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Tuesday, 03 February 2009

  • I push myself to like something!

    Usually, when people ask me if i like this? or if i like that?, i always take to consideration what my answer will be. It's always a choice between the two; TRUTH and POLITE GESTURE. Of course that depended on the situation i am put into. For example, my friend would ask me if i like singing, ofcourse my immediate reflex would be to tell the truth... and yeah i do like singing.On the other hand, if a classmate would ask me if i liked her handwriting -  when I internally scowled to myself that it was ridiculously wavy and curly -  I would most probably settle with my second choice.

    What started me with this "liking" and "choices" topic is because of the unfortunate phenomenon that has been going through my mind, frustrating me out of my wits. This phenomenon i speak of mainly concerns one thing...my career.

    Currently, I am taking up nursing. Well, not to show off but i am quite smart,and wits is a requirement to be able to make it through this course in one piece or be able to stay alive and kicking. Honestly, I am not liking this course, not liking it at all. I got the brains but unfortunately for me I am lacking the one thing that makes nurses what they are today and that's INDUSTRY.

    I have always pictured myself in a beach resort with my laptop on, writing stories after stories after stories, well you get the drift. Never in my consciousness - or unconscious being for that matter - have i imagined myself pointing sharp needle in a kid's arm and making her believe in fairy tale like lies by saying " it wont hurt a bit" when in reality, well it would hurt a bit or even a bit more than a bit that you'd feel the urge to cry. Comically, i have imagined myself saying " it would hurt me more that it will hurt you" and then laugh like an evil witch to scare a kid off. That kind of thinking isn't really fit for nursing jobs. I am too creative to work in boring hospitals and dry myself out with thousands of bacteria ready to attack my obviously weak immune system.

    I want to be a writer. I would want a Newyork times bestseller award - if it is an award, not quite sure - rather than successfully remove a wart out of a kid who collects rare species of frogs. I would want my own "BEST BOOK OF THE DECADE" award rather than receiving some random doctor's orders sheet telling me to clean the bedside commode of a patient suffering from diarrhea.I'd rather be the next Meyer rather than the next Nightingale - seriously who would want to be? she is called "lady with the lamp"!.

    I rather not exagerate things. You may think i loathe this course. I dont actually, I've learned a lot so far. I've learned that we have a muscle called sternocleidomastoid - i am specifically proud that i remember that term - that helps with moving of the head.  Anatomy is a pain but certainly everyday is a new day to learn new great things!I dont like the course but i dont loathe it. The reason i stay *scoff*  in this course is mainly because of my mom, she somehow thinks that i'm have an exemplary talent in science, and because of overseas job opportunities -  I'm not exactly the nationalistic type of being, I've always wanted to travel abroad.

    Ive given nursing a chance and its just too hard for me. I'm not possitive that i can pass it since i've been struggling with my laziness issues. I mean all I do there is sit and look pretty while everybody is sinking their noses to the excessively thick and huge book that we are all obliged to read. Sometimes I look at them read the book and suddenly, probably unconsciously, stare at a distant daze. I am a really kin obsevant of the people that surrounds me and the differences are not difficult to pin point, but they are possibly uncountable. Like this one time, i came in the room and everyone else was holding a piece of paper or  pages of paper. I indifferently ignored that vision then it suddenly pops to my head, like some kind of "appearing magic stunt", that somewhere between the lines "Goodmorning Class" and "Goodbye class" in our last meeting, the teacher might have said something about a research assignment. After a deep thought, it rang a bell and i was delirious! Crazily running around the room trying to figure out why hasn't anyone told me about it, when t6echnically they are not responsible for that. The bottomline is nursing isn't the thing for me but I have to live with it and that fact sickens me to the point of nausea. "LIFE IS HARD" Nothing seems to work out now i hope id come up with an answer to this disturbing question inside me soon.

Sunday, 28 September 2008

  • folly of a teacher


    There I was, my heart wont stop thumping inside my chest, blood continuously rushes up to my brain, i feel the heat and tension in my
    seem to be swelling up face, my head is to burst from intensity, it’s
    my turn to be on that fierce spot. I was to report in front of class for a terror of a teacher, I was not
    at all prepared for his insulting remarks, but I need to be confident,
    both for myself and for my group.

    Half of the report, I am still in good condition, the intensity of
    my anxious mind seems to have already subsided, that was before the
    second i uttered "the word" that seems to have triggered his impotent side. "Miss Reporter, WHAT IS THIS WORD?", I was too naive to answer this particular word’s literal meaning. His voice
    became a bit fiercer than of what was before, we were conversing in front of class, but I didn’t exactly feel we were. I felt more like
    being interrogated by a police officer, I can imagine a scene, I’m
    locked in a dark room with only one bright hanging lamp light above my
    corpse-like body, seeing nothing but his big mouth and comically rotund
    belly, wherein he kept on questioning me, pointing me as a culprit,
    guilty of a crime. I have to say my face was as hot as hell fire, I
    felt like bursting into tears but my pride just wont let me, I just
    cant accept defeat. He was mad as if hell hath fury, the next thing I
    knew he was upfront my face spitting at me such detestable words, " I am your superior, no one in this little of a room can undermine my justice and beliefs, the words that come out from my lips is my truth and these truths you shall accept and you are to make it as your own as well!" My stomach no longer
    have butterflies with fluttering wings but bees hungry to sting his
    words and his overflowing self-indulgence. "Yes, professor" was all there is
    to say, for the first time in my life my mouth could only sprout out
    two words, " Yes professor" was all I can say. While I am on the tip of his
    iceberg, silence is the only way to save myself, to prevent myself from
    tumbling down.

    I hated his guts! That exact time he was all over my pride and
    dignity, how i wished to transform into a fire-breathing dragon, set
    his body on fire and blow away his ashes from the face of the earth,
    but he wont even vanish from our little classroom. My mind started to
    imagine these childish thought fragments because i felt like a little
    girl being bullied by a hairy and fat goblin. I apologized and
    swallowed my already beaten up pride, then continued with my report, I don’t want to give up. I swear i could’ve exploded that moment, and come
    to think of it exploding was my best option at that time.

    He went back to the other end of the room, which gave me a piece of
    internal calmness, how i wished we stayed that far away from each
    other, that kind of distance was able to block his aura of evilness,
    but turned out wishes like that were only for fictional characters’
    happy ending.

    Finished my first report, still recovering from that beating I had
    earlier but I am ready for the second one, thinking that the worst has
    ended, I can still curve up a smile, but sadly that smile didn’t last
    very long, I guess the worst was yet to come. Once again he stood up,
    he was not contented from the beating he gave me, he was off to murder
    me. He has the attempt to murder me in front of a class, he’s sending
    me and my confidence to grave, HE’S THE REAL CULPRIT HERE! He should be
    the one under this bright hanging lamplight, he should be put behind
    bars, I no longer dislike him, nor do I hate him, I detest him, near to the point of loathing. I dont
    think…(to be continued)

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

my13redballoons

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