I AM NOT DEAD HO HO.

It is disgraceful, how I have barely touched the internet this holiday, how I have shamelessly neglected A and B and to some extent, Debbie Lee (WHERE IS MY KIMCHEE ANYWAY), how I have spent more time comatose on the couch than with precious books, and mainly, how I stupidly and lifelessly spent the entire of my eight-week holiday working full office hours.

I would have liked more time to cuddle my books, and run to the Library every two days. More time to stay at home watching rubbish day-time telly. More time reading the papers to rid myself of the annoying tendency to write in British slang. More time to perform wifely duties with Meow Meow and let him fondle my breast. And generally, more time to be idle, to be bored, to be so lethargic I actually feel tired because of my 12 hours of sleep.

But really really, all of it is over and I am glad to have worked. Especially alone (mostly) at the hospital, because it rather honed my inter-personal skills, and redeveloped my ability to speak Mandarin (ha. ha.), together with useful phrases of dialects (undoubtedly of utmost importance in the appreciation of Chinese Culture). I shall rather miss my therapists, who at the end of the day, I am very glad to have had, even the one who had bad stress management and on many occasions (I would think) reprimanded me rather unnecessarily.

And most of all, my experience in the hospital has inappropriately made me think of kinky sex with kinky use of hospital machines. You know, with the Dinamap and the Oxymeter and whatnot, the kinky doctor tracking his sexual partner's blood pressure/heart rate/SPO2 in the throes of passion. At the peak of carnal activitiy, when all the blood rushes to a certain region rather than the brain, when the human mechanism temporarily loses memory of any of its functions that does not include the big S-E-X, one breathes all too shallowly and quickly, heart pumping blood with increasingly short intervals. Oxygen level dips, heart rate soars. All machine readings fail to fall into the acceptable range, and the loud ominous alarms go off, adding a nice cinematic tone to the entire process. That, and interesting dialogue with innuendos regarding intubation.

Other than that, I shall miss binging at the Kopitiam everyday, meeting interesting patients, finding Dinamaps around the wards, alternatively dreading and looking forward to following a certain therapist, glaring/staring at young House Officers who are really quite crazy, NOT meeting Karen Er for lunch ha ha, and all my therapists, because I wouldn't want to have been placed anywhere else, for rather obvious reasons. Ho. Ho.

After four years of being trapped in one system, I am glad to have interacted this much with people who don't speak such perfect English and are absolutely crap at Microsoft PowerPoint. I'd like to think that it has eroded at least a little bit of my intellectual snobbery, an inevitable byproduct of being part of the so-called elites in the Singapore education system.

Well last day of this year blah blah, I was really meaning to talk about interesting books and Chinese movies and then sum up the year, in the process producing my longest post to date to make up for more than a month of silence. But the sun is burning like a very big, very hot star, and I seem to be trying to make up for lost time in the area of lethargy, so another day, another year, I suppose.