// T H E 1 9 7 5 //
29th of March 2014.
One of the best ways to end the hell week.
(Please credit if you want to use the photo. Don’t claim as your own. Thanks.)
I have always wanted to be a doctor since I was in third grade, when I was about 8 or 9 years old.
I am in my first year of college, taking up BS Public Health at the University of the Philippines Manila, where I followed my sister’s steps. She is now in her second year of graduate school - Medical school, that is- in the Ateneo School of Medicine and Public Health.
Tonight, at dinner, my mom was telling me not to continue on with being one.
Even if it was said jokingly, I wasn’t comfortable with it. Both my parents know that I wanted to be a doctor even before my sister decided to take up pre-med, and they are supportive, but I think they’re having their doubts. My parents are near retirement age, and they still have to pay tuition fees for both my sister and I (my brother is studying his masterals under scholarship), and we’re both going for medicine, and that’s not easy on the bank accounts.
My dad is very supportive, as he always tells my mom to stop discouraging me from continuing my pre-med education. But sometimes I think of all the other things I can do - theater set designs, writing, helping out with a family business - because I want to help my parents and want them to rest their muscles from all the work earlier that how it will be as of this moment, but I never see myself as doing those things in the future. My heart has always been set on being a doctor.
My father always believed that if he didn’t force something on his children, we would grow up to be successful, and that investing on our education will make our lives as a family prosperous, even more that it already is now. I reckon he’s right. Our parents never told us what to do, what we should become and what they want us to be. All they tell us is that they want us to be happy, to have successful lives, and still stick around for the family even after all the success. In turn, my siblings and I have made an unspoken pact, where we would always be there for our parents and will work hard to make them happy by showing them that we love what we are doing, and that thing is helping us climb mountains.
I have always appreciated that of them, because being a Chinese family, we are expected to have issues or drama about this. People always ask me if my parents forced me to become a doctor, if they dictated our lives, and I would always tell them that no, our parents aren’t like that. Many people tell us that we’re lucky to have this kind of family, and I always agree.
I have deep love for my family and I know that even if it will be rough for my parents (and probably my brother, when he starts bringing in actual salary and not just scholarship allowances), and it’ll be rough for me (because let’s face it, medschool doesn’t have a hint of easy in it), I can make it through, because when we rise up to be successful, all of it will pay off.
Mom, dad, if you’re reading this (I doubt you even know what tumblr is, even if I always talk about it), I love you both, even if sometimes you joke about things this serious. Thank you both for being so supportive and for being the greatest parents that I could ever ask for. Kudos to both of you, for you always say that we are the kids that you have always wanted. You guys raised us well, and I am thankful for how you helped me become who I am now.
As for my sister, you’re a pain in the ass but I love you also. I am constantly compared to you, and I keep on trying to rise above you, and of course, me being me, I succeed in doing so. Kidding. Thanks for the guidance, you’ve been through everything that I will probably go through, and you never stop answering my never ending questions, so thanks.
As for my brother, you’re such an ass, but you’re the best brother I could ask for. Never a dull moment with you. You know so much about everything, and you’re the one taking me to see musicals on Broadway and the West End in a couple of years (I hope). I look forward to those. Thanks for putting up with me. Love you, bitch.
I have so much love for my family, and I don’t even know why I’m writing this now when I should take the last two hours of this day and make something productive out of it. But I guess, in it’s way, this is productive. They’ll read this someday (hopefully not soon), and I hope it brings a smile on their faces.
Thanks for everything. <3
My hatred for Tuesdays hasn’t ended yet.
I don’t think it ever will.
It was a lot simpler when I was in high school. Heck, it wasn’t that bad when I was in my first semester in college. It was bad, but not terrible.
When the second semester came in, though, everything went down to hell.
I never thought I would end up with a 10am-5:30pm schedule with no breaks, with subjects that I never really completely enjoyed. First thing’s first, I have chem lab class, and our laboratory is on the 5th floor of our building, and we have no elevators, and the laboratory itself is the ROOFDECK. (Did I already tell you about the part that I study in UP Manila which is the Health Sciences Center and we don’t have decent laboratories? Let me save that for another blog entry.) And then I have to rush to a Social Sciences class which I absolutely hate because my professor is absolute shit at being a professor, and then I have to go to a Communications class, except I got the one in Filipino because that’s the block I’m in, and I am constantly reminded of not being able to give the best outputs because I can write better in English. And then I have to go to my Natural Sciences Class (Environmental Sciences and Geology) which is actually quite fun, but the tiredness sort of ruins it.
And then I wait.
The system my parents made to work was that if we (that being my siblings and I) leave school after 4:30pm, we have to go directly to our mom’s office to go home when she does. It’s quite a way to save on fuel expenses, and quite a way to waste time. I try to do all the schoolwork I can do there, but I can never seem to concentrate because I can’t write properly without a decent table (I am only given a seat) and I can’t actually focus on something when my mom’s clients and coworkers come around every now and then to try to make small talk with me, or if not, with my mother. It’s very distracting.
The wait usually lasts for about an hour or an hour and a half.
And then the ride home begins. Which lasts for around an hour, or if we’re lucky, just half an hour.
And then I have to do schoolwork and all of that crap and then I remember that I hate my Wednesday class (but I don’t actually hate Wednesdays because I’m free the whole afternoon of that) and then I get annoyed at everything and everyone and just decide to go to bed.
Tuesdays suck. There is nothing at all interesting in it. I mean, like I said, Wednesdays are my free days. And Supernatural is on on Wednesdays. Can’t hate that. Thursdays, well, we all love Fridays, so the “Tomorrow is Friday!” feeling is great and most certainly welcome. And, well, Friday? I don’t even have to say anything about Fridays. Saturdays and Sundays are really fun most of the time because we don’t have school (most of the time). I see why people hate Mondays, but it’s a Monday! It’s the start of the week (which is probably why people hate it in the first place)! At least it’s something. And then there comes another Tuesday and we don’t have anything to look forward to and everything sucks and I hate it.
Just wanted to get that out. I always get the urge to murder something when it’s a Tuesday.
But now I have to go study for an exam tomorrow.
Went to see Wicked today.
I fell in love with the set so easily that it worried me a little.
The thing I love about musicals and theater plays is that it shows such beauty, that it takes over your whole being for just a couple of hours and holds you glued to your seat until the curtain call. I will never grow tired of the overwhelming sensation of seeing and hearing everything that is beautiful that goes on in a single stage.
It is where you see talent and passion at work, and where dreams awaken and come to life in every line said and every note sung.
I actually cried multiple times. In different scenes. It was brilliant and fantastic and I don’t even know what to say anymore.
Best musical ever.
The thing about high school friends is that you are always so sure that you love them (and you always will, somehow), but you’re not sure if they still love you back. They probably do, but you’re never certain.
Sometimes all it takes is a look that isn’t as friendly as before – it could even be a miscalculated one – the look might not even be directed at you for all you know. A hug too awkward or the lack of eye contact usually triggers the confusion in addition to that.
It’s so easy to fall into an awkward situation when people don’t see each other for a while and meet up again. It’s odd, because the closeness you felt with your friends during your last school day or your graduation seemed to disappear when you saw each other again two weeks into college. Losing contact for a few weeks or a couple of months, whether it be meeting up personally or talking via texting or the internet, inevitably happens, and causes a small wrinkle on a perfectly ironed friendship.
Walking into a room full of your friends from high school (ones that you haven’t seen in a long time) is one of the most slightly terrifying things ever. You never know who to approach first, and how to approach whoever you decide to approach first. You never know who to sit next to (personally, I just wait for everyone to sit down and take the last seat left empty, unless someone insists I sit next to them). You never know what to say after the usual, “How are you? I missed you,” and it stays awkward, until someone starts an actual conversation that gets the group going.
In the span of the how-do-you-dos and the fun conversation is the extremely awkward and uncomfortable feeling that settles around the group. It is felt but not spoken of. The thing is that that air of uncertainty only proves that distance is like a bump in the road. It slows you down and breaks your momentum. You have to always try to avoid it. That uncomfortable feeling you get a few seconds after sitting down next to an old friend is you realizing that you should work harder to keep your friends closer, as close as possible.
You lose comfort, but you never lose the connection.
The awkwardness dies along with your doubt when people start cracking jokes and telling stories. That is usually my favorite part of a reunion night – seeing how the quiet turns into noise, and realizing that you have never been this appreciative of any kind of noise for so long. You smile upon hearing your friends argue fondly over stupid things, and you laugh upon hearing them laugh. You start remembering things that you want to share with them, things you think would interest them and make their nights a little better. Stories pour out easily, so easily that nobody even shows a hint of wanting to leave. No one glances at their watches until someone has to leave. Time decides to run, when for the first time in the long time, you wanted it to walk and take a stroll. It is sad when you leave.
But then you look forward to next time.
As you journey back home, you remind yourself to talk to your friends more and to free your Fridays to meet up with them, even just for quick hang-out sessions. You realize that the seconds you spent saying nothing, trying to settle in the lack of comfort and failing, are precious, and you never want to waste any of that again.