Closure. It’s over.

As many may know or have noticed, I’m not updating my Xanga anymore. The old entries will still be there. I see no need to erase them.

So this will be the last entry, at least for now. I wrote this last one for myself. So don’t even try to understand it.

The boards are over. What every 3^rd year medical student says is, “I passed. There’s no need to say more.”

I had a break in my clinical schedule, and I was feeling a little bored. So I decided that I needed some closure, a little patching of sorts. So I decided on a whim to head west.

So west I went. Now, the rational part of me was thinking:

The price of gas is over $3 per gallon. Now’s not the time to take the car out for a whimsical drive in the country. It’s a giant waste of time and no good can come of it.

But something inside me was aching to be free, and so I took the car out on a delightful, cloud-free summer afternoon. Just like old times. And all of a sudden I realized why Americans can’t detach themselves from their car culture. The road was straight, the sky was a beautiful blue, the hills were forested in a perfect green, the breeze felt delightful, and part of me wished I had a better car to enjoy it all in. Something sporty, perhaps. Definitely something that had no roof.

The highway I took was local, but coincidentally every single traffic light was green. Something symbolic I guess, like every light was beckoning me on, goading me on, saying, “Go! You are free to pass through.” So onward west I went.

I didn’t even notice the time. The sun seemed to stand still in the sky as I crossed the county line. I was going home. Home, you might ask? Which home? My old home.

Hunterdon County. The Wikipedia entry says “an exurb on the western edge of New Jersey”. It ranks 4^th in the nation in terms of median household income, 13^th in terms of per capita. A county that is about 94% white. Fiscally conservative, socially moderate. Bush beat Kerry by 20 points in 2004. Pretty Republican, I would venture to say. A county that pays the nation’s highest property taxes. Period. No wonder my parents moved out.

One can see the rational side popping out again. While I was still busily suppressing my rational side as I took in old sights and sounds, I decided, “Enough with the highway!” and slipped onto some local back roads. All of a sudden, I noticed a gargantuan building to my right. It was kind of hard to miss. Fields of hay and forest, and then a clearing, and then this monstrosity of a building. “… Middle School” it read. So they managed to put those property taxes to good use. Nice, shiny new building. As stunned as I was by the new school, I strolled into town and saw that the rescue squad also had a new building. “Good for them” I thought. They definitely deserved it. I tunneled through the main street of the quaint old town, and there were a lot of people walking about. Thank goodness I didn’t recognize any of them.

As I wound my way out of town, I recalled a nice little back road that afforded great views of the local lake. I was surprised again to find that some enterprising individuals had decided to open up a new housing development on top of the lookout hill. I was curious and treated myself to a tour of this new subdivision. The houses looked big and new. Probably expensive too. I checked out the prices later online. They were jaw-dropping, but they claimed that only 3 were left. And on top of that, many were still under construction. This, with the nation’s economy not looking so hot, and people losing their homes and such. As I drove away, I was kind of sad, not really because the whole rich-poor gap thing. I knew a friend who had lived in that general vicinity, and I don’t even remember where her house was (everything had changed) and of those new houses, not one came close to offering the view that hers had.

Westward, I pressed on. As I pulled up to my old swamp, I noticed that someone had also been busy on the old property. Trees were cleared and there was an odd rock formation. I guess they found a way to build on top of that old swamp anyway. Technology, and what money can buy you these days. I guess I was sort of sad that the ole swamp is going. I took the car to the old burned down church and doubled back. No doubt about it, there were construction vehicles. On guy was in a pickup outside, and I didn’t want to look like I was spying or anything, so I pretended to look lost and sped away.

It’s funny. I lived there for so many years and change seemed to come so slowly. All of sudden, you leave, and nothing looks the same anymore.

I had two more stops to make.

The regional high school had expanded. It was about time. With 4 townships, 1 town and 1 borough, things were bound to get overcrowded. There was talk of building a new one. I didn’t dare venture inside. It was summer, but again, deep down inside, I really wanted to not be recognized.

One last stop. The old two lane highway had expanded to four lanes. But that wasn’t what I was looking forward to.

A drive along the river. Before the ole swamp house, my family had lived in another house along this river. That old house was well hidden, and I didn’t see it but I know it’s there. It still pops up on Google satellite maps. I remember happy childhood days splashing in the water. No one worried about pollution in that river or West Nile or anything like that then. The river was still the same. It seemed to welcome me back. The road that hugged the river also brought back memories of motorcycle rides and carefree days. But I didn’t get out of the car. My rational side won that battle.

However, one thing made me pause and smile. On the riverbank were two bicycles. And two bicycles meant that somewhere out there, there were two kids who were out there immersed in the river, playing, having fun, enjoying the last days of summer. And that’s how it should be.

The End

Last call, last call....

The train that is taking me to my boards is in the process of boarding. I have begun to wrap up my two monumental years of studying and cram it into a mere 80 days or so until my exam. 40 days at least until my shelf, which is an appropriate halfway point.

I'm not gonna disappear totally...I think my May is gonna be a little hectic, with Penn graduation/Senior Week, a wedding, and perhaps a birthday or two. But uh, Scrabulous has definitely gotta go soon. So last call for Scrabulous games for awhile at least.

As I go into this endeavor, I think about people who are undergoing suffering that is much worse than mine. The privelege to study a couple of hours a day can be considered painful, but I have met many people who are doing things far braver, far more practical than me.

#1: Congratulations to my bro for graduating police academy. He is now a full fledged one of NJ's finest. He has a gun, so criminals everywhere beware! He was actually so cute during the graduation...they all march in military style and they're not supposed to smile during the ceremony. But there is also a serious side. They mentioned ethics a lot, and definitely safety. With a profession like that, I felt proud of my brother and a bit of a coward too. I would never elect to be in a position like that, the act of putting your life in danger for other people you might not even know. Imagine how the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan feel. I think people in this country have a right to criticize the government's policy, but I think we should still have respect for our servicemen, those serving abroad and those who serve in our community. Then again, I'm personally biased.

#2: I have a friend, no, actually, a couple of friends who are spreading the Gospel in a country that is not open to that sort of thing. No specifics but, I admire them too. They are giving their lives to spreading what they believe in, no matter what the external circumstances may be. They have left their own community, a safe and comfortable environment, and loving families and support systems here. They have discovered new friends, new ways of coping. I spent 2.5 weeks in Ghana, and though I might boast that I can deal with the changes in living habits physically, I have to say that emotionally and spiritually, I could not wait until I was back in my comfort zone in America.

#3: I go frequently to an immigration detention center somewhere in NJ. I have met people who have been literally dying to get into this country, for the economic, religious, and political freedoms found here. And we take these things for granted. They have snuck in through wheelbarrows, escaped through dark, winding mountain passes, and traveled far from the only people they have known. It is true that many of them are bitter, angry, even depressed because they have been detained, but they all have one thing or else they would not be here: hope.

As I think about all these people, I think about something my parents told me before I went to college. They said that they study of books is actually not a hard thing. To be a student is actually a very joyous time in one's life. And it's true that it might not be hard....in med school, it is not the smart that do the best on exams, but those that are the most disciplined and get an early start on studying for exams. Med school rewards those that are the most hard-working, those who do not complain about this or that but just sit, exercise a little self control, get focused and get all that knowledge into their brain. The ones that can spend hours listening to lectures, highlighting in books, the ones who are actually curious about why people develop this disease or that symptom. But you know, the study of things like medicine is really pretty straightforward. Like any science, there are rules and mechanisms...

But the thing that my parents warned me about, this was the study of people. People cannot be studied perfectly like any hardcore science, because they do not adhere by any hard and fast rules. The social gatherings and cocktail conversations, the drama of relationships, the way people vote in elections is just so unpredictable. People will laugh at one of your jokes, but then if you tell it another way or to another group of people, they might get offended. Emotions, feelings, faith, temperament....are all things that might change as quickly as the weather, cloudy one moment, then sunny, and then something in between. You might think you know someone well, and then they say the randomest thing or do something completely unexplainable. And the scary thing is, sometimes we don't even know ourselves that well...I amd constantly shocked by what I say, what I do, what I buy, what type of music I listen to, etc. Often, reason has no place in even the most rational person's life. Sometimes, we just know, we have that gut feeling that this decision is the best. And then, you find that you're playing video games, watching TV, trying to analyze the lives of others, writing deep Xanga entries late into the night, when you know that you have an early morning lecture the next day, work the next day, or even worse, an exam....sigh.

And the irony of it all, is that...to truly succeed in life, you do not even need to master any science or gain lots and lots of knowledge, no, to succeed in life, you must excel in the art of understanding people. And this is perhaps the hardest thing of all in the world.

see you xanga world. so long until june.

Blast to the Past

Feeling nostalgic, we must travel through a magic time machine and spy on little Dan as he grows:

5 years old: I barely remember anything from when I was 5 years old. However, I do remember that my Chinese was flawless, for a 5 year old. Even though I shamefully check the box "I am a native English speaker" and add later add that I know some Mandarin Chinese, my first language was undoubtedly Chinese. It was something both my immigrant parents could easily communicate in, and even while growing up, they forbade any English in the home. Respectfully, my brother and I complied. However, we resented any other Chinese influences, lest the kids at school laugh at our accents and general fobbishness. And so, while many kids my age trudged to Chinese school, took Chinese classes in school, or engaged in "cultural activities", my brother and I stuck to our separate but equal worlds of Chinese at home and English elsewhere. As a result, with no nourishment and growth, my Chinese skills became extremely limited: I am illiterate and can barely hold conversations in Mandarin; my fluency is that of a 5 year old. Actually, the truth is that it is probably worse. My parents wax about how "cute" I was with my recitations of classic Chinese poems when I was 5, and how "in with it" I felt with my Chinese culture. I should have no regrets because it was the path I chose, but sometimes communicating with just native speakers (i.e. grandparents) is a little tough. And of course, these are the decisions that you make when you are young, and 17 years later, it's a little too late to change things.

9 years old: I went through a geeky phase of excelling in spelling bees. I would memorize these long lists of English words and spit them out. My mom would help me, and actually, though I knew it not, it was also a way for her to learn some English words. "What does this word surreptitious mean?" she would ask me. And I would reply, "I don't know..." And I would have to look it up in a dictionary. And the dictionary would spout off something like, "Obtained, done, or made by clandestine or stealthy means." And I would think, "What does clandestine mean?" And on it would go...I was a really good speller in 4th grade. I made it to the State Spelling Bee, and met some even more amazing spellers. Then, I became a pretty good speller in 5th grade, and a so-so speller by 8th grade. Frankly, if you ask me how to spell stuff now, you better make sure it's a medical term, and even so, I'm not good at that because all we do in medical school is abbreviate things and come up with acronyms. And forget about trying to explain the meaning of the process or the disease...I'm still trying to figure out things now. Just look it up on Wikipedia. And trust your doctor.

14/15 years old: I was a math whiz. Nerd. Whatever you wanted to call me. My dad made me do all these math drills when I was younger. Needless to say, he was a math major. I won’t say when I took specific classes, but I was once in a math class with my older brother. That was really, really, really awkward. Anyhow, that was just another phase in my life. I discovered the world of science in high school, and math kind of dropped out of my life. I was thinking about integrals the other day, and it’s really sad, but I don’t remember that much of calculus anymore; my father would have been so ashamed. Man, if I chose to become a mathematician, I probably would have been doing something esoteric by now, or maybe, even teaching math, somewhere.

17 years old: The height of my violin playing. I remember some All State days from time to time. However, the barometer I used to measure my once-awesome violin playing skills (actually they weren’t really that professional, when compared to all those kids who practiced 5 or 6 hours a day and went to music school in New York City) was this time I remember when my dad got so worried that I was going to choose music over any other career. That scared the heck out of him, and frankly, it scared me too. Not to say that my violin skills suck nowadays, but man, they pale in comparison to the good old days. I pick up my violin, and I know where every bad note is, where the style isn’t quite right, and just walk away. You can’t think about improving your violin skills when all you got is a 30-minute study break. It’s so much more useful wasting that time on the computer, checking emails, and playing flash games on the internet.

21 years old: The pinnacle of my college career. This was to practically do nothing my senior spring semester, especially near the end. Watching TV, sleeping in, trying to catch friends because you never know when you were going to see one another again. The glory of the paper-writing days…the incredible feat of doing nothing that semester, and then banging out a 60 page IR thesis, a 12 page scientific research paper thesis, and a 27 page analysis of the world economy. That took 3 all-nighters, one for each task. It’s sad. I think I miss writing. I think that’s why I do so much of it over Xanga. Sigh. I don’t think I have to write anything more than just patients’ histories and prescriptions in the future.

So whether you conclude that I was a boy genius, an egotistical nerd, or a typical product of Asian parents, 10 years down the line, what can I say of myself if I were to describe myself now? 2 part answer…one pessimistic and one optimistic:

Pessimist: I used to be so good at so many things. They say if you don’t use it, you lose it. It’s true. If you don’t exercise, you get out of shape. If you don’t speak Chinese regularly, you speak like a child. If you don’t practice spelling, the violin, etc, you will never be good. Just like genes and environment make the person, innate ability plus practice hone your skills.

Optimist: What you’ve been through make you who you are. Everyone has a talent. No matter who you are, where you are, you probably are either good at doing something whether it’s your job or your hobby; and even if you don’t think you’re good at it, you have a position, a role in society, some sort of meaning in your life. Or else you wouldn’t really be living. As for me right now, if my kid ever complains about having to study or how that test was so hard, my comeback will be, “Well, back when I was in medical school…”

i think i've had enough of the complaining. went to a mini-retreat over the weekend and it is just plain time to accept the injustices, the suffering, and all the things that you planned about and thought would be one way but turned out to be completely different. and part of life is embracing all the things that you can't stand with the things you enjoy.

as steve meng would say, "time to turn a new leaf in life." or perhaps a stone. many stones in fact.

they say the world isn't fair. we cannot change many things in life. our family, our past, the weather. there's a lot of complaining and whining that goes on in life, and it's very contagious. like any infectious disease, we are all vulnerable to questioning and thinking, "why did this or that happen to me?" even when we feel great emotionally. the environment that is outside changes so quickly. one second, we are on the high end of life's roller coaster, and another second we are yanked down by the uncontrollable force of gravity. and then we activate our coping mechanisms and hope that we can ride the storm. deep down, we are all broken and hurting people, people who have too much on their minds.

and sometimes the truth is that the attitude of negativity is something that comes from deep within, as if when we criticize others or state the unfairness of certain policies and plans, it can make us feel better. little do we know that while it is a coping mechanism, often times other people get hurt by the statements or take it in the wrong way. sometimes, this only leads to anger and hopelessness. negativity generates its own vicious perpetuating cycle. this not to say that we shouldn't point out flaws or hesitate to tell the truth when it hurts. sometimes the best thing to do is to pour the antiseptic and iodine all over the wound and hold the patient's hand when he/she screams in agony. we must learn to accept such things in life.

however, there is a very thin line between acceptance and surrender. i don't mean that we should give up and just condone all the inequitable things that happen. in fact, it's still plain beautiful when people rise up together and deal with issues like war, rape, poverty. we need more people like that in this world. acceptance may mean that we understand when it is futile to resist against overwhelming odds, but persistance and wisdom can show us where and when to fight and speak up. it's a tricky balance, this whole thing. we may not want to do no harm, but if you can't take the risk, then the choice of solutions is limited.

i learned a lot of qualifying words for pain recently. pain can be: pulsing, flashing, stabbing, sharp, cutting, gnawing, wrenching, searing, stinging, tender, splitting, chronic, tiring, sickening, punishing, blinding, intense, unbearable, radiating, piercing, squeezing, agonizing, distressing, and excruciating, just to name a few words. they say that it takes to negative things in life in order to understand and truly appreciate what is positive. but to all those who find it hard to take in those words or find it cliche, sometimes it is during those hours of agony, hard work, unfairness (whatever negative word you want to use), that the beautiful, poignant, memorable, uplifiting moments in life happen...someone does something nice, you realize how powerless you really are, the chance is given to battle back and reclaim what ground was lost. the pain may not go away, and you may not really know what or who really helped you, but you definitely feel a lot better inside.

christ died for us. and that is just plain beautiful.

by the way, the song below was written by a childhood friend who just released an album. and as for me, things in med school are trudging along relentlessly, but that may be a good thing. i am taking my boards mid-june, so see you guys then. just kidding.

among the books i have read since my last book update: the red badge of courage, the count of monte cristo, around the world in 80 days, and a n autobiography of alan greenspan.

i just finished teaching 9 months of sunday school and i am gonna miss my kids. they better not cry for the new teacher, even though they're probably gonna. by the way, they're like 2.5 to 4 years old, but i taught them better. interpret the latter statement as you will.

peace. i've got an early lecture tomorrow on NSAIDS. great drugs for chronic pain. i will prescribe some to people once i become a doctor.

Collision

i am sailing on the sea of life with no lighthouse ahead

i am on two boats with one foot in each one i stand

they are drifting farther losing balance i am sinking

can i hold this facade?

and here i am you're thinking i'm the object of perfection

i live the easy life and i have no anxiety

external looks and first impressions can be deceiving

do you see my facade?

this is my life and i am drowning

can i keep two worlds apart?

should i brace for a collision?

don't see me more than what i am

i am standing on the mountain of uncertainty

should i take this leap of faith and pray i'll stay one piece

i am confused i am alone i don't know where i'm going

do you see my facade?

and there you're thinking i have no important problems

that my decisions are just issues of conformity

but if you look a little deeper in my situation

there's so much you don't see

this is my life and i am falling

can i find some solid ground?

should i brace for a collision?

don't see me more than what i am

you say you know me but you haven't got a clue about me

i have different layers and multiple dimensions

but if you think you can understand me

just open your eyes

this is my life and you don't know me

there's only been one side you've seen

anticipating this collision

i'm so much more than what i seem

this is my life and i am changing

the future isn't clear for me

are you ready for this collision?

i'm so much more than what i seem

you don't know you don't know you don't know who i am

you don't know you don't know you don't know who i am