The Reckoning

Nowadays, I find myself accompanied mostly by my maudlin thoughts, and I have dabbled with the idea of returning to my writing roots more than once in the past few months.

I’ve greatly lost my passion for the written word while in med school, being bombarded with medical facts and hard science day in and day out, losing the flair for writing I was once told I had.

This year, the administration decided to switch things up and assign us to a seat plan that we would adopt for the entire academic year. I was lucky enough to be seated next to a friend, who is as enthusiastic about the written word as one could be. During class, while I while away the boredom by browsing through various social media sites on my phone, she was preoccupied with writing her stories or reading poetry, among other things. I have never told her this, but I found myself envious of the ease with which writing came to her. I used to be like that, I would think, in between morning lectures and before I fell asleep in the afternoon ones.

I have realized slowly that I am in need of an outlet for my thoughts once more. These days, the lack of confidantes is both a thorn at my side and a blessing of sorts. I confess to feeling a bit cut-off from everyone lately, and I have no idea if it is intentional on my part or not. I have resorted to taking up new hobbies throughout this year in order to fill the void. I began the art of tarot, which I am still pursuing but have put on hold due to a lack of a mentor. I bought several books in the hopes of reigniting my love for the written word, but none have resonated with me yet, and I don’t imagine my busy academic life is helping on that front. I have taken to Netflix, but again, being in med school makes it more of a distraction than a help. A week ago, I attempted to start knitting, and while it is too early to tell if I would be passionate about it, I decided to restart this blog up in the hopes of clearing my thoughts better and regaining the catharsis that writing has provided me in the past.

So there you have it. Every week, or maybe every two weeks, I will come up with something to write — be it about my week, my struggles with exercise and dieting (if that ever happens), or whatever hobby I choose to prioritize during that period.

I also promised myself when 2017 began that I wish this year will open me up to more experiences, more friends… more life. I confess to lying if I said, or wrote, that I wish this does not enrich my life more. But I guess only time will tell if I will actually succeed with this endeavor or not.

Until next time,


I’ve decided to accept the reality of my being—for now, at least. Right now, I’m just one of countless med students struggling to cope with sleep deprivation and academics. I’m one of the countless students who are not sure if they should leave the profession. I’m one of countless lost souls trying to figure out if they like what they’re doing.

Nonetheless, I’ve decided to have a positive outlook for now and just recognize how lucky I am that I’m still here. I know a lot would kill for where I am.

I will strive to remain #hearthappy until I can no longer bear it.


Is this a slump or just an exacerbation of wanderlust?

I’ve been listless the past couple of weeks, and no matter what I do, I just can’t get back to the groove of being a med student.

Over Christmas break, I took a week to travel to Siem Reap and Phnom Penh in Cambodia, and to Saigon in Vietnam. I thought that a vacation was just the thing I needed to set my mind straight on focusing on med school, but I think I was mistaken.

Over that week, I met people who showed me that it was possible to put your life on pause and travel the world to gain perspective. And if it’s one thing I’m sure I’m missing, it’s that. Perspective.

This piece is very spur of the moment, and so I’m not sure if I really want to expound on that bit. Maybe a part of me is afraid that if I explore that thought, I won’t be able to follow through on my commitment to be a doctor. And maybe the fact that I was able to write that just now tells me something that I’m not quite sure I’m ready to admit—to myself and to the world. 

How the past 24 hours unfolded 📚

I was searching for When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi for about a month now, since one of my professors gave us a short but sweet excerpt to read for class. Last night, I finally found a copy at Fully Booked Greenhills.

When I got home this afternoon, I made a to-be-read pile of books that I bought before but haven’t been able to read.

Then, I went online to look for more books that I can queue up for when I have more money. I found all kinds of pre-loved books on sale online and I felt like all I had to do was wait until I had more money (way easier said than done) before all those treasures I coveted would finally be mine.

Lastly, just to be sure I had space for my new buys, I went around my bookshelves in the house — and lo and behold, found more than 10 books still waiting to be read!!!

I therefore conclude that I am trash for books and now I can’t figure out how to read all of these before classes start up again. 😭😭😭

If anything, though, I suspect that the next month would be anything but boring for me. 😍📚