Words, words, words

Which of us is not aware of the cathartic power of words in a moment of extreme rage. Be they words flung at another person, or scribbled feverishly in an attempt to calm the mind, or even words from another, in a book, a magazine, a blog, a movie perhaps, which seem to so adroitly describe the rage which coils inside oneself.
Needless to say, this post is dedicated to the power of words, brought on in a mockingjay-inspired reverie.

 Now, I'm not saying it's the most well-written of books. I've read better writing styles. But Mockingjay had a powerful ending, one which struck deep. And I must say, the choice of words for that unexpected ending had a big role in making it as interesting as it was.

I love dramatic sentences. And the use of a word in an unexpectedly different way. There's just something about the shape of a certain word, the way it fits a particular situation, the myriad ways in which it can be expressed, which make words something much more than just a means of expression.

Here, have some amateur photography.

All the proof you need of the fact that I'm a proud bibliophile.

And a self-proclaimed writer.

  

Sepia is quite beautiful, is it not? I can see this post has degenerated from a tribute to words, to a mere ramble about some of my idiosyncrasies. But then again, that's what blogging is about, yes? With the only difference being, some bloggers ramble much more eloquently than others and have more interesting lives to ramble about. Alas, for an ordinary life.

The idiocies of men

This is not a feminist post. I'm all for women's rights, because, hell, I don't want to be stuck at home, but I can't get myself all impassioned over it. This is just a rave brought on by desperate housewives. I'm not a fan but I've seen some episodes. And in the last one I saw, I HATED TOM. yes, I gave in to capitals. Asshole leaves his wife for another woman, then doesn't divorce wife, effectively preventing her from moving on, and when his 'lover' hands over the divorce papers to his wife, now ex-wife, he gets angry and says he still cares about the wife. Well, too bad mr. want-every-woman, you gotta choose between the two. But oh no, he must be selfish and dangle them both along. Keep one in case the other ditches him. MEN -_-

10% doctor

With a total of 10 semesters over 5 years, I figure one semester done should make me 10 percent of a doctor, right? Right.
After starting at university again I've realized I need lots of fancy quotes around me to excuse my recently acquired antisocial tendencies. Not to mention, they still haven't shown us any dead bodies. With all the deaths in Karachi, you'd think they'd be able to get their hands on a few cadavers for us, but no. Still not showing us the morbidness which med schools are famous for.

I'M BACK

Hey all,
So after a hiatus of over a year I am back again to start adding inane details about my life to the already overcrowded world of the interwebz. But that's freedom, right?
 Moving on, why have I been away so long and what have I been doing? Mundane questions. Suffice it to say, I've changed from a multitude of incidents. And I like the new me.
Why am I back? Well, I've recently started reading a number of blogs and I've been toying with the idea of restarting my blog. The real pushing factor came from a class fellow's blog, which I unexpectedly stumbled across and which kind of fascinated me. So now, I is back.
What is happening now? I'm in med school, I'm having fun and I'm finding out I have hitherto unsuspected depths of depravity in my soul.
Who do I think will read this? I shall have to wait for the comments for that one.
Until then, bless ye who read this

Time Travelling

So for those of you who don't know nothing about my comic craze, allow me to explain. I love drawing. I have these dreams of becoming a comic artist someday. And NO, I am not one of the sad creatures who wanted to study fine arts but instead are being forced into the murky world of science by the parental body. I simply find the idea of being a doctor plus part-time comic artist, fascinating. So enjoy the bizarre humour of my comics.

Cliches

So yea, we're all taught to frown upon cliches and avoid them at all costs. And nothing is more annoying then having cliched versions of "i told you so!" when you've just flunked a university entrance exam.

But sometimes they're so damn true. Take this for instance,

Grief comes in 5 stages: denial, anger, depression, regret, acceptance.

DENIAL: NO! NO! NO! HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN TO ME! I'M SUPPOSED TO ME SMART! HOW CAN THEY FAIL ME BY 4% *tosses letter aside* this not happening! this is not happening! *starts tearing at hair quite literally*

ANGER: oh so you've rejected me huh? I'll be the best fucking doctor in asia one day and then when you beg me to come work for you I'll spit in your faces! HAH! I'm better then this! I can do so much better! *has no idea what the hell to do* 

DEPRESSION: *lolling around in bed* i wanna diiiiiiiiiiie! *sends emo suicidal text to friend who freaks out and starts texting back like crazy* i was born to loooose! why do people like me exist! *forgets about the exam being held next day*

REGRET: *sits crying at kitchen table in front of mommy* MY FAULT! MY FAULT! I should've worked harder! why didn't i work harder! why did i waste so much time on the computer! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME! *bangs down fist hard enough to spray self and mommy with mashed potato bits* I'll never feel like this again! I'll always work hard for what I want!

ACCEPTANCE: will blog about it when it comes -_-


Currently, I'm still hovering between no 3 and 4 with random bursts of hysterical-laughter induced optimism thrown in.

A Japanese dream come true

This incident actually happened quite a while ago, but I thought it worth blogging about since I have nothing else to blog about at present (not writing about drones yet). So the other day I went to the super market to get some stuff. And this was one of those big, fancy markets where all the foreigners come too. I'm standing in front of the chocolates rack and suddenly all these Asians come outta nowhere, like 7 or 8 of em. I almost swooned there and then (LOVE the far east). So anyway, they're standing in front of the racks, and I'm like "Uh excuse me" No response. "EXCUSE ME" NO RESPONSE. Then I say, "Sumimasen?" (excuse me in Japanese). ALL of them turned around to look at me with these wide eyes and shocked expressions. One minute nobody's paying any attention to me, next minute they're gaping at me. Instead of making small talk (THEY'RE ASIANS. HOW COULD I MISS OUT ON THAT OPPORTUNITY), I grabbed the chocolates I wanted and walked away, highly confused by their gaping. 

Such an ultimately spontaneous experience. I will never forget the sheer epicness of that encounter. Ever. Not even when I'm cruising through the sea of Japan on my private yacht.