Cruelty. My passion.

I've never come up with this conclusion but tonight, I have to insist - tennis is a cruel game.

Don't get me wrong. I love tennis. I love its mechanics and the physiology of how your core muscles generate that power (not the lateral epicondyle getting repetitive injury, btw). I admire that crisp forehand so accurate and so strong. That angle of perfection. It is all physics embedded into tennis, trust me - and I must admit I am not the biggest fan of physics.

But tennis is just so cruel.

I haven't followed tennis properly due to work commitment (hello, I am going for my 'R', no time, okay) but tonight, I managed to catch the Isner-Federer finals in Indian Wells. I remember that Indian Wells four years or so ago when Federer lost his SF to Mardy Fish and I flight bound to KL. I had angina all the way back to KL it was not funny at all.

But this year, he wins it against the giant Isner. It was a tight first set which he squandered a few set points before finally closing it on tie-breaker. You would think John Isner is on fire after beating the world number one Novak Djokovic. I do think we have to give some credit to him. After all, Djoker is still doing very well on the tour.

The second set showed some flaws when Federer broke Isner and finally consolidated his win - his fourth Indian Wells title. Whilst the tournament brags about the USD1 million check, the highest so far in the Californian desert's history, my thoughts went back to John Isner.

We remember John as the dude who played the longest match in history and this piece of 'history' took place in 2010 - I was actually there on Tuesday when the match started. It did not end until Thursday. Isner won it (correct me if I'm wrong). It must have been a hell of pain for his opponent that time, Mahut. But today, Isner was at the losing end. To have come so far (read: beating world number one), he lost it at the last minute to a former champ - Roger Federer himself. I could not help but feel sorry for Isner. It must have been really painful.

That brings me back to my main point - tennis is a cruel game. You know at the end of the day, there will only be one winner. No matter how good both players are, you are just going to get eliminated if you're not the winner. There is no consolation prize. Isner may have gotten USD500k prize money, but his name would not be remembered because at the end of the day, despite beating Djoker, he still did not win the tournament. It is so cruel because one can't help but be sorry for person who did not make it. I felt that pain. This angina-like feeling was not as intense as the 2008 one but it reflected the core of the monstrosity of the game.

You just cannot have two winners.

I would be bawling my eyes out if I were Isner. As much as I root for Roger, this heart aches for John. So near so far, if you know what I mean. I wish John Isner all the best for his career.

As for the champion, I hope it is not just the below-Grand-Slam level sort of performance. He needs to do better in Grand Slam levels. A bit more aggression.


I am waiting for you in Wimbledon, Rog.

You got me there

I was sitting in the corner; almost drifted off in my own day dream zone when the voice startled me. I frowned a bit. I should really stop from this habit of frowning - the permanent lines would one day form on my forehead it is not a nice sight, I know that for sure. The voice sounded familiar. That accent? Verbal expressions? I could not quite describe. I managed a weak smile.

"The Underground lied to me this morning! I went to Elephant and was told there was no southbound train - not even to Kennington. I had to take the bus all the way.. ONE HOUR on the bus and at Balham, I realised there southbound trains were running!" the girl who came in to the clinic complained, before asking about management plans and what-not.

The conversation excluded me from first instant. I continued sitting with my legs crossed. I was half listening, half analysing. The style of reply? I wasn't sure. I am not an expert in accents, I have to admit.

It is amazing how I could be physically in one place but mentally in another. I daydreamed so much that I probably could be dismissed as having absence seizure. Maybe it was my brief conversation with Syl this morning. I tend to try to not think about things (or people) that end up occupying my thoughts all day all night. Not only it is unhealthy, it is a complete waste of my time.

But one simple spark and the floodgates were wide open. 

The annoying thing was that old memories got mixed up with the present reality. Well, sort of. Maybe my brain was merely tricking me. 

My brain transcript got interrupted halfway when I was asked to auscultate a patient. I smiled politely and grabbed my filthy, grey and dull stethoscope. 

Lub-fuhhhh-dupp-shhh

Lub-fuhhhh-dupp-shhh

Lub-fuhhhh-dupp-shhh.. 

"What could you hear?"

"Ummm," I probably did the umm bit 20x before I hesistated one last time and answered, "S1 and S2 heart sounds with ummm *whatiswrongwithme* systolic murmur?"

Truth was - I did not know what I heard. I really could not tell. I was just guessing because he won't have asked me to auscultate if it was just a normal S1 and S2 with no added sounds. I guessed systolic because my sister once said if you could hear a murmur, it almost must be systolic. It was a safe bet, shall we put it that way?

Of course, as expected. I was wrong - ish. It had both systolic and diastolic murmurs. HOW COULD ONE TELL!!

Don't blame the lousy tubes, blame the ears and brain for not being able to dissect and translate.

It was past noon when I got so tired with my brain multi-tasking away. He must have thought I am the worst final year student, 4 weeks away from finals ever to appear in the clinic - and probably Malaysian too.

I was let go before the clinic formally ended - but before he could impart some pertinent basic skills/knowledge a final year student well be expert in at this point of time. 

My heart just folded itself into four pieces right away. I am such a huge disappointment - to myself, to the medical school and to my nation.

"Alright? Lub dupp?"

"I really can't differentiate - I just can't make it out."

"Go to the wards and listen to all the murmurs in the world!" [paraphrased, as I can't remember the exact words - I was daydreaming again, you see]

"Thank you so much for having me today." I was full of gratitude.

"You're welcome." And with that, I closed the door behind me.

I left the clinic feeling defeated. So defeated.

The London egg hunt

Spontaneity is one of the things I enjoy. I selective choose or dis-choose things - isn't that what we do everyday? We are bias to our very core. Every single decision we make is selective. I prefer one thing to another - and I make excuse for something which I could have easily un-excuse myself for. I think this is the very reason why we are called fallen beings.

Anyway - my point really is, I had an impromptu quick egg hunt with the Daisy duck last weekend. It was good church service in the morning (another one that left me thinking about my priorities, if you want me to be perfectly honest). Whilst church service ended 1100am, most restaurants were not open until 12 noon. Some Sunday restriction opening hours thingy which I never really bothered to look up because my simple mind concluded that the opening time restriction is to protect church services.

Daisy wasn't keen on lunch so I told her I would accompany her to Chinatown anyway. On our way there, we bumped into our first 'egg' on Carnaby Street - the postbox egg! It was so cute that we started to be impromptu and found another two eggs around the corner.

We continued looking for eggs as we walked past SoHo - but none was found. Knowing that chinatown probably would not have eggs as well, we decided to make our way towards Covent Garden because I knew of this uhu egg right outside my favourite Tesco.

Before we knew it, we ended up around Charing Cross, Trafalgar Square and the rest of Covent Garden for some more impromptu hunt. We did not find many but it was quite fun and by the end of the hunt, I was squealing at every egg we discovered.

Happy days! Finals are lurking so nearby, but I think an hour out of the manic, stressful environment served some good to me.

That sweet thing

If you know me, you would know I hardly crave (nor have a preference) for sweet things.

Today, I have this curious craving towards a sweet dessert. Cake, ice-cream or something calorie-laden.

I walked past the dessert aisle in Sainsbury twice. Maybe even three times - and I came out without the sweet thing. Somehow, I just could not bring myself to buying a dessert.

I just find that this random craving is curiously strange. I have never been a huge fan of all these sweet things - they contribute to the calorie count without the full satisfaction, if you know what I mean. Do not get me wrong - I am not against them. I just would not pick a sweet thing over having a proper meal which means protein ie fish/meat. I appreciate good desserts; just that I can't afford to have these indulgences in my life since I am already overweight without having them as part of my routine diet.

Still, to have this intense craving today has remained a mystery to me.

Just what is wrong with me?

I said I'd go back

I rarely talk to my mum when I am away from home. Blame it on the time difference.. our most meaningful way of communication tend to be receiving and sending requests for her Farmville.

Mummy on a real farm, handing a rambutan to dunno-who

And yes - she plays Farmville and I don't. The mere existence of my farm is just to supply her with whatever things she needs for her populous farms.

Just now, we spoke for a good half an hour on the phone. Thank God for VoIPs, the phone call was literally free. We debated from the escalating living cost back home to my 'fussiness' when it comes to men. We usually have differing opinions - however, when we managed to come up with a conclusion - my (future, and I must insist - very near future) profession makes it rather difficult to find a spouse. Not only it is a demanding career, it is also an intimidating one, at least to the eyes of the society.

Of course, that was not all we discussed. It would sound like a desperate conversation, no? We talked about things that happened 20 years ago or so.. the childhood stories to remind ourselves why we turned out the way we turn out to be. Also, making up theories along the way.

It just somehow always ending up with the partner issue - something we strangely never discussed until one or two years ago. We never talked about boy-girl relationships.. at least not explicitly. The first time must had been few years ago when I told my mum I really liked him and I said I was pretty sure this time. It turned out to my nightmare of my life three years down the line..

Sigh. I will worry about this matter the very day I get conferred my MBBS (London).

A mobile hi

Just testing out my mobile blogging tool!

Currently in bed, under my oh-so-nice duvet.. in the dark, with just 93.3 fm radio running on the background.. oh, so lovely!

My body, by the way, is aching but nowhere near what I initially envisioned post spinning. I really can get used to this muscle aches.. they can get pretty addictive!

I just hope this mobile mode sort of blogging doesn't turn out to be too awkward. I mean, sometimes, who knows if I suddenly have this urge to churn out some thoughts.. in the middle of the night, for instance.

Gotta make use of the phone, peeps!

We choose to ignore

Or, do we?

I missed one text message earlier (phone thrown on the super comfy duvet). I almost missed the second one but I heard the faintest 'click' - my text message alert tone.

I frowned. I don't usually get text messages on the mobile.

I reached for the phone and frowned again. Why is it that the moment I declare you are out of my system, you resurface again in my realms? I shrugged to myself. Ah, no big deal. Typical, predictable and almost no sincerity at all.

I did not even bother to reply. I knew the other party would not expect a reply and truthfully, I really cannot be bothered to be affected that much anymore. I threw the phone back to the bed.

It is over, I told myself. It probably never started, anyway... lol.

Which reminded me - I finished (yet!) another book on my Kindle. It is the most random book called "Choose. Love." I recently discovered this highlighting tool on the device and had since been highlighting various quotes which I thought was worth keeping. These were some of them -



..for the first time, I learned what it’s like to love someone unconditionally (someone who isn’t my family; someone who is far from perfect; someone who could and has hurt me multiple times.)


Our unbalanced and misfit relationship unraveled because he knew how I felt about him and he didn’t try to protect my heart—he took advantage of my affection and used me because he knew that I would do anything for him. That’s not love at all.


I began to realize that all the things I would do for him, he would not do them for me. It wasn’t just that I knew we were never going to be a couple, I just became aware that I was giving more than I would ever receive. I felt as though he took me for granted. I tried to talk to him about it, because I needed to get it off my chest and thought our friendship called for such honesty, but he wouldn’t listen—he didn’t hear me—and that was the heart of the problem.