the no_brainer strikes back

pushing deadlines

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 14:39:25 +0000

here goes my first official entry to our humble online writer's guild, organized by no less than myke. and can i just say, he played the role of cool, calm, and collected chic (chief-in-command, if it sounds weird) while he was agonizing over my deathly late contribution.

it's a bit lengthy, but all in my classic writing style. hope it's as fun a read as i think it is.

**

The Rush of Chopping Bodies

As I made my way up the stairs of Calderon Hall, the familiar stench of formalin was already strong in my nose. Lucky for me, the stinging odor never made me want to spill my stomach, even after having a hearty lunch like I had just minutes before. But sadly, not even 3 months of near-daily exposure could see me get used to the fumes, resulting in watery eyes and a runny nose just as I stepped onto the third floor landing.

The scene in front of my eyes was exactly as I expected: my classmates milling around the lockers and benches, some chatting, some studying, some even having a sing-along or dancing, but everyone clearly trying to avoid entering the dissection room before we absolutely had to. With everyone wearing scrub suits in all sorts of colors and patterns, it was a veritable carnival in there. I made my way to my lockers, where Migz and Jenny, two of my three lockermates, were waiting for the keys I kept in my bag pocket.

"Good afternoon, Ibn. Tagal naming hinihintay yung susi ah."

"Hehe, sorry Jenny, nakaiglip pa kasi ako sa condo bago ako pumunta dito eh. Eto na, eto na o." My Lionheart keychain clanged against the metal locker doors as I hurriedly wrenched both of them open. Bags, books, and clipboards went into the empty locker, while scrub suits, gloves, and masks came from the one laden with lab equipment. Taking off the stuffy top of my med whites, I stood there in my sando, relieving a bit of the heat while enduring taunts of "Ibn's so hot!" and "Ang hot naman ni Ibn!" from some of my friends. Finally donning my Monopoly scrub suit, I turned to Migz just before entering Dualan Lab.

"Ano bang gagawin natin ngayon? Skinning pa lang ba ng thorax?"

"Ang alam ko din un lang eh. Pero baka buksan na rin natin ung rib cage, para makita na natin ung visceral organs. Exciting 'no?"

Bracing ourselves, we opened the door to the dissection room. If outside, the air was thick with formalin fumes, then inside it was as if we were being dunked into a tankful of the vile preservative. Double-layer masks and scrub suits were hardly any use, since the smell soaked well through them into our undergarments and skins, such that wearing them has become merely a formality. Migz headed off to his table, while at Table 1, most of my anatomates were already preparing. Mike was clutching his Netter as if safeguarding his most prized possession, and most likely the book was, while Mich and Gillian were already outfitting our scalpel handles with new blades. Zan would most probably be late, while Jasper would be out performing his Liaison Officer duties. I gave everyone a hearty smile before positioning myself by the head of the dissection table. "Tara na?" I said as I peeled off the blue vinyl sheet covering our Mang Caddy.

Even now, the sight still brings a little shock, and a great deal of awe. A 5'5" male was sprawled on the table, knees bent to the right, but you wouldn't likely take him for an old man taking a nap. In places where it was still intact, his preserved skin showed, tough and brown like tanned leather, while the rest of him was wrapped in aged pieces of gauze, much like the reviled cursed mummies of Egyptian lore. Unwrapping his arms and legs would show the isolated muscles, vessels, and nerves of his appendicular system, not so masterfully picked apart but sufficient to get us past the first anatomy lab exam. If anyone cared to remove the cloth binding his head, they'd find a skull neatly sectioned into three: the calvarium neatly sawed off to reveal the brain and the floor of the cranium, while the facial aspect was clean cut through the middle, best to examine the interior of the nose and the oral cavity.

All around the body, leftover bits of past dissections lay scattered about: a left clavicle, a patella, the angle of the jaw, pieces of his outer ear, and one eye, with the eyelid and nerve still attached. Various metal implements were also arrayed on the table by the head, the function of each left to the grisly imagination of an uninformed observer. It was as gory a horror scene as one could imagine, but made a little more normal by the fact that 26 other tables held exactly the same macabre sight, if not worse. Also, it could hardly be called gruesome with all the med students loitering around their respective tables or jumping from one group to the other, nonchalantly chatting away, oblivious to all that was before them.

We were just about to get into small talk of our own when the sound system let loose a blast of feedback that served to silence the entire hall. Doc Ryner stood on a platform on the far side of the lab with a hastily sketched chest with guide lines on the whiteboard behind him, a diminutive king addressing his subjects, with the royal crest glaring at the back. "OK guys, today we're going to open up the rib cage. Start skinning the chest of your cadavers and identify the pectorals and intercostal muscles, then our lab technicians will be going from table to table to break open the chest. Feel free to ask questions to any of the consultants in the lab. Remember, hanggang 4:15 lang tayo magtatrabaho ah. Good luck."

Without any delay, we set about to it. Wielding the scalpel and kelly scissors like weapons I've worked with for years, I deftly scored Mang Caddy's chest right along the middle until the end of the rib cage, then sliced down to either side, exposing the muscle layer beneath. Mike and I then proceeded to separate the skin from the underlying fascia on the left side, while Mich and Gillian worked on the right. In no time at all, we were already referring to the images in Mike's Netter for the names and locations of the many-layered intercostal muscles. We were probing between the third and fourth ribs to isolate the muscle sheets when Gillian's scalpel went through the fibers cleanly, entering what seemed to be dead space. We let loose some automatic shrieks and shouts, fearing what structures we might have macerated beneath, but a quick finger through the gash assured us that nothing lay directly on the blade's path. Curious to what surprises waited inside, we tried to sneak a peek through the hole but the darkness covered everything. With our curiosity piqued, I sought out the nearest lab technician, Mang Boy, and got us next in line for the ceremonial chest chopping.

I could barely contain my excitement when Mang Boy finally came to our table, bizarre power tools in hand. He shooed us away from our cadaver, holding a dull metal blade like he meant business. He immediately went about to hacking the sides of Mang Caddy with that vile tool, slicing through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. When a rib proved to be particularly troublesome, he took out yet another implement, a set of pliers but with sharp-edged pincers that looked like they could section your fingers with hardly any effort, and snipped away at the stubborn bone. The right clavicle was pried away from its socket with such force that the surrounding muscles were ripped along with it. The bottom of the chest section was similarly sliced, until the entire anterior skeleton was hinged only at the top, looking much like an eerie breastplate.

For the sternum, Mang Boy brought out the grand daddy of all dissection tools: the circular power saw which was also used to open the cranium. Using the saw meant that someone had to constantly apply water to the blade using a syringe to avoid bone dust flying everywhere, but the slightest bit of affection for your fingers easily made everyone shy away from the task. Luckily, Jasper arrived just in time and took the syringe for himself. The saw was switched on, emitting a dreadful screech fresh from the depths of hell, and it ran through the fleshy exterior easily until it met resistance: the scalpel hiding under all those chest muscles. Weirdly though, the scent of bone being crushed and pulverized by the whirring teeth of the saw reminded me of bread baking in the oven, giving me an untimely craving for pan de sal. Away the saw went, slowly inching its way through the sternum, while I watched on in maddened fascination.

Then it was done. Mang Boy slashed through the last few fibers still attaching the breastplate to the rest of the body, handed the plate of muscle and bone to us, then headed off the the adjacent table for a repeat of his gruesome yet enticing performance. I took in all that lay before us, two soft, mushy lungs with a speckled appearance, like gigantic marshmallows made out of granite, and the heart, the once-thought-of seat of all emotions, just as it was illustrated in all our anatomy texts, great vessels and all. If I was amazed at the way by which these structures were exposed, it was nothing compared to what I felt seeing those marvels of human architecture up close. My heart pumping, I picked up the closest scalpel and scissors, inching my way towards the heart. "What might I find inside?" I asked myself, as the blade cut away the translucent sheets of fibrous tissue surrounding the organ. "There'd be valves, and muscle fibers, and I can trace the pathway of blood..." The edge of the scalpel pressed against the apex of the heart, collapsing a hollow yet rubbery wall. Just a little more pressure and the wonders of the human heart would have been mine to behold...

DING DONG!

My mind woke itself from that frenzied trance, suddenly aware of my surroundings. The warning chime at 4:15, the signal to clean up and pack, always brought with it horrible memories of anatomy lab exams past, where the same sound would command us to halt whatever we were doing and move to the next number. I looked around and saw my fellow dissectors already preparing to leave; scalpel blades were being removed and deposited into the clear plastic bottles meant for such use, the cadavers were being sprayed generously with Lysol and slathered with petroleum jelly, gauze, sackcloth, and the blue wrapping were going back on, people were stripping off their gloves and untying their masks, and on the way out of the lab were starting to resume idle prattle where they had left off. My anatomates and I did the same, and when I finally stepped out of the lab, I heaved a big sigh of relief. Another lab session down.

Despite all the excitement and exhilaration I derive from our dissection sessions, they always leave me more tired than necessary afterwards. It might be the stress of having to identify all those structures and parts thereof, all the manual labor we have to perform, or just being exposed to formalin for three hours straight, but I am always glad that lab sessions end as they do. Which then leaves me looking forward to the next dissections to come.

But then, that excitement for another time. I quickly shed my scrub suit, got my stuff from the lockers, and ran back down the steps of Calderon Hall. Medrhythmics training was scheduled for that afternoon. And that's another rush all on its own.

it's on

Sun, 15 Oct 2006 04:57:19 +0000

the last two exams over and done with, a research presentation proposal in the bag, and a few drama/senti moments with the class right after, involving a heartwarming trp composition and yet another departing doctor's farewell tribute, and it's practically over. the first sem, i mean. and thus it begins.

with all my talk of advance reading and exercise and all that scheduling crap, all plans must now crumble and be blown away as if dust in the wind, in the light of this amazing masterpiece of a game.

ff xii. not just in japanese anymore.

and just in time too, since i now officially have more or less a month to burn, doing nothing better with my days than gluing my eyes to my tv screen and bashing buttons away in true real-time-action-rpg form. and if you know me and my gaming habits any, you'd know that a month would hardly suffice to appease my insatiable oc-ness when it comes to my ps2 save files.

then again, i would similarly drop near everything for a chance to dance, even if i have to commute from qc to manila back and forth almost everyday. and that's another innate beast stifled and fed, with the trp class opening number training coming at us daily 1-4, and regular rhythmics sessions as well, not just for our trp presentation but to start on the concert repertoire. maybe there is a chance to become buff this break after all, or at least harden my abs just a bit. the thought of all that physical activity just tickles my fancy, wanting to start as soon as possible.

and so the challenge begins. between the hypnotic pull of my brand new game just waiting to be consumed in hours and hours of role-playing galore and the feed-forward endorphin rush i'm feeling from just thinking about all that dance, much more actually doing it, this sem break is going to be one gigantic blur from one thing to the other, myself hardly knowing how i'm possibly going to cope with it. nice way to get some rest and relaxation, wouldn't you say?

but then again, if i'm just going to be showered with so many blessings in such an infinitessimal amount of time, my oh-so-greedy self has nothing else to do but to take it all in, figuring out exactly how later on. as it's said, where there's a will, there's a way, and i intend to make this break count for as much as it possibly can. and even if i burn myself out trying, i know it's still all going to be a blast, just because i'll be enjoying the plain rush of it all.

oh yeah, it's on now.

a study in social interaction

Sun, 24 Sep 2006 06:50:55 +0000

imagine 160 people (okay, so now it's technically down to 157, hopefully not still counting). that's 160 nicknames to remember, 160 birthdays to celebrate, 160 cellphone numbers to ask for. 160 separate minds, 160 distinct personalities. 160 lives all intertwined with one another from the day we first set foot in that lecture room. the number may seem intimidating; but that's because it is. even if you're all stuck in one big classroom, and even if you'd all be together for 5 long years, it's enough of a challenge to get to know all of these people, much less make real, genuine, meaningful connections with all of them.

but then, that's where the big contradiction steps in. even if it's understood that you won't click with everyone and not everyone will click with you, you all get thrown into these situations where you're *forced* to make such connections with these people, regardless of whether you're naturally capable of making such, or certain circumstances dictate that you'd be much better off leaving these things alone. and in these situations, it's pretty much get along with each other or else die trying to survive all by your lonesome.

our curriculum thrives on group dynamics; nearly everything aside from exams (oh, if only...) have to be done with 3 or more people at your side. transcriptions, dissection, histology lab, mentoring, problem-based learning, you name it, we've got a group for it. and chances are, these groups are formed on the single quantifying basis of the order of our surnames, nary taking into account the presence or possibility of chemistry between them. and since you can't really change your last name on a whim, this is how you become stuck with your forevermates, your alphabetical friends.

it's like med school is really just a big experiment in personality conditioning and social dynamics. i could practically feel the video cams focusing, watching to see whether we could all become one big happy family in ourselves, or if we're just setting ourselves up to crash and burn in our attempts at civility, taking our future in med school down with it. since that's obviously not a feasible choice, at least not for anyone who's the half-bit serious about being here, everyone finds a way to deal with the cards they're dealt. dry sarcasm is always an option, and so are apathy, ignoring or avoiding people, or maybe just keeping to yourself. again, none of these are really good options either, seeing as you're usually stuck with the same people until internship. then comes the hard part.

when you start interacting with these people, it's when you start finding out their true character. it's when you start seeing all these tiny faults and issues they have, things you can't stand now, and can't imagine standing for so many semesters. even people you thought you'd get along with, as an effect of simply spending too much time together, start showing things that turn you off.

that's not always how it should happen, though. you can also find common interests, things that can make them good companions. it's also when you get to know these people that you find that they can be really caring, responsible, and dependable. you can also learn something else important: patience. it's when you learn that all those little quirks people have don't really matter, that they don't stop them from being good people. and even if they have these irreconcilable faults that really just irk you, you have to learn to look past them and appreciate whatever good they have deep *deep* inside.

and when you can make pacts of unwavering support and togetherness throughout all upcoming trials over triple cake slice treats and chicken ala kiev, as legally and morally binding as if it were written in the presence of a judge or carved by godly bolts of lightning into stone, rather than hastily sketched on a moist table napkin with a pseudo-makeup red gel pen and signed by haggard students on a sugar high, and yet everyone else is taking it as seriously as you are, that's when you know that you can drop the "alphabetical" part and you're just left with... friends.

a disclaimer

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 11:40:26 +0000

no, i haven't started back on the path to blog abandonment, though nearly two weeks without any new entries might classify as such. it's just that hell month has already started, with two or more exams each week, our first ward work coming up soon, and a research proposal on gano and gout to squeeze in somewhere amidst all the panic and frustration. i'm just priming myself for the last few weeks of the first semester, which entails constantly hitting the books and just trying to keep up with all the load remaining in the sem. after that, it'll be three whole weeks of smooth sailing during the sem break, during which i've also got some activities lined up for, but that's for another time.

and just to be frank, my mind hasn't been in much of a creative groove lately. it might be all the innumerable tidbits of med lore i've been supersaturating it with, or plain fatigue is just setting in. but regardless of why it's so, my good old neuronal network just isn't up for a filling dose of wordplay nowadays. it's not like the well has gone dry though; there've been some bouts of daily drama that i wanted to spill my guts about recently, but i guess baring my soul through my writing just isn't my forte. again, maybe some other time.

i've never

Sun, 03 Sep 2006 04:25:24 +0000

the best plans are the ones that aren't made.

make sure "fashionably late" is already late, ok?

we really must have more car-overloading-picture-hogging-close-range-screaming roadtrips.

a homecoming isn't where the program is, but where the people are.

i miss out-of-town outings so bad.

it's fun to hear that you've increased your *market value*.

beer trivia actually exists.

i absolutely must try more cocktails.

the more doesn't necessarily mean the merrier.

sub-sober dreams and alcohol talk is the greatest.

there's a time for denial, and there's a time to just shut up and drink.

save your tales of fx capers for last.

you learn truths about your friends, but they're still your friends nonetheless.

if any of you are reading this, nothing, and i mean *nothing* leaves the confines of these walls, and our dim and hazy memories.

if only dreams were real

Fri, 01 Sep 2006 11:38:59 +0000

*sigh*

of all the stupid little things

Mon, 28 Aug 2006 14:17:39 +0000

i can't do a forward roll to save my life. so there.

it wouldn't be that bad, really, since there probably won't ever really come a time in my life that a forward roll would determine the balance between biting the dust and rising from the ashes. but then again, if you think about it, my life has been sort of revolving around rhythmics training sessions and the random, insignificant stuff that happens in between. if i don't learn this simplest of skills which even 3-year-old toddlers can perform with ease, then i'm practically killing my chances of performing the jazz number kuya james has been teaching us for the past few meetings. and he's been saying that the dance will be including several more forward rolls for me to blow over. what fun.

you can't say that i haven't been trying though; i spent a good two hours or so last sunday just attempting a roll on my bed, obviously to no avail. and the epitome of pathetic: james had to push my butt over my head twice during this afternoon's session, and still i couldn't get it on my own. it was weird, actually: it seemed like i was going to fall on my side, but then the world righted itself and i was sitting still facing the front. if i can just get over whatever's holding me back from just doing it (yes, i admit it... fear) since i've already experienced it, to some degree, then the world would be all right once again.

oh well. whenever you fall down, just pick yourself back up again. or even better, turn the fall into a tuck and forward roll your way to the next steps of the dance. how i just wish.

breaking the habit

Sat, 26 Aug 2006 12:04:20 +0000

med school sure has brought a lot of changes in me. for starters, it's only been here where i actually begin studying for an exam over a week before, or where i celebrate finished exams by studying for the next one. i've also recently taken to highlighting handouts, sims, and transes and placing post-it bookmarks in my moore (believe me, i was never this passionate or focused with studying before, despite my inherent oc-ness.) i suppose it's just a normal reaction to actually studying medicine; it'd be practically impossible to do good or even survive without upping the studying level quite a bit.

but what's funny about all this, is when i finally did grow up and take my education seriously, is when i also started resorting to *other* means of ensuring my exam outcomes. no, i don't mean cheating, if that's what it sounds like. we've taken to the habit of declaring any uncharacteristic activity or condition we've had before an exam which comes out good as a source of "good luck". for instance, migz, joey, and i have been studying at mocha blends adriatico on the eve before the exam for several exams running, after our first experience there led to more-than-favorable results in our first anatomy exam. i've also been changing my code name for exam results (code names being the most fun i've had related to exams since the advent of exemptions) for each exam based on my recent blog entries, another thing i consider a source of good karma. so far, i've identified my lucky exam jacket (mr. moss green), lucky exam shoes (an old, battered pair of brown cole-haans i *borrowed* from my dad), lucky lab exam scrubs (dark blue with sailing motifs), and some other stuff even i consider too pathetic to even mention.

don't worry though, i haven't quite reached a point of utter insanity that i would forego the actual studying part and just rely on these unproven charms and traditions; they serve a more passive part in the entire pre-exam process. they're just there to provide a little extra bit of confidence and security as we undergo more and more rounds of hell-on-paper, as if actually having them really do have any positive effect at all on the exams' outcomes. with the increasing level of difficulty of everything and the mounting pressure i'm incurring with all the academic and extracurricular stuff i'm taking on, i need all the help i can get.

but then again, there's always the possibility that behind all the stress and panic and unsurity, i'm actually learning something, which could then account for the past few exams. at this point though, with all the info that cycles through my mind on a weekly basis, it's actually more believable that there is an arcane explanation to everything than thinking of the more plausible reason. i can only hope that in the end, i'm really just on the path to becoming a doctor, learning as i should along the way, rather than just stumbling along on a weird combination of dumb luck and supernatural intercession.

at this point, i really hope it's not the habits which determine the final grade. biochem was such a cramfest that we had to skip the blends tradition last thursday. we'll soon find out, i suppose.

trials of a shopaholic

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 15:37:42 +0000

it really doesn't help a boy with a penchant for clothing capers much to be practically living inside a mall: the trials of fortitude and dedication are nearly endless.

take this afternoon for example. it was just a quick run to robinsons place for a cash withdrawal (atms and monthly stipends don't help much either) when i happened to take a peek at the oxygen boutique, and happened to chance upon another exquisite jacket, this time in flesh with brick-red accents. now, i don't want to be labelled as a brand loyalist, but oxygen is really the only store i've seen which consistently comes close to my taste in jackets, and with my current obsession with them, you can just imagine the endorphin spike that was for me.

now, i had just bought a jacket (remember moss green with blue) from the said store, which was a great find as well. but now, even i find it especially extravagant to be purchasing yet another one so soon after the previous one, so i was pretty set to walk away. i thought i could easily resist temptation, until my eyes wandered across the clincher: 20% off on all items, in big blaring bold red signs scattered throughout the shop. even during all-mall sales, you'd be hard-pressed to find something better than 10% off, aside from dumpworthy items the stores have to get rid of. 20% is a regular miracle of everyday life, if you ask me. which is precisely why the real test began.

my breathing and pulse rate quickened; my palms and brows broke out in a cold sweat. one could have seen the wild, manic twinkle that lit up in my eyes at that moment. the retail beast had awoken; next came the epic struggle between its insatiable hunger for good buys and my remaining values and restraints. i swear, i could have gone all epileptic in rob, with that intense internal conflict going on in my head. fashion or frugality? style or sensibility? trendsetting or thriftiness? the alliterations could keep on coming, but you get what i mean. while my brain was desperately trying to weigh my options, my hands and feet must have had minds of their own, with the repeated pacing to and from the store and the constant reaching for my wallet, even if i already knew i had enough money if i wished to give in. funny how some actions can become almost reflexive once you've done them all too often.

but guess what? i didn't cave this time. as hard as it was for me, i turned my back to the incredibly-amazing-flesh-with-brick-red-accents jacket and paced away as fast as i could that wouldn't look weirdly autistic inside a mall. but before anyone praises the strength of my character, let me just cut you off right here. the only reasons i held off the overwhelming drive to spend were because i already had eyes on a pair of sneakers i had spotted last week, and what i'm really looking for is a jacket in the perfect shade of blue. twisted motives, yes, but they work just fine.

so just watch out, the retail beast will crave for sacrifice soon enough.

the first cut

Thu, 17 Aug 2006 13:26:38 +0000

for reasons even hazy to me, my rhythmics fever still keeps on rising. i haven't spent this much time or given this much priority to any other extracurricular activity save sleep. so naturally, when i found out last tuesday that our first opportunity to present as part of the medrhythmics was coming up this friday, as part of the pgh 99th year celebration street party, i could barely contain my excitement. but just like everything else, there was a catch: there would be a cut, a screening stage, an elimination process. we had to dance the seven eights of hiphop we had previously learned for the members, our peformance on which would determine who dances and who stands silently at the sidelines.

i wasn't particularly pressured at this point, until the time came for our group to give the dance. it was sometime during the sequence that i thought, "a little more practice might have been in order." i floundered at several of the steps, particularly the steps i had to catch up on, but i kept at it the best i can. two repeats after, the second group had their turn, then came deliberation time. i was again pretty much nonchalant the entire time, until the words came out of their mouths.

as expected (but not as wanted), i didn't get picked. i could try fooling myself and say that i'm glad my *talents* weren't required for the friday presentation. first off, at least that's a little bit of unnecessary stress out of the way for now. besides, with the fate intermission numbers coming soon, that's quite sufficient dancing to keep me occupied. another good line would be that i couldn't possibly retain all the choreography required, plenty of which was taught even before i started attending training sessions. best of all, less dance time means more study time (of which i am in desperate need).

but honestly, who doesn't feel the disappointment of rejection, no matter how minor the issue? we try to hide our shame and spite, lest we be taken as jealous and bitter (which we are, to some extent), but the internal emotional turmoil is always there. despite hiding it successfully with the outward smiles, awkward congratulations to the chosen ones, and the "ok lang naman un sa akin, may ibang pagkakataon pa naman" lines, it is always there. and don't even think twice; i'm hardly any different from that.

i admit it, i'm disappointed. i'm bitter and jealous and depressed. i'm sad that i didn't get picked, because i'm sure i could do just as good as the selected ones, given the chance to practice and polish the steps. i really wanted to get picked because this was the first time anyone from our batch of trainees would be performing an actual dance during an actual external event. being picked would have meant that i can actually hold a candle to the *real* dancers in the group, despite my near lack of any prior training. i even went so bold as to think that i would surely be picked, compared to the slim pickings of the applicants that night (of the eight who attended, four were selected) and my distorted perception of everyone's skill level at that time. that just made it hit harder when the announcement was made, my name not included.

i even went to the next practice session with the smallest spark of hope in the back of my mind that if we learn the steps and perform the dance decently, we might be given additional slots in the performance. we all learned the choreo and performed it to a passable level (considering that the non-performers were all taking a backseat that session) but still to no avail. i'm now stuck accepting my fate at home and trying *futilely* to divert my attentions to studying and this blog entry, still to no avail.

but don't get me wrong, i have absolutely nothing against the members who chose the performers or the applicants who will be performing tomorrow. i'm still proud of and humbled by them, because they are the ones i should aspire to reach. i still want to watch the rhythmics segment of the party, knowing that they will still be giving an amazing performance, just as they should be. it'll still sting knowing that i could've been up there with them, but if anything, it'll just get me to work extra hard to get in the next time.

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 09:47:09 +0000