I kinda fear you find this place,
I fear you perhaps won't hang out with me anymore.

I kinda want you to find this place,

So you know perhaps what i want to say.

Intoxication of a different sort.

Inspirational

Let me tell you something you already know.

The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows.

It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.

You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life.

But it ain't about how hard ya hit.

It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward.

How much you can take and keep moving forward.

That's how winning is done!

Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth.

But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody!
Cowards do that and that ain't you!
You're better than that!

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And of course, the question now is,

Have i found another you.

Cowardice

And the last we heard of him, was yet again nothing.

Let us move back a little in time, for hindsight, is perfect, and perhaps stories should be. So back at where we last left our hero. Betrayed by his sword, and cut by his own blade, our hero was back to where he first began, without a sword and without a name of his own. Troubled by his past and pessimistic of the future, the hero travelled across the great ocean, 'to find his name again', as the local bard will say. Others yet will say, he is running from this land too familiar to him, too many bad memories some would say.

But to this new land he went, alone, and unarmed. But people here did not welcome him as the barbarian, he was the barbarian no more in his polished steel, his earthly wisdom, and his new-found charisma. The only person the barbarian did not find comfortable with is perhaps himself. Underneath the greetings and politeness he knows that the barbarian still hides somewhere, between the cracks on the floor, and above the ceiling boards.

Into recluse our hero went. He had a few friends, with whom he would gather sometimes to feast and to dine. He had a few needs, provided for by the new rich land beyond his requirements without end. He had even fewer wants, still wounded by his brush in the past. He was healing, some would argue he has healed, but we all know an injured arm will never be as good as the uninjured one.

But then one day, our hero decides to take a walk in the forest around his home to just have a look around. What harm would it cause you may ask. And truth be told, no harm came about. In fact, something a little wondrous happened.

There in the forest, in a little clearing, lies a sword emitting an eerie glow, not unlike his original sword. And though the sword did not call for him like it did last time, It was a really beautiful sword. And in the barbarian rose a little feeling. 'How nice it would be to hold a sword again', he asked himself in his head. He crept closer to the sword. It shone brighter to him. He knows that perhaps this is the sword for him.

So, we all know what happens after this.

But no. Instead of picking up the sword. The barbarian walks away, in cowardice.

He is still no knight after all.

Into the dark.

Thought trains

I know it has been long once again. Flooded by waves of assignment and school work, sometimes i feel unmotivated to write anything at all. But then again, that may be my plain laziness.

Just got back from celebrating my adopted countries national day. Well, adopted for me, but perhaps not from their perspective, for there's still a label attached to me that says I'm permanently residing in the country, yet not completely part of it yet. I would not go in the politics of that, in fear of incurring the wrath of a nation. But yes, for me at least, i certainly feel that i'm part of the country. And perhaps, one day i will be.

Its wierd how thought trains go across the vast plains of (in)sanity, one moment you could be singing and shouting loudly, as part of the crowd, part of the weeking shouting tirades of the brave new world, The next moment drinking beer, as i drown into my proletariat sorrows, becoming one with the working population, unthinking, mind numbed by the chemical made by the fermentation of wheat by yeast. Yet a few moments later, it is here, in the region of whimsical thought, of perhaps, maybes and what ifs of the future. A sudden rethink of my future prospect, well, not a sudden rethink, more of a affirmation. An idealistic affirmation, but nonetheless something i hope to accomplish one day.

And therein lies all the conflict of oneself, and the trappings of life. The eternal struggle between ideals and pragmatism. The car or the donation to the Aids foundation, the house or the home, The body in the casket, or the transplantation of skin to burn victims. I am glad to be of a relatively rare, yet unneeded blood type, namely AB+, that i am spared from the dillemma of donations, which perhaps is the first of these conflicts of life. I am young, and by definition, idealistic. I ,while on the ride home, thought of donating all but a minimal amount of my salary to charity, of perhaps one day being able to then write a biography titled 'The richest man on earth' or 'The poorest doctor', of perhaps one day emulating my heroes of aiding the poor, and healing the sick. And then you might tell me, 'hey, isnt that the wrong kind of motivation?' To be honest, I don't have a clue. I know not whether i'm right or wrong. Hopefully more right than wrong.

slightly less than 3 and a half year to go. Lets see how i think 3 years down the road shall we?

Compassion.

Its 4 hours till i head towards the airport, signalling the end of my holidays. And something makes me very aware of the seconds ticking past, too aware. Like palpitations in a cardiac patient. now its 3 hours and 40 minutes. time passes too fast. too too fast.

Einstein could've written something on it, I do not know. But time seems to be kinda elastic. Especially this last few days, where time seems to be stretched to its maximum. appointments, assignments, visits. As always when my time is ending.

I really need to use my time more evenly.

And without much of a hoorah, or much of a bang, the exams are over. (thank goodness for that). Its great. to suddenly feel relieved of the literally 100 kilos of books. ok maybe just 50. but yeah. I'm glad to be relieved of them.

And now for a well-deserved break. And perhaps a couple of beers.

CV

Studying medicine, have perhaps one disadvantage. It shows us perhaps that deep down, however idealistic and cheery of us, there's one part of us, perhaps lying somewhere deep in our basal ganglia. That says, life is futile.

But studying medicine, also teaches us, that although that may be true, that pathway is normally inhibited. Perhaps by the dopaminergic pathway, or perhaps GABA-ergic. But whichever the case, I think i am writing nonsense. and should probably hit the books again.

Cardiovascular risk factors:
Smoking
Hypertension
Diabetis
Hyperlipidemia
Chronic Renal Failure
History of cardiac attacks
Past Family Hx
Male
Age.
Obesity and lack of exercise
raised homocysteine levels... and the list goes on.