April 18, 2010
When you are faced with choices, how do you make it?
The choice, I mean.
I’m the kind of person that has difficulties choosing between grilled chicken and fish and chips.
Let me elaborate… I went to lunch with two of my girlfriends. One decided she wanted sandwich, one decided she wanted grilled chicken. I had wanted grilled chicken but somehow I didn’t want to get the same thing with my friend. I decided I wanted the fish and chips. But then as the waiter came to take our orders, I had a second thought. No, I’d like grilled chicken after all.
See how bad I am at making choices?
It’s one thing to decide what you’re going to have for lunch. It’s another thing to decide what you are going to do for the rest of your life.
Whether you wanted to get a job, get a master’s degree, or marry a good-looking and rich and considerate man who exists only in Fairytale. Or get a transgender operation and change your name into Pearl or Crystal and join the gangs of she-male in Thailand.
Whatever works. *shrugged*
So here I am, 1.30 in the morning, my brain has once again declared war against sleep when my body is all for sleep. I have tidied my room, took an IQ test (I scored 138 by the way…yay) and am writing a post on my blog and still I am not feeling sleepy. I am actually considering buying sleeping pills. Counting sheep sucks. I always lose count after a hundred or so.
Back to what I was talking about…
Wait, what was I talking about?
I’m not even capable of making choices regarding my lunch, so that begs the question:
How am I supposed to trust myself to make a choice regarding my future?
And I can quite let other people decide for me, either. I can ask opinions, yeah, but bottom line is I would have to make that cut.
It was beautiful back then, when your path is set. You know. Elementary school, secondary school, high school. It’s gets a bit tricky when you have to choose a university but at least then it’s still quite narrow. Now it’s…
I guess it’s part of being an adult and what-not, but truth be told, I’d rather be a child forever and live in pink-colored world.
Oh wait…But then, I cannot wear stilletos or drink alcohol or– I’d better stop there, in case my father is reading (yeah, fat chance).
I’m signing off… Off to (hopefully) Dreamland. TTFN…
April 8, 2010
Err…they wanted to know my research objectives and/or focus.
Well, that makes the two of us. I would also like to know my research objectives and/or focus. *grin*
I would’ve never pegged myself to have a doctoral degree. When I was a kid, I pictured myself going into university and studying Accounting (sort of a family profession). And then I go and work somewhere. And then…
Well, my picture stops after I got a job. Not much of an imaginative kid, granted.
I’m not entirely sure, but it involves Paris, dresses, a dog named Buttercup, lots and lots of shoes, and a handsome tennis player who is also a concert pianist.
I’m kidding of course.
About the dog’s name.
But at least it’s not Marylin Monroe. That’s such bad taste. I think Marylin Monroe’s turning inside her grave as we speak. And poor Tinkerbell. I presume the poor Cihuahua is dead or is in an animal pound?
Well anyhoo…they asked me questions like, “What kind of research area are you interested in?”
“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”
“Ummmmm…well…ten years is an awful long period of time. So…umm…
“Why do you think research is for you?”
“Ummm…well…I am a very curious person…?”
April 8, 2010
I just got back from a wake.
It is 1 in the morning.
And then I go into the bathroom, and in the hurried-ness of things, I fell on my bum.
Like in a cartoon, you know, where characters stepped on a banana peel and then fell oh-so-funnily?
I did that.
Sans the banana peel.
And sans the funny factor.
Really not funny.
Now my back aches like shit.
I’m twenty-one but I feel like a-hundred-and-twenty-one years old.
April 6, 2010
It’s 15 minutes to 3, in the morning.
Yes, the morning where everyone is asleep. Everyone except for owls, burglars, children who wore awoken by nightmares, people who are in the middle of a Grey’s Anatomy DVD-marathon, super-secret spy, people who live in the other side of the globe where it’s still mid-day, and people who took a pill for headache.
The pill for headache contains not only 500 mg of acetaminophen-slash-paracetamol, but also a peppy 65 mg caffeine.
Western medicine is so advanced.
What next, they’re gonna put sildenafil citrate in cough syrups?
Yeah, next time I ran out of coffee, I’ll just take one of the pill.
Yay for happy, bouncy, insomniac me!
Bye now, gonna try counting sheep.
Oh, by the way, sildenafil citrate? Viagra. In case ya don’t know… Lack of sleep makes people do and say and write ridiculous stuff.
March 5, 2010
Yes, I am happy.
After spending all night with my eyes wide open, I finally get my test results.
“Test results” sounded like a pregnancy test or an HIV test, huh?
But no, twas that English test I thought I botched up.
Last night I turned off the lights, covered myself with blankets and pulled Forrest the Basset hound with the sad eyes. Then I closed my eyes, only to open it again within the next thirty seconds. Anxiety came washing. I’m not really confident with how I did. What if I get a 5?
After that my eyes are wide open. Until three in the morning.
And that’s how I overslept and missed class.
But I got the results at one o’clock, and I got an 8.
Quite satisfactory, won’t you say?
Yeah, not bad.
Yes, prayer works! Now let’s pray that I got crowned Miss Universe. 😄
No, forget that. Pray that I got a scholarship to France. See, my wishes aren’t exactly unrealistic, right, Dad? =)
8.5 for listening, 8.5 for reading, 7.5 for writing, and 7.5 for speaking.
Thanks, Marge! 😉
March 5, 2010
Remember when you were a kid and you’d be asked, what do you want to be when you grow up?
And remember how the answers are usually: a) a president, b) an astronaut, c) a professor, and sometimes, d) superman?
Well, I never wanted to be Wonder Woman, but I have dreamt to be a doctor at one point.
And a super secret agent, during the airing of Alias. But hey, I am an Indonesian. I imagined what Indonesian’s CIA would be like, and then I realise I don’t even know the name. So that’s bye-bye to Sydney Bristow. Besides, I love my teeth, like, very much.
I guess what I’m trying to say beneath all that babble was that we grow up, eventually, and forgot about what we wanted to grow up as in the first place.
It’s because the dream is too ridiculous (if you want to live in Saturn, of course it is), too disturbing and inappropriate (if you wanted to be a stripper, that is. And the idea that a kid knows what a stripper is, is already disturbing), but most of the time, it’s too difficult.
I realise that being a doctor translates to minimum sleep and maximum studying, minimum play and maximum work. All work and no play makes Vie a dull girl, so I quit that dream long ago. Of course, I didn’t realise that chemical engineering translates to the same level of disgusting work hours. Still, it’s still much easier than medicine. It also took years and years to become a good doctor. In America, that means four years of high school, four years of college, four years of med school. Also internship, and more years of residency if you wished to be a specialist.
Yes, I learnt that in Grey’s Anatomy. So what.
So, my point is that, take a step back. Think about your goals before adulthood kick in and keeps your feet on the ground. Try to remember what you wanted to do back in the carefree days, when your wings are still intact and your innocence untouched.
(Why so poetic?)
Dream big, dream high, and most importantly, don’t settle.
Don’t settle for a job less than your dream job just because you don’t have the confidence that you will land that dream job. Don’t settle for someone less than your ideal because you’re afraid to end up alone.
I’m not saying that you should starve while waiting for your dream job, or worse, rob a bank. I’m not saying you shouldn’t go to university because the school you wanted didn’t accept you.
You’re an adult. Think.
March 2, 2010
They say that when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.
I say squeeze the lemon, aiming the juice to their eyes.
Whoever they are.
Who are they anyway? To act wise and say wise things??!!
Well, first there’s the vicious deadlines that I can’t seem to keep up with.
Then there’s the oblivious person whose thoughts I can’t make out.
Then there the obnoxious person who I shouldn’t have told anything to at all.
And on the top of it all, prospective company rejects my application.
*I ran out of -ous adjectives. One more thing to be blue about. =(
Well, no used crying over spilt milk.
Again, they said it.
I’m still feeling blue.
And felt like crying.
I know what might make me feel better. Throwing lemon juice at the obnoxious person, for one.