<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 19 Nov 2009 11:49:16 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Dap's Rant Space</title><description>Providing random insights since '05.</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>322</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-7778936669633556130</guid><pubDate>Thu, 19 Nov 2009 11:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-19T11:49:16.029Z</atom:updated><title>Spotted: Dappy La Fea</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SwUvZz3104I/AAAAAAAABUU/vAfm4odVrTA/s1600/Video+call+snapshot+78.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SwUvZz3104I/AAAAAAAABUU/vAfm4odVrTA/s320/Video+call+snapshot+78.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405779048195806082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-7778936669633556130?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/11/spotted-dappy-la-fea.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SwUvZz3104I/AAAAAAAABUU/vAfm4odVrTA/s72-c/Video+call+snapshot+78.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-6222025792724951049</guid><pubDate>Sun, 15 Nov 2009 22:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-15T23:13:19.181Z</atom:updated><title>Freak accident</title><description>Imagine this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't have a bathroom mat. So out you come from the bathroom and you walked towards the wardrobe. As you opened the wardrobe doors, suddenly! you're on the verge of slipping, the floor made slippery from the water sliding down from your feet. You hold on to the wardrobe door, trying not to fall. Then, to your horror, your wooden, at least 5' 8 wardrobe started to come down with you. The clothes rail gave way and out came all the clothes, the photo frame on top of the wardrobe fell and broke into many glass pieces, until you're lying there, half pinned by the wardrobe, in a sea of clothes and broken glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your world, previously contained in the sanctuary of your bedroom, that world, as you knew it ended, as you pushed yourself out of the wardrobe. You crawled away and sat there, watching the mess in a daze. Then, slowly, the tears start falling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I didn't find it quite tragic, I would have laughed at the oddity of my mishap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-6222025792724951049?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/11/freak-accident.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-3728542574124600482</guid><pubDate>Thu, 12 Nov 2009 11:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-12T12:14:14.119Z</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uokUzvPOXAA/SOd_x1f9UeI/AAAAAAAAA30/BMmFsTdwaEQ/s320/rachel+allen+bake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uokUzvPOXAA/SOd_x1f9UeI/AAAAAAAAA30/BMmFsTdwaEQ/s320/rachel+allen+bake.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;For a mere £6, I'm a proud owner of &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; recipe book. Whee Amazon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Olá! Como está?&lt;/i&gt; This blog has been so dead, but I'm hoping to update it more often in due time. I have been adjusting to a lot of things in the past few months. The 4th of this month was my 1 year anniversary in this hospital, so happy working anniversary, me. It looks like I'm going to spend my 2nd here too. The posting order is not here yet, so the portfolios have not been officially handed over to me. In the meantime, I'm still floating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My housemates are gone, and in place, another two new tenants.  Of the old PRP batch, only Van and I are retained here. In CPD we don't get asked questions, we get to &lt;i&gt;ask&lt;/i&gt; questions. Instead of being briefed, we are briefing the new PRPs. It's odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the VERY bright side, I'm going to London in FIVE weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;!--Session data--&gt;&lt;input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"&gt;&lt;div id="refHTML"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-3728542574124600482?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/11/for-mere-6-im-proud-owner-of-this.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uokUzvPOXAA/SOd_x1f9UeI/AAAAAAAAA30/BMmFsTdwaEQ/s72-c/rachel+allen+bake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-3541043408032670361</guid><pubDate>Mon, 14 Sep 2009 03:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-14T04:42:14.831+01:00</atom:updated><title>Samson</title><description>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1oA5DgYlrII&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1oA5DgYlrII&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the little things I miss is this special ringtone ringing. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-3541043408032670361?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/09/samson.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-6349752977873989191</guid><pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2009 03:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-13T04:57:01.096+01:00</atom:updated><title>Bon voyage, Nyipa</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I spent yesterday morning helping C to repack his luggage because the guy is a bit hopeless when it comes to trying to maximize space. Went for Saturday morning mass before that with his family, also went to town to get last minute purchases. I'm glad for the errands, it helps me not to dwell on the fact that he was leaving in a few hours. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When the time came to say goodbye, I surprised myself by not crying. :)) My eyes teared a bit but I was acutely aware of his brother observing me and smiling (he and his dad actually had a bet whether or not I will cry at the airport), so I took a deep breath and kept myself in check. And I feigned yawning several times to hide the occassional welling of the eyes (but again, Joo2 saw me). A hug, and just like that, he was gone. One minute he was there next to me while I &lt;i&gt;bising-bising&lt;/i&gt; a bit about him not done packing yet, the next moment he disappeared to board the plane. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Is it silly to purposely buy a deodorant that reminds me of him? May be so, but it's a bit comforting. My parents were searching for signs of distress on my face when I got back from the airport but I was okay. My sister held me awhile before I slept. In mass today, my family sat in the pew in front of his, like we do sometimes. It's comforting, to turn around and see his parents smiling at me, his brother grinning at the news from my mom that I did get upset once or twice at home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It's hard to remain sad when the people around me has been so understanding and kind. Thank you. In fact, I am determined to be happy even when we're several time zones apart. Who likes to see a shell of a person when he gets back anyway? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have a blessed Sunday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-6349752977873989191?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/09/bon-voyage-nyipa.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-4679067553178664537</guid><pubDate>Wed, 09 Sep 2009 22:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-09-09T18:37:30.877+01:00</atom:updated><title>One Step Closer</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Let me try to give you an account of the first &lt;i&gt;Nuku ke indu&lt;/i&gt;, literally translated as Ascertaining the Girl, event that I've attended. I can try, but seeing that it was my own event, and I was the girl to be ascertained, I don't think I can give you an objective account of the event. Sangat nervous tau!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But I've been spoken for, y'all. :))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;C's family came to pay my family a formal visit this evening. C's dad presented my dad with a &lt;i&gt;duku ilang&lt;/i&gt; (otherwise known as a &lt;i&gt;parang&lt;/i&gt;) in a beautiful beaded Kayan sheath. In the Kayan tradition, he said, the &lt;i&gt;duku ilang&lt;/i&gt; is used to clear the land for farming, you clear the land to claim it as your own, so that people won't encroach on your land. So by giving it to my dad, it's a symbol of their family wanting to reserve me, for lack of a better word. :)) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;At this point, I should probably explain that my significant other is half Kayan and half Iban. It doesn't really matter which side is more dominant, because either ways, it is customary for this to happen. I didn't realise how serious this was until this evening, seeing our family members seated together, discussing about us. I'm naive like that, I guess, if I thought as the newer generation we can do away with customs like these. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was SO freaked out, not so much on the commitment part of it but about things commiting the cardinal offence of Not Walking Bowed Low In Front of the Elders as a Sign of Respect. I did that anyway unconsciously, so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffffff;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This is certainly not our idea, this formal talk, but our families think it's the proper thing to do, seeing our closeness and the fact that we go 10 years back. Nerve-wrecking experience but seeing our families happy by the outcome makes us happy. I have to admit it's comforting for me to have this when he's leaving in 3 days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379509562920561362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SqfbchOyatI/AAAAAAAABT8/xlMIQAURuIg/s320/RIMG0186.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-4679067553178664537?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-step-closer.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SqfbchOyatI/AAAAAAAABT8/xlMIQAURuIg/s72-c/RIMG0186.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-7303091109571238766</guid><pubDate>Wed, 26 Aug 2009 10:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-26T12:15:12.567+01:00</atom:updated><title>White noise</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SpUSdy1Q10I/AAAAAAAABT0/KR9jus10gIg/s1600-h/IMG_5354.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SpUSdy1Q10I/AAAAAAAABT0/KR9jus10gIg/s320/IMG_5354.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374222033407235906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If all else fails, I get comfort in the fact that I can consider homemaking and I shall spend my days in supermarket grocery shopping. Quite an appealing thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 months, 2 weeks and 2 days until the end of provisional year. Things at work are bleh. I feel bleh. I am currently stationed in Accident &amp;amp; Emergency. By my lonesome. Sending an untrained staff to work in the acute setting is one of the unfathomable moves made by powers that be. I breathe uneasy at work because it's that time of the year when logbooks get handed in for evaluation. Shudder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But forget that, for I have a life outside of work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My significant other is leaving for LSE in 17 days so we're going into LDR Take Two. I try to take things in stride so I'm surveying air tickets. At least I get to return to the UK for a visit within 2 years of leaving it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling out of sorts lately, and I feel like I need to get back in control of my surroundings. I need to be happy keeping my own company. I need to be less complacent and change the things that I can. Be happy, be happy, be happy. I realise that I'm a runaway. I run away from things. Or I just brace myself through unpleasant experiences with the hope that I'll do better the next time around. I can never get the fact that if I want change, I have to roll my sleeves and get to it NOW, not tomorrow morning, not next week, not next posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A challenge would be living a life of simplicity. I have far too many things. Maybe I need to be less clingy on material possessions, comforts, and worldly values to get inner peace. Maybe then the white noise will fade into nothingness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-7303091109571238766?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/08/white-noise.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SpUSdy1Q10I/AAAAAAAABT0/KR9jus10gIg/s72-c/IMG_5354.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-445434859717874091</guid><pubDate>Tue, 11 Aug 2009 08:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-11T09:45:17.189+01:00</atom:updated><title>Psychiatric Unit</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I was at the nurses' counter in Psy (pronounced &lt;i&gt;pee-ess-wai&lt;/i&gt;). I looked up and saw a female patient loitering about. Our eyes met. I quickly looked down again at the journal paper I was reading. From the corner of my eye I can see her continue to stare at me. Then she came over with shuffled steps until she was standing right in front of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;"Adakah kamu adik saya A yang menyamar sebagai B?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I shook my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;"Adakah kamu C yang menyamar sebagai D?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I shook my head, again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;"Adakah kamu menyamar sebagai Muslim?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;I shook my head, that's thrice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;"Ah! Saya tahu. Ataupun adakah kamu klon?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I sighed internally, gave up and nodded my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;"Okay, terima kasih."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-445434859717874091?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/08/psychiatric-unit.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-7435441791285123537</guid><pubDate>Thu, 06 Aug 2009 12:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-06T14:03:48.934+01:00</atom:updated><title>G.L.R</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;If someone told me that the person I was meeting for the first time that day will be dead in a year and 2 months time, I would have found it hard to believe. I'm finding it hard to believe &lt;i&gt;now&lt;/i&gt; in fact.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were still in good old Scotland, in James Blyth. It was a day during summer after finals and I was making my way down to the ground floor. Midway down the stairs I heard someone buzzing to be let in the building. I peeked below over the window, and there you were with your other sister. That was the first time I met you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still it tugs my heart when I found out that 1 year and 2 months later, you're gone. You were only 22.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May the Lord have mercy, and soothe the hearts of the Robert's family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-7435441791285123537?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/08/glr.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-9074629882651181786</guid><pubDate>Tue, 04 Aug 2009 22:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-05T00:20:24.728+01:00</atom:updated><title>On not apologizing for being myself</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Bun and Eunice were here for the weekend so Pris, Cris and I played entertainers. The thing that amazes me about my friends from those days is that how easily we slip back into our normal candor. Friendship shouldn't be too hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the hypoperfusive state you have cool extremities because whatever blood you have in your body,  most is directed away from the skin and to the core organs, to keep you going. I can identify with that. Likewise, whatever energy I have, I spend it on people that matters the most as much as I can. There are so many things going on right now that I don't need. So what if I put my family and the person I'm planning long term commitment with first? I like leaving work at work now, it's good for the heart and it makes me less of an angry person. I like having a life very separate from work. I like the things I'm inclined to do. I'm a stay-home person at heart. I'm happy to be the hand that rocks the cradle. I don't aspire to be great as the cradle that rocks the world. So sue me if I am mediocre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to feel guilty for spending every weekend at home, but the more I think about it this week, why should I? I spent past weekend barbecuing and going to the beach. Went to pasar malam and tried to bargain with the lady to give us a durian discount. Having family friends over for Sunday lunch. Eating Sunday dinner at the high school best friend's home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it makes me happy, it can't be that bad. I have always been like this. So be happy for me, friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-9074629882651181786?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/08/on-not-apologizing-for-being-myself.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-2175202441866133179</guid><pubDate>Thu, 23 Jul 2009 21:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-23T15:29:23.218+01:00</atom:updated><title>Heenee</title><description>DR G CALLED ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What are the odds, eh? This is the one specialist that I put on a pedestal, and he called me. Interesting call night. At least it breaks the usual staff nurse or MO routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just proves how bad the situation is for him to call me personally. And what is the use of a second caller if she does not answer calls? But I believe I just made the right decision even without her go-ahead. Patients always come first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-2175202441866133179?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/07/heenee.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-3043560004610339659</guid><pubDate>Sun, 19 Jul 2009 22:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-20T00:09:35.755+01:00</atom:updated><category domain='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#'>We preach Christ crucified</category><title>Rumours Kopitiam 130608</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SmOi0wtSH_I/AAAAAAAABTk/axhv8SerLX0/s1600-h/IMG_4128.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SmOi0wtSH_I/AAAAAAAABTk/axhv8SerLX0/s320/IMG_4128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360307008812752882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I thank God still for Gareth, who even after a year and a month still keeps us in touch and naturally, in his prayers. A running joke used to be that we were going to wait for him to be ordained as a priest so that he can say our wedding masses. He just told us that he'll be moving to one of the Irish Passionist monasteries in August. If I get to visit him one day I will bring him 3 in 1 teh tarik because he loves it so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-3043560004610339659?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/07/rumours-kopitiam-130608.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SmOi0wtSH_I/AAAAAAAABTk/axhv8SerLX0/s72-c/IMG_4128.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-2088621888206974350</guid><pubDate>Sun, 19 Jul 2009 11:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-19T14:59:48.856+01:00</atom:updated><title>Merry Miri Happy</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;This is one of the rare weekends when I stay put in Miri because the parents and partner (in crime) came over. You know you really haven't been around much when you get lost trying to find your favourite a little-off-the-track supermarket in Krokop! The last few months my Miri was only limited to the airport, bus terminal, Ipohtown kopitiam and Bintang mall. But mostly on weekdays I see only the inside of the hospital's pharmacy department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Sending love and a big sorry for Aunty J in Pujut 3 for nyadi anak buai batu since CNY.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in all honesty I don't mind the travelling hours that much, 7 hours back and forth. My Friday nights I rather spend in the bus. Would it be more fun to stay in Miri where capitalism (thank you!) has brought Expensive Posh Ice Blended Coffee and Belle's Bookshop where there's always a book to buy? You bet. But I rather do the 7 hours investment; go home and give my mom the joy of fussing over a child now that the nest is empty, bantering with dad and fighting to foot the bill (he normally wins 'cos it's mostly his turfs we go to, and naturally, the bill bearers will side with him). I rather go home to Tiki. Merry, merry happy indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not really good in dealing with the Impending Situation. Until recently I have been cushioned by denial and buffered by hope, hope that when the time comes I will be able to send partner in crime off with a smile, for if that's the last image of me that you're going to see until a year has passed (video conferences excluded), it better not be the image of me all splotchy with tears. I know we will be okay la, considering that I hardly get to see you in the last 5 years, but love, as it turns out, doth stand the test of time, and the test of being VERY apart. We'll be okay, it's just that I'm a bit of wuss about having you away again, when we're in a very good place now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in the capriciousness of events. I believe in Divine Providence. I think we're  in Good headed towards Something Greater. But all in good time. So in the mean time I have to chill and stop the cause of eye puffiness (btw thanks Clarins) - because you're still here! :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-2088621888206974350?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/07/merry-miri-happy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-7411802628510653667</guid><pubDate>Thu, 09 Jul 2009 02:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-09T03:59:05.098+01:00</atom:updated><title>Something viral came this way</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I know I can be impulsive, but I am also apparently impulsive &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; stubborn. Which is why I am here at home in Bintulu thanks to a two days MC. I INSISTED on driving home yesterday because I was feeling blue in Miri. In the end I decided that it would be foolish indeed if I drove home without my parents blessings, so I took the bus. I've got a viral fever. I didn't need to do an FBC (full blood count) to know that it's not bacterial, if the persistent high fever and retro-orbital pain are any indications. So I'm home, but will be going back to Miri for work again tomorrow. I have been away for a week now, dang it, I feel SO guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm doing the hospital people a favour. No one wanted to hang out with me yesterday while I was waiting for my blood results (Dr M ordered a malaria test, just to rule out the possibility), I was told to stay away in fact, considering that I just came back from KL after all. Heenee paranoia (Van says it's easier to say than Haitch-One-Ann-One). Oh ya, except for Van. Thanky V!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was surreal last night being home where mom and dad and C are. I guess mom misses having a child around to mother now the baby of the family is in college. But I loved the pampering. :) Though it does mean that I would have to finish my bowl of porridge (because it's nutritious) and no, I cannot take it with kicap (because it's fermented and not good for me). I also got the lecture about eating more nutritious food and eating vitamins because I seem to be sick a lot lately. Parents went for Holy Hour last night, so C accompanied me until they got home. It was good spending quality chilling time. :)))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-7411802628510653667?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/07/something-viral-came-this-way.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-9046981491538385173</guid><pubDate>Mon, 22 Jun 2009 22:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-23T00:07:17.967+01:00</atom:updated><title>Twenty Five Years Ago Today</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SkAN41F8jeI/AAAAAAAABTU/oVbjlq7UIz0/s1600-h/IMG_2012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SkAN41F8jeI/AAAAAAAABTU/oVbjlq7UIz0/s320/IMG_2012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350291627292003810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SkANnynPtkI/AAAAAAAABTM/BlO7tAP1grw/s1600-h/IMG_2015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SkANnynPtkI/AAAAAAAABTM/BlO7tAP1grw/s320/IMG_2015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350291334568588866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Feliz aniversario, mom and dad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-9046981491538385173?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/06/twenty-five-years-ago-today.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SkAN41F8jeI/AAAAAAAABTU/oVbjlq7UIz0/s72-c/IMG_2012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-1173703166962226610</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Jun 2009 08:49:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-14T10:58:19.007+01:00</atom:updated><title>On obliging me my corny moment</title><description>Over the weekend, I was grimacing over love letters from 8 years ago that C managed to find. I only managed a few lines before I stopped. Mortified bah. The teenager that was me was unbelievably corny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God I grew up and became &lt;i&gt;less&lt;/i&gt; corny. My sister can hopefully attest to this. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My surrounding is strangely quiet now. Granted, it's nice being able to dig for booger (&lt;i&gt;n&lt;/i&gt;. dried nasal mucus) without a care in the world, but I rather sit prim and proper at a table by the pool having Sunday morning breakfast with you. I rather sit slightly warmer in the car, pushing the aircon vents all towards you, knowing you're feeling the dry Miri heat. Heck. I rather relive trying to find the car in the basement parking lot when we were seriously potentially late for mass. Even if I have to half-jog with every one long stride you take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For what it's worth, I like how this doesn't get old. By now you'll think we'll get bored with each other. But we get better with time. Like wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heart on my sleeve. And I said &lt;i&gt;less&lt;/i&gt; corny, not entirely corny-free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-1173703166962226610?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/06/on-obliging-me-my-corny-moment.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-4787804741147809304</guid><pubDate>Tue, 19 May 2009 06:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-19T00:03:07.756+01:00</atom:updated><title>Paolo Nutini &amp; (My) New Shoes</title><description>&lt;i&gt;Woke up one cold Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking tired and feeling quite sick,&lt;br /&gt;I felt like there was something missing in my day to day life,&lt;br /&gt;So I quickly opened the wardrobe,&lt;br /&gt;Pulled out some jeans and a T-Shirt that seemed clean,&lt;br /&gt;Topped it off with a pair of old shoes,&lt;br /&gt;That were ripped around the seams,&lt;br /&gt;And I thought these shoes just don't suit &lt;a id="KonaLink0" target="undefined" class="kLink" style="text-decoration: underline ! important; position: static;" href="http://www.absolutelyrics.com/lyrics/view/paolo_nutini/new_shoes/#"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 15, 255) ! important; font-weight: 400; position: static;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:13;"  &gt;&lt;span class="kLink" style="border-bottom: 1px solid rgb(0, 15, 255); color: rgb(0, 15, 255) ! important; font-weight: 400; position: static;font-family:Arial,Helvetica,Verdana,sans-serif;font-size:13;color:#0000e0;"   &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, I put some new shoes on,&lt;br /&gt;And suddenly everything is right,&lt;br /&gt;I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody's smiling,&lt;br /&gt;It so inviting.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello new shoes, bye bye blues.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-4787804741147809304?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/05/paolo-nutini-my-new-shoes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-7890125505296229514</guid><pubDate>Mon, 18 May 2009 06:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-18T00:06:21.255+01:00</atom:updated><title>On being human &amp; the greater moral good</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What's in a good Catholic? Perhaps it's not about being blameless, but knowing when to call on Christ for help. I pray to you dear Blessed Virgin, and all you holy ones. We need your intercession.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My conscience, the Holy Spirit within me tells me so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-7890125505296229514?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-being-human-greater-moral-good.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-8262615218126372561</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 14:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-07T15:17:59.784+01:00</atom:updated><title>Optimism</title><description>But I suppose you have to have difficult days to appreciate the great ones, and tomorrow will be great because&lt;br /&gt;a) it's Friday!&lt;br /&gt;b) I'm going home for mommy's birthday, and&lt;br /&gt;c) someone will be driving 200km up and back again. To bring me home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this could be me being perasan. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-8262615218126372561?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/05/optimism.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-6655456533183956112</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 10:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-07T14:53:18.447+01:00</atom:updated><title>Big Boss</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Don't you dare talk democracy when you veto your way into everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The U52 is an absolute idiot, I kid you not. He runs around like a headless chicken trying to change everything about this hospital's pharmacy when we lack manpower and the means to bring about change. I've never met anyone so unreasonable in my entire life. Why ask for our opinions if you're not going to listen? Why disrupt our work and call us for meetings when everything is already set in stone and it doesn't matter what kind of input or suggestion or concern we might have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a moment after that. Aint pretty, and so not me, considering the fact that I normally keep a cool front at work. The rest were pretty livid as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say, straighten out the kinks within the department first. Then only you talk about expanding pharmacy and mobilizing your whole department to do various 24 hour services.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-6655456533183956112?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/05/big-boss.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-1390163204581671399</guid><pubDate>Tue, 05 May 2009 22:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-05T23:28:25.001+01:00</atom:updated><title>Pineapple under the sea</title><description>Dr S to me on Monday: "Come on, Spongebob. Let's do our round."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my Monday blues dissipated just a little.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-1390163204581671399?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/05/pineapple-under-sea.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-4387251799452420431</guid><pubDate>Wed, 29 Apr 2009 12:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-29T14:15:11.627+01:00</atom:updated><title>JS</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Among the first few questions that my preceptor asked me in the beginning of male medical was "Can you handle death?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said it depends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the patients whose case that I was actively clerking passed away today. Intracranial bleed. My last few memories was him breathing raggedly, even as I stood observing his cardiac monitor during the grand round. His BP was crashing, and I was the one who struck off all his antihypertensives from the meds chart, under the specialist's order. Menial task. But I remember being on high alert, scared that I would miss out on anything. The MO's and the ward sister and the preceptor was concerned with the fact that the wife seemed more concerned about his mouth ulcers when the crux of the matter is that the patient was dying and she should be prepared for his demise. I think she was in denial and I don't blame her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 minutes later, when I was at the other side of the ward, still in the middle of a round, the nurses started calling the MO. The patient was bradycardic before going completely asystolic, which means his heart slowed down until suddenly, it stopped beating. The patient's wife was asking why isn't anyone doing anything. The ward sister looked distressed and asked the MO to please could someone counsel the wife again about the patient being not for active resuscitation. I looked askance at my preceptor. I don't understand the business of not for active resuscitation. I mean, I do understand it, but I find it morally difficult to grasp. Even if it's technically not wrong to not try and bring back to life. At least that's what I remember from bioethics and flipping through the Catechism of the Catholic Church, but I may be wrong so do correct me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The heartbreaking thing was when the daughter and son tried to perform CPR. The family refused to let him go. When he was finally pronounced dead, I saw the wife started falling apart. Heaving, gasping for breath sobs. As I walked out of the ward, I had to bite my lips. They are taking out the biohazard bag, already starting to do clean up. I had to pinch my fingers. Do not get emotional. Do not cry. But then I saw the daughter outside, silently crying, sitting dejectedly in a corner. I cannot help myself but walk over to her, put my hand on her shoulder and told her I was sorry about her dad. I walked away to go for the mortality meeting. Thank God for the meeting. I wouldn't want to stay in the ward to watch the aftermath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death can be so painful. I saw one last week, but that was so peaceful, I was quite happy to see him go, finally free from his emancipated body. Today was a bit hard to witness though. I said the Divine Mercy prayers as he died, so that was the most I can do. I love doing clinical, not for the deaths of course, but the intensity of it. It's different being in the ward compared to being behind the pharmacy counter where everything is clean and sterile and happy. It's difficult but immensely rewarding when the patients do get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-4387251799452420431?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/04/js.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-6964890041617641150</guid><pubDate>Sat, 25 Apr 2009 08:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-25T15:23:33.744+01:00</atom:updated><title>Rookie Mistake(s)</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hospital called me again this afternoon. One of the wards needed chemo supply. The dose was really off though. Had to call the HO prescribing it to see if he really really wanted to give it that frequent. New guy. Just reported for duty beginning of the week. Probably graduated early this year. V reminded me to be nice. But to give me credit, I wasn't about to give him a hard time about it LOLs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it feels weird when the doctor starts to apologise profusely for the mistake. Chill. That's why I'm there for. Besides, I know how it's like to be an intern. I am one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-6964890041617641150?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/04/rookie-mistakes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-5815529010583048468</guid><pubDate>Fri, 24 Apr 2009 09:37:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-24T13:34:19.481+01:00</atom:updated><title>Oct 07</title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SfGRJ9mdT-I/AAAAAAAABSU/XP1hKb3ahY4/s1600-h/CIMG3884.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SfGRJ9mdT-I/AAAAAAAABSU/XP1hKb3ahY4/s320/CIMG3884.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328199434496724962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never thought I'd say this, but missing this hair length on me. But yala, the snip snip snip was therapeutic pre-finals.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-5815529010583048468?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/04/oct-07.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GG3j5to7gr0/SfGRJ9mdT-I/AAAAAAAABSU/XP1hKb3ahY4/s72-c/CIMG3884.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16634630.post-6544737249190870381</guid><pubDate>Fri, 24 Apr 2009 00:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-24T01:41:03.532+01:00</atom:updated><title>ORS per purge Part 2</title><description>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So I am staying in again today. I was up already in fact, showered and was getting ready to go to work when suddenly I had a sudden need to go to the loo. An episode of diarrhea &lt;i&gt;and&lt;/i&gt; vomiting. Nothing left in there but bile. I'm hungry but I can't keep anything in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had to go back to the hospital to get another MC from Dr N in the ward who started to look a tad concerned. Preceptors asking me to do a BUSE, which means blood urea and serum electrolytes. Electrolytes normally get low in vomiting and diarrhea. I refused because (1) I don't want to be poked for the BUSE and (2) I don't want to be poked for the subsequent IV drips. I don't think it's food poisoning. Now the general consensus is that this is due to stress, and the fact that I'm now in male medical ward. Male medical is crazy. Only done paeds before, so one thing that struck me is how big the adult male patients are, and how much space they occupy. It's quite rewarding so far, even if the workload is much higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually on call this week but thank God, it's been safe so far. Someone is taking over my Saturday morning duty, so I just have to work on Sunday now, but I should be okay by then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16634630-6544737249190870381?l=daphiemaie.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://daphiemaie.blogspot.com/2009/04/ors-per-purge-part-2.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Dappy)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>