Vomit. Vomit. Vomit.

Some people literally puke when they are anxious while I feel the urge to have a word vomit when I am. This happens a lot, since I am quite an anxious person to begin with. The number of posts in this blog is directly proportional to the amount of anxiety itself and/or the amount of feelings that cause me to become anxious. Gauge my anxiety level through this post, for example.

-I have a problem with self-control. Damnit, I cannot control my impulse for escapism. As the number of pages pile up, the desire to sleep, rest, eat, and mindlessly surf the internet increases. This makes me a walking contradiction, since there's a part of me that's a control freak; that part gets anxious over very spontaneous happenings (overbearing surprises just won't do), broken schedules, and messy people. I feel like I am screwed big time and this is actually taking a toll on my medical education. The medschool where I'm at requires tons of self-discipline since their goal is for "students to learn at their own pace, by themselves". We come to school to take exams, look at cadavers, smile at other struggling students at the hallways, sleep on correlates where doctors may (a) give pointers for exams, (b) talk about their lives, (c) waste our time talking nonsense.

-Here are some of my pet peeves, in random order: noisy chewing and a person's head moving down to reach the spoon while eating (why can't you use your arm muscles and masseter?!); manyak-looking strangers everywhere who give maniac stares when you make eye contact by accident (this pisses me off big time); boisterous people who do not know their limit, especially those who give lame jokes and narcissistic stories in coffee shops; humans with zero initiative AT ALL (they need nudging all the time! they cannot even cross the street without somebody leading them. yes, I met someone like this); an object that I really like that needs to be shipped from overseas but apparently the shipping fee is twice the price of the object itself (I am talking about you, 500 Tips for Fat Girls); conyo speech - just please speak in straight whatever language that you're most fluent in speaking.

-I hate how schools only measure one facet of intelligence when it was found out that there are multiple other intelligences. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how I am supposed to transform overnight into a robot who can memorize everything on thick books by brute force when I know that I learn best through experience, explanations, and discourse. I cannot fathom how a 100-item shading exam measure what a person has learned within the span of around 10 months. I also wonder how come my brain didn't seem to make structural changes in its synapses in order to enhance my memory. 

-Sometimes I wonder if this is really the path for me. This will probably be with me until the day I die. Had I pursued Law, I would also probably be suffering death by tons of readings. Thinking about it now, perhaps my skills and talents are more inclined to communication- or even business-related degrees.

-Hello, parts of the eye. I remember 5 years ago when I took an entrance exam in that other school where I originally planned to study college. We were given a rough sketch of the eye with the different labels. We had to memorize the whole thing for 10 minutes then they gave us another paper with the rough sketch minus the labels. We had to label everything right out of our brains. Funny, they told me I got the highest score among all entrance exam qualifiers. I was pretty sure I flunked the Math part of the test. Fractions just don't sit well in my brain. Perhaps other test takers got lower scores? Apparently.

-It's quite funny how this blog's medium is English when it's like, what, my second language next to Cebuano? (Filipino is the third one. I learned most Filipino words through teleseryes. Sorry, elementary Filipino teacher). Maybe I learned the two simultaneously or something? I wonder, though, since both of my parents aren't very fluent with the language. Reincarnation of my past life as an ancient scribe? I don't know. I don't think I believe in reincarnation to begin with. Hmm, whatever it may be but I am quite comfortable when I write in English although of course I think nothing beats the dramatic tone imparted by Cebuano prose. This is ironic, though, since the Cebuano accent is really strong and hard. Still. Oh, and Filipino is a close second, too.

-I really need to start formulating a Plan B in case medical school doesn't work for me. Oh goodness, I cannot imagine myself working as a nurse. It's not about that job, it's just that I don't think I'm cut out for that (modified version of the "it's not you, it's me"). Of course I have to give some credit to BS Nursing for teaching me fundamental lessons in life (will blog about that later).

-I should really go back to reading my laboratory manual. Dafuq, whether or not I increase my efforts in studying, the outcomes are the same -- failing marks. I do not know what's wrong. I feel like there are blank spaces in my brain now. At times, I also hear voices talking to me and in my mind I answer them. This sounds like schizophrenia, I know. Oh hey, (+) insight. 

-Maybe I should delete your number on my cellphone. But what if I had to tell you something really important? Also, what if you had something to tell me but I won't be able to recognize your number anymore? Still, having your number on my phone frustrates me a lot because I know that I have your number and you have mine but we're not communicating. Oh and for the record, we're not bestfriends. We're barely even friends. Although, yeah, hit me up when you're in town, we can grab drinks with our other acquaintances. You just lost your chance of having a "lesbro" =)) No, seriously, I'm kind of a good candidate for a good friend that you know, you can ask about what you should surprise your girlfriend with, pat you on the back when you're down and out, those kinds of shit. That's what I'm most bitter about. You did not grab that opportunity when I offered it to you for the longest time now. Anyway...

-I am so freaking excited to get things over with. I want to drink my liver away by then, cut and color my hair and maybe get my navel pierced. Let me cross the bridge when I get there.

On an anxiety scale of 1 to Dena, why do I feel so fucking screwed?