Home Sweet Home?

And so it starts, this period of self denial (of all things we can and should be doing, eating, playing) for a delayed gratification of scoring well on the National Board Exams. Sixteen months of island torture (of more self denial) had boiled down to this the penultimate moment of my pathetic existence as a medical student. Now is the challenge to try to remember EVERYTHING I was taught and learn the things I never learnt on Survivor, Dominica. By the end of it, I hope I will be able to tell my head from my ass.

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Phoenix looks a little strange after this long sabatical from the cacti I hate to love and the dry desert winds that blow dust in my eyes so that if someone were to look at the opportune moment, they would think I was crying in the joy of returning "home". And, where did all these damn Asians come from? Seems like everywhere I looked, we seemed to have quadrupled in quantity. Was there some sort of mass refugee exodus I wasn't aware of? Or, worse, am I back in Dominica?!
All I can say is this: I was here first and I will start dog pissing on everything in sight to stake a claim on my territory.

As illusive as the Higgins Boson

Sometimes situations get the better of us and the monster within surfaces and rears its ugly head, hissing, spitting and biting, breathing the fire of emotions that are all too human. Yet, we spend our whole lives trying to suppress this ugliness that makes your mother ashamed she had actually harbored a fugitive for 9 months. The end of it is this; the realization that we cannot do without other human beings; we crave the contact; the mere touch; the innocent comments; the insidious inflections; the sideway glances; all things frustrating and good that makes humans human. So, we continue to suppress that devil within and struggle to belong and for a while, we succeed.....up till the time that rare situation occurs when we have to rear that ugly head again.

The path up the straight and narrow is rocky and as illusive as the Higgins Boson and when the theoretical physicists do finally prove its existence, it will prove the existence of God and perhaps make sense of all this struggle.

Take me to the Stars

And with Peter Jennings dies the true spirit of Journalism as it was meant to be.

Taebo my ass, please

Ok, so the days of feeling like a blob of Smuckers jelly are over for me. I, the master of hand-eye-co ordination, have invested some penny in a Taebo video that involves some arm punches and kickboxing and fancy leg moves.

But you wonder how it is that the people on those videos always look so 'together' and 'with it', how their right legs don't get in the way of their left and their boxing fists are at the level of their chins and not their gut. I wondered that too. And nothing seems to blob or teeter toter in those videos like the backs of my upper arms and my Cubansloveit gut. I don't even want to mention what happens to my ass.

So here it goes....left foot forward, right foot back, cross, cross, right punch, left under swing and left foot forward, right foot back.....

But wait a minute.....the video people are on the opposite side and left foot isn't doing what its supposed to and right punch is left under swing and left foot is up in the air and jiggle, jiggle underarms and punch! I trip and hit myself in the jaw.

So I crawl over to the TV and hit stop/eject and put in the Abs video. Maybe I would have better luck if I were stationary.
Half way into the program, I am crying and they want me to lift my upper body off the floor with my jelly, Cubansloveit gut, bend forward, spread my legs and touch the floor?! No f***king way.

Today, something's tickling my throat and I cough but it stops in the middle of it as the jelly gut says: "Screw you, bitch".