Just got picked up on the highway today. I’m serious. This hot guy in a black Jeep Wrangler kept pulling in front of me and then moved to the left lane and kept his speed so that I could catch up to him. At first I was ignoring it, but after three times of going back and forth in a stupid shuffle-doo that probably pissed off a lot of other drivers, I waved at him. Then he pointed at his blackberry and pointed at me and held his phone to his ear. I knew what he meant but acted stupid. I waved my iPhone at him and sped away. He tailed me and wiggled his blackberry again. So I gave him my ring finger. At first he was shocked—- thinking it was my middle finger. Realizing that my wedding band isn’t quite visible, I held up all my fingers and used my right hand to point at my ring (= zero hand at the steering wheel.). He got it and said something like "aaah…". I blew him a kiss and sped off…

there’s a small chance I won’t be going to school this semester / this year. Looks like I misinterpreted certain info and let’s just say I might have to shell out 60K for this f-in degree. I already have a very generous sponsor (read: my husband) who’s willing to invest his trust fund on me—assuming I’ll be able to make better annual rate of return than what he’s currently getting in the money market…

But yeah. No. It just feels wrong. I feel like I don’t deserve this. That these two years will turn out to be a mistake, a bad investment. And I don’t want to screw us over that way.

I know that the usefulness and profitability of this degree ultimately depend on how well I market it, use it, sell it, etc. Still, I’m just not the most optimistic person on earth right now. I keep telling myself: I didn’t even get a nice, well-paying job after graduating from college. Do I seriously expect the scenario to be different after I graduate from this master’s program?

If only my current self is able to read the first sentence of the previous paragraph and sincerely believes it. Urgh.

We’ll see…

Totally unrelated: I ruined my housemate’s doggie bowl (for his dog) by using it as a container to burn cards and letters from my exes. So drama. For no reason. 

Argggg. I don’t like this self-doubting person I’ve become…

Sleepy but sleepless, because:

1. worried I might have accidentally poisoned him with the wild mushroom I picked with L last week. The mushroom have passed L’s parents’ inspection (who’re mushroom experts by virtue of being Russian), still I doubt their edibility. Am determined to not sleep so I can check his breathing every hour from now until tomorrow morning.

2. trying to find a cheap touring bike. Walking back and forth from the apartment to downtown/campus is just so not feasible once school starts.

3. can’t stop thinking about his family. His dad just got l-off and his mom isn’t terribly happy about the fact that her husband just got l-off and seems to accuse him of being an incompetent twat. It’s worrisome. Not only we’re worried about the monetary aspect of the situation, we’re not used to seeing them being so emotionally distant from each other.

4. am filled with morbid thoughts, in a funny, calming way. We just came back from his uncle’s funeral, who’d been suffering from cancer for a couple of years. For him, it’s probably a respite. But for his loved ones, it’s a tragedy. I suppose dying is just never easy for the ones left behind.  I know eventually I will suffer the same fate—having to watch people close to me leave this world, one by one. But, that’s life.

It’s weird. I still remember the time in college when I didn’t fear death because there wasn’t anything particularly good going on in my life. Nothing to lose, nothing to fear. But, even now, when everything is going so well and I have so many wonderful things I’d hate to leave behind, I still don’t fear death. Although, it’s probably because—as I say—dying is easy, being left behind isn’t.

I’m not worrying. I figure I’ll make the choice when it’s finally time to decide. But my mind warned me that this was the same mistake I made the last time: keeping all the doors open instead of focusing on one.

This time I’m going to make a compromise. I’m keeping only three doors opened:

1. academia. (pro: 3 months holiday per year, cons: stuck teaching bratty undergrads and doing research)

2. physician  (pro: feeling useful every single day, cons: feeling defeated and useless every single day)

3. international healthcare consulting/project manager (pro: traveling opportunity, cons: too much traveling, how am i supposed to settle down)

The manic side of me thinks I should make the three a unity in form of career progression: 3 while I still have the energy/curiosity/drive, then 2 as I part-time it with building a family, and 1 as I retire. Sounds like a good plan??

Not really. My MIL calculated how old I’d be by the time I finish med sch: 40.

Fuck, I do not want to fight with my kids over dirty laundry and unmade bed when I’m fifty-something. But then again, she did it, so why can’t I.

And the normalcy! It makes me slightly nauseous. Am I not supposed to be a creative genius who comes up with groundbreaking **(BLANK)** . yeah Einstein, don’t call yourself a genius until you fill in the blank. But you know that I tried, and I tried, and I tried,... and I’m still trying.

When we confirmed that she was the one gunned down, I attempted to figure out the kind of emotion I needed to feel. I couldn’t take the lead from An – because he felt nothing. She was too brief a fling to ever form any real connection. Honestly, I felt nothing but a morbid curiosity to know what happened. It seemed improper for me to grieve, and at the same time it seemed so insensitive to not feel the tiniest sliver of sadness. She was my friend’s buddy. She was someone I knew. We went to the same school. Aren’t we supposed to share common humanity?

Yet, despite my inability to feel the loss, I haven’t been my normal self since I heard the news. I couldn’t sleep. I’m distracted all the time. I can’t do my work without checking seven news sources simultaneously for the latest news. And the worse thing is: I feel ashamed to tell An that I’m affected by her death. There’s no good reason why I should be affected by her death. I initially thought that the more I learnt about her, the easier it would be for me to grieve and therefore, archive this bit of news as another young life lost to stupid, senseless violence. So I stayed up the whole night reading her old blog, googling her last name, figuring out who her friends and families are, what kind of person she is (beyond the stories that An told me about her). But my fact-finding mission only turned me into a nosy acquaintance who truly didn’t know her when she was still alive and therefore, why would I feel anything now that she’s dead?

"Ngga tau diri… Gue tuh ngga tau diri banget sih!"

I tried explaining to Andrew what "ngga tau diri" means. Insolent? Audacious? Unashamed? I can’t find the right word for it. It’s a phrase that describes someone who doesn’t know his/her place. He sneered at my definition. "Who on earth defines your place in society?"

I’ll tell you who defines your place in society. Money. Moola. Dinero.

We know that you should never spend above your means. So according to that wise adage, poor people like me should not apply to school they can’t afford. I had two full minutes of euphoria before the question of "How am I gonna pay for this shiiiiit????" starts hanging over my head. I’m too late to apply for any kinds of scholarships. I can’t apply for fin-aid because my PR-ship is still in process. I’m fucking screwed. And for the past two days, I feel like an insolent bastard – as we are figuring out how to pay for school. This would be the first time in twelve years that I’ve ever had to pay for school. Living with someone who’s been privileged enough to have his college & trust fund all set up by the time he was fifteen often makes me forget that our circumstances are worlds apart. If not for his encouragement, I would’ve never applied to this school – knowing well I can’t afford it. I’m toying with the idea of rejecting the offer (haha. after all these brouhaha. what irony) because I loathe to have to take a loan (especially in this kind of credit market). 

Why did I even apply to this school? Ngga tau diri banget! What audacity! (Not to be corny: but maybe, ... audacity of hope??).

We think this is a valuable investment. We’ve confirmed that a B.A. from a so-so university is worth shit. Finally I’ve gotten one foot in the door – a door that will open so many other doors for me. 

Meanwhile the memory of the past haunts me. My adolescent self staring at the floor, trying to block out the conversation my mother is having with these relatives – asking them to loan us money to pay for my sister’s medical school. The shame. the shame the shame. No offense to my sister, who’s an excellent doctor and I’m glad she’s thick-skinned enough to go through that and did her medical school. 

While I’m gonna shut the fuck up, stop complaining about my impoverished past (boohoo. get over it already) and get my shit together.

The good news didn’t come as a joyful surprise, more like an unintrusive period at the end of a sentence. I should be happy because my hardwork (what hardwork?) paid off. Despite my lack of experience, I was deemed competent to enter the program. But I’m not "happy". I was sad and upset and angry before this, because I felt like I’ve been denied something that is rightfully mine. Of course that’s such an arrogant statement. What gives me the right to be IN the program? It’s not like I’m special. But I can’t deny that that’s how I feel, that I feel indifferent (instead of ecstatic).

I look at my future classmates – some of whom are going straight from college – and marvel at their abilities to know that this is what they want to do in life. Such conviction coming from people who aren’t even old enough to order drinks. I suppose this is why experience matters. So that you’re able to say "been there, seen & smell the shit, done that—this is what I want". That’s what summer internships are for.

I’m jealous at these people who’re unwavering about what they want to do in life. Who knew from the beginning how to plan their college careers, which internships to score, which classes to take. Meanwhile, I meandered (almost in a circle) about my way only to saunter into this field hoping that this is the one that’ll be able to keep my interest. 

Don’t you want this degree then?

Hell yes, I want it. Because as I see it right now, this is the best route for me to take , just to be able to enter the fucking field. Every other entry-level job in this field requires experience. The ones that don’t are administrative. How many years do I have to waste filing records before I can move up? I did wish I had done internships in public health in college,  but hang on a second …. there IS a reason why the only internships I applied to are either research or investment banks, because they’re the ones that fucking PAY! The non-profits, ... you can just forget about it. They offer college credits. Yeah,.. college credits my ass – like I need more extra college credits (I graduated with seven extra credits = seven classes extra). the ones that pay, offer stipend that I promise you , won’t cover five square foot in the city. Dru always talks about his high-performing cousin who went to Uganda or Tanzania after college to work in a health clinic for a year before going to med school. Ahem..ahem… yes, and I wish I had the money to go to India for a medical mission when someone offered me to go in sophomore year. What’s that? WHO internship. Yes of course I’d like to go, except that – how am I gonna pay for the travel cost and the cost of living in geneva. There’s a reason why I only went back to Indonesia once in my entire college career.

I keep asking myself if I’m making all these excuses up. If I’m the fucking lazy one who’s unable to pick and choose what’s good for herself, and always end up in this kind of dead-end situation. Yes, I realize I did make a mistake in my first two years in college.

Instead of spending my hard-earned money on worthwhile summer internship, I spent it on shuttling back and forth between Middletown and Toronto, vacationing in Vancouver and Vegas, just to please the stupid fucking ex who has kindly left a huge emotional scar on me. 

Instead of planning ahead, I told myself: "It’s liberal arts college. Explore! Explore! Explore!". 

argh. this is tiring. no point mourning what’s past anyway. 

It’s difficult to live when you’re surrounded by this fog of uncertainty. I’m moody, I’m easily pissed off, I’m on edge every minute of the day (to the point that I’m having stiff neck almost every other day). I don’t really want to talk to people/ socialize because I feel like a fucking loser. psth…

Anyway: two unrelated things.

1. Favorite track of the week: Laura Marling "Ghosts". Great voice, great lyrics, interesting chord progression in the middle. And, she’s only nineteen!!

2. Read an article in NYTimes yesterday on FDA lowering age limit for Plan B. Starting now, anyone above the age of 17 can get Plan B (without parents’ approval or prescription (which necessitates doctor’s visit)). What I find interesting from the article is that, until now there’s no data supporting the claim that morning-after pill reduces the number of unplanned pregnancies or the number of abortion. 

 Disclaimer: I haven’t done any fact-checking and am actually using this blog to look for research ideas. Feedbacks are welcome. I do intent to do a more thorough analysis of the data available to back up my claims. And if there’s no data available, even better. That means I (potentially) will have a thesis dissertation.

I have a couple guesses as to why the morning-after pill is seemingly ineffective as a public health measure. Number one: It’s pretty expensive without insurance (I think it’s about 50 bucks in the pharmacy. It’s probably cheaper through Planned Parenthood / school’s dispensary). Currently there are only 25 states that require insurance plans that cover birth control, including emergency contraception (EC). Out of these 25 states, several states exclude EC from the requirement. Also, note that it says insurance plans, not providers. That means, the insurance company might have insurance plans that cover birth controls, but these plans are more expensive than the basic ones. That means, if you have a basic insurance policy or if your insurance is employment-based, there’s a chance that your insurance plan only covers the most basic of birth control or none at all. Furthermore, I won’t be surprised if the same segment of the population who can’t afford health insurance is the same segment that contributes the most to the unplanned pregnancies numbers.

Number two: lack of understanding about emergency contraception.
With the federally-funded, abstinence-only sex education, you can bet your bottom dollar there’s no mention of EC (fun-fact: US$3.6 billion allocated for this f* program. Guess how many condoms that much money can buy…). But, even in sex-ed classes that teaches contraception, EC is often not mentioned, because there’s a widespread misconception that equates EC to RU-486 (which is the so-called ‘abortion pill’). And if someone happens to wander here while looking for the answer: NO, Plan-B is not considered an abortifacient because it acts before the implantation.

Anyway, if we’re really intent on cutting the number of unplanned pregnancies in this country, here’s an idea: make birth-control more easily accessible to women—- by making some of them over-the-counter and by making them cheaper! But that’s for another entry.

Till then, remember that abstinence-only education does not work. 

Just had a root canal on one of my molars and half of my face is numb. it feels like i have a secret pouch on my left cheek where i store grains and what-nots.

I love my dentist. He’s so metrosexual and funny. While we’re waiting for the novocaine to work, he showed me the pair of shoes he just ordered online and showed me another pair (ladies’ style) that he thought he should buy for his wife. I would’ve thought he’s gay if not for the second part of my previous sentence. As he began to drill on my tooth, he asked if I was alright. I wanted to give a thumbs-up, but my thumb got caught under the bib, and it looked like I had a mini-erection. My dentist said, "Well, at least I know you’re a girl—if not I would’ve thought you’re thinking naughty thoughts". I wanted to laugh so badly but it’s hard to when half of your face is completely numb and your mouth was stretched open with a pair of metal extender.

Another reason why I love him is because he doesn’t make me feel like a sinner. You know how your dentist/hygienist always makes you feel bad for not brushing religiously/ not flossing / eating too much sweets. Well, my current dentist told me that my pathetic teeth are "okay" and that I’m allowed that one rotten molar. 

It’s seriously been a really long time since I visited a dentist (7-8 years ago). Gosh, it’s fucking expensive – even with insurance. I’m spending 1000 bucks for the root canal+filling+crown. And there goes my spending limit for the whole fucking year. So I’ve got to wait 6 months before dealing with all my wisdom teeth that are so freaking wise they all decided to grow sideways.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more painkillers to take… 

All’s well – albeit being on the slow side.

I quit my job last week. It was liberating and stressful at the same time. It’s awesome to not have the commute anymore and to be able to set my own schedule (very important if you’re slightly ADD like me), but the change of pace feels very very weird. Granted that I never worked the full 8 hours at work anyway, it’s weird to be able to do your work in bed and blast the room with my fave work music.

Last week I also found out my grad sch status. I got rejected from the em-bee-ay program (expected), which made me feel depressed for two full days. We were expecting that result because 1)I don’t have enough work experience and 2) I applied for financial aid. In light of the recession and crashing endowment, the school has decided to prioritize full-paying students. Also, they’re not particularly interested in a B.A. with one year of irrelevant work experience. For noobs like me, they have a special program that accepts application from college seniors. So pretty much I’m in that purgatory zone where I’m too old for the special program and too young for the normal program. Oh well… Disappointed but also glad I don’t have to figure out how to find $140K to pay for school.

Two days after the rejection letter, I decided to call the admissions office for the public health program I applied to. I was told that there’s no decision on my file – which was very strange. After a couple of nerve-wrecking hours, the director of admissions called and told me I’m waitlisted. I nearly cried. She told me that I’m a very strong candidate with good scores, good academic records, excellent recommendation, and she’s convinced I’ll do well in the program, BUT… she can’t justify straight acceptance because I lack the experience in the field. That’s why she’s putting off making a decision on my file, because it’s "very tricky".

Very tricky my ass. WTF! I read all these grad sch forums and see people with much lower scores than mine and less than 1 yr experience getting into all the top programs (my program included). WTFH?

Anyway, i don’t have the energy to be angry anymore. I’m just disappointed because I expect these smart people to know that even though i don’t have a direct experience in the field, my work ethics and my recommendations speak volumes to my ability to do well in any fucking fields. I’ve chosen to switch to this field because I want to make a difference and I’ve extensively spoken about my motivation in my essays. But, fuck my heartfelt 1000-words essay. Experience is the currency in this game of admissions and I have none.

Of course, the fact that I only applied to one school doesn’t help either. Ngeh… whatever… Right now I’m just keeping my fingers crossed and hope for the best.

But yeah, last week was extremely trying. Scratch that… the past eight months after graduation have been very very trying. And I’m speaking not just for myself, but for my fellow ‘08. After being sheltered in the ivory tower for four years, we’re set free in the real world only to discover the crushing truth that our $160K B.A. worth shit. I know I haven’t been the model student, but I did respectably. In fact, very well in some aspects. Yet, I’m reduced to a brainless monkey who does shitwork.

We watched Adventureland last night and empathized fully with the main character who couldn’t get a decent job out of college and had to work a menial, mindless one in an amusement park. There was one scene when he was on the phone telling his prospective employer that he had "never driven an ashphalt mixer per se. But did once drive my friend’s van to Wisconsin on a pretty lengthy road trip." The person on the other line hung up on him. I’m not sure which parts of the sentence offended the prospective employer more: "per se" or "road trip". When James (the main character) bemoaned : "What am I supposed to do. I’m not even qualified to do manual labor," I want to get up from my chair and scream: "I feel you, man!!"

I don’t think that my life right now is as good as it gets. I think there’s still a lot ahead of me and as much as I’d like to give up and be happy with mediocrity (manage expectation thus prevent future disappointment), I’m just not wired that way. So yeah, I’m still climbing to the top but I do expect to fall plenty of times.