THRU MY EYEZ

Dear Mr./Ms. Idiot,

Who exactly taught you how to drive? Oh, that’s right. Probably no one. Because that’s the only explanation for why you backed your vehicle into my innocent little Pajero IO, not only leaving your nasty beige paint on my car but also taking a little souvenir paint chip with you. More importantly, BY ANY CHANCE…. were you raised by wolves? Because what decent human being damages another human’s property and then runs away without admitting the wrong that they’ve done? Do you feel good about what you did? "Ha! I hit your car and I got away with it! I’m so proud". Is this what you teach your kids too? Maybe that’s why this nation is going down the drain. People like you who think you are above everyone else. People like you who expect to be treated like kings, but refuse to treat other people with common decency. Well, just you wait until someone treats you the way you deserve to be treated. It’s not so fun, is it?

Signed,
Angry Pajero IO owner

Yael Naim? Who…What? Seriously? Heard this little tune over You Tube and my mind just went off on a tangent. In 3 minutes, this chirpy little song had me filled with positivity and everything else that AMWAY stands for.

Life is a beautiful thing. Seriously guys…pay attention, I’m not joking (holds back her laughter). Embrace it with open arms, love it with an open heart and live it with an open mind! All along the way, you’re bound to make mistakes, many embarrassing ones. You’re going to be scared that you think you’re never going to be good enough, and that you might never be able to reach your childhood dreams, and that you might not be able to go on with this life that you once shared with that very special someone…

Understand that life is not always going to be la vie en rose, but take one step at a time…don’t rush, and things will soon fall into place.

So in honor of new beginnings, I dedicate this song… Yael Naim - New Soul

with much love,

Reynu Rajan.

a love is lost

"I am sorry…I just don’t love you anymore"

With those simple few words,

souls, made for each other,

forced to walk the path of strangers.

The girl she struggles, with the damnable misery of it all,

the curse of allowing her little heart to free fall.

On the bedroom floor she sits with the book of love, wishing days just pass her by.

Stripped to the metal cold frame of her being,

she tries not to focus on the damn phone ringing,

It rings and rings, even when it does not…in her head it rings.

"Hours of pointless conversations could have never been more delightful" she smiles to her self thinking.

Random faces she meets rekindles moments of their togetherness,

then once again she is thrown into a whirlpool of loneliness.

In trying to hold steady, tring to keep sane…

she slips away in silence to deal with her pain.

Woke up today with one clear thing in my mind….bhajans at Subang Sai Centre at 7pm (or is it 7.30?)

It hit me like a tonne of bricks this morning while i was trying to reach that c6 note in the shower, that the last time i attended bhajans was six months ago.

Memories of weekly bhajans came rushing back in one go. What a wonderful time that was. Teh tarik before bhajans, teh tarik after bhajans…hehehe

I assure you, there was more to weekly bhajans than just teh tarik, and someday when i get the words right…i will pen those happy moments down.

Till then, I leave you with a u-tube clip that i came across while trying to look for a song to sing tonight. It got me hooked right away! Im a gullible jelly bean for sweet songs alright but this isnt one of those….its his voice control and the fun he shows in his face while delivering the song that impressed me to the most (also it did help that my favourite songs are that of Rama’s)

enjoy…

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I want to become a surgeon just like GREY’S ANATOMY!

This is not a joke. I’ve heard more than one fresh-eyed high high school/college kid say something along those lines. Always trying to maintain composure, I often respond with, “Do you have any idea just how inaccurate the show is when it comes to portraying the life of a surgeon?!” The inevitable reply….“I know. But it’s still soooooooooooooooooooooo kewl dude.”

To all who share the same thought as THE ABOVE…I strongly urge you to WAKE UP DAMMIT!

*composes her self….*

Now now, I wont bite, lets just sit and talk about this little fake world of surgeons that the writers of Grey’s have painted for us…hopefully, the truth prevails and help is rendered to you poor unfortunate gullible souls. Aiyo, I can be such a grandma!

Points against the much dramatised version of a surgeons life as potrayed in our favourite medical soap as as follow:

(1) Those lucky bastards..oops i mean lucky people have so much free time! With all that time in their hands to apply and reapply their make up…do we actually expect less drama?In real life, if you are a goverment doctor, chances are most of the time "lunch breaks" are a luxury. No way hozay can one dream of sitting around in a nice little group and gossip about the latest happenings.

(2) "oh look at us, the cast of Grey’s…we’re a big happy family". Uh, not likely. Surgery is competitive specialty. It attracts type A and competitive people. Like Christina? I will agree to that, yes. But these competitive people don’t always get along and *gasp* stabing each others back to get the atention of "the boss" is a way of life. I could be wrong, but if I am, I’m sure that the big-happy-family scenario would be the exception and not the rule.

(3) Everyone’s single and available. No they’re not! There are more chances of you having a crush on your married superior than actually finding a suitable single suiter. Even if you do find your self one, maintaining a relationship in a demanding field can be mentally emotionally and physically challenging….physically? hmmm *naughty naughty!

(4) We’re surgeons and we look great everyday. Come on now. They’re surgeons. They should be getting no sleep. Yet, even at their most frazzled, they still look way better than we do on a good day. Lets not talk about those operation theatre scrubs…has anyone actually seen how a scrub looks like? Most of the time I actually have to tape the torn holes in my scrub to avoid flashing my collegues. But I definitely would pass a note in Ismail Merican’s suggestion box to look into how we can adopt the much hotter looking scrubs, though i’m sure he might just give me the old boot up my ass.

So I hope I’ve convinced you young ones out there that the life of a surgeon is not anywhere near as glamorous or fun as they make it out to be on Grey’s Anatomy. If you’re dumb enough to still pursue such a career based on some crazy hope that maybe you’ll land yourself a McDreamy, then I can only hope that you (McStupid) are never my doctor :p

My sixth sense, gut feeling, intuition (whatever you call that low keyed voice with soft trimmings that always pops in at the right time) brings me to believe that many of you are still faithfully waiting to see an update. I must apologize for having to disappoint.

And If you have not been waiting for an update, then shame on me for being a world class perasan case! *runs away and hides behind mummy*

There has been those rare isolated moments when i do think of something to blog about. But when i do think about that special certain something to rattle on about, i somehow successfully manage to turn it over and over and over (like a roti canai flipping expert) in my already exhausted brain until the hour needle on the clock points at "It’s getting damn late you moron!" It is right about then, that i would conclude to call my third grade half baked literary piece "stupid". By meticulously following those same 3 steps, I’ve successfully talked myself out of every blog or blog idea since whenever my last post was.

I was going to write a longer blog about this, but it was….say it with me now….stupid! Bravo, that was some fast learning! So I’ve saved you a lot of hassle by summing up another not so great draft in two sentences. I was going to reflect on 2007 and how I had no expectations for the year and it turned out OK and list all the good things about the year, but when I sat down to do it, all I could think was how I was sitting in front of the computer blogging about hope for the future and blah blah blah. So I scrapped that idea too :oP Two sentences right?

And then all hail to the all mighty brilliance of a bored mind, the birth of my Christmas blog idea! But then I figured I’d spare you my militant ideas on the holiday. Christmas????? Yeap, you heard me right. How could i even imagine whispering a tiny tale about THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS (Deepavali) when a certain darling of an individual had already given me insights into his next blog. Since it would be centered around his experience with Deepavali, the morning temple visit with the family, rituals and lost meanings-I had to decide to back down in all lady like fashion *runs and hides behind mummy again*

That my friends have brought me to 9/11/07…

The clock is nearing that hour of the day, so i will sum it up: blah blah blah open house,blah blah blah we just found out one of our neighbor is actually slightly off in the mental health division and now my family has this silent fear that the feng shui in the neighborhood will lead us into a similar fate, blah blah blah the repetition on channel E is proving too much for my patience to handle yet i patiently sit and watch the Forbes countdown AGAIN blah blah bla to go or not to go to the BERSIH rally come morning blah blah tattooed "must blog tonight" on my left arm with a marker pen blah blah blah etc.

I’ll try to do justice in weeks coming, both in quality and quantity. Key word ladies and gentlemen….TRY.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!!!!!!!!!!! Not too early am I? HO HO HO

LOVE,

REYNU RAJAN

Many believe that taking a sick day is some sort of ordeal that inevitably causes too much trouble. So much trouble that it outweighs the actual day off from work. I for one was taught by my caring seniors from the very beginning a few golden tips on how to make the work load less dramatic. The one thing that most off them agreed upon was that calling in a single "sick day" or an "emergency leave" is just something that is most definitely not worth the soon-to-follow days of piled up work (along with the backlog, you get a bonus of thunder clap headache echoing thru the walls of your cranium and periodic episodes of nose bleed-wow sounds like fun huh?)

But I miss my home! It’s been forever since I got my butt back to Klang and I aint gonna miss out on taking off during the next public holiday that comes along…PERIOD! Work is work but cendol in Klang is always going to be cendol in Klang! YUM-MEE YUM YUM!

In the safe confinement of my monkey mind, I have developed a set of rituals that might help me to enjoy every second of the 24 hours in MY DAY OFF-in preparation for when it finally happens of course (even if it includes getting and jabbed in the gums a couple of times by the poor substitute).

A. Sleep in.Until I wake up and then do as much or as little as I feel like doing.

B. Open the front door and get out of the house! It helps to know there is a world out there beyond the all too confining walls of the hospital. What the heck…people go out to eat while on the job? Some get to see the light of day? The whole world doesn’t revolve around the hospital?  REALLY????? *stunned*

C. Fill my tummy at a favourite restaurant. It’s always a small treat, but it goes a long way to in the process of making a memorable day.

D. Eventually, at some point, look at the clock and spend a moment in silence to think about the hell my substitute would be going through. My nurses could be bullying, dumping random ward work or even tying up that innocent sub who so kindly signed my leave form and throwing her out the window as we speak, but guess what? It’s not my ******* problem.

D. Drown myself in classical music. It makes me think peaceful thoughts. Favourite item, Ravi Shankar’s collaboration with Peter Gabriel…ahhh…such peace! *wicked smile*

Reynu Rajan sits on her chair in her ward, takes a moment to stop scribbling un-readble something somethings on her patients case notes and crosses her finger, for that day shall come…a day she can call HER DAY OFF.

-REYNU RAJAN-

Nothing extra amazing about your day today. The alarm rings at six am. After a couple of dozen time hitting the snooze button, you finally manage to drag yourself out of bed. It takes you 30 minutes to get all dolled up and at 7.30 am you "punched in" at work. Once at your desk, you place your 80 cents coffee, and 3 for one Ringgit curry-puffs at one end of the table carefully camouflaging it behind a stack of files so not to look like a hungry cave person who barely had time to bath let alone have a good morning meal,  and wait patiently for the patients to start storming into the clinic. Oh but first things first-you pop a piece of mentos in your mouth, just in case your breath still smells of the D4 Durians you savored while watching an entire season of "scrubs" the night before.

You work work work…and then work some more before you continue to work work and work…

For just a few minutes that you manage to steal in between consultation, you Google the news websites to catch up on the latest happenings.

This morning perusal of the headlines: VT tech shooter-A Korean Dev Das?, Dozens killed in Baghdad bombings, politicians wrangle over something unimportant, and someone who was supposed to know better did something horrible to a child.

Your entire belief system is shaken…uprooted. There in neon color and dramatic font are the failings of society. It is staring at you-stories of damaged, broken people who inflict hurt onto others, either by actions that are reprehensible or by inaction that is criminally negligent. These are the people who also firmly believe that the act of omission cannot be deemed as an act of commission.

That sick feeling in your tummy just doesn’t seem to want to go away. You tell yourself this has nothing to do with you. You didn’t kick your neighbor’s annoying Persian cat on your way to work, nor did you deliberately forget to pay the parking ticket for the 8th time :oP You went about your day like any other day in your life doing what a good person would do.

But why do you still have that sick feeling in your stomach (minus the durian as the most likely cause) ?

It could be that you know the world is supposed to be a better place. For a moment you imagine a better place. Maybe you suddenly remember a situation where you were proud of your mom or dad for helping someone. It could even be long forgotten memories of Moral Class lessons whittling at your conscience. It doesn’t matter. This sudden realization manifests itself in one bold statement.

Things should be better than this.

We were not put on this Earth to be victims or to victimise. A purposeful life demands that we learn, teach, innovate and achieve. People are meant to succeed…to be happy.

It’s hard. Your boss is demanding more and more, the neighbors are too loud, politicians are corrupt and the guy two desks over is so lazy you’re doing half of his work.

Yes, you are entitled to say it again…It’s hard.

So throw in the white flag, give up and go on doing the same old thing you’ve been doing all this while. Complete the viscious cycle, do onto others what others have done onto you…yadaa yadaa yadaa. Who cares if 32 children have their brains scattered all over their classroom, so what if one of them was a neighbour or a nephew of your’s? You should not even bother if the underworld kings were to start manufacturing large quantities of ketamine just 2 doors away from where you are living. This is how things have always been and will always be. This is paradise as we like it, isn’t it?

I firmly believed that this was how I liked it. I was comfortable. I was wrong.

The world still has a chance of becoming a better place and I am going to learn to do my part.

Love and laughter in all your lives,

REYNU RAJAN