i find it very hard to hate people. dislike, yes. but not hate. simply because in every single 'disliked' person that i know of, there's bound to be some goodness somewhere that i can focus on. take for example, a stingy person can simply be interpreted as someone who's perhaps just thrifty. or someone who's irritatingly talkative at work can be a real party person in a social setting. i'm thinking that it's all due to my libran nature. i'm sure somewhere deep with the core of my 'libranism', there's an idiot that's dying to please everyone. the cool part about this is that i don't look at people by their skin colour, size, eye colour, penis size, breath odour, funny ethnic smells and choice of cologne. i tend to judge a person by their characteristic qualities than their physical appearance.

but of course, this world is filled with people of varying degrees of characteristic qualities. some are simply filled with so much goodness that they deserve a Golden Ticket to heaven delivered to their mailbox the next available working day. while others, are just filled with enough of the bad stuff that you wonder if their existence on Earth is simply to bring misery to the human race. for some other really fucked up people, this misery unfortunately extends even to the animal kingdom. yeap, this world is quite a horrid place to live in, ain't it?

all that said, i've just recently discovered a new ability within myself. nope it's not cellular regeneration or telekinesis or muscle memory or whatever new abilities they are coming up next on Heroes. but rather, an ability to actually hate someone at work. and hate with such a passion that post-work, i actually envision applying the various methods of death in my dreams to this particular colleague. and colleague is not even the word i would like to use on this particular person. simply because she's a mercenary, not a team player. then again, there are many mercenaries in the ward that don't bother helping others despite the fact that their colleagues are drowning in discharges, medication, urinals and shit.

from what i gathered from people who have worked with her, she draws the line when it comes to the handing over of a shift. and not only does she draw the line, she highlights it with magic markers, re-draws it with a thick black marker, and completes it with fencing and a high-tech security system on it. it's easier to cross the Mexican border than to cross that line of hers.

this particular colleague hates me even though in the entirety of our careers in the hospital, we've spoken less than perhaps a hundred words. and we've been in the same ward for nearly 1.5 years coming. it's surprising, isn't it? that one can actually hate without having to talk to each other that much. and the silliest bit is, i'm not even sure what she hates or dislikes about me. but there's enough animosity between us to prevent us from talking to each other. but let's not talk about what causes this hate. let's focus on what results from this petty little hate-hate affair between this particular colleague and me. and just to cut down on me having to keep calling her 'this particular colleague' or 'mercenary', let's just label her as 'public enemy'.

yes, the entire ward hates her.


sometimes, the hospital can be conspiring against you working as a staff nurse. suddenly, one can get an influx of calls from Bed Management requesting to send a patient stat, the operating theatre to fetch two patients stat, the pharmacist to collect medications stat, etc. everything in the hospital's stat stat stat. when the nurse wants to go for her break stat though, you see a whole lot of negative words being labelled on her. this is why help from one's colleagues are really appreciated. this is where everyone puts aside their differences and concentrate on helping what matters most to the hospital and us: the PATIENTS.

i was working with the 53 year-old virgin several days ago. amidst admitting several new patients into the ward and settling administrative issues, we suddenly received two phone calls to fetch our patients back from two surgical centres, both within the span of less than five minutes. one had to be sent to the Intensive Care (it was a major operation), the other was a simple day surgery case which just required at least an Enrolled Nurse (one rank below the Registered Nurse) to personally accompany back to the general ward. the 53 year-old virgin is unfortunately a patient care attendant, two ranks below the RN. so he couldn't fetch anyone back. i prioritized and decided to send the Intensive Care case back first.

53 was nice enough to actually ask around the ward for help to fetch the very simple case back. alas, he asked the public enemy who happened to be very free on that particular day. and according to 53 who has a very good memory and is very objective about most things, this is what she said to him:

'I like you, but i don't like your in-charge (which is me)'

and with that, she couldn't care less about fetching my patient back. when 53 told me about what happened, the first thing that came out of my mouth is 'what the fuck?!'. and i seldom use crude language with 53 because he gives me a look of disdain whenever i do. but this was a special occasion that only 'F' words could describe. besides, behind his grandpa glasses, i could detect a hint of agreement. now, it's one thing to dislike someone. but it's another when this 'dislike' extends to the patients under my care, it's seriously fucked up. thank goodness, 53 was resourceful enough to get someone else to help. i followed-up with a bottle of green tea as a token of appreciation to that colleague. 53 and i agreed to just shrug it off and attribute this selfish behaviour as part of the public enemy's nature. the word that we agreed on this time was, 'we'll take it like real gentlemen'.

the really silly thing between the public enemy and me is that she's actually afraid of physical confrontation. or at least that's what i think. whenever we are working in the same shift and she picks up a phone call for me, she will NEVER ever pass me the phone personally. she will despatch a random student nurse to do the awkward job. there was this one time where i actually saw her spending nearly a minute looking for a student. is she insecure? is she afraid of me? what's her problem?

there was this other time when i was at the Endoscopy centre waiting for a porter to send an Oesophagodudenoscopy case back to the ward. i bumped into her along the corridor. she was sending a patient for what i assumed must have been a scope as well. as we crossed paths with each other, i could feel World War Three happening. it was a short war, but i think i won. you see, the Endoscopy centre has basically two entrances: the front and the back. the back exit is mainly for staff to send and fetch their patients. i spent nearly ten minutes waiting for a porter to send my case back with me. when i was back in the ward fifteen minutes after the WWIII confrontation with the public enemy, i found her happily chit-chatting away with her student nurses along the ward corridors. suffice to say, she actually took the front entrance (AKA the longer route) just to avoid another encounter with me.

this was when i realized that she's actually afraid of me. inside, i was laughing my balls so out that i could patent a new non-surgical technique to replace an Orchidectomy. i spent the rest of the shift relating this incident to the rest of my ward colleagues. i also spent the rest of the shift giving her stares that simply said 'i know you're afraid of me'.

i've got to admit that i enjoy fucking with the brains of someone i hate.

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i have to admit that studying has never been one of my better traits. especially not in the sunny little red dot where such strong emphasis has been placed on education. i mean, which other country in the world acutally publishes an annual update of 'Top 100 Secondary Schools' in their local papers? hell, i wouldn't be surprised if our local publications are coming up with the primary school or even kindergarten versions of these annual lists. 'Rote memory' seems to be the keyword of the day. i remember a secondary school education of various teachers reminding us to MEMORIZE pre-set answers to predicted questions for the GCE 'O' level exams. this is the sole reason why till today, i still can remember how ox-bow lakes are formed and the comic relief Shakespeare used in Romeo & Juliet (Mercutio: draw thy tool!).

there's another wonderful keyword that the education system here encourages as well: 'thinking out of the box'. all is fine and dandy of course, until you realize that there's actually another box outside the original box. i wish i could say that it was something fun (like an Xbox 360), something artsy (black box theatre anyone?) or something kinky (a porn video booth). but alas it's just another containment to prevent one's thoughts from going too out of hand. it's a bit like a Matryoshka doll in reverse, to keep you realizing that there will always be boxes outside boxes.

no matter what, since one lives and exists in the world, therefore one still has to play by the rules of the world to a cetain extent. further education and the paper chase is still a national hobby in Singapore. and since we're still waiting for more interesting recreational activites and spots to be built (eg. the Marina Bay Sands), why not throw some money into improving our futures? so let's gather round, raise our glasses of Integrated Resort-inspired drinks, and say 'ganbei' to my next step on the healthcare career ladder - a Bachelor of Nursing.


when you're gay and open to the whole world except your relatives, things are definitely going to get tricky. this is especially so in Singapore where everybody seems to be connected. if i actually took the time to sit down and draw out a diagram of sorts, i would soon enough realize that cousin A is connected to random person A via friendster who is a business contact of random person B that was involved in an orgy with gay persons A, B, C and me. and don't get me started on the intricate web of connections revolving around gay persons A, B and C.

there are many things about me that the parents are constantly hiding from the relatives. some things that i can name off the top of my head are the usual taboos like homosexuality, my smoking habit and my faith in the Lord (or the lack thereof). all this became really poignant when i recently signed up for a Nursing degree in my paternal uncle's education centre. a simple form requesting for personal particulars soon became a set of hurdles in itself. i spent several minutes pondering upon the outcome of the answer of the blank space beside the words 'Religion' . ditto that for a drug-related declaration. i was kinda grateful for another declaration that said something like 'I have answered these questions to the best of my knowledge and they are the truth'. i have a very bad memory when it comes to certain parts of my life.

my smoking habit comes into question as well when i think about the fact that my ardent Christian of a cousin has enrolled into the same course as me. to further complicate things, a colleague of mine from the ward is in this same course as well. and everbody in the ward knows that i'm a smoker. note to self: breath mints, listerine, a lot of cologne, minimal 'tea-breaks' in between classes and a little 'chat' with this particular colleague of mine. i've got a premonition though, that the cat's bound to be out of the bag after the end of the first semester.

where then, do the complications of my homosexuality come into this whole platter of secrets and lies? aaah.... here's the interesting bit. you see, the members of the paternal family have been secretly hoping and wishing that i bring home a girlfriend before i hit the big 2-5. however, the more likely truth is that i'm bound to be bringing home a boyfriend by the time i hit the even bigger 3-0 or 4-0, for that matter. so imagine the big huzzah it caused when a paternal auntie (John Chua's mother) brought back office gossip fresh from the education center of the paternal uncle (John Chua's father). apparently, there's a certain someone in the office that has developed a somewhat big crush on me. not helping is the fact that she's my education counsellor and in charge of student welfare. the news is that her father is a major investor in the uncle's education center and she got the job as a counsellor through pulled strings. that's all just rumours and water cooler talk though.

none the less, there's was this particle-charged air of excitement over dinner at the relatives' when the auntie announced this bit of gossip (she arrived at 5.30pm; apparently, she had been withholding this bit of information till i arrived at 6.45pm). if i could do a Matt Parkmen of Heroes fame, the random thoughts that would be bouncing around the dining table would be along the lines of 'thank goodness, there's hope for this child!' and 'finally!'.

of course, i neglected to mention that i knew all about this way before the auntie even heard about it. Rich Girl apparently, took the guts to initiate the traditional Singaporean courtship ritual text message of 'Can i get to know you better?'. and you know how i feel about 'Can i get to know you better' SMSes. the fates were basically against her right from the start. even if i were straight, she would never have been my material. to be fair to her, she's a good office girl, decent-looking and really sweet. the type that one would go for if one listens to a lot of Jay Chou, Jolin Tsai and Mayday or thinks that TyPin LIkE daT oN FriEnDstEr iS d@mN kEwl (where do they get the energy and time to type like that?). but then again, i'm somewhat a potato beneath that banana skin. so like i said, the fates against the Rich Girl.

i gave Rich Girl a non-commital answer. under normal circumstances, i would have administered a strong dose of 'honey, i'm gay' to the unsuspecting female species. alas, these circumstances that i'm in currently are abnormal. i mean, even the auntie knows of the local gossip that goes on in the office. what more the developments of my little tryst with the rich office girl? things were rather awkward between her and me when i headed back to the office to collect my course materials on Friday. or at least, she was the one who felt rather awkward. one could see that she was averting her eyes from my line of sight.

girls and rejection. i should have told her that i have a girlfriend.

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maybe it's the low budget and all that creativity stemming from the minds of the world's best indie bands, but you've got to admit that they more often than not, have the most awesome of music videos. just take indie folk singer, Beirut for example. who would have thought that you could film a cumulative video of band members along a stairwell and churn it out as an MTV? and all done within one shot as well. now if only Madonna would do the same with her lawyer, manager, agent, chef, three nannies, assistant, driver, jet, trainer, butler, five bodyguards, gardener and stylist.

do you think she's satisfied?

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my dreams are very much fluid by nature. what type of fluid, you say?

well to clear all the perversion in the air, i can assure you that it's not seminal. it doesn't stick and it doesn't taste salty with a mix of whatever one had for lunch (i've persoanlly tasted potato-chip-flavoured cum before). it's definitely not seminal because it doesn't congeal upon contact with water and leave behind an awful mess when it sticks along hairy limbs. what about blood? nah... it doesn't have that smell of iron and irony to it. honey? not that viscous. i can't remember half my dreams and metaphorically, they just don't stick in my mind as well as honey ought to. Benedict's solution perhaps? nope. none of my dreams are anywhere near being sweet. no reaction there.

i guess the closest comparison would have to be alcohol. pure, untainted, alcohol. on the rocks. preferably Gray Goose. my dreams always make me light-headed and they almost always seem unreal. and the worst part? they evaporate faster than you can grab a dream diary and jot down your dreams. it's extremely rare that i can recall what i dream about. the only things that i know after i wake from a dream are:

1) i just had a dream
2) i need to pee
3) it's a dream about (insert random topic)
4) seriously, i need to pee now

can i continue this after i pee?


to me, dreams are never good or bad dreams. they are just bizarre adventures in really random places. i dream in full technicolour vision. and of course, i have recurring dreams. okay, one recurring dream. it's a fifteen second dream of me in a ballroom being overwhelmed by a huge black ball that rolls towards me. it's hard to put down in words. which is why i don't bother with all that dream diary crap. the furthest entry i ever got in my dream diary were the words 'wet' and 'dream'. and technically, that doesn't even count as a dream.

one thing i can be sure about my dreams though, is that i dream of many things. at least i seem to recall dreaming of many things in my entire life. vague things like graduations, buying my first bike, sex, even marriage to a woman (??). for some reason apparently, the only dreams that i can clearly recall, are the ones where i die. and really, i'm always dreaming that i die. with the brilliance of information technology and the internet in hand, i once googled up 'death dreams' out of curiousity's sake. the dream dictionary of course, hushes it down to mean nothing more than the 'death of a cycle or a process'. i can only imagine that if i were a woman equipped with healthy, 'let's clear some endometrium and cause some cramps at the same time!' ovaries, i would be dreaming of a lot more deaths than i am currently dreaming now.

you have to believe me when i say that i've practically dreamt of most methods of death. i have been decapitated by Amazon tribals. i've been stabbed to death by a Chucky-like ventriloquist's doll. i've been shot to death by insurgents. i've been mummified by a psychotic killer. i've been burnt to death while trapped in a fiery building (useless firemen). i died of boredom while being trapped in the collapsed rubble of the Chrysler Building. i've been bitten multiple times by some poisonous Australian snake (i was in an episode of Crocodile Hunter apparently). there was even this weird dream where i dreamt that i was a village of people massacred to death by what seemed like Huns or barbarians of sorts. it's hard to explain this one, but i dreamt that i was a 'village of people'.

you might be wondering whether i feel any pain in these death dreams at all. curiously, i do. but on a pain scale of one to ten whereby one is 'very minute pain' and ten is 'menstrual cramps', i would have to say that the pain is about a four to five. and this is coming from someone who's rather resistant to pain. after all, i pierced my own nipples once, didn't i? no, make that twice. i've gotten both nipples pierced by myself before.

the thing is... these death dreams are so vivid and so real. like the dream when i was a woman and had such excruciating menstrual cramps that i eventually died from the pain. this is despite having taken quite a fair amount of Synflex. and i'm not sure whether this is true with the women, but menstrual cramps (to me) feel like someone has shoved a very strong suction into my vage and turned on pressure to full blast. substitute the ovaries for a man's gonads and prolly the male species can relate to what i mean. or how about the time when i was bitten by that Australian snake. i could taste that salty taste of iron when i went through several strong bout of bloody vomit. i felt breathless. i could feel abdominal cramps (i seem to dream a lot about cramps, don't i?)

strangely though, when i googled up snake bite symptoms, there was no sign of vomiting blood or cramps.
so if the deaths are not really 'real' deaths, then what is the point of these dreams?

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