beginning of an end

it was apt for me to walk through the corridors of kkh dressed in a polo tee with jeans, as i headed towards the paediatric secretary to submit logbooks. having lost my labcoat and other medical paraphenalia, i felt the freedom of not being associated with the hospital, of not having to always remember that my actions counted for something to the sick patient and their families. i was like any other, another visitor to the hospital.

i'm a sucker for such sentimentality as today marks one year of clinical work and the end of my third year in medical school. the hiatus is a short three weeks of unfettered holidays, with nothing academic to worry about, and a carte blanche to fill the timetable with whatever frivolous and fanciful whim.

this is the start of the crazy season, when you see your friends flown off to the poles of the world, and people indulge in activities they otherwise wouldn't without this newfound luxury of time. it is a season of rushing from one place to another, of packing suitcases or of fretting over how best to stretch the period and occupy with something special. the transcience of the holiday intensifies the insanity; we are always chasing fleeting time.

for me it is an all too familiar feeling of being lost with this sudden change in environment, of not having important things to do, and not having to go through the routine which we complain about but quietly are thankful, for it frees us of the responsibility of choosing wisely and miserly what to do with our existence.

the finish of a year as significant as this should be heralded with some aplomb. it has been a year with as much fear as contentment as sadness as frustration and to have come out with that shred of dignity and a modicum of hope is for me enough to take some pride in. yet the anti-climax greets me, resonating with thoughts of what now?.

how does one spend 3 free weeks between a year of madness and stress? with irresponsibility as a reward for the past year, or with quiet contemplation and reflection towards the new one?

my greatest fear is how to spend 3 weeks and not look down despondingly at time not well spent.

lost seconds

days like these go slowly unnoticed, paled by the grander occasions that appear more significant. days like these which transition from one stage to another, when the sense of foreboding permeates and fills the air so strongly that all there's left to pass the time is to listen to melancholic songs, simply just to plug the gap.

it is the vacuum that weighs down that period after the momentary high, the crazed laughter and the dizzy joy. the feeling of senselessness and loss as the scrambling for something meaningful takes off once again, some new project to occupy the mind and direct its destructive nature away from itself.