urban transplant

Like these sensationalized Medical Mysteries from NEJM! Whoohoo!

For reestablishing rhythm in my hectic life right now. Thank you, 8-oz bottle of Coca Cola classic, glass bottle and all, for keeping me chilled.

Time to kick ass.

Aside from dim sum, the whole family goes grocery shopping in one of the 2930842 Asian supermarkets in Flushing, where you will find things like these on a random aisle:

Mmmm, Grape Condense Sap over Grape Drink any day!

Family. Friends. Academics. Commitments. Moi?

It’s all a big balancing act. As easy as it is to receive them, keeping them alive and well drives me crazy.

Don’t they always say that you don’t “feel the pain” if you’re doing something you’re truly passionate about? Then why am I so stressed out?

Life is rocking the bejeezus out of my foundation at the moment.

Hells, I want to escape. But for now, all I want to do is ponytail my hair, turn off my phone, organize my Netter flash cards, sip my cup of ginseng tea, then down a litre of prune juice, watch lots of NatGeo shows on airplane crashes, spend an hour on the massage chair, and MEDITATE via mindless repetition. While listening to Ray Charles reprises. Oh, baby.

Studying out of an anatomy atlas is like reading the dictionary, literally.

As much as professors tries to nitpick essentials; if you combine everything in a last-minute struggle to cram for an exam, you’ll still find yourself needing to study everything.

Remember those strategic highlighting, post-its, and little stars drawn next to “really important things to know for the exam”? All of a sudden, they join forces. The stark reality hits you. 5 weeks’ worth of notes, an atlas with a 2-inch spine, and all those shortcuts and “high-yield” materials? All they do is add up to a whole. An easy way out is not an option.

Alright, time to burn some more.

1. Clarify leadership.

2. 2 miles on the treadmill at 7.1 mph.

3. Take a break from standing under the spotlight.

4. And opt for the sun instead.

5. Empty my shed hair from the sink strainer every time after showering.

6. Breathe a bit.

Sure, drama naturally comes and goes, but for the love of your preferred higher power, stop fabricating any more tasteless, artificial problems than what we already have.

I guess a lot of us, including myself, need to learn to curb impulses.

By the way, I need a new categorization scheme for the blog. Otherwise, every single entry will be tagged “Life” for as long as I’m alive.

I love it when people on the bus are willing to give me change for my fare. Can you imagine the initiative needed to dig around the bottom of your purse for quarters for a stranger after a long Saturday, when your tired ass has just began melting into the comfortable, fuzzy blue chair?

Volunteerism is often praised, but often with reservations based on the level of change one makes (e.g. you might get an extra pat on the back for saving impoverished, cholera-stricken children in a rural county than if you, say, signed a petition). It’s so unfair that people get rewarded for the volume of work, but seldom the initiative. I mean, let’s be honest here: are you more willing to shove 200 purple fliers into everyone’s mailboxes than to give some stranger (who couldn’t even hear you beyond her headphones, mind you) 4 quarters that you unwittingly dumped into your 38240932-sq feet bag? Or do you think you want to venture out in the cold, dark, hailing night (away from your cozy couch) to lend a textbook to a classmate living 7 blocks away?

Seriously, efforts need to be reconsidered. Not that I’m discouraging appreciation, though.

I was a piece of Hong Kong, extracted from my home land, and grafted onto one of the most diverse neighborhoods in Queens. It was 1993. My family envisioned a communist-run Hong Kong after the 97 Handover, history waiting to repeat itself.I was 6. My family and I lived in the basement of my aunt’s 3-story townhouse. That’s where I grew up for the next 4 years. Looking back, it was arguably the worst living condition of my life, and I probably wouldn’t have settled comfortably if I was in the same situation now.

Some argue that I was too young to know hardships, but I beg terribly to differ. Sure, my parents descended from managerial jobs in Asia to backbreaking, 12-hour shifts at bakeries and Wok and Roll. Sure, I was constantly mocked for being Asian by my classmates in elementary school who seem too tightly wound up in ethnic cliques that existed in the neighborhood. It was bitter. It stung like crazy. But in the end, we progressed. Our living environments improved dramatically. We learned to dance the rhythm the city had to offer. My parents had drilled the idea of relentless giving to the community that nurtured me, and I’m fulfilling that role. Other people who are undergoing the same experience, especially youths, need someone to teach them the dance moves.

After 14 years of rough and tumble, being able to do that is, to me, an absolute blessing.

10 Mistakes White People Make When Talking About Race

Really interesting article from the Huffington Post. Cute points (those who are still bitter about the med school match, read #7), but I’m pretty sure these mistakes are made by everyone, not just white people. Racism doesn’t discriminate.