The iPhone Review…

Beware. Very very very long post ahead. More photos than I would usually blog with and a lot of jibber jabber.

From a regular guy who probably knows a bit about tech stuff but not enough that he’s still completely clueless when he receives an iPhone without a manual. Hence, the review.

So as you’ve probably seen all the ads and perhaps even toyed with iPhones that belonged to friends and family, you probably would have thought to yourself, “Should I get one?”

Probably the biggest thing about the iPhone was its touch screen capability. Used to seeing the normal screen and having to press little buttons to access the menu, this is suddenly a bit different from what everyone is used to.

This is the iPhone’s answer to the usual “lock keys” button that many phones have. Nokia most likely popularised the whole “Press menu then star” idea. The iPhone decides to do THIS instead.

Now if I can draw you ladies and gentlemen’s attention to the black little slit on top of the iPhone. The gaping hole is where you’d plug in your obviously white iPod headphones. The small small cousin of the gaping headphone socket is the sim eject hole where you preferably insert the included sim eject tool/pin/name badge needle. Now the black little slit is actually not a slit at all. Its the lock key. Press the key and no matter where you are in the phone, it locks the phone. Completely. Shut down. Like what high tech companies would do if an intruder breaks in. Lockdown. Totally.

*all right, enough of that.*

And this is how you would unlock the phone. And this is where you start getting your fingers dirty. Keep your minds clean, please. +D

Slightly out of view at the bottom part of the iPhone, you can see a squarish button. This is the requisite Home key that gets you back to the beginning wherever you are. When the iPhone is locked and loaded, the whole screen goes blank. Press the Home key and the screen comes to life. See the arrow? And the instructions “slide to unlock”?

Do that.

And then you’ll get to this screen, better known as the Home Screen.

Yes, this picture is the same one as the one earlier, just smaller. Press the Home key and you’ll get back to this screen no matter how deep you dive into the nooks and crannies of the iPhone.

One of the main reasons why I decided to get an iPhone was primarily, to check out the onscreen keyboard thing. But then it started doubling as an mp3 player as well as a phone. Then it became my mobile internet surfer, my quick 3 second weather check for the morning, and a time passing Sudoku puzzle. But more on that later.

If anything, the iPhone takes a little getting used to.

As with everything i-(insert gadget here), music is one of the main features. One thing that seemed to sway me towards getting an iPhone rather than the iPod Touch which was wayyy cheaper as well as having pretty much the same functions was that the iPhone was well…an iPod Touch with phone functions. Why bother getting two different gadgets when you can pick up just the one thing and multitask with it?

Don’t get me wrong, the Sony Ericsson k800i still rocks my socks. I would rather take pictures with the SE rather than the iPhone, especially since I didn’t get the new model. Although even with the new iPhone, I don’t have all the basic camera functions that I had with SE.

So back to the issue of the iPod on the iPhone. The menu moves with a flick of the finger both up and down. Turning it sideways provides you with the CoverFlow function so if you’ve been anal retentive enough to get all the album covers, you won’t be disappointed.

Nice little tip too. If lyrics are included, if you play the song, the lyrics display and you can do a little karaoke session.

And like some of the new SE phones that are coming up and out, the iPhone boasts a “Shake to shuffle” function.

However, its bloody sensitive. If you’re like me and you like putting  your phone in your pocket and listening to songs at the same time, turn off “shake to shuffle”. Because with every 2 steps I take, I’m listening to a new song. Either I jiggle and shake that much that it registers it as a shake or else its that bloody good and sensitive. A good reminder to keep it turned off when you’re heading out for a run/jog/bike ride/walk/preferred method of cardio.

This is usually what I would turn to if I decided to go out on the town for an extended period of time. It kinda gives me an idea whether my light jacket would do or would I have to prepare for Hell freezing over when I step out the door. The weather app is one of the requisites on this phone. You get pretty used to it. Especially living in a country like this one where the weather changes its mind like a girl changes clothes (sorry Katy Perry, I couldn’t resist), preparation is key. Or else you get soaked to your underwear like I do when I decide to go out in just my hoodie and the skies decide to piss on me just for the fun of it.

This is Photos, another requisite app on the Home Screen. This is for those people who are photo-friendly, as in they usually have photos from all over and are usually dying to show their friends their collection. So if you’re one of those, I’d strongly recommend getting a 32GB iPhone. Especially if you take more photos than a celebrity paparazzi.

Now, everyone would probably have heard of the Accelerator. Even non iPhones are picking it up. Turn the phone and the screen turns with you. Wow.

So this is it.

Say I wanted to show everyone the deliciously huge blueberry muffin that I got from a measly $2 from one of the most awesome cafes ever, this is what comes up.

But hey, its a bit small and I can’t taunt my friend who has decided to go on a diet and show her the little juicy blueberries buried in the moist softness.

So I just turn it sideways.

Then said friend would leap at the screen scrabbling for food. Dangerous times, this is.

Now this was the main reason why I wanted to get this stupid phone. Well, its not stupid but this frustrated me to no end whenever I was at the Vodafone demo stand. I wondered whether my finger was too big or too dumb. But its purely a practice thing.

Honestly.

I’m still wayyy faster on a phone that has a keypad. After 5 years of practice, the keypad is still the way to go if you have to send a message in the dark.

But this…is something for people to drool over. Its different, its provocative, and hell, its something that people will talk about for ages.

You know when you have a text conversation with someone and you want to actually be able follow said conversation without reverting to the “sent messages” folder every single time?

The iPhone allows you to do just that.

This is my friend showing shock and horror that I got myself an iPhone.

White is me friend, green is me. So you can actually see what’s been said without having to go through the inbox/sent messages folder. Hi Singaporean Rambo (LTA)!! *waves*

And for those of who HAVE to check the internet (like moi who was deprived of internet at home for 7 months! 7 months, I tell you!), Safari is built right into it so you can start surfing straight away (provided you have enough credit, of course.)

But all in all, the iPhone is still exactly that. A phone.

 

And when you dial a number and you put it up to your ear, the touch screen senses the fact that its an ear, not a finger and the touch screen turns itself off. Until you remove your ear and replace it with a finger, that is.

This is the general menu when you dial and what you see when you take your ear away. Sorry for the horrible photo but the only working camera I had near me was the computer’s webcam.

So that’s it, really. The things I’ve found out so far over the past several days that I’ve been playing around with it. And all this…from NOT having a manual. Not bad, aye? Must admit, though, without the manual, there’s a lot more of a surprise element. Though it would be nice to know the iPhone inside out.

May blog about camera function, little funny things I find out about it later. But I think this is pretty good for a first attempt. Eh?

Supplies!

Ever heard of that joke before? Where the Chinese man jumps out from behind the tree and yells…..never mind.

This week so far has been a bit like Christmas morning. Over and over and over again. Why?

Its because I’ve been receiving stuff. All through those three days. Believe it or not, I’ve been waiting a good moment or three to get all of these goodies and finally, they’ve proven faithful.

First of all, the weather was gorgeous on Sunday. Can’t be more proud of this deity forsaken place. The sun was out and I sat out on a grassy hill surfing wi-fi from the public library while I ate my sandwich and drank my Coke. Couldn’t ask for more on a Sunday afternoon. A pure relax and recover day. Lovely. Recently, the weather has looked bad enough to piss on. I’ve not quite worked out how to do that yet, though.

Oh, I’ve also been getting very worked up about the ballroom competition this coming September. This will be the first time where I compete as a registered dancer and thus, I need to get the entire ensemble ready.

So guess what arrived on Monday?

Exactly.

This is just the inside, unfortunately. The tails and pants have yet to arrive. For decency’s sake, I’ve pulled on a pair of trousers so I don’t give red eyesores to every single person who stumbles across this picture. And no, the braces AREN’T hooked up to my underwear. That is the vestette. But I’m not sure if I can actually convince the readers that its not my undies….well, I don’t have tighty whites, okay?

White starched shirt with built in underwear. Check.
Wide white braces. Check.
White bowtie. Check.
Plastic white collar. Check.
Collar studs. Check.
4 black shirt studs. Check.
2 black cufflinks. Check.
Vestette. Check.

Price? Expensive.
Seeing myself kitted out as such? Priceless.
Time to put the entire fricking thing on? 1 bloody hour.

By the time I was finished, I was ready to give up and call it a day. What more to dance wearing this. But I wouldn’t mind, of course. +D

Now all I need to do is wait for the rest of the costume to arrive.

Tonight at the Dance Centre, I’ve been given the unfortunate news that the ballroom competition has been cancelled. The next one is the week before. So I might be attending that.

However, I’m having enough trouble with getting LatinLady to come along to dance class. She keeps CANCELLING on me. Sigh. But oh well, there’s plenty of others. We are lacking guys after all.

And my last little joy. This thing has kept me entertained for a good number of hours.

No...I didn’t.

But oh yeah, babeh. Yes, I did.

I’m the proud owner of a new 3GS 32GB 2G 8GB iPhone. Second-hand, I might add.

At first, it was just going to be a trial of the on-screen keyboard because whenever I tried in in Welly, it annoyed the flying fsck out of me. But now….ooh la la, I’m getting accurate at it too.

So it became a bit of an exploration mission, really. I paid half the price I would have paid for a new one and the only thing I got in the mail was the iPhone and a USB charger. Which was annoying enough so I had to explore it from scratch. Which was fun. Especially when you put more than one finger on the screen. +D

More on the iPhone review thing tomorrow. Its going to be a real Joe Public point of view. Especially since you can never quite get used to pressing a glass screen and expect a response. Teehee.

Proud.

Little things easily make me proud.

 

Like for example, when my kitchen sink was blocked yesterday (I forgot to blog about it, by the way, which means that I have extra blogging material today), I squat down under the sink, lined a bucket, unscrewed the pipes and unclogged the drain. All by my little self, I did!

 

Felt so Kemahiran Hidup, honestly. +D

 

But that made me proud. Like what a DIY man would do. Unclog his own kitchen sink.

 

***

 

I've decided to take a break from the wards at the current moment because I wrote this in the patients notes after seeing him.

 

Analysis: Patient is currently maintaining independence with mobility and activities of daily living (ADLs). Past medical history of seizures, patient continuing to maintain mobility and activities of daily living independently. Patient is independent. Nil further concerns.

 

Talk about three-thirty-itis. Cuppa Continental Soup, anyone?

 

***

 

And I've got a little precious something to show all of ya. But it'll have to wait until tomorrow.

 

+D

Bring it all back.

So as my iTunes was on shuffle today, I was frying up some eggs in the kitchen when S Club 7’s “Bring it all back” popped up.

The psychedelic intro to the song instantly put a smile to my face whether I liked it or not. I remembered trying to choreograph a dance to this song, trying to youtube all the videos of the dance clips for this one and trying to work them out one by one. But of course, I was never that hip hoppy enough to pull off a successful S Club 7 dance.

This song just reminded me as well of my current predicament. Lord Pharmacist recently asked me whether I liked my job and I said flat out, “No. I just do it because it funds my addictions.”

Which is, in a way, quite true. Because that’s exactly what it does. It funds my addictions, whether its ballroom or my growing fetish with Apple products.

I’ve been having some recent gripes with my job and the fact that I’m kinda stuck here on my own does seem to make the problem just slightly worse than I expect. I fume on the inside, perhaps and I don’t really seem to unleash it anywhere. My supposedly task of starting to exercise has gone out the window along with everything else and sometimes, I feel as though I’m just coping from day to day more than doing anything else that really matters. Tofupuff and dancing are a few outlets where I’ve found some sanctuary from work demons. Thank you, you never know how much you’ve helped.

I’ve started picking up motivational books from the library regarding success and being able to do all that you do, that kinda thing. I recently picked up a book called, “The Present”, from the same author who wrote the bestseller, “Who Moved My Cheese?” and in a way, it was inspiring enough but at times, you know, you honestly just don’t give a damn who moved your piece of coagulated casein.

I’ve also just finished reading “Killing Me Softly” written by Dr Phillip Nitschke, also known as Dr Death from Australia, credited as the first doctor to perform voluntary euthanasia by lethal injection on a patient wanting to die from terminal illness and also of Exit International fame.. I’m now completely pro euthanasia. And apparently, he was travelling the country but as you do, you skip out little towns like Wangy. Then again, its not so much due to the fact that small towns are ignorant, it seems that our bigger counterparts are just as bad, if not worse. I would like to be able to shake hands with the man himself and discuss his book with him.

Also, I had a relatively weird nightmare last night involving a bunch of boys following me through the Welly Basin Reserve and pulling a knife on me. I never knew what happened afterwards as the glint of the blade was the only thing I remembered. And since I’m the kind of person who can continue dreams when I wake up, I desperately tried to go back to sleep and let my dream/nightmare continue but to no avail. Oh well. At least I tried.

I honestly cannot believe I used to live there. Seems like a stupid idea right now but we used to live 5 minutes away from awesome cricket matches that used to be held there. Of course, me being me, I never really cared much for sports of that sort but I used to walk through there in the mornings to go to town, do shopping, get absolutely soaked when I got caught in the rain, etc.

Good times in Welly. Some very bad times as well. I think it got to a point where even the bad outweighed the good and to think of it now, I would not ever return to Welly to work because of it. Too many harsh memories and too many trips wanting to be on my own. Wanting to be independent, living on the thin line between more than adequate survival and just making it out alive. Some embarrassing moments and towel issues (insider joke, really, only I would understand)  and olive oil diets. Used to be on my old blog but now, its done and dusted. Some parts of my past are not worth remembering.

Today is okay. It is an okay day today.

Enough of it.

Its funny how when a bigshot celebrity dies, everyone suddenly wants a piece of him/her.

 

Everyone starts listening to his/her songs, gets his/her merchandise, and then suddenly proclaim what a big fan they are of him/her.

 

So I announced to my cardiac rehab group the other day, "The whole thing is getting just more than a tad *yawn* boring."

 

People who have never listened to him/her suddenly profess their love for his/her songs.

And mentioned on several blogs, suddenly, their perhaps twisted opinions of said person suddenly become nothing else but sweet talk and memories and about the good times.

 

Enough, lads and lassies. S/he's gone.

Its probably okay for the fans who actually have been crazy about said person. But for those of you who've just picked it up because its the newest fad? Can it. Your post-mortem dedication is just slightly more bloated compared to said person's hardened corpse.

Walk on water.

Sometimes, I feel as though every day when I come to work, I’m asked to work a miracle.

I’m asked to get someone out of bed, to get someone walking, to send them home happy and healthy. And sometimes, I honestly don’t think I can do it. Or even if I want to do it.

Apathy now becomes the theme of the day. Because I honestly don’t care anymore. Make a complaint against me. I don’t care. Say you don’t want me involved in your rehab. Do I look like I care? Tell me you want to complain about the way I treated you. Would you like it if I left you to ROT? HUH?

Of course, the thing is, when things like this gets tossed into place, EVERYONE goes haywire. They start grabbing everyone to give input and unnecessarily put stress on other people who aren’t supposed to be involved.

And then these other people come and bite me in the arse.

Pleasant, really. You’ve gotta love how the system works. One person bites another person’s arse and then you go around in the circle until you get to the last person who has no arse to bite.

As you can probably tell, work is getting just a little bit distressing.

Was talking to PhotoNurse and she was asking me whether my job was better than hers.

In a way, yeah. No doubt. I don’t have to deal with faeces or urine or the personal whims and fancies of people around me.

But in a way, nope. I deal with far worse and the thing is, sometimes life and death decisions are made by moi. And that isn’t exactly a place where you’d want to be.

Sometimes, I envy nurses to an extent. No doubt, they deal with the grim whims and fancies of everyone else but they see maybe 8 people and that’s it. The whims and fancies of 8 people. I think I might be able to handle that.

I, apparently, have to see at least 12 on a daily basis. Notes, treatment, crutches, the whims and fancies of people who want to sue you, threaten you, give you absolute sh|t, and I’m still expected to come in day after day to provide treatment and be nice to people.

I somehow sense an explosion happening sometime soon. Nearly gave one to the people in ED recently but I held my tongue. I don’t want to have to face disciplinary action anytime soon.

But honestly, sometimes, you just want to take out an AK and start killing everyone. For the love of deities. You’d think.

Then again…I think I’ll just give people the lashings. And then they can take me in front of the Board and then suspend me. Fsck.

Killing Me Softly is still part of the reading list. I’m honestly intrigued. This man looks very genuine and I, for one, am starting to convert very quickly to his cause. Not that I’m actually HAVING to convert but he makes some pretty darn good arguments.

And again, I turned to the doctor this morning…

Linda

“Yes?”

What is your stance on homosexuality?

Linda accordingly smacks forehead and then tells me its too dang early in the morning to be asking aforesaid question.

Compassion. Or lack thereof.

Today, as I was seeing patients, I realised that I don't really give a damn.

 

Remember Mrs Spinal Cancer? Her daughter rang up, very stroppy and mentioned that she did not want me involved in her mother's rehab.

 

Oh sure. As far as I understand, you're not doing very much for your mum either, are you?

But that's fine with me.

 

Sometimes, I realise that the best thing to do for people is to let them go. You can't hold onto work grudges and whatnot, especially if its not your fault. And working with people in the customer service industry (yes, health professionals do offer customer service), you tend to step on toes sometimes. Its perfectly unavoidable.

 

I've had patients swear at me, threaten to sue me, and what more besides. And all I can really do about that is just to shrug and say, "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. And I apologise."

 

Its funny, really, especially in this line of work, that we apologise for what we have not done wrong. Its customer service again, isn't it? Whatever for the patient. Heck, even for my interview, pretty much the whole thing was centred on customer service. I might as well have been service gourmet meats up again behind the butchery counter rather than get people up and give them walking frames.

And honestly, I think I was better at the butchery than I am here.

 

But you can never be sure how you can rub someone up the wrong fscking way so bad in this industry. I sometimes feel as though I'm dealing with too many people, too many issues that I honestly cannot be fscked to do anything else.

 

And as I walked away yesterday from work, I thought to myself, "This job requires compassion." This job honestly require pure, unadulterated compassion. All these people who work in this field, doctors, nurses, therapists, everyone who decides to plonk themselves down in the field of healthcare needs to have compassion. Of course, some people do this job purely for the money (like me, perhaps) but the majority of them do it for the fact that others need it. They have to have it.

 

And sometimes, compassion is something I just don't have.

 

Not something I'm willing to give or take. I just want you to leave me the fsck alone.

 

Some people would read this and say to themselves, "You've just worked six months! What the hell do you know about what's required for the job?"

 

And I'll reply, "Its because I didn't really want this job in the first place. Its like breaking and entering to get to stuff to sell so I can find my addictions. It provides a source of income so that I don't have to worry about the bills and food and groceries and putting a roof over my head while I'm wasting my time waltzing away on the dance floor."

 

Funny how something like this can flip me upside down so early this morning.

 

You know what, I honestly don't care anymore. I think I need home internet. I'll probably die die without it.

 

And for ungrateful patients, unrelenting patients, undeserving patients, patients who needs more than just a good kick in the pants?

Be afraid that I'm pro euthanasia.

Wishes.

Today, I had two different concepts of wishes.

Well...one, to be more precise.

You know the age old saying, "Be careful what you wish for"?

That came true in more ways than one today.

One was a lady who came in with hypokalaemia about 2 months ago. Basically low potassium in the body. Which completely wrecks havoc.

She also came in with low blood pressure and a fall which cracked two vertebrae in her spine.

Oh okay.

Typical case of your elderly lady who falls and then ends up with compression fractures.

But then, she started complaining of ongoing weakness in her legs. She was unable to walk and she collapsed on me once. After that, she was pretty much hoisted into a chair everyday.

She was a weird one, that woman. For one, she actually wanted her scans to be bad. She wanted something wrong with them. Perhaps, she knew on the inside that something was happening. Perhaps, she knew that she wasn't quite right.

Dr USA and I were treating her, trying to find out what was wrong. Apart from the normal scans that came back showing that her spine was perfectly okay, nothing wrong, nothing poking at the spinal cord, we couldn't quite figure out what the heck was going on.

Until we looked at her past medical history. She had a mastectomy. And usually, they don't get done unless you've had something there.

An MRI of her entire spine was done. She was found to have spinal cancer. A growing tumour about 4 vertebrae up from where she fell and cracked two of them. That tumour was pressing on her spinal cord.

Careful what you wish for.

***

Now everyone remember Annoying Flatmate? Good, I can now move on with my story.

He came back earlier tonight compared to his usual 10pm appearance. He was tired, pissed off at work, and hungry.

For me, I was stirring a delicious beef pasta sauce that he (unfortunately, muahahaha) couldn't eat because of religious reasons. He was looking at it and said to me, "Paul, you're cooking beef because you don't want me to eat it."

After a quick talk, where I talked to him about losing weight and trying to gain my "Latino abs" as Sis puts it for my latin shirts and cooking, he got really upset.

I basically told him that cooking for myself is healthier than eating out all the time and that I think that its a universal outlook on health that allows people to respect you a lot more. Sure, I eat a fair amount of junk but I try and make up for it by exercising, dancing, keeping myself active and on my bike as much as possible. An unhealthy/fat/overweight/beer gut health professional isn't a good look, I said.

Then Annoying flatmate looks down at his growing tummy and calls himself an asshole, vows to stop eating to lose weight and literally throws a mini temper tantrum in my room.

Honest to all deities above and beyond, I wonder why.

I told him that he should cook for himself more. He comes back with the retort that he doesn't have time, he doesn't know how to cook, he doesn't have a wife to do it for him.

Wife? Honestly. One thing I must mention, in his culture, the men don't cook. The women do.

And apparently, him and another doctor staying here have been drooling over my cooking for the last two months.

Funny that. So I guess being slightly sexually confused is a good thing after all. +D

So what does this have to do with wishes?

I told Annoying Flatmate that if he hates his job so much as a doctor, to quit. Work somewhere else, perhaps. If he hates his 14 hour days, tell someone or else, tell them that he's not able to cope with the hours.

Then he kind of covers his mouth and mutters, "When they offer you $100 an hour to work, its hard to turn the offer down."

Then I said, "Well, you've chosen to take this job. Look at me. I only earn $20 an hour. I work 8 hours a day. Sure, I'm not too over-the-moon about my pay but it gives me time to do what I want and I'm happy. No doubt, you get paid a lot more but you took the job and you took the responsibility. And whether you get job satisfaction out of it or not, that's up to you. There's no rewards without consequences."

***

Smart words, eh? Eh?

Careful what you wish for. Again.

Wishes don't come without consequences. And I think that's still a lesson I need to learn over and over again. My wishes and my following actions have always had consequences that I'm not too proud of.

But hey, can't get up if you don't get face-planted into the dirt now and again, can ya?

Then again, if I was in Annoying Flatmate's shoes, I honestly don't know whether I would take the $100-an-hour and work 14 hour days or would I still be content to keep my $20-an-hour job.

Its a bit of a dilemma, really.

I kind of think about my ballroom, my dance, my hobbies, the time I spend blogging. +D

Whether I would be willing to give it all up for more money, more prestige, more suffer-now-and-enjoy-later consequences.

But really? Even as a lowly rotational physiotherapist who gets the sht every now and again from every staff member imaginable, I think I have wayy more job satisfaction than he does. He may be earning in a day what I earn in two weeks but he's eating out of KFC boxes, hospital dinner boxes which usually consist of some unfavourable carbs, steamed vegetables, and a meat of sorts.

Don't mind me, I've been reading The Zone by Barry Sears obsessively recently.

What I eat? Wayy better food. I have time to cook and enjoy my meals. I can roast chicken, scramble cheesy eggs, make pasta along with nice sauces, and fry up a steak anytime I want.

And plus, I have 4 out of 8 abs. +)

So one way or another, I win. And he loses. Except for my bank account. Boo.

There's a charity ball coming up. And its traditional formal wear. Guess what I'm going to be wearing. +))))))

Its late, really. And I do need to get a bit of shut-eye. Its back to the rat race tomorrow. But at least my race finishes at 4.30pm and plus, I have 2.5 hours of OARSOME dancing tomorrow night.

La Bamba, tangoette, swing waltz, lucille waltz, merrilyn, gypsy tap, carousel, parma waltz...

Killing me softly.

So I turned to one of the doctors this morning.

Linda

"Yes?"

Do you believe in euthanasia?

And then she shakes her head and tells me, "Poet, you've got too much time on your hands."

Lord Pharmacist turns around and asks, "Where is this coming from? Anyone in particular?"

No, no, no one in particular.

There is a man on the ward. He self-inflicted a gunshot wound to the head and survived it, miraculously. However, he is just slightly more than a vegetable. He talks. Is able to eat. Lives life in a wheelchair.

About two months ago, he tried to starve himself to death. He nearly succeeded, except that his parents deemed him incompetent to make that kind of judgement and brought him to hospital to be revived.

He was not happy.

He nearly bit a nurse's finger off in an attempt to release his frustration.

Currently, he fluctuates between wanting to die and wanting to live. Doctors, nurses, everyone else is trying to get him to eat.

Its a game of find the ball under the upturned cups,really. One day, he'll refuse everything and everyone will do everything short of clamping his nose shut and force feeding him through a tube. And he'll tell everyone he wants to die.

Next thing you know, he's gulping down fluids and food and telling everyone he wants to live.

Its interesting, really, the topic of euthanasia.

As a health professional, it seems somewhat taboo that I even bring it up. To some doctors, their immediate response was, "Of course not! I'm pro life all the way!"

Really?

Tell me then. What's quality of life? If someone wants to die and you're doing everything short of pumping him full of liquid food, he's not exactly having a ball either. Let him die.

There's a book called Killing me Softly by Dr Nitschke and Dr Steward on voluntary euthanasia and the "road to the peaceful pill."

I've not read the book yet. But I will. Seems like interesting reading, really.

As you can probably tell, I'm a pro euthanasia person. If someone is desperate to the point where death seems like the only viable option, then by all means, provide them the means for it.

A lot of people will argue that its playing the role of God. That you take life into your own hands. But what if said person wants to take their own life? Who are we stop it? Its not our lives that we're trying to save. For those people who believe (or don't believe) in an afterlife, its their ar$ses on the line (or not, if no afterlife exists.)

I find it funny how in certain countries, you can choose to commit suicide but if you fail, you get a jail sentence for murder of the 1st degree. Of yourself too, mind.

To refer back to that paragraph, I personally think that I would actually provide someone the means for euthanasia out of mercy. Heck, people do it in war all the time. What's the difference doing it in times of peace?

Perhaps a lot of people think about smothering someone with a pillow until the struggles stop. Or stabbing. Or poisoning. Or something else.

Me? I'm a big fan of the pistol. The Beretta blowjob has gotta be the best way to go. Quick, noisy, efficient. No pain. Unless you're like Mr Patient who probably flinched and the bullet took off a chunk of brain rather than kill him.

Or a cyanide pill. Unless I turn out to be one of those people who just won't die on a cyanide pill. Which I think will be a rarity.

But anyway, I'm going to get up to some light reading tonight. And probably bring that book to work tomorrow and have a perusal as well. *evil grin*

No lah. I think I'll be subjected to a psyche assessment if I bring a book like that to work.

I think its funny how everyone seems so against it. Is it that bad, that....taboo-ish? As religiously distant as everyone seems to be, why are they still so fixated on a religious belief that God/or a certain power out there is still in charge?

Beats me, honestly.

Skygazing.

EDIT: A friend commented that because I'm NOT on Facebook. I'm antisocial. How does THAT work?!?!?!

The weather outside is interesting today.

No, not that there are tornadoes? to my right and a monsoon wind blowing from the left. Although that would probably make it very very interesting.

There was a burst of sunshine around 11ish which was very nice. I don't get to see the sun very often, let alone spend time in it especially since I spend most of my days indoors running around treating sick people.

This morning was a typical overcast wet NZ morning. You can tell that its been raining from the dampness of the grass and the still cold puddles of water pooling at street corners and in little ditches.

I myself had an early morning start to my immediate displeasure. After rolling around on the double bed trying to find a comfortable position, I made the assumption that the room was too hot. I had left my fan heater running the entire night because the night before, I switched it off and my gonads froze under the covers that following morning. And this morning, the temperature was comfortable enough for me to break a light sweat.

Yeah, probably too hot.

I strolled into town this morning. Yeah. I strolled. Not biked. Strolled. Somebody took my bike from the house. I honestly wonder who. But then again, that bike was never mine to begin with. What a sh|t its going to be to travel from one place to another now. Guess you never know how much faster you go until you don't have a bike.

So the sun broke out at 11ish for a brief period of time and then decided to play peekaboo with the clouds and the foolish people who decided that it was going to be a warm day. More emphasis on peek rather than boo which in my opinion is quite sad. If the weather keeps up, I'll actually have to get a bottle of tan from the dance website. My face is getting pasty and I have significant tan lines from my periodic exposure to sunlight.

Huh.

I used to blog on Wordpress. And what was really nice about Wordpress was that they had this inbuilt stat-counter plus a keyword search and you can see how many readers you get in a day and what kinda keywords they look you up for.

At one point in time, I used to really really care about how many people visited my blog. I had counters, every little kinda device under the sun on my webpage, tracking IP addresses, locations, people.

Probably my stalkish side coming out. I knew I had it in me to become an American Psycho.

I could probably know who was who after a while. Especially those who visited my blog on a daily basis.

At one point, I even had 54 people visit my site in ONE day! But then again, that could've been me refreshing my template as I tried to put in something or rather into the side columns.

Anyway. Sun's out again. I might grab a bit of sun before it disappears on me.

Tata.

Things I thought of today.

I thought of how much a mastectomy removes the feminity of a woman.

I thought of what would actually happen if I decided to disppear.

I thought of my self mantra that I would kill myself at the age of 40 to prevent the crippling sadness of growing old and sick.

I thought of my desire to leave and yet stay.

I thought of you, my dear.

I thought of how my growing hobby is getting more expensive than I would have liked it to be.

I thought of how much I miss home. My friends. My brother. The heat. Laughing like crazy. Like how I used to.

I thought of how I am a working professional now and I need to maintain that facade. That's right, facade.

I thought of how I really would like home internet but they're quoting me three hundred on the wiring fee. B|tch.

No, not really. Its not her fault. She's just doing her job. Its the money thats horrible.

I thought of how perfect we would be. Its you. And me. Let me take the lead role in your wildest dreams.

I thought about the fact that this is my 12th day straight working in a row. I am officially tired. A steak and a salad is guaranteed tonight. And a straight up serving of carbs too, I should think.

I wonder about being here. Whether this is my calling. My place to be. My final resting place.

Or am I meant to be somewhere else across the ocean. Start life anew. Afresh.

I thought of why I keep wanting a fresh new start. As though I always seem to be running away from my old life. My old ways. Myself.

I thought about how fickle the human mind is and how easily we are appeased by money and the fact that we all seem to dream of making it big and rich and live life just the way we want to.

I thought of every single person up there two storeys above me, in their hospital beds. And I wonder what kind of life they are living now. Hacking, coughing. The usual, isn't it? Getting around on their frames and walkers and crutches and just living out life the way they do. Hoping to go home. Get better. Taking an extra sniff of oxygen and hoping it would saturate their lungs a lot quicker.

I thought of the man that died in ICU a few weeks back. Of how peaceful he looked. Of how the nurse assistant told me that parts of him are still warm and parts of him are cold. That he is dead, not asleep, although he looked as though he was sleeping. Of how I declined to help the funeral directors put him into the bodybag. I don't think I can get to grips with holding a body. A dead one, to boot.

And funny that, he was a person 30 minutes ago but now, he's just a body. He's nothing else but flesh. And blood. And guts. And nerves and tendons and muscle and organs and all that other bits that make us, us. And now, he's just a body. He could be my little finger. Doesn't make a difference.

I thought of what he was thinking of in his last few moments. Did he pray? Did he smile at his loved ones and kissed them goodbye. I saw the family. They huddled together, tearing, hugging, consoling, backpatting, dabbing away tears. Saltwater is emitted when a person dies. It is a emotional reflex.

I wondered whether he made it into Heaven. Or as in the old stories of people being condemned to Hell, whether he saw a dark hold appear right next to the vital signs monitor and a clawed hand reaching out to grasp his needle riddled arm. Whether the family gasped and wondered what was going on as he backed away in his bed, trying to avoid the devil himself. And then he went still.

Hm.

I wonder what you have seen. And heard. And ate. And said. And walked.

I thought of you. And what you thought of today.

So I've been meaning to blog but.../Soft 3

You knew a title as such was going to appear one day or another.

 

I've been busy and work's been crazy and every other minute is either spent trying to tidy up my room, dance, remember at least 7 of the New Vogue dances that I've learnt, juggle 3 different waltz routines in my head along with the quickstep, memorise the slow foxtrot, recall the tango, and after all that...

 

I've let my blog slip. Oh yeah, I sure have.

 

I've finally found a solution for the missing phone in annoying flatmate's locked room. I'll move out of my room now and move back to my old room where I have a phone jack in there. So I can finally get internet/my own phone line without him taking the phone and locking it in his room. AGAIN.

 

He did it this morning. What would I do NOT to kick his ar$e?

 

I've got dance this evening. Yayness.

 

And Tofupuff is coming back. +D

 

And here's another edition of Soft.

 

Soft 3

 

"Baby ah..."

 

Hm?

 

"Guess what I'm having for dinner tonight."

 

Siiiighh.....what are you having?

 

"Greasy, thick, char kway teow with lots of strips of pork, egg, bean sprouts..."

 

You suck.

 

"And then I'm having iced lemon tea.."

 

Giggles from the other end of the phone line.

 

Right. Now my turn.

 

"Noooooo...."

 

I'm having roast chicken...

 

"I hate you."

 

Rubbed with lemon, sea salt, cracked pepper and rosemary...

 

"Eiyer......I want!!!!"

 

And then I'm having a salad with a side of roasted wedges...

 

"You know, you like to make me hate you...."

 

And guess what I'm having after that?

 

"Whaaaaaaat."

 

Cookies and cream ice cream with a glass of Baileys.

 

"Okay. Fine. Bye."

 

Hahahahaha....now come here, bao bei....

 

***

 

Revenge sure is sweet. +D

Random clicks

Its pretty amazing where randomly clicking on links will take you.

For one, I found this really really amazing game. It takes about a minute to figure out how to work it but once you've got it, you've got it. Plus, it has the most amazing orchestral soundtrack to it.

Click here for a bit of fun.

Also, today has obviously been a relatively boring day. The weather is cold and miserable and not unlike the dark side of the moon with a glimmer of sunshine now and again. It seems as though the freezer department of my refrigerator has decided to make EVERYTHING freeze (insert evil laugh here from refrigerator) and now, I'm in my snow jacket. I've worn my shoes all day long. I usually don't. Bleh. Its cold.

And my annoying flatmate has decided to take off with my cordless phone, leave it in his room, and LOCK the door. Thus, disabling me from getting to the phone. How bloody stupid is that? So I've left him a relatively tactful message outside his door reminding him to please return the phone to the charging base as "other people also need to use the phone, please."

One other thing, I've had about 5 different flatmates live with me now. They've all left one way or another and sad to say, all the men that have flatted here can't cook for peanuts. One guy repeatedly ate baked beans on rice with two fried eggs. How's that for breakfast, lunch and dinner? This other annoying flatmate...I've never seen him in the kitchen.

Pardon me, but I think men aren't able to cook. Well, at least for 4 of them who've been here, anyway.

Me? Oh yeah. I'm able to cook. Plus, I've made things I've only eaten in restaurants before. Oh, I probably should mention. At the age of 15, I was sexually disorientated and I think I fell in love with another guy. Well.

Um.

He had the most awesome neck.

Moving on....

So yeah, I'm the one cooking every night. Whereas the baked beans/rice/fried egg guy utilized the non stick pan for his eggs and the microwave to the max.

And the other guy probably ate out every night.

One more thing. Both of these guys are doctors.

You're handy with a scapel but you can't even cook for a girlfriend? Puh-lease.

I want my cordless phone back, jerkoff. Or else, you'll get a brick in your window. Honestly, I swear to all the deities possible...

Ponderings 2.

Today, a patient threw a temper tantrum at me because her doctor promised her a portable oxygen bottle without considering the fact that we don’t have bottles to give out to any Tom, Dick, and Harry that wanted one. Besides, oxygen doesn’t treat breathlessness, it treats hypoxia.

Duh.

But then again, she was too pissed off with me to notice. Or to consider.

Somehow, the doctor still isn’t wrong. Its all the rest of us who suck.

Honestly, I wonder why the world hold doctors in such valuable regard. As though they’re infallible, completely unable to do anything wrong.

They’re human beings too. Sometimes, I wished I could give that doctor a piece of my mind. Plus an enema up his……posterior crevasse.

***

Today, I met with a patient. 75 year old lady with peripheral neuropathy. Poor lady. She was still independent but shaky on her feet. She was driving but she was worried that she’ll deteriorate. And with the advancements in medicine not quite yet enough to deal with all of this, she was afraid that she would be wheelchair bound.

“Don’t get old,” she told me.

I wont. I said. I’ll shoot myself when I turn 40.

Made me think, that one.

***

When dealing with Temper Tantrum Lady as above, her poor long suffering husband came into the room and she complained and complained and complained to him about the poor service, about being lied to, etc. And he took it all in. She was soooo fricking talkative that she talked until she was completely out of breath and she KEPT talking. Some people. Gosh. She was huffing and puffing and on 2 litres of oxygen but yet she just wouldn’t shut the fsck up and pipe down for once.

The nurses and I were in the nursing station and they wondered how this man put up with her for 40 years.

I chipped in my two cents.

Love is blind, deaf, and mute.

Sounds cheesy, right? But honestly. Sometimes, if you love someone, you don’t see them, you don’t hear them. And you don’t say a fscking thing.

I admire people with that kind of drive and dedication. I think it takes the phrase “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part” to a whole new dimension.

Looking at some people like that, I honestly wonder how some people even bother to make an effort.

What was really ironic was that this woman proclaimed to be Catholic and talked about how important it was that she attended church, etc, she gave to charity and does everything good.

But after her Oscar winning performance today, where she pretty much yelled out everything to me and then went to the phone and yelled about the physio who kept making her do exercises and wouldn’t give her oxygen and the whole ward could hear her, I am ashamed to be part of that lot.

Call yourself a Christian, do you? Shame on you. You’ll probably burn in Hell and gnash your teeth and be set alight with fire and brimstone and sulphur and I’ll be right there to stoke the flames.

‘Course, I can judge ‘cos I don’t believe in that “Do not judge” bullsh|t.

Just some thoughts today.

I’m working this weekend but it won’t be too bad. Plus, we’ve got a long 2 hour dance session this Sunday so that’s definitely something to look forward to.

I really think I should get home internet. Hm.

Ponderings.

So I guessed I’ve made it here. So far.

Above is my dance registration card. I’ve not shown the back but it basically shows when I get to upgrade to D Grade dancer. But that will be a while yet, though. And a lot of comps to do.

I’ve been asked a lot of questions about what Wangy is like. And out of all the complaints I’ve given about it, weather, people, job, town, etc, I cannot ever seem to comment anything that terrible about the weather. Was down in Welly recently and man, the weather greeted me like a wet drooling rabid dog. Sad to leave the people, glad to leave the weather.

And above, is Wangy day before yesterday. Slightly warm to touch, the wind just a whisper, I took my cardiac rehab group out for a walk along the tracks and we enjoyed copiously luxurious amounts of sunshine.

One of my worst (I’d say worst but then again, it ain’t that bad, really. Come to think of it….) fears would be that I would end up staying here forever and die a physio. It honestly isn’t that bad when I think about it. I mean, I’ve got my dance, my ballroom, I’ve got plenty of opportunity to expand and improve myself and here I will be for a while, finishing off my contract. And then I’ll see what happens.

But and I’m so sick of the words “but” right now…

I can’t say for sure, can I?

I’m thinking of upgrading my phone/getting a new comp/rebooting my computer so my bloody system runs just that much faster.

But then again, with all the piling expenses of ballroom adding up at the current moment, its getting slightly expensive. Bleh.

Run.

I woke up this morning at the ungodly hour of 6.30a.m. and went for a 2.4km run. Time on this was 13.37.54.3 minutes.

 

I'm 2 minutes slower than I was previously. Crap.

 

But then again, for someone who hasn't run since March, I don't think I'm doing too bad.

 

This morning, I was thinking of assasinations of the past. Do you notice that all the good people seem to get hit a lot faster than the baddies? Ghandi, Martin Luther King, etc.

 

Why doesn't someone like Hitler/Stalin/Pol Pot get hit?

 

Probably because they're smart enough to get security detail. Bleh.

 

Anyway. Work now.

Heard on the radio

With a love like that
You know you should be glad

 

She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah
She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah
She loves you yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah

 

- The Beatles

 

And to quote Joni Mitchell,

 

"Don't it always seem to go
That you don't know what you've got til its gone
They paved Paradise
And put up a parking lot."

 

 

The A List/Spot the Poet

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the A List International. Featuring the greatest dancers of recent times.

We get the standard romance of ballroom dances.

And sultry, sultry, burningly lust-inducing latin.

Over the weekend, we had a dance comp in Wangy and the Monday after, I desperately flicked through the newspapers, hoping to get a glimpse of yours truly.

See me yet?

So I guess I can safely say I made the front page of the Chronicle, after all. :) Although the caption was entitled, "A Vision in Pink."

N.B. Copyrights reserved and pictures from the A List International belong wholly and solely their property. The other two pics are mine. Muahahah.