a PoiNTe oF nOtE

One of the more interesting things (amongst the many) in my transition to Boston (or US in general) is having to consciously change my spelling. If nothing else, to at least look more credible in the work I hand in for marking. Because, I was brought up in the old-school British English (remnants of British colonialism in my part of the world), and took my major exams from the British board.

For the longest time, I have been ignoring those squiggly red lines that come up when I type an incorrectly-spelled word. Not anymore. As part of my assimilation process, I am learning to put aside my “British roots” to embrace the “New World order”.

So now, I don’t see the “colours” of the rainbow, but I see the “color” of the blue summer sky. I am not as “sombre” contemplating spelling as I used to, because “somber” seems more intuitive. It is a fascinating “realisation” for me, to “realize” the differences in the two spelling systems of the same language. And while I do like “jewellery”, I think I can get used to liking “jewelry” too.

But I think I’ll stick with calling my “mom” “mum” and not “mom”. Some habits are hard to break.
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LifE CyCLe

While many people may not like hospitals, I actually find them really exciting places. I have to walk through the hospital every day to get to school. And the moment I step inside, I feel this buzz in the air around me. There is all this hustle and bustle that goes on, flurries of activities, a kind of system within the chaos.

I think what really touches me is this whole notion of people working to save other people. I have been on this side of being saved, so I fully appreciate the dedication of those who are on the other end doing the saving.

I am not smart enough and resilient enough (too much blood scares me) to be a doctor. And anyway I might be a little too old to start pre-med now. So studying to become a speech language pathologist is my little way of contributing to this cycle.

Maybe not to save lives, but to be life-giving.
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RanDoM

What I lack in aptitude, I make up for with writing.
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miXeD

It’s been a little over a month since I relocated to Boston. It’s been a little over a month since I started school again. It’s been a little over a month that I am living my dream to reality. Sometimes, when I’m ambling along the sidewalks, I have to remind myself that this is not just my imagination. That I am in my dream country in my dream school preparing for what I believe is my dream career.

I look forward to each day of classes, even though lectures are 4 hours long. I struggle with the assigned readings, my concentration is not what it used to be. I wonder how much of myself to put out there, in my first tentative steps at making new friends.

Coming to a foreign land and learning to settle in is exciting, challenging, frustrating, interesting, amusing, scary, intense, lonely, and wild. Exactly like life, I guess.

I am a mixed bag of emotions.
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sTop

The thing is, I have not dreamt of you. Yet every day, so many things remind me of you. In my mind, it seems almost as if I can see you. In my mind, I still talk to you. I have so many stories to tell you. I have all these things to show you. I have so many questions to ask you. I want to ask you, “Why?”

A lot of people say it is futile to ask why. Be that as it may, it is difficult for me to not know. Like a jigsaw puzzle that is missing a piece. And that disturbs me greatly. I don’t know when this questioning will stop, or if it will ever stop.

Once I start, I won't be able to stop, and that, would be very bad.
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