| Wow I'm spent.
Just yesterday I found out that I have a midterm for History today! But luckily I had started studying beforehand and the material wasn't too difficult, but still, the first midterm of the quarter still grips you in a peculiar way. Anyway, I had planned to sleep little, wake early and review, but I slept through my 3.30am alarm and didn't wake up until the 7.00am alarm started going off. Of course, I snoozed...until 7.30am. Not a big deal, class started at 8.00am which left me having to skip breakfast but instead I packed some E.L.Fudge cookies for snacks! I made my way to the dreaded Sociology class - initially, I thought the Holocaust was an interesting and compelling class, well, it still is, however, the professor does take a lot out of it and its more of a grueling drag than a insightful class; the unfairness, the injustice of it all.
Class ended at 9.20am and I start work at the Kaushansky Lab at 9.30am at the School of Medicine UCSD. Of course I take my time. The "boss", whom I might add doesn't even have a degree - she came from the old country of England and works for a big shot at UCSD...how? who knows, Norma Fox, decided to limit my job description to: Lab Supply Stocker/PCR Machine. ARGH! Frustrating it is - I feel demoted. I was once doing great stuff with human DNA now I work on rats...RATS! And I have to be watched carefully so that I don't do anything incorrectly with the PCR reactions...I've just about done more complicated things than that. So I'm being babied, and demoted - work is stinks like a shit hole.
Of course I get done with all my tasks in lab and I have some free time to mingle with the homies: Kathy and Max - the "others" are too busy with their new job description OF WHICH I was suppose to take over, but given the circumstance that I am leaving the lab come the end of Spring quarter, I am officially demoted to being a bitch. I understand, I can cope but I refuse to, so bite me. Anyway, Kathy and Max do cheer me up by just being themselves and being there to listen to me bitch and moan about my awesome life turned a bit sour. After which I used some of the free time to study/review for my midterm later in the day at 3.30pm - take that lab!
1.30pm rolls around and I decide to leave early - I'm scheduled till 2.00pm but fuck 'em. I walk home (.5 miles from campus) and make some lunch - instant noodles that have expired for 2 months and a couple of days. I'm still alive and don't feel any cramps yet so I must say I am in good shape. Then I take a nap to relax before the test around 3.00pm - 3.15pm. I wake up and walk to class ready for the midterm. Fuck. I forgot to buy a blue book, but some home girl hooked it up. Anyway, the exam went as expected and that's done.
5.00pm I luckily caught a bus that takes me home. Yea, I was lazy. Got home took about 15mins to get ready to run to the gym and work out. And now we come to the part where I'm spent. My biceps are hurting pretty bad and I can barely lift my arms above my shoulders and my legs are numb. Perfect. Just the right bit of tired, just the right bit of hurt to go to bed and have a nice rest until 8.00am.
I guess I've left a lot of detail out about my day. Oh well, good night, I love you all. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment   |
| | Subject: | Time | | Time: | 12:35 am |
|
| Time.
In spite of all the happiness and joy that surrounds my entire life, itis inevitable that upon reflection I can't help but to see the sadnesswithin - deep wounds that fester beyond my sight. Time heals allthat is hurt and all that is broken. I've fallen in love withTime, but it isn't Now that I love, but what You were, what Yourepresented as the infinite Past. We toast yearly to newbeginnings and new ventures but we always end up right where westarted. A time, a place, a memory of what we both needed and didnot provide. Time, with all my heart I wish I could find you oncemore and live my life as it was meant for the world to be lived. Some say you are the ruins, other say the mysterious, I say you aremistaken. What you have taken I cannot retrieve, what you promiseto offer is hazy, and what you have now is questionable. Time. In your wisdom the world bows and kneels. And yet,Time merely ticks away. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Subject: | Update? | | Time: | 07:37 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/content.gif) content |
|
| Good Evening!
It has been too long since I've visited. How has everyone been? I can't help but to feel a sense of anticipation, anxiousness, and excitement all jumbled into a big lump in my stomach being pinged and ponged by butterflies. My most secretive, private living space, most intimate spot that I can call mine on the internet. Amazing my account is still active - my greatest gratitude to the people at LiveJournal. To some serious business.
I hate being in debt. Whether it is to a school, or to a "educational loan company" or even to my credit card; it just sucks. Yes, thanks for reminding me that its part of growing up and growing up means responsibilities...well fiddlesticks to that bit. It's bills this day, bills that day, bills non-stop. I can't complain all the time. These bills are what brought the smiles to family, friends, and even myself. Food, flowers, toys, games, movies, popcorn, all in the name of making life more filling and fun. I guess? Its tough being a working student, big ups to the parents who are still struggling through with that. It is so hard to manage but they still do. Some may call it inspirational, motivational, or whatever...I'm just thankful.
Life in San Diego. More on that later. Bye | | comments: Leave a comment |
| You don't have to hide when something is wrong - even if you don't know what it is it might help divulging your heart to me. And if not then you're just not as comfortable as i thought. Which is ok - i'm just sorry i haven't been the best, fun, exciting, thrilling and all that jazz. I'm just a plain old country boy thinking big. Forgive me.
Don't think i wont understand, don't think i'm annoyed, don't think i will understand, don't think i don't listen, don't think i won't listen, don't think i don't care, cause for anyone who thinks i don't is a person i don't know.
Days as such let questions unfold
A story a background a smile untold
Hide behind your glimmer hide behind your glee
But with mine eyes i can clearly see
Something wrong something the matter
Our happiness folds up to shatter.
Be it pathetic be it weak
Be it dramatic be it meak
I am a man of people
and my world changes with a ripple
You think you are well when you are not
Keep me in shadows - those i haven't forgot
To be honest and true it hurts me so
This was something i just needed to let you know.
I understand you're in confusion yourself
But what's bad for you is bad for my health
And when a smile is fake
sadness and dismay follows your wake
And when a hug is untrue
You leave me wondering in the blue
And when a kiss is false
Then let my tears finish this clause.
Sorry you had a bad day/night - but the sun shines every morning just for you. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| English Genius
You scored 85% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 80% Expert! | You did so extremely well, even I
can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon
intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You
have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly!
Way to go!
Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!
For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.
| | |
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: | You scored higher than 17% on Beginner | | You scored higher than 71% on Intermediate | | You scored higher than 53% on Advanced | | You scored higher than 83% on Expert |
| | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | I have so much to say to so many people. And all I can manage is to choke. I'm weeping inside but I boisteriously laugh out loud. I turn my cheek and let the tears fly into the open as shimmers across the road. I slouch further into a slump, and my blemishes celebrate my sunken state. I cheer people, I love people, I make them laugh, I make them happy, I make them worthwhile all because i'm not cheered for, i'm not loved, i don't know how to laugh, i'm not happy and i'm not worthwhile - but i know i am. It's painful how the truth hurts and how you can lie to yourself...all i have left is to know what am i lying about and which i'm telling the truth about. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | My day sucked shit. I have no one to vent on and don't want to ask...because that's kind of impolite. Or maybe I should stop being stupid and just ask someone to listen. Or maybe I can grow up and be a man about my shit days. It's been so long since I've been so happy, and it's been so long since I've felt so sad. I feel like crying, I feel like throwing up, I feel like giving up, I feel like sighing, I feel lonely even when I'm not. And that's the saddest thing in the world. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Godspeed You Black Emperor - Providence | | Time: | 04:12 pm |
|
| It has been a long time since I've posted something on LiveJournal/Xanga, I almost forgot I even had an account. Things have been happening at a speed that most people would say "lightning fast" or "like a blur" but I'd rather think of it as a speedious stroll through the park. I've been smelling the flowers, I've been gazing at the powerful sunlight, I've been dancing in the rain, and I've been having a great time - but haven't been able to truly appreciate it all.
This is my hardest semester ever at Mt.Sac and I'm just not too thrilled. I try and relax but the resounding hymn of procrastination and dread over wasted time knocks me out of any comfortable stupor. I do have to say I feel proud of you regular posters. It makes me feel empty and nostalgic about posting my daily rants (which seldom are appealing), or creative writing attempts.
That really bugs me. How I am unable to cultivate my creative outlets and am rather shunned in a dungeon plagued by the diesease of what seems to be a more promising future under the bolded headlines of Biology. It feels great to know that I've waded through some tough classes and coming out with but a few scars, it feels great to picture myself going to a University to chase after a big goal, and it makes me even more bigheaded to picture myself in a white coat in blue scrubs with a stethoscope and introducing myself as Dr.Sam. Gaudy isn't it?
I have some classmate that teases me with the name: Dr.Sam quite often. It makes me sick and I want to throw up. Assuredly I've expressed my anger and resentment for that "nickname" merely because I feel it draws away from... well...the real me. Perhpas he's trying to compliment me - but I've grown to know, sadly, that compliments are dangerous little tinker toys that boggles the mind and clouds your vision. Compliments are like chocalate, they taste absolutely fantastic, but it's not good for you if you have too much. I do work hard, I try even harder, but to have such a compliment makes me only want to strut, which is never appropriate, at least that's what I think.
I swear I would be happier as an art major. English, Photography, Commerical Art, Film/Theater. Now to find the confidence, aka: balls, to actually attempt another switch in major and proceed with it. Though, I must say, I am infatuated with the Emergency Department and helping people feel better. Whether helping with a scratch they can't reach or a comforting hand on their shoulder, deeds like those makes me feel...complete.
Friends are hard to find and keep I must express. They come and they go, which is much like everything else in the world, but somehow the going of friends pains the most. Distance makes the heart grow fond. I like that phrase - no matter how corny it is, it makes a lot of sense. It's an obligation, no more like a want, to express how I've lost my friends. No. They haven't died or moved away but merely we've ceased to communicate for such a portion in our lives that our ties remain but a single strand. On a tier level some people might call us aquaintences. It has gotten to the point where we don't know each other, whereas before we can read each other's minor bodily discrepancies as something troubling or oddly familiar twitches signalling for something. MINOR NUANCES! Hah, the words escaped me for a second but I am proud to say I snatched them up at the last second.
Yes, this minor nuances is what I find true friendships to be. Whether it was a flicker of their eye, or a twitch in their shoulder you know when somethings up or needing of your attention. These minor nuances that hint a pun, that signal for a laugh, that tickles your tummy for sarcasm that just lets you flow with each other down the stream. What makes them tick. Mad scientist was another nickname they gave me at school.
Overly corny. That's my trademark. Hopeless romantic. Yea I think that's me too. I find myself way to off in lah-lah-land. Where everything is lovey dovey and perfect. Though I can be, and have been threateningly realistic, I am mostly a misguided romantic guy in relationships. Is this attractive? Maybe for the first week, but doesn't this get tiresome? It doesn't for me, but how about for my counterpart? It's one thing to be nice and say it's wonderful to be treated with tenderness and care, and its another to be upfront and say its annoying. I'd choose the latter. Beating around the bush is one of those things in a relationship that make it difficult, well at least in my perspective. Being reinforced by devilish compliments only promotes my behavior as a cavity-inducing, mind-numbing, romantic of an ass person.
Or maybe it is attractive?
Leave your peace my peace I give you, look not upon my sins but upon the forgiveness of them. Ta-Ta. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | "A well-formed figure is sexy; a well-formed sentence is sexier." - onthehour | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | [Beauty - Performed by Zhang ZiYi] House of Flying Daggers Soundtrack | | Time: | 12:39 am |
|
| All the wonderment in how your lips level cities
Baffles every picometer of nerves in my cobweb of a brain
How a smile topples kingdoms and belittles kings
Or how a simple wink and a flutter of an eyelash end dynasties.
-
It seems I've lost the ability to creatively write/spell.
-
Not Cool^
-
Let's try again
-
Envelope the silence all around,
Embrace the tumultuous roar of your wet kisses from above,
Send a wisp of your hair through my neck and ears,
Wrap my breath around together to form the white mysterious mist.
Tickle my cold nose red and share me the sniffles
As I replay and play around the reflections of your memories.
Smile the twinklets of my glassy fantasy before the sun,
Make the pale midnight sun jealous as your ripple across the wet sodden grass,
Let the cup-like chandeliers from your teardrops pave our dance floor,
As we waltz as we swing as we tango.
Blind my eyes with your magnificent glimmer,
Sway your dark silvery silk hair through my face,
Grace me with your thunderous sweet embrace.
Let us make love to the droplets in midair
Let the orbs electrify with our intensity and,
Let the pearls shimmer with our presence.
Speak to me in your hypnotic rhythms upon the puddles,
Let us ride to oblivion in lust,
Let us dance through the hurt and joy,
Let us be in love.
-
Well, i tried.
-
Anyway, break is almost over. School starts on Monday the 9th of January. Resolutions...maybe later. Its going to be a hard semester, but that only means i'm about to transfer out of here. Quite excited indeed.
-
Oh yea...i had a pretty weird dream. Hear goes
-
I was lounging about pretending to enjoy the Chemistry book in my lap. My eyes couldn't help the temptation and quite often drifted to the window to watch the pearly delights fall from the sky. Soon my eyes drifted up and my eyelids drifted down. Comfortably napping on the couch, my dream started on the beach. On the beach, and partially on some hill platform surrounded by grass. Nice green and comfy looking grass. Anyway, looking out into the ocean i couldn't help but notice a roaring tide coming in. A strangely violent tide. Raising my voice to some blurry people around me, who turned their blurry heads to me in their neon shorts/bikinis as i shouted "We have to get to higher ground!". The crowd started moving up the hill as i did so myself. Seeing this football stadium structure made out of obsidian rock surrounded by sand looked like a good place to hide for a while. Tsunami kept striking my head like a hammer. I climbed and so did they. Soon we were level with the football like structure, and chanced a look to the ocean. It was like a wall of running bulls huffing and puffing their heads off to run us over. Someone panicked and just shouted, "Run!" With that everyone started descending down the hill from which they came. The roar of the water's fury was growing steadily...as my stomach grew unsteady. My vision flashes to myself looking down below to people running away from the tsunami/wave, which was down the hill. It appears that i scaled even higher than that obsidian structure that was where i was suppose to hide. Feeling the panic crept from my heart into my mind was the worse feeling. I took in a sharp breath as i looked back and started my own two feet running down the hill. I raced down faster and faster, the waves crashing the waves thundering, the waves roaring was even more evident than before. Sudden the image flash again and i'm in my car driving down the hill. I notice i have some passengers, though i do not recognize who, more humanlike blurs than anything. But i had to concentrate driving. I take a look through the back of my window and i see IT coming ever closer. White horses wringing their necks free from watery chains about to snatch us with their mighty hooves. I punch the gas even harder. I look to where i'm driving and there seems to be another grassy hill. It strangely looks familiar, a hill i've often visited in other dreams where i've always been safe. I knew i had to get there, not only because it was in my other dreams, but because it was higher ground. I swerve sideways aiming for the on ramp to the hill, i look to my right through the open window and the waves were moving in, 20ft away, 15ft, 5ft. Last thought out of my mouth was "We didn't make it..."
The wave hit like a cloud, i didn't feel pain or much of it. I know i felt the impact but it didn't hurt, i even grunted, but i was out of my car and in the frying pan. I have no idea where my passengers are as i'm being tipped tossed and twirled not to mention whirled flipped and flopped, i can even see my limbs flaying about from the current. It felt nice for a second, like a full body massage, then a cold fear sank to my eyes then to my nose and then my chest. I'm in water. I start losing oxygen at that moment. I know was going to drown, but there was light. The light you'd see at top of the water, the SUN! I was still being tossed, i coudln't control my arms or feet, but the light was getting closer. One more giant turn and i'm out of air. I don't open my mouth but i start to cry. Then like glass breaking on the ceramic tile floor i'm above water sucking in the God given breath.
Seconds later i'm drifting in the middle of blue like a buoy. I look left and right, nothing. The hills were gone. I look behind me and find a gigantic peir stretching its mighty brown wooden arm to as far as i can see. A stranger with a smile on his face greets me from above. Someone pops out from the water like a cork and we both swim towards what seems to the remains of a house. I was right. The pink ceramic roofing was jutting out of the water like a soar thumb. Me and the stranger swam under water throught the house and up the roof onto the pier. The sun was glaring at our luck. I walk the pier with the stranger behind me as we make it towards this other fellow with a daughter. I shake hands, we say something, and i look back to the house. I strangely ask if i can use it, and he happily says yes. Finding myself completely dry, me and stranger head back onto the roof and seemingly heading back into the water.
I awake with my chemistry book open on my lap.
-
That was it. Weird. Maybe i should stay away from water. Its raining. More chemistry studying tomorrow i suppose, have to prepare for the onslaught of next semester. Oh and as always, excuse all spelling and grammatical errors please. Thanks.
-
I miss writing. Writing well I mean…well I mean if I ever did write well I wished I wrote as well as I did or should or could.
-
I started a couple of stories, which i have yet to finish and focus on. How sucky that through the break i failed to do something creative...well finish something creative. But its a work in progress...when its out, i do hope you'll critique, stab it, laugh at it, crap on it, poke it, cry over it, laugh over it, question it, love it, treasure it, edit it, help with it, and tell me to start over with it.
-
One Love. Peace. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| ---
Hey ya'll...i got a little present for you guys:
Personal Statement
would ya'll mind looking over this? my handle on the english language is poor and i'm sure yours is a lot better. Grammar mistakes are aplenty...i just wrote like they told me to write...with "passion". So here it is...raw for you guys to look over if you guys are hungry (and wanna help me?)
------------------------
There was no particular time this train of thought started. It just struck hard and fast leaving me jostled and humbled. I just realized one day that I had always wanted to be a superhero. Whether I wanted to be Superman on Monday or The Flash on Tuesday, I always wanted to be that capable, handsome, and life-saving hero. I never suspected that desiring to mimic and be a superhero would be a personal quality that would shape my mind and spirit. As soon as I had figured out my super heroism fetish, I knew x-ray vision and super human strength was impossible in my lifetime, but I also knew that I could still be a hero without mutant powers. Starting off as a computer science major I quickly changed my course towards a more heroic occupation. I sought my answer in the hospitals, in the back seat of ambulance vehicles, and in myself. I changed my major to biology and began a rough, hair-raising, super-hero-strength-requiring struggle towards my goal. Throughout the three years of fall and spring, I have attained various scars in my battle to become what I define to be a hero, a doctor.
It has been recorded, to my dismay, the blemishes in my academic record, that I seemingly have not completed my studies with enough effort. There has been little struggle throughout my life, no life-changing deaths in the family, no disease or anything of that sort which would put me at academic deficiency. In fact, I believe that my academics is quite proficient during times where I don’t face my rebellious bouts of depression, or my short attention span succumbing to a more imaginary and pleasing world. I am quite proficient and profound in my studies when I weed myself out of creative soil and plant myself more in reality. It is perhaps due to these miniscule impulses in my biological complex that stifles my character and ability at the same time. It is most undesirable to know and realize that the goals that have been set are so far in reach are possible, but the reflection of letters upon paper are contrary to what one is capable of doing in more ideal situations. The creative geysers that burst in my most stressful situations have cultivated my mind and fueled my desire and intent to specialize in the medial field. Seeking to expel my creative hungers I sought activities that would be well time spent. I found myself convinced and a little apprehensive at the idea of dedicating my time off as a student to being a volunteer at a local hospital, and later interning as an emergency medical technician.
It is like a drug, like an aphrodisiac or even like a stimulant. Every Friday morning and Saturday afternoon I step through the same glass sliding doors. I am greeted with grim, impatient and nauseated faces as I slide my ID card on the electronic panel to gain refuge from such depression. Through the white solid door, the smell always hits me first, then the shiny floors, and then blinding fluorescent lights above. I make my way down the mildly short corridor turning my head left and right observing the amount of patients being seen already. As I continuously walk through that corridor, my ears resound with moans of agony, hurried steps on the linoleum floor, and the constant beeping of life-sustaining machinery. I finally make it to the nurse’s station and sign in. I am a volunteer at the Arcadia Methodist Hospital.
Prior to my experiences in a hospital as a volunteer and intern, I had never considered an occupation in the medical field. The career towards medicine had always seemed a daunting task to face and cope with. As a volunteer, I had the best resources to experience what it was like to live through the life of a doctor or nurse for at least four hours in the emergency department. I was allowed to follow these professionals around to observe countless procedures. From patient assessment to sutures to suture removal to bone realignment to death, I was there to swallow that lump in my throat with a slightly nauseated expression. Along with being a volunteer, I was given opportunities to directly interact with patients in the area of patient comfort. It felt not only fulfilling but also refreshing to know that an extra pillow or extra blanket had changed their grimace into a welcoming smile. Much like the doctors and nurses, I as a volunteer, wanted to make changes, changes that would make the patient, the mom, the dad, the son, the daughter feel well again. That was when I knew I needed more. This drug coursed through my veins like poison, tainting my entire body with its stench. I wanted to know what doctors and nurses discussed when they pushed medications through IV bags, I wanted to know what to do when patients were having seizures, I wanted to learn how to save people.
Enrolling in an emergency medical technician course satiated my desire to interact more in the emergency department. The course provided a total of fifty-six hours of hospital time where, as an emergency medical technician, I was allowed direct medical care of patients. An occasion that absolutely directed its impact in my life was on the first day and first hour of my hospital shift in which I was directed to a patient in cardiac arrest and was to start CPR. For brief moments I had doubts in my ability and knowledge in chest compressions, I sweated through my mask, gown and gloves as my goggles started fogging up. This patient’s life was dependent on my ability to operate in what I was trained to do. This was what I was asking for and I got it. The doctor presiding over the procedure gave a reassuring nod to begin and I just did that. Her empty eyes stared to the ceiling above as she struggled to breath through her intubation tube. Nurses around me were observing my technique and critiquing the depth of my compressions as I tried hard to bring life back to such a frail woman. The doctor called for me to stop as a steady cardiac fibrillation blipped on a screen across the small room indicating that the patient’s heart was beating no matter how weak. The nurses at the head of the bed continued to help her breath as the doctor, several nurses, and I checked for detectable pulses. Soon I was called out of the patient’s room, as my role was complete. Unfortunately, I never received result of the patient’s status afterwards. Only expecting more, my responsibilities grew from cleansing wounds to managing violent patients to patient assessment. And yet, there was still a void that needed to be filled. I could do only so much for patients as an emergency medical technician. There were still more medications, procedures, terms, ailments, diseases, a bountiful more of information to learn before I would be fully satisfied. It is here, at the Universities of California where I believe the secret to super human strength, heat vision, and heroism lies in achieving my goals.
----------------
Personally i think this shit is fucking weak...but hit me up with your ideas please. Thanks | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Fat Joe & Terror Squad - Lean Back | | Time: | 09:23 am |
|
|
:o | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Metallica - Enter Sandman | | Time: | 08:58 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/stressed.gif) stressed |
|
| Hey ya'll...i got a little present for you guys:
Personal Statement
would ya'll mind looking over this? my handle on the english language is poor and i'm sure yours is a lot better. Grammar mistakes are aplenty...i just wrote like they told me to write...with "passion". So here it is...raw for you guys to look over if you guys are hungry (and wanna help me?)
------------------------
There was no particular time this train of thought started. It just struck hard and fast leaving me jostled and humbled. I just realized one day that I had always wanted to be a superhero. Whether I wanted to be Superman on Monday or The Flash on Tuesday, I always wanted to be that capable, handsome, and life-saving hero. I never suspected that desiring to mimic and be a superhero would be a personal quality that would shape my mind and spirit. As soon as I had figured out my super heroism fetish, I knew x-ray vision and super human strength was impossible in my lifetime, but I also knew that I could still be a hero without mutant powers. Starting off as a computer science major I quickly changed my course towards a more heroic occupation. I sought my answer in the hospitals, in the back seat of ambulance vehicles, and in myself. I changed my major to biology and began a rough, hair-raising, super-hero-strength-requiring struggle towards my goal. Throughout the three years of fall and spring, I have attained various scars in my battle to become what I define to be a hero, a doctor.
It has been recorded, to my dismay, the blemishes in my academic record, that I seemingly have not completed my studies with enough effort. There has been little struggle throughout my life, no life-changing deaths in the family, no disease or anything of that sort which would put me at academic deficiency. In fact, I believe that my academics is quite proficient during times where I don’t face my rebellious bouts of depression, or my short attention span succumbing to a more imaginary and pleasing world. I am quite proficient and profound in my studies when I weed myself out of creative soil and plant myself more in reality. It is perhaps due to these miniscule impulses in my biological complex that stifles my character and ability at the same time. It is most undesirable to know and realize that the goals that have been set are so far in reach are possible, but the reflection of letters upon paper are contrary to what one is capable of doing in more ideal situations. The creative geysers that burst in my most stressful situations have cultivated my mind and fueled my desire and intent to specialize in the medial field. Seeking to expel my creative hungers I sought activities that would be well time spent. I found myself convinced and a little apprehensive at the idea of dedicating my time off as a student to being a volunteer at a local hospital, and later interning as an emergency medical technician.
It is like a drug, like an aphrodisiac or even like a stimulant. Every Friday morning and Saturday afternoon I step through the same glass sliding doors. I am greeted with grim, impatient and nauseated faces as I slide my ID card on the electronic panel to gain refuge from such depression. Through the white solid door, the smell always hits me first, then the shiny floors, and then blinding fluorescent lights above. I make my way down the mildly short corridor turning my head left and right observing the amount of patients being seen already. As I continuously walk through that corridor, my ears resound with moans of agony, hurried steps on the linoleum floor, and the constant beeping of life-sustaining machinery. I finally make it to the nurse’s station and sign in. I am a volunteer at the Arcadia Methodist Hospital.
Prior to my experiences in a hospital as a volunteer and intern, I had never considered an occupation in the medical field. The career towards medicine had always seemed a daunting task to face and cope with. As a volunteer, I had the best resources to experience what it was like to live through the life of a doctor or nurse for at least four hours in the emergency department. I was allowed to follow these professionals around to observe countless procedures. From patient assessment to sutures to suture removal to bone realignment to death, I was there to swallow that lump in my throat with a slightly nauseated expression. Along with being a volunteer, I was given opportunities to directly interact with patients in the area of patient comfort. It felt not only fulfilling but also refreshing to know that an extra pillow or extra blanket had changed their grimace into a welcoming smile. Much like the doctors and nurses, I as a volunteer, wanted to make changes, changes that would make the patient, the mom, the dad, the son, the daughter feel well again. That was when I knew I needed more. This drug coursed through my veins like poison, tainting my entire body with its stench. I wanted to know what doctors and nurses discussed when they pushed medications through IV bags, I wanted to know what to do when patients were having seizures, I wanted to learn how to save people.
Enrolling in an emergency medical technician course satiated my desire to interact more in the emergency department. The course provided a total of fifty-six hours of hospital time where, as an emergency medical technician, I was allowed direct medical care of patients. An occasion that absolutely directed its impact in my life was on the first day and first hour of my hospital shift in which I was directed to a patient in cardiac arrest and was to start CPR. For brief moments I had doubts in my ability and knowledge in chest compressions, I sweated through my mask, gown and gloves as my goggles started fogging up. This patient’s life was dependent on my ability to operate in what I was trained to do. This was what I was asking for and I got it. The doctor presiding over the procedure gave a reassuring nod to begin and I just did that. Her empty eyes stared to the ceiling above as she struggled to breath through her intubation tube. Nurses around me were observing my technique and critiquing the depth of my compressions as I tried hard to bring life back to such a frail woman. The doctor called for me to stop as a steady cardiac fibrillation blipped on a screen across the small room indicating that the patient’s heart was beating no matter how weak. The nurses at the head of the bed continued to help her breath as the doctor, several nurses, and I checked for detectable pulses. Soon I was called out of the patient’s room, as my role was complete. Unfortunately, I never received result of the patient’s status afterwards. Only expecting more, my responsibilities grew from cleansing wounds to managing violent patients to patient assessment. And yet, there was still a void that needed to be filled. I could do only so much for patients as an emergency medical technician. There were still more medications, procedures, terms, ailments, diseases, a bountiful more of information to learn before I would be fully satisfied. It is here, at the Universities of California where I believe the secret to super human strength, heat vision, and heroism lies in achieving my goals.
----------------
Personally i think this shit is fucking weak...but hit me up with your ideas please. Thanks | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Interpol - Slow Hands | | Time: | 09:33 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/accomplished.gif) accomplished |
|
| The House of Flying Daggers
From the director of Hero, Zhang Yimou does it again with his enchanting new film, The House of Flying Daggers, to hit theaters soon. Gracing the screens yet again, i found myself falling in love with the beautiful Ziyi Zhang, the Legolas of Asia Takeshi Kaneshiro, and the phenomenal Andy Lau. First, i don't want to over hype this movie, fearing that it may be the kiss of death, but this movie is simply astounding. Think of it this way, if Hero was foreplay, The House of Flying Daggers is the slow and sweet yet raunchy and raw loving you want.
Zhang Yimou takes us on a similar journey as we saw in Hero, back to ancient China where dynasties were still hip, and martial arts still deadly. The story takes us to 850 AD China where the weakening Tang dynasty is run on the fuel of corruption. To combat such corruption, it is only natural that a underground alliance is formed, which is conveintly named: "The House of Flying Daggers". This alliance is admired and feared at the same time. They are known to steal from the rich and provide for the poor...your regular band of robin hoods. Seemingly an action/adventure movie, The House of Flying Daggers reveals only later to be a emotional love story. Just as slow, sneaky, violent and turbulent as a revolution, love is tested for its endurance through blood and turmoil. On with the highlights.
Throughout the movie, you are bombarded, poked, and stuffed with a spectacle of beauty. From colorful and vibrant designs of costumes, to the exotic and priceless display of set pieces, each element never fails to add dazzling aroma to the movie. From the hair to the hair pin, to the shoes to the gowns, everything seems as if it would undoubtedly fit today's fashion. Bodies are embellished by mere clothing, movements are magnified in a quantity where even mere speech is elegant and chocalatey sweet. The fighting sequences are no joke. As most fighting scenes are to be exciting, and adrenaline pumping, The House of Flying Daggers delivers it in a more dreamy state. Movements seem to be delicate and fragile treated with the utmost care from the actors. Whether its flips or kicks or punches or swipes, each hand, body, feet movement is produced to such perfection as to create perfect arcs or circles.
As seen in Hero, the brilliant display of color is captivating. The entire movie plays tricks on your eyes with exotic and benign colors. Each scene has seemingly a new theme of color. Perhaps Zhang Yimou's trademark effect of making love to the audience, the awe-inspiring mixture of pure colors makes you feel...simply wonderful. From the green, lush bamboo forest, to the tanned beachy colored fields of wheat and flowers, to the pure white snow, to the fiery colors of fall, it's an effect to pay for. You will fall in love with these expensive colors and anticipate the next scene for more. Its extremely appeasing to the eyes to be able to utilize such colors to such extremes where its role has become of such an importance its essentially more vital than the soundtrack.
Some drawbacks to this movie is in the development. Its painstakingly slow, or is it painstakingly fast? The characters took no time to try and attach to you which seems to be good and bad at the same time. Also, the CG effects in the movie were more bothersome than helpful. It is such a distraction in the movie that i couldn't help but cringe at its appearance across the screen. Its not used so much, but enough to annoy me at times. The movie seems to have been completed in a hurry. There are times when i wished scenes would last a bit longer with more dialogue and in depth profiles of the characters. That was the other thing, the characters had a hard time to truly attach to the audience because of the lack of their history. Its indicated in so brief instances that its hard to really try and relate to them. The dialouge was a bit off to the acting most likely due to the subtitled translation from mandarin
For the adventure, action seeking, blood thirsty mongrel in you? Not this time. This movie takes the audience to school and teaches a thing or two about love. Its raw, its raunchy, its sweet, its perseverance, its patience, its pain and its enigmatic - just to name a few. Even if the character development was lacking, the abundant heart-warming pure colors, intricate and massively detailed design, grade A actors (dialogue was a bit funky sometimes...maybe it was the English translated subtitles), and a ***remake of a eternal classic***, make up for most of what i found to be drawbacks.
Overall: A- | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Buddah Bar - Lemongrass - A Journey To A Star | | Subject: | Autumn | | Time: | 10:39 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/complacent.gif) complacent |
|
| Here i am. I'm trying to abstain from using AIM for 2 months just to see if its possible. So far, 2 days. :)
-----
For the record, "Wonder" posts are things i jot down before class starts, given a time limit from 1-30mins. Grammar, spelling, is all left as it is found during the time it was written. Forgive the mistakes, and the lack of organization.
-----
Wonder.
When in the right time and place do we stare upon the clouds that blanket the world. To when may we perfect our desires which endlessly cripple us so. Where will we be and what of our hearts when the sun calls out to the dew drops on earth. When will we understand that we are shadows and not important to anything but as a phantom of our own sins.
Wonder #2
There are infintismal amounts of events waiting in line to be chosen and yet there seems only one hand to play these cards. As if we have no choice but to fancy a jog through time, to realign what we see so fit to be misaligned. To predetermine a determined fate by running through Father Clock's hair and rewriting our scripted lives to what we may see as ideal. Some see fit to catch the blur of their life, which is invisible yet so seemingly tangible, by the reigns and halt movement to only backtrack the heavy hoofs to relive the events that have so defined the bits and pieces of what makes us operate as machines rendering possible conclusions and settling for the latter out of fear, spite, happiness, greed, or lust. So what almighty dissonance in our own symphony cringes our 36 muscles in our face, creates that micron thick film of sweat layering our body and sending that cool prickly sensation of anxiousness, nervousness and judgmental error? Its a wonderment and even perhaps an insult to our maker, God perhaps, to even consider forfeiting years of our fated predetermined sullen lives written in blood, sperm and egg as some sort of Black Humor. Why is this question always asked in so many ways all aiming to the goal of changing what has been done? To what desire can we deliver ourselves from such an identity that our thoughts and actions before today have so painstakingly taken us to? Why run the Hands of our clock back to a desired time to calculate and formulate the perfection of our lives with the knowledge we possess now to rewrite the lives that we have so caught in our web? Be that it may we achieve a global tongue and understanding of everyone to the world to "unsoil" the tattered remains of a urinated fecal imagined world of equality, what good have we achieved except to satiate our own pleasure to rewrite our supposed wrongs and relive our supposed rights.
Autumn.
Where we may find Solace in the idleness of trees,
Where the Breeze may taste cool and warm to touch,
Where silence is just copper,
Where brilliant minds alight.
Where Beauty lies in the Eyes and the Ears,
Where Peace dwindles for a second longer.
Where the sunlight needles through the clouds and leaves,
Where idle hands may tire and grow old,
Where ideas rekindle anew,
Where Creativeness dares to sprout.
Where Autumn Dares to Love.
Prayer.
Father to the Highest,
O Lord do I answer,
To the sounds where You may Lead,
A lost Sheep Home. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Its a bottomless pit of things i'd like to say
though i reach rock bottom once my mouth draws breath
admiring the wisdom in silence
i listen to the rustling leaves on pavement as whispers
the swishing of the trees as gossip
and the crickets as song.
Its a bottomless pit of things i'd like to see
though i reach rock bottom once i open my eyes
admiring the serenity in chaos
i watch the clouds meander by as ghosts
the needles of sunlight through the trees
and the mammals as self-proposed gods
Its a bottomless pit of things i'd like to make
though i reach rock bottom once i open my hands
admiring the imaginative disturbance of creativity
i feel the movie through its scripted play
the characters in practiced voice
and the reflections of the greatest minds | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Subject: | Amok | | Time: | 12:16 am |
|
| let me run around the world.
hold every piece of sand from the beaches,
steal every bit of chalk from the schools,
sneak every morself of sweets from the shops,
read every literature from the libraries,
pluck every shining flower from the gardens,
chance every risk from the casinos,
count every gifted star from the moonless nights,
sing every note of a love song from the choirs,
dance every fence i see from the cities,
write every love story from the sea,
drink every drop of nectar from the wine cellars,
taste every bitter, sweet, sour, creamy food from the kitchen,
And I would only
Kiss you everytime i see you
Hug you everytime i sense you
Praise you everytime i know you
Hear you everytime i comfort you
Smell you everytime i feel you
Love you everytime i wonder about you.
------
Hmph. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Questions unfold as they are told,
Gossip and wonder lo and behold,
No mind nor attention do we uphold,
to what matters most may i be bold,
to state Mothers death in a story untold,
She passes day and night ever bleeding ever old.
To where the east a sun may rise,
and to the west a moon may shine,
smile upon the fissures in which we lie,
not knowing how or asking why,
forbidden in mystery in which we cry,
succumb to the drum of an unknown beat,
swim in a world of nectar blood so sweet,
sodomize and rape what we reap,
not a tear no more for earth we weep.
Swim in the murky boil that flows,
Breathe in the brown the four wheels blow,
Heaven have mercy to what we sow.
You must know this to be sad and grim,
Don't smile or grin, your world has started its final hymn.
Start with six and end in one, our mistakes must be undone | | comments: Leave a comment |
| |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
kai3ukiluv3r's journal