death clock

"LORD, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is: that I may know how frail I am." Psalm 39:4. Made it to church today. And I don't think it is a coincidence. A friend's friend wrote him a note, essentially saying how ridiculous it is to believe in creation. Although I am Christian, I have my views about evolution. That, however, is not what I want to drivel about today. In so many ways, I could call myself a "lapsed" Christian. I find it hard to work up the enthusiasm I had as a teenager for God - go to church, go to cell group, lead cell group and so on. I seem to have developed a skepticism about life, may be even about people. Went out for dinner with some friends the other night. Topic was the cruelty inflicted on animals, for no good reason other than for the financial gain from breeding for animal shows. Given the evident tolerance man has for wars, torture, disasters, I think it is near unrealistic to expect us to show compassion to other species. May be it is this lack of faith that made it so difficult for me to reconcile with the unreserved positive regard Christianity has for people. I've been watching the BBC series 49 Up - a documentary that followed the lives of 7 people from the age of 7, til now, aged 49. They came from startling different backgrounds. It was sad to see how the big dreams of being jockeys, boxers got lost along the way of living. What was more sobering though, was the way that the rich and upper class got so much closer to what they aspired to be in life, compared to the tumultuous fights for survival, the already disadvantaged have to go through. They say that aristoscracy has been abolished but more disturbing is this globally, albeit subliminally, accepted discrimination by wealth. Of course, I am not one to make such complaints given all that I've grown up with. It is interesting though, the pity I feel for my own self. May be it's because of the regret I have, over how well I should have done, given my circumstances. In all honesty, I am insanely jealous of friends who have their own families, partners, friends that travel all over, friends that are surgeons in training, medics in training. Even worse, illustrating how superficial I am, friends that have nicer skin, wears make up, bigger boobs and so on. And I resent the cliche of describing myself as having low self esteem but that is the only plausible explanation I have come up with, in my years of studies of psychiatry and the human mind. A friend was commenting on some babe at a concert we went to. In my wise mind, I replied "it doesn't matter how others see you, what matters is how you feel about yourself". But if I am so wise, why do I allow jealousy make me fluorescent green?! I experienced a further narcissistic injury this week, finding out that the job I thought was being offered to me, they are also going to interview my colleague. Despite my rant last week about how people are superficial, I also have to be nakedly honest that having the offer, thought wrongly to be exclusive to me, made me feel wanted. I have now displaced the disappointment to anger at the DHB, for employing an external consultant, when they knew full well that there were two advanced trainees coming up for consultancy. Nonetheless, I guess I should be grateful that they told me about the vacancy and invited me to apply. Jealousy is such an evil feeling. It distances and separates. May be that is why I am still single... On the deathclock, I die on 2nd March 2037. At least I am almost half way...(www.deathclock.com)

olivia and the real boy

I don't usually write stuff on a week day but tonight... Just watched Lars and the real girl. A real warm fuzzy movie. Interestig idea - a man develops a delusional disorder and takes a sex doll for real girlfriend. But it was the way that the community pulled together, for the sake of him, that was truly movinng. It was ironic that Lars was so reclusive, yet so many around him, care enough about him, to care for his "girlfriend". I wondered if he used the reclusiveess to elicit care, so at least he knew his sister in law would care for him. On one hand, he long for relationship. On the other hand, he was frightened he would be abandoned, yet again, like his mother did, or be rejected, like his depressed father was. In so many ways, a sex doll provided the need for "someone" but avoided the possibility of rejectioni. Little did he know that rejection is just inherent in ANY kind of "relationship". People die, leave, or worse still, just change. May be that's why hugs hurt - once you get used to the warmth of a embrace, it'll always be cold when it's let go. I suppose he had been a very nice guy, anxious and a bit odd, but well meaning nonetheless. May be that's why his community were so willing to rally for him. Well, in real life, the complete opposite would probably happen. I woder if the wintry setting is a hint at the temperature of normal human relationships. Maybe that's why I "get so lonely I forget what day it is and how to spell my name". I, shamefully, admit that I almost envy him. Lars is loved by so many. I guess I wondered, where is my dorkish wee boy to go for a walk with...

Tiennamen Square and my career

First note since turning the ripe old age of 32. Let's see if I now overflow with pearls of wisdom:-) Received my first job offer this week. Initially I was elated, I love the feeling of being wanted. I know, it's sad that I feel needed only by a job. Given that there was only 1 position and they offered it to me, instead of another person (equally qualified and probably a lot more knowledgable), my narcissism was way over fed. During my week of nights, I read a book written by the political dissident of the Tienamen square massacre. It was both moving and sad. People who fought for something as basic as freedom, punished. Some of those writers now live as refugees in Europe - unable to speak the language, their health failing, alone in a country they do not belong to. Writers reduced to manual workers. Intellectuals silenced by the ordinariness of daily life. It is as if they have lost what they were fighting for. Along with it they lost themselves. I admire their courage, their dedication and their sense of hope. At the same time, however, I look on their passion with cold skepticism. May be I'm too cynical. May be I've lost my sense of patriotism. But to me, I fail to see the point in fighting for justice in a society that has no sense of morality. As an overseas Chinese, I am ashamed at the "get rich or die trying" mentality. The dazzling neon lights, high rises cannot hide the decaying mess of human misery - Sichuan earthquake being left in ruins, milk powder scandal found no one of authority responsible. May be living in China would arouse my anger at the injustice. At the same time, I look upon China with an overwhelming sense of futility. If a people can live through the trauma of the cultural revolution but not be stirred to rise up for democracy, I struggle to see any other cause would lead China to a democratic future. I mourn the loss of lives for a cause so few identify with. I suppose a sad fact of life is its superficiality. China as a nation forges on, painting a picture of prosperity and freedom, and the world goes along with it for fear of its vastness, cowers amongst its economic power. However, people are not that different between countries. I only have to reflect on my own situation. An equally good psychiatric senior registrar, if not more knowledgable than me, did not get offered a position, in a DHB he's already working in, in a team he's already familiar with. The reason? He's from the middle east? He doesn't smile as much as I do? He doesn't joke with his colleagues? "Interpersonal skills" they say, nothing more than whether you would lose yourself, in order to get into the "in" club. I went home to my mother's place today. As always, I'm fed up to my eye balls. She also cooked this curious stew of corn, beetroot and vegetables. She urged me to cook at home for better nutrition - take aways are full of trans fat, don't drink cow's milk, cake is evil, "rice" is a "no no". My sister urged me to stop drinking sugar free soda to save my enamel eroded teeth. Yet I cannot find the enthusiasm for life to the point that I would take steps to lengthen it. I wish I had the passion of the lone student standing in front of the tank on Tiennamen Square...

on birthdays

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I was born, on the firfth day of March. If I aim to live no older than 60, I would have passed more than half my life now. May be it's some sort of a reminder that I watch The Bucket List on dvd tonight. I've often wondered why people "celebrate" birthdays. Isn't it a bit morbid to be happy about being 1 year closer to death? In the therapy group I "lead" at the hospital, the most popular theme appears to be the lost of "role" with age - children no longer need the mother, business no longer need an aging boss, spouse dies so loved ones no longer need a care giver. In their eyes, there is me, supposedly in the prime of my life, telling them, there is no shame in getting old, with age, comes wisdom, which is invaluable still, despite what society says. Do I believe that? Just finished the novella "the uncommon reader" about the Queen picking up the habit of reading. Eventually (cover your eyes if you intend to read the book), she abdicates the throne in order to write about her life as The Queen. Moral of the story? She found "her voice". In the movie, Morgan Freeman asked "have you found joy?" followed by "have you given joy?" (well, words to that effect, in my old age, my short term memory is not what it used to be). Tonight is my last night shift this month. There is a new system for being "on call" now. We get given an iphone. Nurses from the hospital "bleep" us with vitals (blood pressures, heart rates etc) and flag how urgent the message is. We get the call, point at the appropriate icon to indicate whether we are "on our way", or text for more info. (old fashioned voice calls are still used for community crisis calls) I was most excited with my new toy. Yet in the back of my mind, I wondered when would be the day that I can't keep up with the techno. The day when I refuse to try the new stuff, like how some consultants refuse to put their notes on computer. I would be obselete, outmoded, some day, sooner and closer to that day than I was yesterday... I don't think I have given "joy" to people willingly - may be when I was born, my parents were pleased; may be when I graduated from med school my family was relieved. But I have to confess I didn't get born into the world to please my parents, nor did I complete med school for my family. I think selfishly. I can't say that I have ever known "joy" as such either. Even when I became a Christian, it was more... ow to put it ... like an obligation than joy (kinda like, you have to acknowledge something, when you realise it's true - so like, i kinda realised there had to be a God, and Christian God seemed to be it, kind of thing). So I fail on both counts. Like The Queen in the novella, books certainly opened up new worlds and experiences for me. That is the beauty of books, of arts in general - as a medium into a different experiences. It transcends. But I don't have experiences of the Queen, nor will I ever have. May be I would feel different when I hang out with the Jedi Council tomorrow night. Council business is carefree and amusing (that means gossip about work and other consultants :-). May be when I take dad to Circus Oz, if he likes it, I would find a bit more meaning. But at present, in essence, I may have a "voice" (like this blog) but nothing to...say! As to whether I've gained any wisdom with my age...may be one... Never trust a fart :-)