without her as my companion 2 years ago, I would have never met Jun, my honey bunny. Without her as my pushy biotch, I would have still lived in my own small, dark, and gloomy life. Even now we are both outside of Toronto, she hooked me up with this current part-time job. Without her, I wouldn’t have met Jimmy, another Doug.
I think I have taken this friendship for granted.
When someone is around you all the time, you feel secure and you won’t pay too much attention on him/her, because you know that he/she is always going to be there. But when that person leaves, you feel sad, because he/she is going to be far away from you. Or sadly, you might never hear from him/her again. There you start punching your head for not spending enough time with him/her.
I always thought that she will be around with me, although we seldom see each other and talk on the phone. I always thought I still had enough time, although I definitely knew that she will be back to T.O sometime by now. I have never told her how much I appreciate her. I, sometimes, ignore her calls and messages on the contrary (now I really feel like SHIT).
And now I’m sobbing in the room alone, punching my heart for how such a bad friend I am. She is the only close friend I have here. Once she’s gone, I have nobody.
Grace, I’m glad that you finally get to reunite with your husband and start a new life. I want you to stay happy and live a fulfilled life. I promise I will come back once I finish my study. After all, T.O is my home as well. And I will meet you up. Wait for me okay?
Gracie, Jun & LooLoo (2008)
“Hey hun, I’m going back to Canada on March 4th!” I could tell she was screaming and jumping on the other side.
After we hung up, I quietly sat there and looked at the walls blankly for quite awhile.
She is going back to T.O, a place where we met each other, a place where our hearts are at, although we both physically present at this country.
Then, I found myself bursting into tears.
I am going to miss her.
And when will be my turn?
I have been knowing Grace for 7 years now. Although we have some divergences on the way we see things and the way we do things; nevertheless, she is my best friend. We have been through a lot of tough things together, and we are always there to help each other out. Back in Toronto, she hooked me up with her hairstylist Tom, who has since then become my favourite hairstylist. She introduced Doug to me, the nicest person on earth, who has never grown to despise my requests for help. She introduced her group of friends to me, by whom my acquaintanceship has since then stretched from a mini pond to sea. Without her as my companion 2 years ago, I would have never met Jun, my honey bunny. Without her as my pushy biotch, I would have still lived in my own small, dark, and gloomy life. Even now we are both outside of Toronto, she hooked me up with this current part-time job. Without her, I wouldn’t have met Jimmy, another Doug.
I think I have taken this friendship for granted.
When someone is around you all the time, you feel secure and you won’t pay too much attention on him/her, because you know that he/she is always going to be there. But when that person leaves, you feel sad, because he/she is going to be far away from you. Or sadly, you might never hear from him/her again. There you start punching your head for not spending enough time with him/her.
I always thought that she will be around with me, although we seldom see each other and talk on the phone. I always thought I still had enough time, although I definitely knew that she will be back to T.O sometime by now. I have never told her how much I appreciate her. I, sometimes, ignore her calls and messages on the contrary (now I really feel like SHIT).
And now I’m sobbing in the room alone, punching my heart for how such a bad friend I am. She is the only close friend I have here. Once she’s gone, I have nobody.
Grace, I’m glad that you finally get to reunite with your husband and start a new life. I want you to stay happy and live a fulfilled life. I promise I will come back once I finish my study. After all, T.O is my home as well. And I will meet you up. Wait for me okay?
Gracie, Doug, and LooLoo (2006)
Gracie's bday party (2006)
Gracie, Jun & LooLoo (2008)
I was her maid of honor(2007)
I'm gonna miss you sweetheart~
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Plastic Surgery
“What do you think about plastic surgery?”
One of the judges asked me this question on the Dreamgirl audition. Apparently the controversy of this matter—plastic beauty versus natural beauty, is still a popular topic among people. While the society are recommending the beauty of natural, while the girl being interviewed would normally stick with natural beauty over plastic’s, there are significant growing numbers of people decide to go under the knife everyday. And my answer to this question is: why not?
Here is my little story:
As a little girl, I had been teasing by other kids the whole life in schools. They made fun of my teeth because my teeth were like piano. They made fun of my nose because there was a visible scar on my nose (I got it when the bicycle fell onto me when I was 3). They made fun of my body because my boobs are small compared to those hormone-active girls. They had destroyed my confident. I felt inferior; I felt ugly. Instead of laughing out loud freely, I used hand to cover up my mouth; Instead of walking with my head straight, I looked at the floor; Instead of being comfortable in my own skin, I secretly envy those girls’ perfect body. I was Miss Invisible. I found myself crying in countless nights, hoping one day I could turn to be a swan, and people could just stop making fun of me and respect me. So believe me, when I say I know exactly how it feels when people make fun of your look.
There will be only 2 options to overcome this situation: you either change yourself, or change the culture of this society. I think you know which one is easier.
To educate the people to appreciate the virtue of respect is just as hard as to educate the people not to throw garbage. There will still be people out there littering (teasing) everyday. Otherwise there won’t be the need of street cleaners (plastic surgery).
So it only comes down to changing yourself. Being sick of always secretly wishing people would, someday, change, I decided to take action. I went to get braces, gave myself and my wardrobe a makeover, and thankfully, the scar on my nose has become invisible as I grew older. The boobs? I didn’t go under the knife, but I had to say it took me a very long time to finally come to accept the size of my bras.
The result? My effort has paid off. Today the compliments I get from people are overflow.
A light makeover can get such positive feedback; imagine a “big”—under the knife one. If you are scared of knife, the only way you can do is to love your imperfections, like I do. But if all “larger figure” girls are comfortable in their skins, how-to-slim-down books won’t be the all-time bestseller. Although now I consider myself a confident girl, there are still times I feel insecure. Therefore, I can assure you that learning to love your imperfections is a long and lonely road.
So, don’t rule out plastic surgery. If it can boost up your confidence, make you love yourself more, why not?
One of the judges asked me this question on the Dreamgirl audition. Apparently the controversy of this matter—plastic beauty versus natural beauty, is still a popular topic among people. While the society are recommending the beauty of natural, while the girl being interviewed would normally stick with natural beauty over plastic’s, there are significant growing numbers of people decide to go under the knife everyday. And my answer to this question is: why not?
Here is my little story:
As a little girl, I had been teasing by other kids the whole life in schools. They made fun of my teeth because my teeth were like piano. They made fun of my nose because there was a visible scar on my nose (I got it when the bicycle fell onto me when I was 3). They made fun of my body because my boobs are small compared to those hormone-active girls. They had destroyed my confident. I felt inferior; I felt ugly. Instead of laughing out loud freely, I used hand to cover up my mouth; Instead of walking with my head straight, I looked at the floor; Instead of being comfortable in my own skin, I secretly envy those girls’ perfect body. I was Miss Invisible. I found myself crying in countless nights, hoping one day I could turn to be a swan, and people could just stop making fun of me and respect me. So believe me, when I say I know exactly how it feels when people make fun of your look.
There will be only 2 options to overcome this situation: you either change yourself, or change the culture of this society. I think you know which one is easier.
To educate the people to appreciate the virtue of respect is just as hard as to educate the people not to throw garbage. There will still be people out there littering (teasing) everyday. Otherwise there won’t be the need of street cleaners (plastic surgery).
So it only comes down to changing yourself. Being sick of always secretly wishing people would, someday, change, I decided to take action. I went to get braces, gave myself and my wardrobe a makeover, and thankfully, the scar on my nose has become invisible as I grew older. The boobs? I didn’t go under the knife, but I had to say it took me a very long time to finally come to accept the size of my bras.
The result? My effort has paid off. Today the compliments I get from people are overflow.
A light makeover can get such positive feedback; imagine a “big”—under the knife one. If you are scared of knife, the only way you can do is to love your imperfections, like I do. But if all “larger figure” girls are comfortable in their skins, how-to-slim-down books won’t be the all-time bestseller. Although now I consider myself a confident girl, there are still times I feel insecure. Therefore, I can assure you that learning to love your imperfections is a long and lonely road.
So, don’t rule out plastic surgery. If it can boost up your confidence, make you love yourself more, why not?
Friday, February 22, 2008
You Don't Know Me!
What would you do when people misunderstand you, or hold a wrong perspective on you? Would you fight for your image? Or would you simply shrug your shoulders and not give a damn?
It is shocked to understand how people are easily convinced by judging the cover of a book. It is shocked, at the same time, to realize how crucial it is the way you carry yourself.
I mean, I have always understood this “natural law” in this society. However, I have never paid attention at it. “Why would I care about how you think about me? You ain’t nobody.”—That’s how I had always thought. However, recently this incident has made me stumble.
Last month, I saw an ad on NEWMAN. It was about a nationwide model search. “Just another simulated America’s Next Top Model + So You Think You Can Dance local reality show,” I thought. The more I read on it, the more I was intrigued by this ad.
“Well, since my school is starting on April, and I’m free for these 2 months anyways, why not just do it? At least I’m not wasting my time thinking about back home. I am gaining a life-time experience—in an online reality show. This is something I have never done before!” I told myself.
So I went to the audition that day. Here is the abbreviated conversation I had with one of the judges:
Lady Judge: Tell me something about yourself.
Me: Well, I was born in IP. I just came back from Canada, and I am still a student.
Lady Judge: What are you doing?
Me: Nursing.
Lady Judge: You’re studying in Canada?
Me: Actually I studied business in Canada. But I’m kind of sick of business. I want to switch my career, so now I’m taking nursing courses.
Lady Judge: Business, nursing, and now you want to be a model?
(Excuse me, just because my goal is to be a nurse, it doesn’t mean I am not allowed to grab the side opportunities to gain some otherwise-experiences. Duh!)
Me: Well, I’m going to give it a shot!
Lady Judge: You are not tall enough.
Me: I know that my height is a bit too short to become a runway model, but I can be a commercial model!
Lady Judge: We are looking for a versatile model that can do everything.
Me: Well, the revolution is going to start from me. Maybe I can be the first 5’4 model who walks the runway.
Lady Judge: I doubt it.
(There hello there hello, if Obama, an African American, could go and run for presidential election, why can’t a 5'4 girl go and take part in a model-search contest? For me, nothing is impossible. Where there is a will, there is a way. I apply it on every facet of my life.)
The two man judges voted me; I don’t know it is because of my beauty or my confidence. Thus, I successfully got in to the final audition on next week.
Days ago, I unintentionally found a blog on the internet about the show. The blogger is one of the crew of the show. As I scrolled down the screen, my photo popped up before my eyes, and there was a sentence that especially bothered me:
“…I agree with the judges that she seems unsure of her direction…”
They were pigeonholing me as someone whom I am not.
We all have flaws. Everyone has been through the quarter-life crisis. Additionally, career changing is commonplace; I don't understand why the people here see it such a big deal (looks like I still need more time to better attune myself to this "freaking" environment.). What is the problem of a person switching from what she/he is doing when she/he truly found her/his passion? It is never too late to pursuit your dreams! I don't think I was too late to come to terms with life-purposes. Today, I know what I want to do with my life—I want to become a NURSE and work for Sick Kids Hospital.
Perhaps I could have presented myself better during the interview so that they wouldn’t have misjudged me.
As I mentioned, just because I want to be a nurse, it doesn’t mean I am not allowed to take those otherwise-opportunities to gain some otherwise-experiences.
On the other hand, it’s funny to see myself getting trapped by this reality show and comments made by those unknown people. Sometimes, the way you look and the way you talk are just so important. Its influence in your life is just so significant that you can’t ignore it.
After days of struggling, my decision for this incident comes down to this: I don’t give a damn. (yawning)
I know I don't have the qualifications to become a model. Whether I win or lose, my intention to take part at this contest is to experience new things. As long as I am still Jun’s dreamgirl, that’s all it matters.
Do you think I really want to be a model in this freaking country?
Pphhhuuu!!!
It is shocked to understand how people are easily convinced by judging the cover of a book. It is shocked, at the same time, to realize how crucial it is the way you carry yourself.
I mean, I have always understood this “natural law” in this society. However, I have never paid attention at it. “Why would I care about how you think about me? You ain’t nobody.”—That’s how I had always thought. However, recently this incident has made me stumble.
Last month, I saw an ad on NEWMAN. It was about a nationwide model search. “Just another simulated America’s Next Top Model + So You Think You Can Dance local reality show,” I thought. The more I read on it, the more I was intrigued by this ad.
“Well, since my school is starting on April, and I’m free for these 2 months anyways, why not just do it? At least I’m not wasting my time thinking about back home. I am gaining a life-time experience—in an online reality show. This is something I have never done before!” I told myself.
So I went to the audition that day. Here is the abbreviated conversation I had with one of the judges:
Lady Judge: Tell me something about yourself.
Me: Well, I was born in IP. I just came back from Canada, and I am still a student.
Lady Judge: What are you doing?
Me: Nursing.
Lady Judge: You’re studying in Canada?
Me: Actually I studied business in Canada. But I’m kind of sick of business. I want to switch my career, so now I’m taking nursing courses.
Lady Judge: Business, nursing, and now you want to be a model?
(Excuse me, just because my goal is to be a nurse, it doesn’t mean I am not allowed to grab the side opportunities to gain some otherwise-experiences. Duh!)
Me: Well, I’m going to give it a shot!
Lady Judge: You are not tall enough.
Me: I know that my height is a bit too short to become a runway model, but I can be a commercial model!
Lady Judge: We are looking for a versatile model that can do everything.
Me: Well, the revolution is going to start from me. Maybe I can be the first 5’4 model who walks the runway.
Lady Judge: I doubt it.
(There hello there hello, if Obama, an African American, could go and run for presidential election, why can’t a 5'4 girl go and take part in a model-search contest? For me, nothing is impossible. Where there is a will, there is a way. I apply it on every facet of my life.)
The two man judges voted me; I don’t know it is because of my beauty or my confidence. Thus, I successfully got in to the final audition on next week.
Days ago, I unintentionally found a blog on the internet about the show. The blogger is one of the crew of the show. As I scrolled down the screen, my photo popped up before my eyes, and there was a sentence that especially bothered me:
“…I agree with the judges that she seems unsure of her direction…”
They were pigeonholing me as someone whom I am not.
We all have flaws. Everyone has been through the quarter-life crisis. Additionally, career changing is commonplace; I don't understand why the people here see it such a big deal (looks like I still need more time to better attune myself to this "freaking" environment.). What is the problem of a person switching from what she/he is doing when she/he truly found her/his passion? It is never too late to pursuit your dreams! I don't think I was too late to come to terms with life-purposes. Today, I know what I want to do with my life—I want to become a NURSE and work for Sick Kids Hospital.
Perhaps I could have presented myself better during the interview so that they wouldn’t have misjudged me.
As I mentioned, just because I want to be a nurse, it doesn’t mean I am not allowed to take those otherwise-opportunities to gain some otherwise-experiences.
On the other hand, it’s funny to see myself getting trapped by this reality show and comments made by those unknown people. Sometimes, the way you look and the way you talk are just so important. Its influence in your life is just so significant that you can’t ignore it.
After days of struggling, my decision for this incident comes down to this: I don’t give a damn. (yawning)
I know I don't have the qualifications to become a model. Whether I win or lose, my intention to take part at this contest is to experience new things. As long as I am still Jun’s dreamgirl, that’s all it matters.
Do you think I really want to be a model in this freaking country?
Pphhhuuu!!!
I love the way I am~
I even look gorgeous with braces on!!
p/s: And today was the final audition, and I tried to give my best performance.
I didn’t make it to the top 12. But I won the best compliments I have ever got from the judges and acclamations among the girls. :)
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Homesick
A wave of nostalgia rush over me.
I miss my friends; I miss my home, and I miss the people.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to keep myself up-to-date about the news back home, being 9148 miles away from Toronto, I sometimes just feel like a ditched duck.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to persuade myself that I am here just for school, just for 3 years, and after that, I could run back into my home’s embrace, I sometimes just feel depressed.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to maintain a buoyant spirit, I sometimes just want to cry. Like yesterday.
I wonder what other people do and how they cope when they are homesick.
I told Jun that I watched the video, which he is making funny faces trying to move his eyes to the centre, in my camera that day. I missed him so much. I wished he was still here with me. Jun, on the other side, told me that he felt the same way too. He said it feels so “weird” being in Toronto without me.
Within a second, I became a broken tap—failed to turn off the water=tears.
I, or maybe, was like Niagara Falls.
“It’s okay. It’s only temporary,” Jun tried to calm me.
And this morning, I woke up with a pair of dark puffy eyes.
I miss my friends; I miss my home, and I miss the people.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to keep myself up-to-date about the news back home, being 9148 miles away from Toronto, I sometimes just feel like a ditched duck.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to persuade myself that I am here just for school, just for 3 years, and after that, I could run back into my home’s embrace, I sometimes just feel depressed.
As much as I use the best effort I can to try to maintain a buoyant spirit, I sometimes just want to cry. Like yesterday.
I wonder what other people do and how they cope when they are homesick.
I told Jun that I watched the video, which he is making funny faces trying to move his eyes to the centre, in my camera that day. I missed him so much. I wished he was still here with me. Jun, on the other side, told me that he felt the same way too. He said it feels so “weird” being in Toronto without me.
Within a second, I became a broken tap—failed to turn off the water=tears.
I, or maybe, was like Niagara Falls.
“It’s okay. It’s only temporary,” Jun tried to calm me.
And this morning, I woke up with a pair of dark puffy eyes.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Waiting
Are you currently waiting for an event to take place, an opportunity to appear, rain to stop, or maybe time to pass by faster so that you can go home?
Waiting is such conventional, challenging, yet privilege.
Numerous studies have shown that waiting invades at least 70% of time in our whole life.
It’s a cruel truth because we waste so much of our life time just waiting. Perhaps we are all trained by this society the moment we are born. We have to line up to buy tickets, wait for the food after ordering it, wait for the bus to come on schedule, wait for the government to approve an application, wait for the surgery date, even wait for the grand prize of lottery would fall on us someday. We are so used to it that we live with it without even notice it. Although sometimes we complain about it, aren’t we already accept it as part of our everyday life?
Maybe you argue that waiting challenges your patience. Perhaps you are desperately waiting for a loved one to come home or call you. In other words, isn’t it a privilege to have someone you love to wait for? Millions of people out there are heart-broken. They don’t even have this good fortune.
Yes, I think I’m very fortunate. My beloved boyfriend will be arriving here tomorrow noon. I can’t WAIT to see him.
I’m sitting at the patio, sipping my latte—the phone rings.“Hello Susan, are you here yet? I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”
Waiting is such conventional, challenging, yet privilege.
Numerous studies have shown that waiting invades at least 70% of time in our whole life.
It’s a cruel truth because we waste so much of our life time just waiting. Perhaps we are all trained by this society the moment we are born. We have to line up to buy tickets, wait for the food after ordering it, wait for the bus to come on schedule, wait for the government to approve an application, wait for the surgery date, even wait for the grand prize of lottery would fall on us someday. We are so used to it that we live with it without even notice it. Although sometimes we complain about it, aren’t we already accept it as part of our everyday life?
Maybe you argue that waiting challenges your patience. Perhaps you are desperately waiting for a loved one to come home or call you. In other words, isn’t it a privilege to have someone you love to wait for? Millions of people out there are heart-broken. They don’t even have this good fortune.
Yes, I think I’m very fortunate. My beloved boyfriend will be arriving here tomorrow noon. I can’t WAIT to see him.
I’m sitting at the patio, sipping my latte—the phone rings.“Hello Susan, are you here yet? I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”
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