Dear doctor.

It's here.
It's coming.
It's near.

I don't want to be overly ambitious.
Even when i had the time and energy and ideas jotting it down wasn't really an easy task.
Now that I'm about to face it; the horror, the unknown, the struggle, the unkind stage of my life I wasn't going to expect anything more.

It's been a while since i've been treated like an idiot. It's been a while that my stupidity has been treated as it is. Usually every dumb questions i asked, will be treated as a genuine curiosity, followed by careful explanation till I geddit.

So, dear myself,
Learn to accept that those days are over. No point in comparing European professionalism and respect to our very own culture who proudly claimed that "budi bahasa budaya kita"


Expect to be scold, shout at, humiliate, exhausted, stabbed in the back.
Even don't know how will you react, try.
All the zen theory you've been reading up until this point, it's time to reread and put them to test.

Dear doctor,
The very least, don't you forget to be grateful in littlest things.
Every successful blood taken.
Every insignificant skills learnt.
Recognize this. And appreciate and celebrate this rare tiny moments.
So that in the end of the day,
No matter however hell it seems,
there's that littlest flicker of joy and love in doing what choose to do for a living.


Dear Faarhana,
Do not take all your anger and frustration onto your loved ones.
They do not need to pay the price for random people's fault.

WHAT EVER IT IS, SLOW IT DOWN, BE MINDFUL OF YOUR WORDS AND TONE.

Dear me,
Dimmed light, sipping green tea, soft radio playlist on radio like right now won't come as often as i'd like.
Please, if you have the chance, put a facial mask on, give yourself this moment again.
Because that's what you love to do ever since i knew you.

Be kind to yourself.
Pick yourself up.
Forgive yourself and make room for errors and growth, both as a doctor and a human.

You'll survive this, InsyaAllah.
You always do.

p/s: I love you.



 

I must remember this.

I think i have found my "it" home.

It's a little late at night as I'm writing this, but i cant resist to document this thoughts. Yes, prolly the dimmed light, the soft distant cry of lonely cricket that triggers for words to flair more easily for me at this hour, but i just can't stop thinking about it.

The house belongs to a friend, a very lucky girl that i'm madly envious of more after stepping into her family house last few days. It's not a fair jealousy since she herself is now a talented young architect in an architect-born blood line but there it is. (i meant this on a really high note Haidar!)

I've heard about it long before. But by chance, I brave myself driving one and half hour all the way to her home. (With a nice long chat with Elya, of course!)

It's not your typical luxurious home, with over the top imported designer furniture that stares down at you or a sofa set so grand that intimidates and makes you feel uncomfortable to sit on.

While they're certainly not cheap, it is a very tasteful and cleverly used space and colour, a thoughtful blend of coziness and high-end. A distinctive mix of function and charm.

The warmth you felt, still resonate even days after you left.

It reminds me of a Scottish countryside.
It reminds me of an eclectic array of Barcelona.
It reminds me of the romantic Parisian walkways.

Ah, well, we all have different taste-bud. To each it's own.

But for me, all the unexplained desire that I've been looking for in a dream house, a huge chunk of it is there. A healthy balance of East and West.

I left Europe a month ago, stepping into her house just takes me back there.

Till then!