ϟ Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Today I woke up to Facebook.

Stalking.

One thing led to another and I found myself reading through blogs written by some friends (Can I even call them that? It’s been years since we spoke cyberly, let alone face to face). It’s amazing to learn not only where they’re at, but also what they’ve achieved. One’s writing his blog in French; another’s eating bagels in Canada; another was at the Florence + The Machine concert. (Sorry listing them like that does no justice to the great bloggers that they are. They’re good.) 

Now if you frequent my tumblr enough, you’d know that I tend to express through drawings rather than writings. I love drawing - it’s a private retreat for when the tough doesn’t feel quite like going just yet - and I don’t know where I would be without it. But I’ve always admired those who can write (secretsunday, thembbschronicles, The Daddy Complex just to name a few). It’s always been difficult for me to conjure words - my sentences come in dribbles, and there is no flow or structure - I’m constantly reshuffling paragraphs, adding and backspacing. I’d write a document only to delete it the next minute because I’d realize I’ve lost sight of the point and just gunked on and on. It takes me hours and hours to get a few hundred words, not very good words either. 

So I had accepted that these people were on a different planet, way beyond my league - I’m not like that, I could never be like that. But somehow reading through these guys’ blogs today has made me envious. And pensive (lol whatta word). Of what? I guess of their ability to capture and communicate so succinctly their experiences, their thoughts, their befores, nows and afters. Their posts got me thinking, “hey, we’re not all that different. Maybe I could do that too, right?”

Perhaps, drawing is the root of my writing difficulties. It’s like hanging out with an imaginary friend, you spend secluded hours tucked away playing, whispering desires, dreams, defeats; bringing pretty things from pen to paper. Writing to me usually implies you have a opinion and you’re hoping for a listening audience. I hadn’t really intended for my drawings to reflect life, to have a point - I mean, it’s okay if noone else can see your imaginary friend. I’ve always been afraid that people don’t care for what I have to say, and when they do care, they either don’t like or don’t understand it. Oddly enough, with drawings I don’t fear judgment, as I do with words. I guess I’ve been drawing since I’ve been in nappies. Plus real imaginary friends will always love you regardless of the poop you churn out on your wacom. Which is also why imaginary friends are so unhealthy. 

So for a long time, pictures have been my substitute for words - why write when you can draw? Those precious hours are my haven, and also my prison.  I draw, therefore I am. Mottos like that littered my sketch books. As such, I’ve become increasingly isolated from writing, especially post-HSC.

I think it’s something I really have to work on, for the present me and the future me. In our course, we have to fulfilled a set of capabilities as graduates. You have the obvious “Basic Clinical Sciences”, “Patient Assessment and Management”, “Social and Cultural Aspects of Disease” and whatnot; ones where I work hard enough, I’ll scrap a P, hopefully a P+. Then you have my P- capabilities: “Effective Communication” and “Developing as Reflective Practitioner”.

When working with a patient, the visual pain scale only tells you so much, you need to elicit from the patient a careful history, and for that you need description, words - frequency, duration, character, radiation, quality, triggers, exarcerbating factors, relieving factors. Harder still when the patient feels no pain. One missing word and your misdiagnosis could land you a lawsuit. Also, with that list in hand, it’s easy to forget that you’re dealing with real people, real lives. We always have a reflective component in all of assignments, and I struggle with this the most. Most of my cohort are able to bludge it in minutes, but I just find it so difficult: to choose what aspects to reflect on, how to reflect on the aspect, how to conclude… I eventually have to combine these two capabilities in an assignment - a patient centred interview. I can only hope that more practice will bring perfection.

I know I’m not totally incapable of expressing myself in words. Lookie here, look what 800 words got me? I’d just like to be able to do it quicker, and more concisely, with less shuffling and less gunking. In my opinion, words are kinda like cars, and drawings like bicycles (excuse the shit analogy). You need words because you need to get from A to B fast and efficiently. They’re kinda hard to get used to if you’ve ridden bikes all your life, but with practise you’d surely improve. On the other hand, drawings can get you from A to B, though at pace too slow for life. You don’t need them all the time, but there are days where you just need that downtempo, that breath of fresh air. So here’s to my first resolution for 2012 (if we all don’t die by then) - write more, but draw too. 

(It was 7:49am when I started writing this. I wrote till 10am, went out, came back at 12:45pm and sat here writing till about now. Words and I have a long way to go.)