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Doctor Who has taken over my brain, I'm afraid. No hope for it really.
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It's already the second week of summer vacation and I haven't had time to write even a single sentence of fic. I've been trying to look for a job, and the only ones that I think might accept me are all the way in Quezon city, an hour away even by train. It's all right, though. Like Sheldon of the Big Bang Theory, I like trains. Or at least I've learned to like them.

Things have been good. I'm actually pretty happy.
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Murder's only fun in mysteries. Right now, with three robbery-murders in the area, my mom and my brother are extremely tense. We live in a neighborhood that usually has an extremely low crime rate. Now people believe there's a crime syndicate operating, and it's terrible. We chose this place because it was quiet. Now my mom is having some trees near the sliding doors cut down, and we're locking the doors even in broad daylight, which was never necessary before. What's happening to the world? Even I'm getting a bit scared.
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I didn't believe them when they said med school would de-personalize me. Mostly because I'm used to hard work, and mostly because, when I choose not to work hard, I get by thanks to some inherited brains (no credit to me, only to my maker) and luck. So I knew there would be sleepless nights, and I knew that it would be more difficult than college.

I just didn't expect the word "de-personalize" to have so literal a meaning. I feel like all those parts of my personality that I knew of before--my quite strict moral compass, my liking of schedules and order, my compassion, my ready recognition of the things I do wrong, my love of punctuality, my distaste for laziness in others and in myself--are either nonexistent now, or have been buried somewhere I cannot find them. It's like, maybe one day you snap at a classmate of yours, or your roommate. And you think, "No, I'm not normally like this, it's just that I'm so stressed." But since I am now always stressed, in a variety of levels and because of a variety of reasons, I can't distinguish, anymore, what I'm like when I'm stressed and when I'm not stressed. I no longer know what my baseline personality is, and most of the time, I don't know what I want from life. I can't even think of Heaven.

There are weekly exams. And the weekly exams have become the end point, the goal of my life for the moment; when Friday morning, the time of the weekly exam, comes around, there is some blessed relief, and then I waste the weekend doing stupid and useless things, telling myself I needed to detoxify. Monday, and another module, comes, and the rest of the week is spent studying for yet another Friday exam--and the cycle repeats itself, over and over.

I don't know who I am anymore. It feels like I spend half of the time studying, scrambling after stray bits of knowledge and trying to stuff them into my resistant and impermeable brain, and the other half chasing after pleasure, chasing after whatever can make me feel better about failure and the small disappointments of each day; one half workaholic, one half hedonist. I've never been either, and both types repulse me. I don't know who this person is.
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I panicked when I realized how easily discoverable my lj is. Comment to be added.
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2009: I got into the one medical school I wanted, began seriously thinking about my vocation, made some excellent resolutions that I did carry out and intend to keep on doing for this new year. I wrote a few good stories (and scrapped the rest) and made new friends for keeps.

Never mind that I lost my voice, was suicidal about it for a while, entered new depths of depression, had some horrific news that I'm still reeling about, ventured out into the dating scene then hibernated again, gained about twenty pounds and generally was miserable for the first year of med school. At the end of the day all that matters is that I can look myself and my God in the mirror, which is more than I could have said for myself in years past. Here's to you, 2010, and to the remaining four years of med school.
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I've been coughing. A little less than ten times since the surgery.

Total vocal rest--from speaking, whispering, sneezing, coughing, laughing, etc--is CRITICAL for the first few days.

And I can't even cry to express how much this frustrates and hurts and scares me, because it will just make the phlegm grow worse--my coughing more frequent--the damage even greater. Am I never going to be rid of this hell when it comes to my voice? Will I always, always be having problems--will it be a lifetime cross? I'm working on my docility, but this is so, so hard.
iz back home. And is on total voice rest for the next few weeks--alas, I'm even afraid to cough. We'll know how the surgery turned out in a few months.

Much love to flist who prayed for me.
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Tomorrow I will be going to the hospital. I will be admitted for a vocal cord operation--excision of a cyst on the right anterior third of my vocal folds, through direct laryngoscopy. If that doesn't mean anything to you, THIS SITE is a good introduction and has a cool less-than-one-minute video. My surgery is actually really cool...

...but damn scary. I've been preparing myself the whole day, in work and prayer, for it. Moreover, I will have to be on total voice rest for a long, long time--it can be anything from one to six months depending on the size of the cyst when they get in there.

I'll be in the hospital until the 29th. St. Blaise, I am going to need you very much in the next few days.
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What do you do when you find that one of your stories has been translated into Italian then put up for anyone's consumption in a foreign-language website? And you authorized none of this and would like to take down the story?
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