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.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 1, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, February 8, 2010
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.
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.
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