I love my home city. These three years away have only reaffirmed
this love. When my dad was driving us back yesterday, he took us through a new highway,
built while I was away, because "even in the winter, you get to see this." Rolling hills and valleys, dipping and overlapping, various shades of blue
folding over an unseen horizon. I may not have been born here, but these are My
hills. When I brought B and his dog here, his dog would put two paws on our
highest windowsill and stare into these hills. Even he felt their wonder.
It seems to me that our
story begins and ends with emotion , but emotion is the hidden substance that
everything else takes pains to delineate. Emotions are what link us, separate
us, and define us. What authenticate our existence. Breaking down the emotion
of a moment seems to be tougher than untangling a clump of thread. And possibly,
probably, impossible. Is it not easier to describe the actions , in highest
detail, that lead up to, through, and beyond the emotion? To carve at the
concrete, negative space as a way to capture that which may be beyond our
Every day, I wonder: Is
this the day I will ask B to make our break-up facebook official? I go to the
phone and then put it down. He is still my best friend. But if we do not move
on, how will we ever find other people? It feels like severing a tie with a
family member. Worse, like cutting yourself away from your conjoined twin. Will
we continue this partnership until it becomes too much of a joke? Our friends
know. They must be wondering what we are waiting for. But this is how many
people know us.
Tornadoes, according to pop fiction, can take you to other worlds: The Wizard of Oz. Donnie Darko.
Tornadoes are one of my recurring dream themes. Watching F1s in a
row or driving towards one horizontal and hourglass shaped or a massive F5. A
few nights ago, I dreamt of one suspended right above my head, not turning,
just hanging. I peered inside to find a wormhole. Seeing the tornado suspended, I
assumed its machinery was broken. I pulled it down to get some blue sky, but
this sudden movement caused a drastic shift in weather patterns, creating a new
My grandpa passed away
tonight. My mother is crying, and I feel at a loss for what to do.
When he was young, a
seer gave his family three prophecies: that he would inherit nothing, that his
son would become a monk, and that he would live for 84 years. Tonight fulfilled
the last one. All three prophecies came true. He was supposed to inherit land
and a title, but India's independence brought the end of feudal systems. My
uncle, his only son, was supposed to be the family's breadwinner. And he was
less than a month from turning 85.
In class, I thought, "Did
I have a nightmare recently?" Emotions from nightmares can wash over me before
I remember the storyline. But class was the dream, and I drove back to the
Too much talk of this.
Everywhere. Too much thought of this already.
I remember him writing a
humorous poem called Hypocrite. When everyone else dies, he wrote, only one
person is lost. When I die, the whole world will disappear. So how am I not the
most important person?
I wish I had known him.
Has he seen me, from
above, not shed a single tear?
I cannot believe my grandma
complained to my parents about my singlehood!
Over the phone, she says, "You have a duty. Do you remember what you promised me?"
"I will not die until
you get married."
"Then I'll delay that
day as much as possible!"
"Listen. Everyone has a limit. A limit!"
My bad. This isn't a
My father takes the
phone. He attempts to quiet her but gets an earful instead.
"She has to uphold her
"She will when she
finds someone she loves."
"I will wait a year."
"You can't determine the
"Jete tomay debona."
"I won't let you go."
During mourning, singing
can become an elevated form of wailing. How can something sung so sweetly sting
the heart like a blade and bring forth emotions I did not know existed in me?
Our hearts are these giant, never-ending reservoirs of pain and sadness. I could
cry a million times, and there would still be tears left.
But I guess there will
always be laughter too. Even in her immense misery, my mother has laughed with
me. "You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming." Come
The lyrics were, "the
demon inside", but I heard "the edema inside." This morning, I dreamt that a
patient had impossibly low glucose, and I freaked out when I discovered that she didn't get a rescue D50W dose. Am I
missing last month's rotation? Would be a GOOD thing. In class, I impressed the
professor with my knowledge of hyponatremia. Unfortunately, I got super awkward
when she smiled at me at the end of class. She's a big shot, and attention from
the mighty frightens me. Like suddenly having Sauron's eyes upon you. Please, I
am but a lowly hobbit!!
Sauron's EYE. Ack.
Typos. Ack. Whyyy no edit button?
Clear the air for
cucumbers! Lemon scented merengue slipping along the palisade. And splash! Into
the deep abysmal! Light your fingers upon
my lips, my cold and dark conundrum. Sashay sashay and shiver me timbers, tickling our forget-me-nots. Ohhh grande odalisque, ovalicious ovaltine. Crane your
throat, elongulate. Sing the words your momma gave you! Light the giggles that
light the load and whisper forth into your grave. Goosebumps are the stuff of
legends, Jason Schwartzman in a cave.
My interpretation of a
Wes Anderson 100 words - well, 79 but you know.
Little sounds can bug
me; big sounds can drive me up the wall. I have never, so badly, wanted to hit
a couple of birds. At 5:15am, I awoke to the loud, cacophonic chirping of two,
one probably small breasted by the short, high pitched bullets that hit my
ears, and the other a louder, steadier, probably normal sized, demon. It did
not end! Five AM is when I am supposed to be getting REM sleep, but there I lay
in bed, waiting, devising evil ways to throw them out of the tree. If this
continues, I might just try.
"So you want to play
We saw the house on a
News special about old neighborhoods in midtown. The camera scanned over it,
but it had a turquoise door, and Katie knew where it was.
"Let's check it out!"
So we did. It stood on the
slope of a hill, four storied, squeezed in between a full row of houses with
the same design. We parked on the gravel across the street, the others talking
excitedly, and they half ran, half skipped to the door. Sam knocked, shushing
them, and turned the knob. Unlocked. He opened the door.
I was the last to step inside, but my new friends
were too excited to notice my caution. Upon entering, I stepped into a narrow
hallway with shiny hardwood floors. My fingers grazed the thin cherry-wood
table on my right, looking at nothing, hearing them run into other rooms. A
soft breeze touched my neck from the open door behind me, but I moved forward,
pulled by… not excitement, nor curiosity. By the quietness of the rooms above
me. I turned to the stairs and walked up. It seemed like every room in this
house was lit. Had anyone noticed?
Someone crashed into
someone else, and they both broke into giggles. I stopped to listen, wanting to
go back down to meet them. It sounded like they were looking at a bookshelf
full of unusual objects.
"This stuff is amazing."
"We could sell it and
make a lot of money!"
"Shhh! We're not going
to sell it!"
"But the moneeey!
"Shut up!" And they
broke into giggles again.
I smiled at their
stupidity. When Katie introduced me to the group, she warned me about their
silliness, but it just made me wish I could be silly with them.
Instead, I continued my
climb up the soft carpeted stairs. Everything was quiet now, the sounds
of my friends too far below to be heard. Finally, I reached the fourth floor.
On the last steps, a small hallway with four bedrooms yards apart from one
another opened up to me. Inside the closest bedroom was a living girl sitting up her the
bed, her legs tucked under a quilted comforter.
I ran downstairs, almost
falling, my heart in my mouth.
"Help!" I shouted, when
I got to the bottom floor. "We have to get out of here!"
They came running to me
from different rooms and met me in the hallway. I was frantic to leave.
"Why?" Asked Sam.
Out of breath, shaking,
I quickly explained what I saw. They shifted uncomfortably.
"We're not going
anywhere," he said, hands on his hips.
I stared at him wildly.
Marcy, one the previous
gigglers, replied, "We will be needing you."
Katie had been hiding behind them, but now she stepped forward.
With an apologetic but
desperate look in her eyes, she said, "Remember what you told me? About the
dreams you have that show you things, things you shouldn't know about?"
Shivers ran down me as I
looked from face to face. They were not laughing anymore.
From the bookshelf, she
picked out a bottle-green glass oval. It had a net as translucent as a spider's
web within it, and at the center was the crude drawing of a palm.
"Do you recognize this?"
I did. I had seen it in
a dream and told her about it the next day.
What was this place? Who
were these fake friends? What, on Earth, were they going to do to me? And who
was that girl?
I turned to the door and
fled. I ran like I had never run before, into the street, down the hill, not
caring where my feet took me. I just had to get as far from them as possible. I
was never more certain of my actions.
I heard them running
after me, their footsteps and voices reminding me that they were not far
behind. Ahead of me, cars were moving towards the four way intersection.
I ran into oncoming traffic.
I didn't care. Actually, I would rather die, I thought decidedly, than go back
to that. A couple of cars saw me too late to stop. One car veered and crashed
into another, and a truck with a gas tank hit them both. Immediately, flames
burst out, and I would have run into them but that someone grabbed me and
pulled me back.
"Who is that? What
happened?!" A stranger shouted.
"It’s okay," said my
savior, "She's with us."
No, I thought,
recognizing his voice. No, I wanted shout. Don't let him take me back!
But I could say nothing.
As he lifted me into his arms and carried me back uphill, I realized that my
face had been burned. I could barely move my mouth, my throat felt charred, and
it hurt to breathe. The front of my body and both arms were bleeding. And my
eyes! The fire had obliterated them. I could see nothing, only feel the
stinging breeze and the movement of his steps. Soon, as he slowed down and
turned, I felt the coolness of air-conditioning. Heard others around me.
"Take her upstairs," Katie said. "Place her in a bedroom."
Have you ever tried to
put on your seatbelt only to get frustrated by all the loops you have to unloop? Or you just say
fuck it and drive with the discomfort of a partly turned seatbelt pressing
against you. Well, bra straps are like that too actually. Except that you can't reach the back and
there's too much elastic to get a strong hold on anything. And of course, you
can't fix it in public. Maybe I just buy the cheap ones, thinking that price
couldn't change utility. Maybe they screw up the cheap ones on purpose.
I finally started
watching Lost. This whole affair with the Malaysian airline got people talking
about the show, and I was recommended, again, to watch it. Well, Netflix has all
the episodes, so why not? Here are my first impressions:
Jack is superbly
annoying! His doctoring, pilot knowledge, excellent social skills… give us all
a break! I hope he leaves the show soon, but my suspicions tell me otherwise.
What's that fat guy from
Heroes doing here? Oh good, he's gone.
I like the old white guy
Intrigued by the Asian
I knew Charlie was
Do you know, B, what was
going on when I'd lie in bed at night beside you and stare at the ceiling? You
would ask me what was wrong and, immediately, fall asleep. Of course, I
wouldn't have told you anyway. Did you know that?
I want to, have to, do a
lot of things this morning, but my eyes keep moving to the window. Snow is falling
over trees in bloom with flowers and grass so green. Rarely do we even see snow
down here, and on a spring day like this... In my mind, I can reason it as an understandable
transition of winter to spring, just arriving a little awkwardly this year. But
my eyes cannot believe what they see! So they keep staring up in wonder,
abandoning everything else to watch this long, heavy parade of flurries float
to the ground.
I am waiting for a band
to be called Smh. The next big thing.
My Loverly Music Line-Up-1:
Avicii – Oh Brother
Cage the Elephant – Come
a Little Closer
The Hawk in Paris –
Matt and Kim – Good Old
The Decembrists – This
is Why We Fight
Weezer – The Christmas
Florence and the Machine
– Only For a Night
The Civil Wars – The One
That Got Away
Arctic Monkeys – Do I
Arcade Fire – The
Little Dragon – Twice
LP – Nights Like This
But I am running out of
words! Nights like this, smothered in music, are like candy.
A few times a year, I have sudden, acute pain episodes that bring
me to the ground.
Drugs take time to work so I can't use them unless the pain
continues for more than a few hours. Thus I have to use alternatives to manage the
For one, I strip down and throw cold water on as much skin as I
can. I never understood why this helps and couldn't find information on it. In
this cardiology course, I've learned about therapeutic hypothermia. It basically
slows everything down and decreases unnecessary reactions. Makes me feel a
little more sane.
Being in pharmacy means
learning lots of drug names. Because I love words, I struggle less with this. I
can remember the names, but many times, I forget the association, even matching
the brand name to the generic. Presently, I have no idea what the brand name
for diftitox is or even what it does. Simply enjoy saying it.
So I looked up diftitox,
and wow. It's a combination of IL-2 and the diphtheria toxin. It kills cancer
cells. Lymphoma cells have a lot of IL-2 receptors (think forks sticking out of them). This is where the IL-2 part
binds (think the cheese that sticks to these forks) and finds entry. Then the
toxin does what toxins do: destroys from within! So you are actually giving
yourself diphtheria with this drug. Pick your poison - what we help you do.
In other news, I dreamt
of P again. Will he always haunt me? Facebook doesn't help. My own fault then.
Higher education is so
expensive that it's becoming harder to move up the socio-economic ladder
through education, but no truly developed society limits their intellectual
potential to the wealthy.
Maybe one day, there
will be two forms of higher education: one through these expensive universities
and another that is self-taught. (Maybe online universities will be a middle
ground.) All will end with the same exams and practical requirements. It will
be like home-schooling college courses - harder without a social structure and
professors to go to but an inexpensive option nonetheless. Your scores, not
where you went, will determine your merit.