Enough already.

Enough already.

All these years I've learned to view life with a critical eye. It's served me well. I'm great at identifying problem areas that can often lead to solutions. But when it's my own life, I'm been identifying too many problems and haven't yet discovered too many solutions...

Perhaps being naturally critical is becoming a major downfall. I have yet to learn to count my blessings and enjoy life a little.

I should be glad. I should be thankful.

If I learn to just stay positive in life, I might find there to be not as many issues that require fixing, or that, even if I choose to fix so many issues, they can be fixed more enjoyably.

I am rather glad, actually, of what I have become. I just need to learn to be prouder.

I'm mighty thankful to be in a job where my natural curiosities carries me through my tasks. I'm forced to read and learn things I would happily enjoy learning anyways. I get to be extremely practical in my work. My knowledge applies to all my surroundings. I have worked for years for a set of skills that has enabled me to handle almost any health question with an approach. And I am mightily thankful to have achieved that.

I am thankful my work doesn't kill me. I have a rather routine schedule, extreme flexibility, and can choose to work as hard or as little as I feel like. I make enjoy to make life comfortable, and enough to allow myself to be generous to the people around me whom I am so indebted to.

I am fortunate have so much opportunities to spend quality time with family at an age when we are all young enough to enjoy each others' craziness. Trips, home rennovations, goofing around. I'm lucky my work has not taken me away from them, allowing me to cherish every moment of every day with them.

I should feel good about what lies ahead. I am in a lucky position that allows me to give as much of myself as I wish into my career. There will be opportunities for furthering career aspirations, and I already have a great job to fall back on. It doesn't matter which decision were correct, or which future decisions is the best. All options have the positives and negatives, but I will always hold the control in the kind of work I wish to do. Finding the positives in whatever I am doing will always yield a happier process. And as we all already know, the secret to happiness is to enjoy the process of life, not the destination.

Acceptance, Arrival, and Perseveration

I've inherited a lot of good things from my parents, one of which is the spirit of persistence and the believe that, with enough will and creativity, one can always find ways to get what he wants in the end.

I've lived that spirit for much my adult life and opened my doors to my future.

And then I take that spirit many steps too far, and all my doors are closing because of it.

My perseverance has became a stubbornness, one that I had not learned to shake for many years.

I have yet to learn, that in many facets of life, one does not always get what he wants.

And that is often harder if one does not even know what he wants.

I refuse to settle, but by doing so I also refuse to settle my dreams.

I let them evolve, let them transform according to my day to day inclinations, until they lose their original form and I start to wonder when I will recognize them again.

I refuse to accept my new found reality, because I felt I am still searching for my bearings. But I kept switching targets.

Arrival. I have not yet felt I have arrived at the place I set out to go so many years ago when I set on this long and trying pursuit.

Arrival cannot happen if I keep changing the destinations.

Does one ever arrive? Does arrival mean settling for the reality, when reality rarely matches the dreams.

Or is it simply acceptance. Accept one's place in this world, where I am now and what I have destined to become, and accept it with pride for what it stands for and embrace.

I have not yet learned to accept. I question what I am capable of, if I only keep pushing.

But by refusing to accept, and not feeling I have arrived have left me empty inside. I am slowly wasting away my youth, my opportunities, my time.

Instead I forget to celebrate what I have been given. The knowledge. The responsibilities. The securities. The possibilities.

And instead I tend to focus on my envies. I perseverates, on my many brief moments of envies that would take hold of me for days, and I let them sway my intentions.

I live my life by trying to cherish little moments, but it is these moments that are eating me up. I let them dominate my thoughts. I let them question who I am. I let them change my course.

I have not learned the concept of "make the most of my current situations". Instead, I keep trying to redefine my situation.

What is most important to me today? What shall I embrace? A good friend once reminded me to ask myself.

I kinda know the answer, but I'm not sure which are my true values, and which are my aspirations generated by moments of envy.

Stop looking for my arrival.

Accept what I have been given. It's impossible to know if past decisions were right or wrong.

Make the most of my situation. Accept that some options may not exist.

Remember my blessings.

Is this a sabbatical?

On a curvy little side road, onto a stretch of modest old houses situated behind the popular hiking destinations, the Chiefs, I found the address to the place I were to stay in for the next two weeks while I embark on some extra Emergency Medicine training here in Squamish.

Greeting me was an early-40-something Asian women with various tattoos and crocked teeth, but with a certain native American appeal crossed with the new-age organic-food-eating microwave-hating lifestyle. She works as a mountain-biking and white-water kayaking instructor, and has recently rebuild her own home from the foundation upwards and is the in midst of picking up a new B&B career by herself. Her room was beautifully cozy on the inside, but needs a lot of work on the outside (she has the only unpaved driveway on the street). Inside, she has a brand new gormet kitchen with stainless steel appliances but no microwave. The living room has stacks and stacks of DVDs but no cable. She used to live in the city, including growing up in Kerrisdale and then spending time in Kits followed by Commerical area. But eventually she found it too appealing to live the simple outdoor life here in Squamish and hasn't been back for years.

I tucked back out to hit the town for some necessities. Then moved my stuff in, took a nice shower in her new bathroom, and settled at the table with my macbook and some warm comfort food that my Mom has prepared earlier today (reheating it was tricky). I look around, I guess this is what I need. After months of studying for exams and then working lots and then fuzzing over the rennovations of the new house, it's good to be tucked into a quiet place somewhere and just focus on less things. Here, I need to learn some new skills in Emergency Medicine to allow me to practice confidently in the rural. I can practice a little guitar and go bike riding. I can reconnect with some friends whom I've been neglecting with all the life distractions. I can pick up a book and try to read again.

It'll be nice. Of course I'm only here for 2 weeks this time, plus I plan to go back this weekend. So all this simplicity wouldn't last very long.

New York, New York

When I decided to come to my friend's wedding in Toronto, I thought I'd take the opportunity to drop in a visit to my friend at New York and take the chance to do a mini-vacation there. Frankly, I wasn't actually overly excited about going to NY since I had already been there briefly twice before. But it would be fun to hang out with Eva there plus how often do you have a place to stay in NY to roam around?

I came in not wanting to do a single touristy thing. For the most part I've done some of those, and could happily envision some of the others easily without going. I didn't want to spend too much money or attend too many shows that I knew nothing about. I just wanted to relax a little and experience spending a week there. Plus I still had a lot to study for my up-coming exam.

But slowly, subconsciously, the city sank in. I could see how people could fall in love with a place like this. This city is so much more than the stature of liberty, the Time Square, the Broadway shows, and the many yellow taxi-cabs.

Almost immediately I started to experience a not-so-subtle resemblance to my beloved Hong Kong. Only that everything was in English. I don't know if it was a mixture of the humid heat, the rumbling of the air-conditioners by the neighbors, the busy streets lined with vendors and electronic shops, or the busting lights and signs in the streets that never sleep. I did not wish to make any direct comparisons, but more and more this city felt increasingly familiar to me. It was as if I did not walk its streets as a foreigner, but indeed felt quite at home. The crowdedness, the noise, the crazy traffics and the abundance of sensory stimulation were all too common to me growing up in Hong Kong. It was familiar, it felt close.


But New York is more than a collection of hustling vendors and tourist traps. By avoiding most of the tourist attractions and instead spending my time exploring the various neighborhoods in Manhattan, I started to see how charming this busting metropolis really is. From the sweet cafes in the West Village to the wide and tidy alleys of the Upper East Side, I now see New York as a collection of diverse various neighborhoods rich with cultural diversity and tolerance. From the shops, you recognize that this is a city inhabited by many different settlers. From small Turkish Cafes to Iranian pastry shops to Italian gelato windows to Japanese sake bars, everybody is making a home here, and everybody is waving their culture here. Quite literally, you can do everything in New York, and you can go everywhere in the world without actually leaving the City. When we went to a Japanese film showing at the Japan Society as part of the NY Asian Film Festival, I almost forgot I was in such a busy city when i found myself surrounded by an bamboo garden with a peaceful indoor pond. The people are also colorful, both in ethnicity and in clothing style, and we all stood together in harmony at the bus-stops waiting for the bus that would take us the same direction.

Seeing a city so diverse and so complete made me realize how relatively small Vancouver still is. But I'm not ready to hop on the bigger city band-wagon yet. I still love Vancouver, with is collection of mountains and coastlines and chill urban fare that few other cities could match. But it did remind me of why I subconsciously miss such big cities. The Hong Kongs, the New Yorks of the world. Maybe I will never relocated to one of these, depending on how my career shapes up, but I shall remember their influences on me, and how, occasionally, I do long for a dose of the big city juices. And it make me cherish living in a society with the luxury of having culture diversity. When I go back I shall continue to explore and indulge in my own city and extract as much as I can from its various neighborhoods.

Throughout the streets I see windows bursting with "I love NY" T-shirts. I didn't buy one of those. I don't know if I could declare such love from a city I only got to know for a week. But it was a treat living like a New Yorker for a few days, and to see what a city and grow up to be. Thank you, New York, it was great getting to know you.

Stay West, Stay True

How long has it been since I sent a day like this?

Sitting here, at a coffee-shop in Kits, staring at the rain outside, at 1:51pm in the afternoon.

It's refreshing. It's relaxing.

It makes me feel that everything's gonna be alright. That everything IS alright.

Suddenly, I feel the urge to write my blog again. It's been months since that last happened.

I need more days like this...


It's been a few months now since I've started working as an independent doctor. Last time I wrote in my blog it was the eve of my first shift alone. I was silently nervous, and nervously confident. I didn't know what awaited me the next day, or how able I would be to cope.

It's funny. The anticipation is often worse than the actual deed.

Well, three months have gone and I don't think I necessarily harmed anyone (at least not knowingly anyway). I think it's been alright. It's amazing how you just let your training take over, and for the most part what protects you from the unknown is your sense of due diligence to your patients and your conservatism. When I was in doubt I often take a step back and think out loud with my parents. I think they appreciate that. Most patients now are so used to getting routine knee-jerk medicine, that they really appreciate when someone actually listens to them, care to hear their stories again, and actually tries to think through the possibilities. Even if the outcome is the same (which is often the case), I'm quite surprised how many thanked me profusely for it.

Of course you cannot do that with all your patients, because with the volume in family medicine, you would just get burnt out. I can appreciate how over time family doctors lose their patience with people, and lose their sense of care. Three months fresh, I already find myself cutting shorter the seemingly "easy" visits to buy myself some sanity for the trickier ones. And overtime you grow more confident in doing so. But it's been good, to be making your own decisions on the spot, and then stop dwelling on this case, and moving on.

It's also quite amazing how a person's work satisfaction is closely tied to his pay. Working as a family doctor locum doesn't make you rich, but it does pay quite nicely if you work hard enough. Immediately, though, I noticed the instant gratification when I leave home each day tired but with the knowledge that I made decent money. Over the course of a month, it's nice to see that your bank account looking pretty much quicker than you've ever seen before. It makes you want to work harder. That drive for reward, for us all A-type personalities.

And that is what can easily make us lose sense of the little moments in life. I used to be king of those little moments. I used to want to live from one moment to the next. Like the knots in a hand-woven blanket, it's the little moments that make life pleasurable. And when you have a string of pretty moments in your life, you find yourself not care so much about the material satisfaction that cost money and requires you to trade in your time and some sanity.

The little moments tell you that life is already pretty peachy, and that you should try to enjoy it a little bit.

I recently brought a place in Yaletown. I had wanted to live in Kits for the longest time, and took almost a year to look for a place there, but there was no suitable property that I liked. Yaletown was the next best thing, and in terms of being an investment might be a even better choice. When I was younger, I used to imagine that if one day I could afford it, I would live in Yaletown. Location-wise it is second to none, and the property itself is quite chic. I do miss this low frills, down-to-earth west coast feeling that Kits provide for me, though. And I should remember this feeling. It's this feeling that reenergizes me after a tough day, a tough week, or a tough month. It's this feeling that make me feel whole again. It's this feeling that reminds me if I keep looking ahead and not around, I'll be missing out on life as we speak.

Capture the moments, and capture life. Thank you coffee-shop by the windown. Thank you the slow drizzle of rain outside. Thank you to the warm aroma of coffee and the soothing light chatter around. Thank you for reminding me to feel again.

The biggest test.

It's 9:15pm. Feels just like the night before a big exam. The anxiety is palpable. I flipped through study notes and last-minute reminders on various topics. I get my books and all my materials organized. I tell myself it's going to be fine. I've done this tons of times. Just like every big exam, I tell myself that cramming by this point is useless, that I should trust my preparation, that I already know my stuff, and that I shouldn't worry so much.

Only that this is actually not a test.

It's only my first day of work as an independent staff doctor.

Weird, it's been a few years since I've already earned the "doctor" title. I've been in really bad situations before all by myself. I've had to make difficult decisions without any backing. But every other time, I always had somebody to answer to, which meant I had somebody to ask if I wasn't sure. It was never my sole responsibility. I was never going out on a limp. I always had crutches.

But tomorrow, it's just gonna be me. I've tried that before, when I played "let's pretend" with my preceptors and ran their clinics for weeks. I usually do okay, but do occasionally encounter difficulties that I ended up consulting them for. Sometimes, when I'm tired, I just ask them for the easy answer instead of having to solve the problem myself. But this time there will be no such guardian angel. When I sign my name at the end of every chart, there is nobody responsible for that but me.

It should be alright. I'll just keep telling myself that. I'm a cautious and conscientious person anyhow, and if I don't know I can always still look things up or make a referral. But it is still nerve-wrecking nonetheless. I'll try to enjoy it. For the first time after years of studying and training, I'm going to be a real doctor tomorrow.

Everything I've learned since day one of medical school, it all applies now.

The Golden Goal.

Who writes this stuff anyway?

Sidney Crosby, scoring the overtime winner, in the gold medal game at the Olympics held in Canada, at the final event of the tournament. The goal that defined a generation of Canadians, the goal that gave a nation the medal that it wants most, the goal that put us over the top in records for gold medals in any Olympics, on the last day, at the last event, at the last possible moment.

There cannot be a better script for a finish for what has been an amazing Olympic experience.

With one shot, an entire nation breathe a sigh of relieve and rejoice for hours to come.

We won gold in hockey at home. That is what everyone wanted to hear ever since the games were awarded to Vancouver so many years ago.

The only thing that was slightly bitter-sweet was that, deep inside, I had wanted Luongo to be the hero, not Crosby. But then again, in Canada, in hockey today, is there a better person to play the protagonist than what has been the face of hockey ever since he stepped into the league?

This has been Crosby's games. It's only fitting that he finishes it.

We won gold. Finally. It's done.

With Glowing Hearts.

Wow. What a party.

What a rush.

Jolly people everywhere you go. Flag-bearing patriots eager to show their pride. Tons of enthusiasm like you've never seen people. Flocks of happy people jamming the streets, flags and beach balls and all. Horns sounding, music blasting, lights shining up into the sky as if to light up this city to be visible from outer space.

Everywhere you go, it's about people coming together and celebrating the combined passion of nations. It's always about, "WE won this.. WE won that..." Everything is a collective effort. Even though none of us did any part in any of these athletes' successes, we view their triumphs as our collective reward. "We want gold," we'd say, and when we get it, "WE got gold!"

I love seeing this collective enthusiasm. I find it quite amazing, these Olympic games, in how they bring people together, to celebrate the competitive spirit, but always in a respectable, honorable way. Athletes battle each other because their lives depends on it. Spectators battle each other in voices and in passion because we love getting into it. This is when nations truly become one, and people join forces because we love celebrating our likeness, not differences.

We see hockey teams, comprised entirely of leadership talents from all different professional teams, some of whom had battled each other to the bone in previous competitions, willingly and passionately setting aside all differences, instantly becoming brothers-in-arms towards a common goal. Their motivation might be self-serving, because they want to be Olympic champions. But their efforts define national pride, and their actions become larger than their lives could ever be.

It's funny, when the games begin, because of what I was going through mentally, I was almost completely disinterested in the games. I came to my senses only days before the Opening Ceremony and realized how special it would be to allow my parents to go, and I luckily found them tickets to be there. Watching the ceremony on TV did catch my attention, but I never caught the bug until well into the games. I drove by city venues without feeling the urge to visit them. I watched events on TV without really urging my fellow Canadians on.

All changed when I start noticing how happy, how excited, and how passionate these games have made everyone feel on the streets. The city has done an amazing job making these games become everybody's games, not just the athletes'. It's a straight 17-day party that never had a low moment. Citizens and tourists rejoice in the live atmosphere that is filled with live music and wonderful lighting. Giant LCD televisions plastered at every corner and in every restaurant allowing you to live the athletic excitement wherever you go. It makes you want to become part of this. It makes you want to be involved. When my Dad came home super excited one day, and he usually hates crowds and avoids them at all costs, I knew that the city had had it right this time.

With one day to go, I already know I'm going to miss this. This has been 17 unbelievable days, and I'm very thankful that my work schedule allowed me to almost not miss any part of this experience. I'm very thankful I got a chance in the end to volunteer for the second week, as I've always enjoy being a part of something instead of just being a spectator. I'm going to miss riding home on the Canada line after every shift. I'm going to miss seeing all these happy people from all over the world and all their friendly faces. I'm going to miss all this positive energy, and all the reasons to celebrate day after day. I'm going to miss having this sustained excitement throughout the two weeks. When all things go back to normal, it is going to feel very, very, nostalgic.

There's one more day to go. I hope that tomorrow will bring some magic to Canada's men hockey team.

Go Canada Go.

Life awaits..... only if I stop dreaming...

1:03 am. Early Monday morning. I laid there on my soft bed, half covered with my blanket.

Eyes wide open.

My mind has no intention of sleeping. Not even an ounce of fatigue. I even started sweating a little. It's too hot tonight.

I've been having nights like this. Completely, utterly, wakeful when it's supposingly bedtime. I've got to work tomorrow. I've tried to make an effort to wake up earlier. But my mind wouldn't listen. Like a wild animal, it does what it feels like. I am powerless to make myself fall asleep if my mind doesn't care to.

1:15 am. This is pointless.

Maybe it's because I haven't really stopped thinking about things.

Last week I told myself to count my blessings, not my regrets. I did quite well for a few days. But like a dreaded shadow, thoughts of self-doubts always creep back into my head. I still need a direction in life to feel alive. I still need new goals. I still need to feel that I'm thriving for something higher. That childish ambition. Those misguided dreams.

Those hidden demons, not so hidden at this day and age. I seemed consumed by them these days.

But maybe it's my obsessions with these senseless dreams that's preventing me from living my life today.

I guess I had a brief awakening (how odd as I was actually trying to sleep). For a second there I envisioned that my "dream" did come true, that I pictured myself somewhere else, doing whatever-it-is I thought I was supposed to be doing, but maybe at a cost of being elsewhere, in a different surrounding, away from my family, my friends, my niche.

I felt that picture quite lonely for a moment.

Success, when there is nobody to share it with, may be just as bitter.

I once questioned whether I should have gone over to Hong Kong for medical school, like a few of my friends did. I always wondered if I would have enjoyed reliving a second life there. Maybe I would have felt more at home in my surroundings. Maybe I would have felt less uncertain about my identity. Maybe I might have even met my special someone there (since I am predominately attracted to Chinese girls anyway) and got married already. Maybe. So many maybes.

I also once questioned whether I should have stayed at UBC for medical school instead of going to Toronto. Maybe I would have been less misguided about my careers as I went through school together with my family. Maybe I would have enjoyed my time a little better and stuck with a few of my original career goals. Maybe I would have also met somebody here, since I appeared to like Vancouverites more, and got married already. Maybe. So many maybes.

Regardless of what, I never felt that going to Toronto was a mistake. But it did highlight a good fundamental decision-making concept - the opportunity cost of chasing one dream. I went to Toronto because I thought it was the better school, and because I wanted to move to a bigger city. The opportunity cost was whatever that I would have missed by not staying here in Vancouver or going to Hong Kong.

Then I start to realize that I have almost everything that I would want right here at home in Vancouver today. I love living in this city. I have my family and close friends here with me. This is where I envision living and working. This is where I feel I can feed my other interests. Leaving here might turn out to be a bigger cost than I am willing to pay.

Plus here is still probably where I will have the greatest likelihood of finding someone to love.

The opportunity cost of chasing perhaps misguided dreams may be more costly than settling my aspirations and reframing my ambitions into something more concrete, but hopefully equally satisfying.

Somebody once said, "don't take yourself too seriously, because other people don't".

I might be the only one on this earth who is looking down upon myself.

It's just an awakening (can't believe I keep saying this word at what is now 1:36am).

But maybe I should start thinking about how to restart my life again.

After all, I am 31, and the clock's ticking.

Life awaits me to get my act together.

Love, goals, and ambition.

I think one thing I need in life is a sense of direction. I don't have to get there yet, but every time I develop an idea for an ambitious goal, I feel alive and driven to make the best of each day. It's what I live for.

When I see a goal, or when I feel ambitious, I feel that I am a promising human being again. Even if I'm not there yet, or even if the road is hard, I still feel strong, because if I have a goal, I'm not afraid of the fight.

When I am lost without a goal, or if I'm not sure which is the right goal (such as right now), I find myself very listless. I feel I am not progressing, while the world is still turning, and I stay stuck.

A man cannot be without goals. And I am cursed that I feel nothing when I cannot find my ambition.

But why is it so difficulty to get unstuck?

Perhaps that is because I think too much. Not with my head, but with my heart.

I am a creative soul. I like being expressive. I like to exercise my innate abilities. I like the feeling that I'm a natural at something and that I'm doing something I'm good at.

The strange thing is, I'm in a field of work that does not quite offer much creativity. The technical side of things run my day-to-day life. And even though they advertise that there's "art" involved, it is not the type of "art" that one would naturally subscribe to.

I guess part of me feels that I am not able to take a part of me to work with me. That is, I don't feel that I am playing to my strengths at work. I can do a good job, but little of it is "me". It's just my knowledge doing the talking, most of the time.

Yes, much of what we do in life is mundane. Most of the higher ranked careers are structurally rigid. Like an analyst, it's knowledge first, instinct second. Are we really being ourselves at work? Or are we just trying to keep ourselves alive WHILE we work?

I guess the frustrating part is realizing that I can no longer happily pronounce that I love my job. Mind you I don't hate it, and I am blessed to be doing it. I might even go as far as to say that I quite like it.

But love, now that's a strong statement.

To love something, you have to feel that it is becoming an intricate part of you. You intergrade with what you love, and you feel alive when you are part of it. Love is addictive, love sucks you in and harnesses your energy, body and soul. Love keeps you awake at night thinking about it. Love makes you wake up each morning yearning to do more of it.

If it doesn't do that, it doesn't fulfill the criteria for love.

Whether it be relationships, an object of desire, or a job.

Maybe I am being too romantic in my work. But I'm born in the year of the Sheep. They are naturally romantic beasts, the horoscope would say.

I just want to feel that I love what I do. Genuinely. Wholeheartedly. Happily.

Until then, I'm not sure where lies my happiness.

Happy Birthday to Mom!

I have a tendency to celebrate people's birthdays over three days...

Years ago, I decided to make my friend Queenie a birthday meal. I forgot what happened. Somehow she talked me into making her another. Then something else happened. I think in the end I made her three meals. She was thrilled.

This year, we decided to celebrate Mom's birthday (which is on a Saturday) by cooking her a Friday night dinner, a Saturday morning breakfast, and a Sunday evening cake. It was fun to hug my Jamie Oliver cookbook again and improvise on some dishes. In addition, I got more help from good old foodnetwork.com recipes.

Friday night I made her a nice Linguine with Shrimp and Lemon Oil and Arugula Pasta, courtesy of Giada De Laurentiis of food network. (http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/linguine-with-shrimp-and-lemon-oil-recipe/index.html) As a side (become Mom loves Potatoes) I also made Jamie Oliver's new potatoes in lemon capers dressing alongside a fresh steamed Lobster.




Saturday morning I decided to follow Jamie Oliver's frittata idea but improvised with whatever I had in the fridge. In the end I made a Grilled Asparagus and Roasted Bell Pepper Frittata with a side Rosemary Straw Potatoes. It was the first time making a frittata. Watching it rise in the oven was amazing, and it looked remarkable and tasted even better.





Then Sunday night I had the urge to make some meringue, and so together with Mom we made a lovely Lemon Meringue Pie, spiked with lemoncello liquor and Grand Marnier. It was successful but I could have added a little more alcohol. Haha.

Who am I?

Lost. Silent. Drifting. Floating.

I'm losing myself. Day by day.

I've been lost for some time now. Haven't yet been found. Not really sure where to start.

Who am I? What is my identity? What lies in my future?

I'm coming near the end of one stage of my life. About to embark on another. And yet I've never been so lost.

Directionless. Compass-less. More self-doubt than I have ever experienced before.

Sometimes there are moments of inspirations. From people around me, from stories that I've read, from rare glimpse of clarity in my head when I thought I finally wrapped around my internal struggles.

But those quickly fades, as I continue to wrestle with internal struggles of pride, of greed, of ideologies and sometimes fantasies, of adjustable realities and perhaps achievable dreams.

I kind of know what I want, though not really in words. But they don't all match up. I've been having trouble putting everything in its place.

And yet I grow older still. Life awaits.

I'm terrible at letting things go. I chose of life of uncertainty and yet I am too coward to face it. I aspirate to play the role of an inspiring adventurer but yet I'm too chicken-shit to live it out confidentlly.

I want to believe that things will just be okay. But I'm not a believer.

It's becoming harder to take each step forward. There is still so much to learn, so much to improve on. But yet I am lacking focus. I sit and read and none of the contents are being filed neatly into my memory bank. They are all jumbled up, mushed up into a pile of shit that makes me feel I'm stuck and can read no more.

And then I just sit there. Pondering away. What should I do now?

Crossroads. So many crossroads. I never know how to cross them and enjoy it.

My voice has grew weaker. My eyes less confident. My steps less solid. My grips are loose.

It's becoming harder to wake up each morning. I lie around much longer in bed, with my radio blasting each morning's news until I cared about them no more.

Tic tac tic tac. The clock of life goes on ticking.

But my mind stays silently still.

Oh callouses my callouses...

Short, stubby, fingers.

Why can't you guys spread more easily?

Reach, strain, cramps...

Am I giving myself arthritis by doing this?

I have the worst possible hands for trying to learn the guitar.

At work I use size 6.5 gloves. They are frequently too small for some rooms to even stock them. Most docs look at me and wonder why I have such small hands.

I can barely get them to spread along the guitar neck...

Plus the steel strings. Oh those fine, hard, steel strings.

I wish my callouses would heal over faster so that I can keep practicing.

Why can't I get any better?

Fun Food Blog: Modern Club Teppanaki Restaurant

I always thought it was gone forever.

Probably more than 10 years ago, my old buddy Andy took me to this cozy little teppanaki restaurant on Dunbar to ty their Okonomiyaki, the only place in Vancouver to have these. For those who haven't tried it, Okonomiyaki is a version of the traditional Japanese "pancake" from Osaka, made with a mixture of cabbage and various veggies with various meats held together by a light egg batter and grilled on the hotplate. It's as much fun watching them make it as it is to eat it, and I guarantee your clothing will smell smoky afterwards. It unique and delicious. Somehow, I managed to forget both the name and location of the restaurant, and even though I've ventured around Dunbar numerous times, it never actually stood out enough for me to find it again. Eventually, I thought it had closed and forever left Vancouver and its lingering tastebugs...

Then a few weeks ago I spoke to an Uncle who knew that area well, and he told me that the place never left. I was so excited. I had to take my parents there. Finally!



We went on my birthday. It was as great as it was ten years ago. I'm not sure if the owners are the same, but their crafts was just as perfect. We tried two versions of the pancakes, one with grilled soba noodles and one without. I highly recommended getting one with mixed meats and prawns. As for the noodles, they are a nice touch but make it much more filling.

If you ever go, try to also try another version that they got, which is the pancake made not with cabbage but with green onions and mushrooms. We were too filled to try it, but it looked amazing.

I loved that this restaurant stayed open all these years. I hope that it will never close. It's the perfect setting for a nice interesting evening with unique food that you don't always get elsewhere. I love these little home-style restaurants. It's like travelling without having to pack your bags. Highly recommended.

On the other side of the table

Today I had the pleasure of being one of the interviewers for this year's candidates for family medicine residency for UBC. It's funny. I hardly felt qualified to interview these people. Firstly I never matched directly to this specialty. Secondly I think there are so many more truly devoted students out there who wish to be family doctors I felt odd that I play a part at deciding their career fates. Nonetheless, it sure was interesting being on the other side of the room being the one asking the, unfortunately, often ridiculously predictable questions. However, I love interviews, and I think it's a very precise art to perfect. From today, I've learn a couple of things that I think is true in interviews that I want to remember for when I go for interviews myself in the future. I thought I'll write them out to share. It might be helpful to some who is preparing for interviews. Others might disgree with me, but here's my take on some things to consider.

5 things I learned today when I was interviewing that might be useful to remember:

1. Make yourself memorable. I don't remember most of what each candidate said today in their answers, but I remember who made me felt they were truly passionate about something. If you think an answer is likely to be common (ie. choosing family medicine because diversity, get to do everything, continuity of care, blah...), then it's probably been said a thousand times. It does not pay to then say it one more time - it will only make me lose interest. Instead, make your answer personal. Tell me just one experience or event that shows me this job is right for you. It doesn't have to blow me away. It just has to be fresh, and I'll remember you.

2. Relax your body. I'll remember less about your words than how you look. And by that I don't mean your appearance, but instead your body language. I'll remember if you were a log, or if you were truly passionate about your answers. I'll remember if you lean forward suggesting that you were tense, or if you were too laid back as if you're so confident you didn't prepare yourself even just a little. I'll remember if you were so anxious you spoke a mile a minute, or if you were so slow that both of us almost fell asleep.

3. Be genuine but not forced. The best conversations are with people who are relaxed, genuine, and natural. Those mood makes almost everything click. If you're at ease, your interviewer is at ease, and all the better. I tend to remember, somewhat negatively, all those who were too pumped, too enthusiastic, too jittery, too confident, or too guarded.

4. Speak to be heard. Your answers are only valuable if they are digested by the interviewer. It's not enough simply to have said it out loud. If the interviewer doesn't look convinced, perhaps you need to take a different angle. The best candidates were the ones who engaged me in their answers. Often just by slowing down, letting the interviewer take in just part of the answer before going on, does wonders to maintain my attention.

5. You don't have to win me over. You just have to not mess it up. If you're plesant, natural, and genuinely identified that this job is right for you, then usually the feeling is pretty good on both sides. One or two candidates might have won me over, but more of them risked trying too hard and ended up looking worse. It's just like making a friend. If you felt like you've made a friend at the end of the interview, you've probably done pretty well.