Pins & Needles!

It just doesn't get any better than this.
Fiona Apple ~ I Want You (Elvis Costello cover).



Lyrics

Pinhole Camera!

(Did I use this title before?)

I found the concept to be quite amazing and it works (unlike so many things in this world). It's a basic tin can with a lid (think Milo tins or Red Cow powder milk tins) with a very small hole drilled on the circular surface. All that needs to be done then, is to put a photography paper in the tin (done in the dark room, shiny side facing the tiny hole, shut the lid tight), cover the hole completely with masking tape or similar .. and that's that - you have a pinhole camera. On a bright sunny day (the kind I'm missing right now after a winter that arrived way too early and still lingers) the pinhole is taken outside and placed in front 'something' - leveled with the tin-hole. The tape (or similar) is stripped off and the paper inside is exposed (the time I can't remember- somewhere between 10 seconds to 15 or else the paper is burnt charcoal once processed) and tape is put back. Once in the dark room the paper is taken out. The developing process for pre-historic (surely, this is the age of Photoshop and other manipulations. A bit like the movement towards capitalism) black & white photography is quite messy (but fun, sort of like making your own shelf without the IKEA cut-out pieces- end result isn't certain .. then again, at our house, the end result of an IKEA DIY anything never has a happy ending)- Developer, Stop, Fixer, Water .. (Steps!) Happy times with chemicals! Nearly six months of photography classes (forty minutes a week as an elective in High School) was enough for me to realise that like many things this was not my forte.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club has a tendency to use a lot of second person in their lyrics ('So how's it going to feel/When you don't know what is real/You tell yourself it's love, and tear yourself apart'). I say that because I've never actually read a book concentrating heavily on second person perspective (and those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books do not count) and always wondered what it could be like ... but then again, one could utilise everything to get as many perspectives they can squeeze in. For some reason, I can't get my second person usage to sound sophisticated. Here's one I prepared earlier:

You uttered those words in midst of Just like Heaven and for a moment I questioned how sober you really were. It was the perfect notion of the modern day love most boys and girls clung to at the time. I was pro-choice while you were an anti-abortionist. You hated my carefree ways and I never liked your shoes. I termed us incompatible and you thought we were complements.

"But we loved each other" ... and that was the one common denominator we could both offer.

(Two star crossed lovers with nothing in common. Sir William did indeed make the right decision. Star crossed lovers poisoned; presumed dead in each other's arms: Short life span is what makes a love so grand)

We fought over movies (Incest or not Old Boy was still a brilliant portrayal of revenge), books and sports, always leading to making love and we would cuddle longer than most (the average being anywhere between 5 to 20 seconds). You never did remember my birth date (though you still remembered you previous lovers') and at times I resented the fact that there were no songs for me (or was there?).

You uttered those dreaded words in midst of Summer Skin and for a moment I was sure it was a very cruel joke. It was the perfect end to the modern tale of love- boredom and a betrayal on the side. I was exhausted while you looked worse for wear. You hated my neglecting ways and I never liked your tone. I termed us incompetent and you thought we were stale.

"So here's a toast to our dying love" … and that was the one common denominator we could both offer.

Blues and Greens !

' You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I remember all that you said
Told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me and
Now you say you love me
Well, just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river, cry me a river
I cried a river over you '

- Julie London ~ Cry me a river

It's just one of those moods ..

Funk, Trunk and Junk?

Over time I've grown accustomed to saving up various garbage we like to call 'memory'. Bus passes, movie tickets, old exercise books, old text books etc.etc. It's kind of genetic (which is the recent and popular excuse for many things these days - obese and don't want to exercise, well you must have a fat gene. Psychopathic- well it was just in your gene to be evil. I guess this is a moving away from 'you-have-a-choice' trend we used to have months before)- A middle class inherited trait I think. The thing where you save up every last piece of everything in the hope that someday they will come in use. They never do and usually I end up buying new ones at the time of need anyway (hence why we tend to have around 2/3 dozens of unused Christmas cards, 2/3 dozens of unused pens bought from $2 shops and lots and lots of mouse pads.

I have old birthday cards dated back to 1996 and I don't have the heart to throw them out. I have also kept some things from an ex-lover of two months and don't have the heart (rather the time and the motivation) to throw them out. The contents of my 'memory-drawer' is the ideal place for someone to procrastinate and that's what usually happens during the examinations. Oh well .. maybe it's time to throw some out. The big question I was faced with during the Dhaka-vacation was what to do with ex-lover's stuff we sometimes/usually/often hold onto. I couldn't answer due to lack of substantial experience. I suggested burning- dramatic but effective nevertheless. Why shouldn't we make a ritual (consisting of fire) out of the fact that we've moved on.

The newfound policy should be (for everyone) to not store anything more than a year. So throw out those love letters and poems and cards and the teddy bear!

The Importance of Making Appointments!

[No .. this is NOT the promised extravagant 100th post .. I decided to scrap that since the readership never reaches more than two people]

Approximately four hours is how long I waited at the medical centre to get checked up by a practitioner. Of course, let's not blame the busy doctors (five of them on duty in fact) or the receptionists parked on their behind all day long organizing (!) patients to their rightful doctors- I blame myself. How stupid would I have to be to think that I could ever see a doctor without an appointment (which I usually make anyway- so why not this time?).

Turns out that the boils on my feet contracted from Bangladesh (more specifically from Middle Badda) which resemble genital herpes are viral, hence it's merely an waiting game 'till the boils dry up by themselves.

Four hours and I'm back home with having missed breakfast, a three hour lab (where attendance counts to at least 10% of the course), no treatment and a firm believer (and an 'advocator') of appointments. I did however manage to get a doctor's certificate for the past three days for missed classes which could possibly save me from tiny mark deductions.

I have only one thing to say- I miss Dhaka.

Eye Candy!

Okay, this isn't my 100th post because I've just deleted one to make room for this .. Mmm .. I was procrastinating on YouTube (as usual) and I just had to had to had to post these .. There are two men in this whole wide world I'd like to rip apart and ... stuff .. and one of them is Daniel Craig. I can't believe I disliked him at the beginning (and now I'm just plain obsessed .. damn!)

Anyway ..

.. and some more, very very old interviews:





! Pure Bliss !

Chuvinism & The Indian-subcontinent

Very recently (just yesterday in fact), I was told by this one individual (Dara - a 26 year old male from Calcutta) to get my anger down or I shall be subjected to his rape. This was left in my comment box 32 times (which I individually cleaned up due to the ample time I have on my hands) :

' I'LL FUCK U 'BRUTALLY'??? so that U'LL GET UR ANGER DOWN!! '

Is it then a wonder why so many women in our rich-cultured-Indian subcontinent (or so the Western tourism tells me everyday) are regularly abused/raped/assaulted as a child, as a teenager and as a wife?

It is natural to blame lack of education for such acts (here in the west, crime of any kind is usually attributed to no education/under education and poverty). But lets not blame poverty for the reason a man would come home and beat/rape his wife, molest his daughters and assault his mother (he is more likely to stab someone and flee with their money as a result of poverty, this author thinks). Lets not blame lack of education/under education for such acts either, because you only need to see this 'Dara' example - who is in fact conventionally educated and holds a decent job APPARENTLY in the science industry and the mentality he holds to nullify that blame. So, what then do you blame for such behaviour?

Frankly, I have no idea. Perhaps 'Dara' can tell us. Perhaps 'Dara' can also tell us exactly why the thought of using sex to dominate over another person's emotions and their expression is so predominant in an Indian-subcontinental male. Perhaps 'Dara' can also answer exactly what kind of education he was given by his parents, his society and his educational institution. Perhaps 'Dara' could also be kind enough to enlighten everyone as to how he treats his family real life (I am assuming that he has a family and a life outside the walls of this Internet) - whether he rapes his wife at nights, molests his cousins and touches his nieces (and nephews - because these mentality people are usually not choosy - as long as they have their feel) inappropriately.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of 'Dara's in this world and what's even more scary is the fact that these 'Dara's roam around in the REAL world touching/molesting/raping/assaulting REAL women. While the 'Dara' in my case study might just be a mere coward in real life wanting to show off his male-dominance on the Internet domain, the real danger is out there - effecting many females all around the globe. It is not very nice to realize in the tenth grade that the things your uncle did to you when your breasts were just budding was in fact sexual abuse and that uncle just happens to be your favourite one- happily married (a subject still debatable) with a daughter of his own.

I am not a preacher. I am not a social critic. I am in fact nothing special. I don't say things that are new or revolutionizing. I merely try to put my observations into context. I am grateful because I have never really had to deal with 'low-life' males such as 'Dara'. I am grateful I have men in my life with whom I can discuss BBC programming, Germaine Greer, the social changes needed in Dhaka, Acoustic Alchemy, the weather etc.etc. I am grateful for all the men I had encountered with in the past- they have taught me a lot and a lot of my habits I've picked up from them (good habits .. not daily masturbation to pornography). It's a shame we have a lot of individuals like 'Dara' who defiles the male reputation and defiles the Indian sub-continent culture.

It is extremely sad and I never thought I would do something like this - but I was forced to enable comment moderation today. I guess it takes all kinds to make this world.

On a very very very happy note .. My 100th post is due soon and I'm planning something special. Not that it matters what I do with my 100th (with a readership reaching a measly four people) but still. Let's hope my spirits are up and of course it'll have to be after the finals. Three more to go, the wait is unbearable.

Of Pie & Pizza!

Despite having (and constantly making up) so many lists, surprisingly I don't have a list of favourite books. Sometimes when I browse through other blogger's profiles and such - I see them listing a whole lot of books in that 'favourite books' part and then I check mine .. and it's void of any names. I think I could possibly say that I am .. well read .. as in I've read my share of great novels of all times .. (there are a few I've been meaning to read, and have them at home .. but never got around to it) .. yet when it comes to listing them, nothing comes to my head. [This reminds me of this great dialogue from High Fidelity which I won't bother typing].

Anyway, I realised that I can include 'Of Mice and Men' in the list. Now there's always always some stupid reason behind liking something. There have been many books I've hated despite their (good) reputation simply because, the timing was bad. The reason I really like the Steinbeck's Mice and Men is because when I had finished reading it, I remember having the worst kind of depression that lasted for an hour- and I remember one of my friends surprised to hear that I was really really sad over a book.

The crux (oh, I really like this word .. impressive yet non-pretentious) of life is possibly -Timing. Put this factor in everyday life, and you shall also be convinced that timing is everything. The right cues at the right time is essential for all things that happen (and doesn't happen) to us. This is the reason why we lust over Daniel Craig and not Wentworth Miller. This is the reason why we fall in love with someone who really isn't our type yet never fall for that someone who everyone thinks we really should be with. Let's not forget, timing is also the reason why we are even born. Had it been some other sperm entering the egg two milli-milli-seconds late, I could easily have been among the other billions (or however much) that loses the fight (to the finish).

Tomorrow is the deadline for this thing I wanted to enter one of my literature (?!) in. Unfortunately, I haven't actually got anything to submit and feel that it is too late to now transfer it from brain to paper. I am depressed again.

If we counted how many times I've typed the word depression - I bet there's a good chance of that quantity reaching over a thousand. So .. count away!

Procrastinators Guide to Procrastination!

I think its about time the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) included procrastination in their recent publication. That way, around two-third of the first-world (developed countries) population would have a mental condition to blame for their lack of concrete achievement in life instead of blaming themselves. On this regard the developing countries (the third-world .. [so what and where the hell are the 'second-world' countries?]) are lucky; Battle through poverty (and conquer) and waa-laa, that's their achievement done. Here in the West, achievement is judged on a different scale and I blame procrastination for most people's failure to achieve anything in life.

So here's a list .. this is how I procrastinate and waste away precious weeks/days/hours/minutes/seconds. Note, that most of my procrastination takes place in front of the computer from the minute I open up a word-document to type up an assignment that's due the next day.

- Checking of all e-mails
- E-Bay
- amaderGaan forum
- MSN
- YouTube
- Various blogs - random, known - everything
- Wikipedia (for things unrelated to the actual assignment)
- Re-naming various folders in the hard-drive, organizing the folders, fixing up tags on MP3's etc.
- Actual physical cleaning up of the room, table- lecture notes etc.
- WRITING AN ENTRY FOR THIS FREAKING BLOG

Senseless in the City!

Inside I'm panicked. But nothing a good determination can't fix (and I've been trying that for the last three weeks). Emotional dependency is worse than drug dependency methinks, although, the pot-heads can tell me better.

The problem is day-time dreams. The sort of dreams that come to your (sub)conscience head only after you resume back to bed at 8 in the morning. But they are by no means- day-dreaming- when you sit/lie down idly and fantasize about rubbing all sorts of food products on Daniel Craig and then .. .. maybe I shouldn't specify exactly what it is that I idly fantasize about. I'm talking about the proper 'I'm dreaming' - I'm in the middle of my REM sleep and I'm dreaming in black and white.

So anyway, this 'morning-dream' of mine (and I'm having quite a lot these days, almost one everyday, which tells me I should stop the sort of sleep life-cycle I'm leading) wasn't weird. In some sense, yes .. because it was situated at Coles (where I work) and instead of operating the check out registers- we were putting together Christmas gift packs (assortment of puzzle games, Bart Simpson comic books and pens etc). Then at one point (within an hour of my four hour shift) we were finished for the day and I happen to go to the back to see what things I can save for myself and buy later (the whole place looked like my grandmother's house in Dhaka with some modifications of course). After a massive search I came out to the main area and saw my dad sitting on bed, getting his palm read by some guy (he was someone close to my dad I think, can't remember). I asked if he could read my future - my future career, money, love etc. I still remember what he said - in my dream I remember telling myself- well he knows what you're like so telling you what you want to here. (oh! they were great things about the sort of person I really want to be known as and the current state of things with love life).

Anyway, I had a point to this story and I have just lost it. I think the point should be .. you-are-an-obnoxious-self-centred-hater (as in me). Oh well. The most fascinating thing was I was given a black leather bound book (I saw the name clearly, but now can't remember) and was told to read a verse - oh how movie-like!

I really do want to go see a palmist or a tarot card reader person- mmm .. should add that to some sort of a list. (or instead of lists, just go ahead and do it). Here's today's horoscope for Libra:

' The Moon moves through your relationship sector today, triggering a few emotional buttons and heightening your reactions. This is all part of a process that is preparing you for Mars' arrival mid week. It's the things that this draws your attention to that act as a trailer for the main event, with a need to pay attention. Avoid blowing things out of proportion, but don't stick your head in the sand either. '

I have no idea what in the hell the above thing means.

Paris, je t'aime!

Yes!! One movie crossed off the list. After watching Kill Bill vol. 1 and 2 (vol 2 was an absolute crap, and very unlike Tarantino, more on that some other day), I was way too tired to do an entry on Paris, je t'aime. So here goes. The main deal is this - eighteen directors (from all over) were given around 5 minutes to do a short clip- using Paris' backdrop as inspiration. All the individual snippets then integrated to form - Paris, je t'aime. (Originally I thought this was going to follow the likes of 'Love Actually' .. but yes .. I was wrong .. and I'm glad that I was wrong). It was great to see the different styles, the different story telling, the different Paris .. (but boy, some clips were just RANDOM and downright crap) .. but the pro's outweigh the con's and the more I let each of the individual clips sink in (and then think about the integration as a whole), the more I find new things I like and ... I want to go to Paris. Popular culture has such a bad influence on me that it's not funny anymore.

Since I have plenty of time at hand, I'm going to talk about all eighteen snippets. (It'll be a very long one). [I just wiki-ed the thing and all of a sudden the whole thing makes sense .. each director was given a specific area of Paris (there are 20 sort of divisions referred to as the Arrondissements of Paris) and each snippet's name is named after one of the 20 places or is somehow related. These are just the sort of things we had done in English back in high school .. anyway].

1. Montmarte: I don't know much about the director except he was is this clip himself. Basically, (oh people must see it because describing it (by me) does not do it justice) being the first clip, I forgot some details (not that there is a lot to remember, I think the intention was to show Paris and not so much the characters) except that he was a handsome French-man. It's about those unexpected encounters - he wonders (while parked next to a footpath) why he can't find love in the city of love despite having an 'okay' sense humour and 'okay' looking, when a lady collapses on the sidewalk. The five or so minute clip ends with 'I will wait for you' (she had an appointment and he'd drive her there .. but yeah .. we all know what the 'wait' actually meant).

2. Quais de Seine: Trust Gurinder Chadha to stick to what she knows best. Put a girl from the sub-continent (with a hijab this time) with an insanely cute white boy and waalaa. I wish she'd stop following the same routine every time. As much as we (the friend I went with .. she just happens to a 'hijabi' as well) loved the cute French boy (and vowed we'd move to Paris) I'm just so annoyed at Chadha. The only thing I can praise is her taste in white men- Jonathan Rhys Meyers (Bend it like Beckham) I pine for, Dylan McDermott (Mistress of Spices) is an absolute hottie and Marin Henderson & Daniel Gillies (Bride and Prejudice) weren't all that bad either. [But the French boy in this clip .. such smile .. why do the West have all the good looking men and women?]

3. Le Marais: I can't remember which one this was. So I'm guessing it was .. one of those middle things .. (if it was crap, I would've remembered .. and if it was awesome, I would've remembered).

4. Tuileries: Okay, I read good things about this one since it's by the Coen brothers. I can see the humour but at the same time it was just absurd. I'm not sure if I like it. But I did laugh in the theatre, so the humour factor I hadn't missed.

.... Okay, at this point I'm getting a bit impatient. So I think I'll just stop.

Ignorance is Bliss!

One of my favourite poem since grade nine.
(Someday I might post the one I wrote in year nine English too).

' How do I love thee? Let me count the ways .. '

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and idle Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn for Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints! -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall love thee better after death.

- Elizabeth Barrett Brown

Tear you from the ceiling ..

If I had a car ...

... the windows would always be rolled down - winter, summer, autumn and spring. In tunnels and on bridges and when its really windy and perhaps when it's raining (depends).
... the air-conditioning would never be on because car-AC makes me really sick- I get headaches and nausea. (Heater will be on during winter though .. I can't stand the cold).
... there will always be music. The volume depends on the mood. Angry mood is always associated with loud music and speeding.
... only selected people on the front passenger seat. Surprisingly, the sibling makes it in the list.
... maybe I'll take up smoking (depends).

If I was guaranteed a large sum of money from inheritence I ...

... would invest it all in banks and whatever else- ongoing source of money (don't bother with the details) and not work a day in my life.
... study Philosophy or Anthropology or English Literature or Archeology.
... sleep all day and stay up all night.
... buy things I can't and won't ever be able to afford.
... practice black magic and the related mumbo-jumbo.

If I was smart I ...

... would not put off driving lessons.
... would not put off assignments for late nights and last minutes.
... would not write an entry on bloggers at this very moment.
... at least pretend that I cared.
... would not pretend to understand Dali and Monet and Gogh and art (contemporary, post-victorian, pre-victorian, surrealism, impressionism .. whatever other -isms) in general.
... would not expose so much on bloggers to the point where others claim they're able to write a 2000 word essay on Shaolee Jafrin Zaman (though I would be flattered).
... would have done some things very differently- Touched when I had the chance, studied when it was needed, spoken up when I was uncomfortable.
... would pretend to be more responsive- to everything.
... would definitely not talk so much.

Current song on iPod : Blind by Placebo
Still Reading : Chain of Hearts
Movies waiting to be watched : Five - Underworld Evolution, English Patient, Casino Royale, In the Mood for Love and The New World
Crushing on : Brian Molko
Plots for short-stories swimming in head : Four - I know the beginning, I know the end .. but no motivation/inspiration. My muse died in a car-crash?

-Insert Title Here-

I'm so sick of ..

- Assignments .. can anything be more evil, especially if it's some crap, uninteresting one.
- 'Good Bush', 'Bad Bush' jokes .. they are everywhere .. on t-shirts, on posters, on blogs, give it a bloody rest already.
- Environmental awareness .. where the hell were you when you ruined the ozone in the first place retards?
- Bands .. we have way too many .. welcome to the new trend .. start a freaking band .. let's fuck money and lead a bohemian life, only as long as I can live with my parents before they kick me out.
- Cross-cultural confusion/ABCD/ABCC/whatever else there is .. can we please give it a rest already? Authors dish out crap like this and instantly it's a hit and gets listed as the next potential Booker prize nominee or worst- a Hollywood movie. Once again, identity crises sells and boy, if it's identity crises as a result of globalisation, we have a winner.
- Organic food .. why don't you give me that extra $4 you spend buying organic food (as opposed to what the rest of us buys) and I'll make sure I put it to good use.
- Jehova's Witness preachers .. need I say more?
- Miserable people at the supermarket .. at least be nice that you are not having to pack your own grocery, instead of passing on your misery to us checkouts .. you want misery how-about coming behind the counter and see how it feels to put up with people's crap and laziness?
- Blogs .. now everyone thinks their life is worth putting up in the web-space for people to read .. or better still, everyone thinks they can write ..

... and NO, I am not angst-y ..

Sniff of Romance!

There are songs that automatically yield a scene/image in my head when I listen to them. I think that happens with everyone more or less. So anyway, every time I hear 'My Funny Valentine', I always imagine a rainy day .. not those crappy wispy rains but proper ones. The kind of rain that replenishes .. everything. I see myself half-sitting on the side railing of the balcony (of my pretend studio apartment), listening to this song in (that very expensive thus never be mine) surround system and just watching the rain fall.

The earliest memory I have of rain is the flood in .. well .. either '88 or '89 .. I remember that the water got into our house and we had to stack the tables and chairs etc. on the bed. I remember being carried around from room to room.

I remember making paper boats and floating them on water during and after rain stopped and the garden was just .. knee deep in water. I liked that house. I liked the people we lived with next door. I remember mama and choto chacchu flirting with Papia aunty from next door. I loved Mishu to bits and God is cruel because He took my soul-mate away when I was just seven years old.

Watching Pan's Labyrinth this afternoon, I was overwhelmed for a while. Ammu used to read to me the Russian folk tales - of Ivan and Baba-Yaga the witch. I remember wanting to be Ivan when I grew up. The books (bangla ones) would write the name as Ee-vaa-n .. Later on (much much later), I heard that name being pronounced at Eye-van and I was in denial for a while, thinking that just can't be. I used to read a lot when I was younger and after fairy tales my reading followed adventure stories. To this day I can safely say that my favourite book of all time, the book I would take to my grave would be 'Treasure Island'. Since I was told today that no, I don't have an adventure bone in my body (and with valid reason, I'm sure), I think it's all justified why I read so much of them in my childhood (sort of like living through someone else's life because you, yourself weren't capable of it). The other day I was reading a list of known folk tales (fairy tales) and realised I never really liked the Brothers Grimm collections (Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella etc.). The nicer ones were by Hans Andersen and his best work is The Little Mermaid. I cried when I read it at nine. In fact I remember crying when Frankenstein's monster killed Victor Frankenstein and then kills himself. I remember crying a lot, for both of them and I hated the feeling. I wonder if I re-read Frankenstein after eleven years whether it'd effect me the same way as did back then. I could write on and on about Little Mermaid though.

Having sex with vampires would not get you pregnant. I never did finish reading Dracula. I was fourteen when I realised that vampires used sex to get their prey and that whole neck biting became a secret erotic bliss (as oppose to horrific when ammu first told me about them).

The reason I could never bring myself to take illegal drugs is precisely all this. My once very wise mama never told me not to take drugs but told me a secret that kept me away from substance abuse. Among other things he (unknown to him) taught me to draw a love heart pierced with an arrow and the blood drips down into a container (the image was drawn by him on a card he gave to Papia aunty .. mama was like .. eighteen then .. Jesus!) .

Hitler Hairdo!

There's a section in the UMAT (Undergraduate Medicine & Health Sciences Admission Test .. why isn't there two extra letters in that abbreviation?) and that's Empathy. This is the one section I scored the highest since I would almost always pick the right answer in the practice papers. The trick is to pick the one that sounds disengaging yet caring. See the thing is, in this profession you can't care and yet you have to come across as caring. It gets complicated. There's no place for emotions and yet you must be empathetic. I think one of the biggest (or is it 'truest') truths I have ever been told by anyone was Dr. Dallas. 'We don't heal, we don't cure, we change the circumstance. So we're not saints. If you answer 'working in midst of Africa' as the response to why you want to become one in your Medicine Entrant interview, you can be pretty sure you won't be called in for a second one.'

The fucking test was pretty fucking hard though. BUT, like all standardized tests there's a trick to obtain great scores. Of course I never practiced these tricks due to laziness but maybe one day I can sell these tricks .. have like my own thing where I travel from state to state sharing my oh-so-obvious-yet-simple-hence everyone will buy it-secrets --- a bit like those people with tips on how to become a millionaire in three days. Once you know these tricks you become bitter and you realise you're not surrounded by geniuses. I don't think you're all 'that' if you've scored a 160 in an IQ test. I think you are retarded for having mentioned such crap to me in the first place. (OR I'm just annoyed at having a really low IQ score myself .. I don't even fall inside that bell curve). I never liked standardized tests most probably because I was never really good at them. It's some stupid teenage syndrome about how these tests are of no real value and is a tool to boost up ego's of those who know how to memorise or can follow a pattern - a bit like monkeys- while the genuine people fall through the gap and never get anywhere in life. (I am in no way implying that I am one of those genuine people- but I have known people like that and only sticking up for them).

My eyes hurt and my brain too.

Also, Dr. Dallas liked his girls to wear nice skirts to the interview- no dress pants. Apparently that's sexist. I say that's the reality and if a bloody skirt gives that extra point (very similar to men wearing nice suits and going clean shaved) then why not take it. Anyone wanting a career in Medicine should migrate to Australia right away. I hear we have a shortage of doctors over here. Open up your GP's and make a whole bunch of money and buy your third car. But please-please-please don't think you're any more honest than a tax-evading businessman. Remember, you would never want a disease-free society because that'll heavily cut down on the number of cars you might want to own in the future. Anyone else see the irony in this?

(I must one day talk about the father's brother - possibly the only person I have seen in this profession whose bank balance is lower than my own).

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows!

'Helen, Helen .. what's the number for 911?'

Sometimes I feel like dialing 911 then I remember our emergency number isn't 911. In fact it's 000. For some reason 911 sounds cooler than 000. It's sort of like how Fuck in British-James-Bond accent sounds hotter than say the American counterpart. Anyone else feels this way?

Apparently one is not supposed to paint their ceiling other then white. So, if I wanted to paint my room red, I would paint all four walls and call it a day. Isn't that weird? I have tried so hard to look into people's homes in movies to see whether their ceilings were painted, but never found any shot that focused on the ceiling. It's almost frustrating. But, if I was to paint my room white, I would still paint the ceiling white .. so .. it's not making any sense. I searched google and it couldn't answer me. I did find a website that gave me the step by step instructions on how to paint my room though. [I'm not really painting my room .. ]

Other mind-numbing ways I have been killing time in the presence of summer holidays :

- Bidding on eBay (it's two Daria TV-movie DVD's and currently I have the highest bid).
- Watching all episodes of Hey! Arnold and Daria.
- Watching DVD's (last night I sat through seven hours straight on the couch, watched Oceans Eleven, Twelve and I, Robot. Oceans really sucked- especially the sequel).
- Trying to start on that summer assignment but failing miserably.
- Sleeping. Sleeping. Sleeping. Average hours of sleep per day has been around 16 hours.

Here's one of my favourite Daria Episodes in three parts courtesy of YouTube.