I hate myself

I know I shouldn't hate myself. But now, I really do.

Why am I such a kid? Why am I so careless? Why can't I just grow and be a more responsible and careful adult?

Mom, sorry for all the troubles and inconvenience caused. I have no one to blame but me.

I don't like this. I wish someone could give me one tight slap as a trigger for me to cry. 

I feel so low and inferior. 

I don't like this. But, I have to go through this. To suffer the consequences of my recklessness.

I don't deserve to be happy for tonight. I shall spend my evening in silence and reflect on all my blunders. I'd also want to spend some time chanting mantras and my Guru's Heart Sutra, not to alleviate my guilt, but to calm myself down. 

I hope it's still not too late to turn over a new leaf. 

Damn. I hate this. =(

Merci beaucoup!

I'd like to express my gratitude to the minority of my readers who actually like my blog and appreciate what I write. Merci beaucoup! Thank you very much. 

Sorry if I'd failed you in any way. My blog content is apparently not based on what other people like to read. My blog is nothing more than a private punching bag of mine which allows me to unleash the negative emotions and feelings welled up in me. Whenever I blog about something unhappy, I actually feel happier. I convert my negative thoughts to voiceless words, make myself sound as devastated as possible and place them on my blog.

Unhappy thoughts may not be permanently erasable. But, blogging not only makes it easier for them to be relegated to the back of my mind, if not completely obliterated, but it also replaces all the sadness with an ephemeral pleasure.

Hence, my gullible readers, don't be fooled by the melancholic tone of most of my blog entries. In fact, I'm quite a jovial person who laughs a lot. =) I seldom blog about happy events because, unlike negative emotions, they don't inflict a gnawing pain on your heart and make you feel unloved and bullied or as if you're going to explode.

Stress is detrimental to one's soul. Mental illnesses are multifactorial. And stress is known to play a vital role in the aetiology of such mental illnesses as schizophrenia, major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder. I certainly do not want to wake up one morning only to realize that I fulfill the DSM-IV criteria for any of the aforementioned psychiatric disorders.

On top of that, blogging also allows me to jot down and beautifully describe every micro-emotion that I feel. This is something my digital camera cannot capture. And if I don't write and blog about them, I'm afraid I'll forget. If only I had better vocabulary and more time!

By the way, I'll be going back to university later in the evening. And I'm anticipating a lot of stress. Ahh! I could really use a bang hug sometimes!

So, do I write like a doctor already? xD Yeah, that's my handwriting in the photo above.

Parlez-vous Francais?

Attended a gathering at a karaoke lounge. To my astonishment, no one noticed that I gained weight. In fact, some of them asked if I'd shed some. What the heck? Haha. I hope they weren't being sarcastic.

Ahh. It's really tiring to live in a society that fetishizes slimness. When you're meeting a group of friends whom you haven't seen for ages, people will always gauge how much weight you have gained, or lost. It's a spinal reflex. But then, I guess I'm too self-conscious sometimes.

Bonjour! Comment ca va? Je m'appelle Lucifer. J'ai 24 ans. Je suis de Malaysia. Je suis gay. Je me sens seule. Je veux un copain.

Haha. How does that sound? It's an introduction of myself in French. I'd always wanted to learn a foreign language but never had the will too. Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I made a serious effort to. Was initially torn between Italian and French. Eventually, I chose the latter.

Why French? Well, somehow, I feel connected to it. There's quite a number of words and phrases in English which originate from French. For instance, joie de vivre, coup de grace, c'est la vie, faux pas, bon voyage, bon appetit, adroit, belle, ballet, a la carte and bureau. In medicine, you come across plenty of French terms too, namely peau d' orange sign, cafe au lait spots, cancer en cuirasse, coup and contracoup injuries, Boerhaave syndrome, Troisier's sign and so on.

The part I find most intriguing is the pronunciation. C'est magnifique! Besides, I find it very impressive to be able to speak a foreign language. I can imagine my future boyfriend boasting to his friends about how I can turn him on by whispering some dirty romantic French words to him.

Hopefully, I'll be determined enough to learn the language. They say that Italian sounds sexier. I might want to learn Italian too in future. I wish I had the time. Classes will resume next Monday.

Professional exam's in April. The mock exam falls precisely on my birthday next month. Great! Internal medicine. General surgery. Obstetrics and gynaecology. Orthopaedic surgery. Paediatrics. Radiology. Ahh crap! I don't even want to think about the study load now. Not to mention that I'll spend my 24th birthday burning the midnight oil. C'est la vie!

Au revoir! Bonne nuit.

Dolce far niente

After much deliberation, I decided to fly home after exam.

Life after exam is always nice. After all the mugging and toiling, believe me, you just don't feel like doing anything temporarily when it's over. Hence, I've been spending the past few days enjoying a form of pleasant idleness described by Elizabeth Gilbert as dolce far niente, an Italian phrase which literally means the sweetness of doing nothing. 

It seemed everyone had a blast on New Year's Eve, embracing the arrival of 2011 with new resolutions and hopes surrounded by friends and liquor. I don't mean to sound pathetic. But, I actually spent my New Year's Eve watching porn alone in my room. 

Well, it's not like no one asked me out. I just happened to be in my hometown and none of my friends were actually in town. Hmm. Not convincing. Alright. Honestly, I don't really have many friends. I'm talking about someone who'd drop anything at hand and stand by you when you have a nervous breakdown. Or when you ridiculously want someone to acknowledge or to pretend that you're the most important person in the world, that nothing else matters but you. Right. I don't have that 'someone' in my life.

Fine. I don't want to be too melodramatic here. Someone's been complaining about it. 

On a happier note, I spent my evening dancing to Lady Gaga's Poker Face today. I found a clip on YouTube and started ... erm .. wait. 'Dancing' may not be an appropriate word here. Because I don't really dance, you see. I did try to mimic the choreographer and learn a few steps and moves. Ha! I'm sure you'd guffaw or laugh your head off if you'd seen how clumsily I danced. There's a reason why I make excuses to stay away from the dance floor when I'm in MP. So, hopefully, my self-learning can prepare myself to face the dance floor more confidently when I revisit MP.

This picture was taken during a street dance competition at a mall a few weeks back. Sorry, I'm not a good photographer. I always admire people who can intrigue or enchant their audience with their talents. Sometimes, I wish I can be like them, in addition to being the bookworm frantically trying to keep his head above the water.

My New Year's resolutions? Eat less. Exercise more. Pass my professional exam. Be a competent doctor. And hunt for a boyfriend.