Coming home

It's amazing how the writing muscle can deteriorate rapidly from rather-sinewy to complete-atrophy in just a few months of not exercising it diligently. It's as if I had verbal constipation just now trying to put down the first sentence for today's entry.

Yesterday, while it was raining cats and dogs outside, my professor stormed into the room and said, "They'd decided that you passed. Now go thank the other professors."

Huzzah! I'd passed. This chapter of my life is coming to an end soon. In less than a month, I'll be coming home, with a luggage and a doctorate degree, to a brand new life and career.

Instead of amalgam fillings, I'll be teaching. I'll be a lecturer. I'll be imparting my experiences/knowledge to future dentist-wannabes. Students will look up to me. People will think that I am smart.  My family will be proud of me. It's invigorating. Joyous. Exciting. I was floating graciously in the air, ascending to the top of the world, until I realized, later in the evening, that, except for cancer biology, I'd lost touch with most of the more complicated oral diseases and fell, head first, out of my reverie. I panicked and immediately downloaded an oral pathology textbook from my Vietnamese colleague, P. The responsibility can be intimidating.

For the last several days, I've been  telling my sister what I wanna do when I get home. And there are so many. I wanna have the best nasi lemak in town. The bakuteh. Curry mee. Chicken rice. Wanton mee.  Cendol. Roti telur. Toasts with kaya and butter. Half-boiled eggs sprinkled generously with white pepper powder and a tad of soya sauce. KFC. Redecorate the storeroom at home. Attend a writing course. Learn a musical instrument. Preferably guitar. Karaoke-ing. Meet up with my secondary school friends. Travel. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

The list is endless. But, it'll have to start with the first chapter of the pathology textbook for now.