Archive for the ‘diary’ Category

Tell me that story again Mommy…

Daddy lift me high above your head till I can’t giggle anymore…

Surround me with that irreplaceable feeling I adore…

Baby brother follow me around…

Speak to me in our language of sound…

Buy me a present that will be my world…

Perfect my pigtails with ribbons and curls…

Hold my hand and comfort my head…

Make me grilled cheese on quartered bread…

Oh how I miss being a little girl…

Carefree and sacred as an oyster’s only pearl…

Bring back that safety and protection of home…

Because in this adult world, a lost child I roam…

Jyl Phillips.


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of jotting life.

It’s a holiday. Thus I don’t really have any mood to write anything. Thus, here I am scribbling something, junk mostly just to update the blog.

pride and honesty and desperation were waging a war inside of her, and her conscience was being assaulted in the fray.

1. Above quote explains everything. Taken from “a kingdom of dreams” by Judith McNaught, the book i’m reading at the moment. The book which i should have finished it 2 days ago but still having some problem with concentration and passion which had interfere my comprehension. Perhaps i should stop reading novels.

2. Your action speaks louder than word. In fact louder than a bullet from a gun, if only the bullet is the only one who is producing the sound not the gun.

3. to toothless grin and baby toys, i miss you. Get well soon and we’ll have fun with the chuggers again.

4. there’s cut everywhere. perhaps someone should just give up, let the wound heal and protect it for which further injuries may lead to scarring and permanent damages.

5. been waiting for hafiz to write about the subsidy issue and he wrote one at last. a very sarcastic piece i may say but brilliant especially the way he delivered it. i can sense the bias but for someone who read economy your arguments are not a moot point.

6. holiday provides me with nothing but plenty of time for which i’d been spending it by hopping from blog to blog trying to capture the mind of the writers. I could see there are so many differences in mentalities among different cultures and geographical areas despite the slogan 1malaysia.

7. found one inspiring story here while bloghopping. may he keep on fighting and never despise.

8. sick of people talking politics. it’s everywhere – tv, newspaper, blogs and even facebook. urgh! but who am I to complain it’s a free country anyway.

9. twenty three was hardly ancient but i felt old.

10. a smile came slowly, dawning in the eyes then drifting to the mouth as i read the mail few minutes ago. welcome home, pal 🙂

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Just a wrap-up.

At long last, the day arrived. It was the end to the boring lectures, laboratory activities and mannequins. I am approaching my clinical years in which I’ll be spending my time at the hospital learning from the real patients. To come to think of it, if you ask me about this few decades ago, I never thought that would be possible because hospital has always been my least favorite place on earth as it’s the scariest and dirtiest.

Besides, I never dream of becoming a doctor. I fear I don’t have any ability or whatever it takes to become a healer. Healers are life saving noble folks whom people depend on so much. They heal people. They take away the suffering. For me, anyone can be a mere doctor but not everyone will become a healer as I do believe that there’s a significant distinction between a healer and a mere doctor.

This thought had led me to low self confidence.

Every time when there is an examination, I fear that the result may bring me farther down while I thought I was already at the bottom but recently an episode of Grey’s Anatomy had taught me that whatever happens, walk tall because no one knows how short you are except yourself. I try hard to take heed and gather pieces of myself with little hope but sometimes I still failed. That explains my idiosyncrasy. Some of my friends always chide me for having bipolar disease as me and violent mood swings are two inseparable items. I could be so full of confidence by being a maniac with unbelievable amount of enthusiasm in a few hours and a melancholic hermit feeling suicidal in the next. (Please take note that I don’t mean it literally). I admit that at times, I could feel that all those fear is overwhelming my rationality.

I don’t know how is my life at the hospital starting this mid September gonna be but so far my 4th year as a medical student has been the toughest. I am unsure why but this year has drained me emotionally. Perhaps it’s the thesis or the workload or the personal life or the goal that I had set during my freshman year that has driven me crazy.  I have no idea.

But I have made it this far. Shaken but I made it nonetheless.

I feel like it was just yesterday I rode the slow-freaking bus from Jakarta to Jatinangor with my other jpa mates and now soon enough we’ll be graduating.

Yes. Soon!

Because in Indonesia every medical student will experience two graduations in their bachelor program. The first graduation will mark the end of theoretical years in which after that you’ll be spending your next 2 years life as a medical student at the hospital, meeting real patients, maybe trying to diagnose and treat them in order to gain the experience. I am not sure whether it’s the same like an internship or not. And the second graduation is more like an oath-taking ceremony but I’m not sure too (believe it or not I’ve never been to any of these ceremonies) and I have no idea why they need two graduations either.

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Separated, floating as if I was in the moon is what I have been experiencing lately. For once in my life time, I don’t know what is happening to me, my body, my brain and my surrounding. Everything seems to be so disconnected.

I wondered when was the last time I feel worried or happy or scared?

The answer scares me because I could not remember it at all.

I feel so numb as if I have been dumped into an ice water. None of my nerve is sending any impulse to my brain. I feel nothing except the disquiet of no emotion, the disturbance of knowing I should feel something. I was having bunch of exams for the last few weeks, I should feel nervous, afraid, and worried but unfortunately I was not, at least not like the way I used to feel. For example, for my tropical medicine examination, I just did the past year question which I disgust before this because for me what kind of doctor will I become if I just memorize someone’s answer? No offence, it’s just me. But for this block, I just did the past year because it’s too late to study and I don’t have any mood to study. I just don’t care if the question was going to come out differently. I just want to get it done and I hate myself for these but I have been forcing myself yet I still failed to bring back all the emotion and I don’t know what to do.

I am not syazwan who play PS the night before exam but still pass the paper with flying colours. Yes, I am not genius. I need to study and in order to study I need my emotion back. I am not a robot even though in certain aspect of my life yes I am emotionless but not when it comes to studying. I need to feel the need to study and I need my emotion to do that for me.

The detachment goes even deeper from day to day. Usually when I cry things get better after that but not anymore. I have been crying a lot lately but my drive had not returned. Remember I said that I don’t cry in public but as long as I remember this month I had cried twice in a bus full of people without any concrete reason.

The good things in life were missing in me.

Every laugh is a fake.

Every smile is forced.

I have reached my limit.

OK, it is depression. Or another way of saying it, I’ve got the blues. Yeah, as much as I don’t want to admit it, you don’t have to become a medical student or a doctor to actually diagnose that. I keep on denying this fact. I tried to force myself to be strong but what happen on last Sunday morning had caused me to give up pretending.

After all I always know I am mental.

Hopefully Malaysia is the medicine to what I’ve been suffering.

p/s: The title seems to be little bit out of topic. But if you know me well inside and outside, you will probably understand and could make the correlation. And yeah, it’s eating me and yeah again, I am not gonna admit it, at least here where the post is not password protected.

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I had trouble writing something on my blog. This is one of few reasons why sometimes it looks dead because I constantly found myself writing several paragraphs only to delete it, deciding whether I wanted to write something else instead or it sounds too childish or I didn’t want others to read it at all as it seems personal. The latter explains why there are so many password-protected posts lately. Even though I kept on thinking why I even bother posting it when I am as clear as a crystal that I have zero intention to let the public read it, I still kept clicking the ‘publish’ button and I felt so sorry for the readers, if I have any though.

I couldn’t find any interesting subject to share. As a solution, I took time off to clear my head; in place of writing, I will turn to reading. I had been keeping a track with a few blogs that I found their style of writing proves something unique and creative.  In fact, sometimes, I had spent too much time on them in order just to understand the basis of their idea because it requires a kind of concentration that casual reading will just not do but they won’t fail you as they will always came up with something intriguing.

But, I did realize that lacking of idea is not what that halt me from writing. It was just an excuse.

What I suffered was the fear of comprehension from readers and individuals whom I have acquainted with.  I was afraid that when I write about lion, people might know that I am not literally referring to a lion. And I was afraid for any gamut interpretation made by them too as everything I write, it was done not for the world to interpret it. Truth be told- I don’t want a world to be filled with me.

Hafiz may say in his column that words may contribute to violence behavior but for me, words may contribute to awkwardness and I do fear the capability of the words to subvert peace and stability because word is the most powerful weapon of all. Sometimes because of a few words, people are not being as candid and left with tongue-tied. That is something that I would like to prevent. Do you know how torturing it is when you realize that someone is being careful with you just because of those words you write?

This was a small problem yet it gradually grew in weight that it began to adversely affect my willingness to write.

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Protected: the truth is mine.

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Protected: tiadaTajuk.

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