I usually like numbers.
Numbers measure things.
Numbers tell stories.

But sometimes numbers are not on my side.

I was going to write this giant entry about Grad Bash, the annual Ball for Human Kinetics and Biomedical Science students. I was going to write about how much attention James got for wearing a kilt, about how awesome it was to get 10 pounds of jelly beans for decorations and getting sugar highs while setting up. I was going to tell you how awesome it was to make a balloon arch, curl ribbons, and hang inspirational Dr.Seuss quotes from the ceiling. I was going to tell you all about this girl in a hot red dress who did the worm on the dance floor then her skirt flipped up and apparently she had nothing on underneath. I was going to tell you all about how lovely it was to see Dr. Partlow again because he retired at Christmas time and he was a mentor to the students of Biomedical Sciences. I was going to give excerpts of Dr. Graham’s speech to the graduating class. I was going to tell you about how wonderful it was to have a celebration of my life here at Guelph.

But I can’t concentrate on any of that right now. I can’t seem to think about the good things. Instead, I am reminded of again and again, how important numbers are, and of how much life can suck when the numbers are not right.

I’m talking about grades. Those numbers. I ain’t got’em. Because of these numbers, Medschools shut their doors in my face, U of T Gradschool shut its door in my face, and last night I was reminded that pain again when I didn’t receive the Gary Partlow Prize for Leadership and Academic Excellence.

How many times must numbers fuck up my life?

I used to love numbers. I used to be good at getting the numbers I want. But I lost focus this past year. Life was overwhelming and I couldn’t do it anymore. I miscalculated.

I don’t know why not getting this award hurts so much. I thought I got over the disappointment of rejection from Gradschool. But I’m forced to pick at my own wounds and make it bleed. I guess it hurts because Dr. Gary Partlow is a wonderful mentor who believed in me when I didn’t, who offered support when I couldn’t keep on going. I wanted to make him proud. He and I know I’m worth it, and we want to prove it to the world too. But that didn’t happen did it?

It is ironic really. Originally I wasn’t going to bother with this scholarship. But Kristin, my fellow Co-Prez, nominated me and I nominated her in return. She thought that I would get it for sure because my list of involvement is about four times longer than hers. But that doesn’t matter does it? It’s an award for academic excellence, not academic mediocrity.

I am happy for Kristin, I truly am. She applied to all six Medschools in Ontario and received all rejection letters. Following, she fell ill with mono. She was drained, both in body and spirit. She lost faith in herself. She couldn’t even stand the briefest mention of Medschool. I know receiving this award would be the very ray of hope, the boost Kristin needs to get herself up again. She needed this more than I did.

What I didn’t realize was how much I wanted it for myself too. It was very kind of Dr. Partlow to squeeze in my name in his speech when he presented the award to Kristin. It’s good to know that he still believes in me. Deep down, I haven’t forgotten it. I’m just so incredibly emotionally volatile these days.

And the numbers game isn’t over yet. I have another month of it. I will be strong and remind myself that the final numbers haven’t been determined yet. I will one day love numbers again.

Take the quiz at dicepool.com

I'm gradually feeling better.

Ups and downs sometimes though.

College Royal Open House was this weekend. Being a Guelphite, and a Gryphon, I really should’ve participated more. Yesterday morning I debated on going to the Pancake Flip because I remember being really pissed off about missing it last year. Somehow I didn’t feel like going to campus. Somehow I just wanted to do nothing. I was shocked at my own lack of motivation.

I'm skipping my volunteer shift because I didn't feel like going. It is rare for me to not feel like doing something I have committed myself to. I plan to make slow progress on my Finance report instead.

It’s kind of funny how this week has gone by so slowly. I’m looking at the clock wondering why it’s only 5:09pm. I thought I wasted more time than this….

Time goes slowly when one is tired.

I’m completely burnt out. I don’t even bother making the effort to engage in enjoyable activities. Every single thing becomes a chore, when it wasn’t like that before. I constantly tell myself to keep on going, so I can survive and move on to greater things. It’s harder to tell myself that when plan A and B failed and plan C is to be determined.

Mom also senses this I think. She was asking about my plans and how Gradschool is coming along. I’m pretty sure she knew I got a rejection letter for Grad Studies at U of T. I thought she would flip…I underestimated her level of tolerance I guess. Instead, she’s stressing about saving for retirement. In a way, I feel the pressure too. She has been worrying about money her entire life. Had I gotten into Medschool she wouldn’t have to worry about finances so much. Let’s get realistic here, Docs make some pretty impressive numbers. I’m sure if I ever become one I would spare some to support my mother.

Dr. Partlow was really nice and offered his support in other applications even though he’s retired. That’s my next step, figure out where I’m going to end up next year. It’s not going to be in Guelph.

I think I aimed too high for my own good, and now I lie on the ground all bloody and beaten.

I got my fourth and final rejection letter yesterday.

And this one is the worst because it’s from U of T Graduate Studies, my originally intended back-up plan. It says that Epidemiology is a competitive program and only one out of five applicants gets in. I’m one of the unfortunate four out of five who didn’t get in.

It’s back to the drawing board for me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so hopeless, disappointed, unwanted, useless, angry and ashamed. It’s a different type of rejection from someone you like. For me, it hurts more. It hurts more because I know that I could’ve planned things better to get better grades. It hurts because I know what I’m worth and that I’m good enough yet I’m forced to recognize that according to someone else, I’m wrong. I don’t want to have to question my own integrity and ability. It hurts because I’ve invested notable amount of time and effort and hope into this, only to have a door slammed in my face. It hurts because I hate the present, and the only thread of hope that’s keeping me from falling is a better future. It shatters me because the possibility of prolonging this hell I currently exist in might come true. Now that my future plan is no longer there, I have nothing to keep me going on a day-to-day basis. That was my thought as I cried myself to sleep last night.

For all those famous quotations about how failure is a necessary ingredient for success...I know there’s some truth to it, but damn it! Failure tastes too damn awful to swallow!

Rejections haven’t been my lot in life. It’s a first for me. And I have to wonder…what went wrong? Was I truly aiming too high? Was I thinking too much of myself? Is it because I was naïve enough to believe that if I gave my best efforts, that I will always get what I wanted? Why should going after my hopes and dreams hurt so much?

The worst part of all this emotional rollercoaster is that life doesn’t stop so I can reflect and reorganize myself. I have to keep going in fear of getting more behind than I already am. Getting through my undergrad has truly become a game of survival for me. And it looks like I will still be fighting for survival after this one.

Rest assured though, I will not stay beaten for long. Giving up is something I have never been good at. I will rebuild my wings and test flight again.

INFJ: Introverted Intuition with Extroverted Feeling

That is the result of my Myers Briggs Personality Test.

Apparently only about 5% of the population have this combo. This just further justifies the fact that I don't belong in the middle of the bellcurve.

If Eric Whitacre can make James gay, then Rachelle can make me bi.

Who is Rachelle you ask? She is a really hot girl in my Belly Dancing class. She is very toned, bronzed from the sun and has long brown curls. At first I thought she was Brazilian, but apparently she is of British decent. Who cares...

Why am I not a boy? I really should stop meeting all these amazing girls, where are the guys?

That’s just my vent...I’m still straight. I know some of you are thinking ‘no really’?! But I’m going to remain true to the curse of female humanity--men.

To be honest, my adoration of Rachelle stems more from artistic interests than...the other kind. The proof for this statement lies in my previous artwork. If you look in my portfolio, almost everything I do is about natural forms and curves.

Rachelle has a sporty build, but she is not in any way deprived of curves. Blended with the finely sculpted musculature of her torso are curves definitive of womanhood. She has, what I would say as the perfect body of a woman. I hate it how the media portray the ideal body as one with a flat flat tummy and strategically placed bulges elsewhere (as in, boobs and ass). What’s wrong with a little bit of fat around the midriff?

Rachelle never had Belly Dancing, or any kind of dancing, experience before. After only a month in the advanced class, she’s already surpassed all of us. Rachelle tried to organize dance practice sessions outside of class, and for the one today...I’m the only one who showed up. So...em...it’s not my fault that I was concentrating on her only.

There’s a perfect marriage of strength and fluidity in her movements. It’s one thing to watch things jiggle, it’s another to witness fine-controlled muscle movement and strength. Rachelle has exquisite control over her abdominal muscles and a keen awareness of her physical movements...and everything is so sensual, so very very sensual. This is why I’m convinced men cannot belly dance properly. A man must be stripped of his armor of masculinity and expose the softer elements in the movements. And that’s besides the fact that the typical male body build isn’t made for belly dancing.

I really wish she can be a nude model for me...verbal description of her form hardly does it justice. I don’t think she’ll be comfortable with that idea though. For now, I would be happy just to watch her dance.

1. For the Biological Classification System

-> Kinky People Can Often Find Good Sex

2. For the Cranial Nerves

-> Oh, Once One Takes The Anatomy Final, Very Good Vacations Are Heavenly
or
-> One Octopus Offered Two Toddlers And Five Virgins Great Valium And Hash.
or
-> Oh, Oh, Oh To Touch And Feel Virgin Girls Vaginas. Such Heaven!
or
-> Oh, Oh, Oh To Touch And Feel Virgin Girls Very Soft Hair.

3. For Sensory/Motor Innervation:

-> Some Say Marry Money But My Brother Says Big Brains Matter More.

4. For the carpal bones of the hand

-> Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can't Handle.

5. For divisions of the Inferior Mesentaric Artery

-> Leather Swim Suits

Yes, I do learn a lot in school.

The Movie Of Your Life Is An Indie Flick

You do things your own way - and it's made for colorful times. Your life hasn't turned out how anyone expected, thank goodness! Your best movie matches: Clerks, Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite

Four jobs I've had:
1. Slave to my family (the pay really sucks and still trying to get out of this one...)
2. Music teacher
3. Cleaner at a condom testing facility in Australia
4. Biscuit packer (factory job really sucks!)

Four movies I can watch over and over:
1. The Little Mermaid
2. Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon
3. Finding Nemo
4. Serenity

Four places I've lived:
1. Sydney Australia
2. Wuhan, Hubei, China
3. The art room in my high school
4. a cage commonly referred to as "my parents' house"

Four TV Shows I love:
1. The Simpsons (before I divorced tv)
2. The O.C. (before I divorced tv)
3. Firefly
4. House (based on the assumption that I watch tv now)

Four places I've vacationed:
1. East coast Australia
2. The art rooms of my high school
3. Quebec
4. In the abyss of my mind

Four of my favorite dishes:
1. Daddy’s Homemade Chinese
2. Daddy’s Homemade Chinese
3. Daddy’s Homemade Chinese
4. Daddy’s BBQ

Four sites I visit daily:
1. Blogs
2. Top left pixel
3. www.dictionary.com (yes people, my English is that bad!)
4. Guelph email and Hotmail

Four things I want to do before I die
1. Get the "Dr." title
2. Go to Japan
3. Get a black lab and name her Subaru
4. Have my own Artshow

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. The Whitsundays, Australia
2. At work so I can drool over the gorgeous grand pianos and run my fingers over the sleek black curves...and daydream about the wonderful music we can make together
3. The art room in my high school
4. Under a Sakura tree in Japan

Four bloggers I'm tagging:
1. Sara (I think lj users count right?)
2. Jack (so how many times have you been tagged now?)
3. Silph (so how many times have you been tagged now?)
4. James (so how many times have you been tagged now?)

Give your best shot at this question:

What part of the male anatomy is referred to as "the curse of male humanity"?

a. penis
b. testis
c. brain
d. prostate
e. none of the above, the male humanity is not cursed.