MPI- IJF 2011

MPI - International Journalism Fellowship

Meet Alvine

Alvine, 26, shares a little about Namibia and herself

Government hospitals have been seeing deteriorating standards among housemen in recent years due to, among other things, the proliferation of medical schools which produce sub-standard graduates.

A source told theSun that too many medical schools, too few good lecturers, and the “pampering” of housemen have contributed to the serious situation.

The source said standards have been falling as more opportunities to study medicine both locally and overseas emerged, and housemen are getting used to having it easy.

He noted that sadly, many housemen tend to “disappear” and cheat on their logbooks, are irresponsible, lazy, ignorant and unprofessional in carrying out their duties.

“There are some who are good, but some just don’t cut the grade,” he said, adding that not all the blame rests on the housemen’s attitude, but rather, it is a downward spiral brought on by the lack of proper training.

Casually striking a pose for the cameras

“The sheer number of universities offering medical courses has led to standards set by the Malaysian Medical Council (MMC) not being met, because there are not enough good lecturers and trainers.

“Its bad enough that good doctors do not necessarily make good teachers. What’s worse, in some local public universities, lecturers are sometimes only senior civil servants with some medical background,” said the source, a department head who sees hundreds of housemen in a major government hospital each year.

“And now, exacerbating the situation is the government’s decision not to make the Medical Qualifying Examination (MQE) compulsory for all medical graduates from foreign varsities,” he lamented.

Health Minister Datuk Seri Liow Tiong Lai had earlier announced that the current list of 365 recognised overseas foreign universities may be abolished in favour of making it compulsory to pass the MQE before practising medicine here.

However, the cabinet recently quashed the idea and instead directed that the list of recognised universities be shortened and reviewed more frequently.

theSun had, today, front-paged concerns that the cabinet’s decision may have negative consequences when Malaysia opens its doors to foreign medical practitioners under the World Trade Organisation (WTO) agreement.

The medical community had voiced the view that the MQE should be made compulsory for all medical graduates from foreign varsities, to act as a filter and maintain a benchmark in medical standards.

Happy to be here in Malaysia

I has an iPad2

So I lined up on the day it was launched on April 29 (I was on-location, read it here) and bought me one. Black, wi-fi only, 64 GB. Two and a half hours, I waited in line. Worth every second.

Cost me RM2,099, which I am still in shock over but hell. Best. Buy. Ever.

So I've been away at it, using it for Court and Stories and Big Important Work Things as well as Small But Still Important Fun Things.

I may never recover from the shock of seeing my credit card bill hit RM2000+++ but hey, my heart can take it!

I also went to Sarawak courtesy of Sarawak Convention Bureau from May 11 to 14, but I am too tired to put pics up now. My blog is so dusty it takes some time to un-dust it. But soon, pics.

For now, all I can say about my previous post is that the situation is somewhat blown over. Between my feelings of loyalty and how much I missed two of the best friends I have, my heart is competing with my head but for now I will be discreet.

No need to hurt another person I care about, hmm?

Okay. Too tired dy. Goodnight. Promise of more pics soon.

Yesterday I sat down to write on my blog.

I wanted to write about my life, about my job (which is killing me, faster than I'm sure my booze habits will), my friends, my family.

Then I got Some News.

And 24 hours later, I'm not sure if I know how to wrap my head around it. I'm not sure if I can face up to it either.

So I write it here because I am a writer (or I try my darndest to be) and words in print is the only way I know how to express myself.

And because I know the two people I love in this world, whom I treasure beyond what even they comprehend, will read this.

So here goes.

To you, mi amigo. I loved you. I might as well say it now, since it's now irrevocably, and perhaps thankfully (mostly on your part, I'm sure) over.

For the longest time I loved you because you are funny, sweet, nice, kind and you made me laugh. You also, despite your annoying procrastinating ways, are wise, and the only guy I ever knew who took the time to listen to me properly. Even though your advice may be a bit... unorthodox.

So I loved you. From the day I met you, to the very last minute of yesterday, I liked you and I was not subtle about it. Subtlety is not my strong suit, I'm afraid.

I knew you didn't feel the same. You are sadly mistaken if you thought I didn't know. I did. It was the worst feeling in the world, but I knew. So I did the only thing I could do. I settled for being your friend.

I stuck up for you when I could (even though it was interfering), I helped you out when I could, and I was okay with it. You did the same for me. Friends. That was good enough for me.

So you needn't worry that the feelings are still there.

For that part, that is over.

Now for the other part.

You are a colossal idiot. I said it to you and I meant it. You are an idiot of the first degree, whose entry into Fucked Up Big Time will forever remain engraved in stone.

You broke so many Bro Codes it is incomprehensible, and you betrayed a guy you've known for the past 4 years, the guy you studied, ate, laughed, gamed and drank with.

You knowingly broke his heart and stomped all over it. You hurt his pride, his ego, and his feelings.

For his part, I do not doubt that he will never forgive you. But that is between you and him and my rant ends here.

For my part, I told you I will always be your friend and I meant it. You have been a good friend to me, and one Fucked Up Big Time is not going to destroy what you were. I remember you as the only guy I know who listened to me moan about my problems without trying to brush me off and I appreciate it deeply.

But I won't be able to talk to you or see you or be around you for a very, very long time.

(I suppose that must be a bit of a relief, eh? Me and my incessant chatter gone for a bit.)

So yeah. I despise you (just a little) for what you did, but I hope you and her are happy together, and I really, really mean that from the bottom of my heart.

To you Zenzei, I meant everything I said on the phone.

But harsh as this may seem, what you did, and are doing to him is unforgivable, horrible, unkind, unfair and totally jerky.

I'm sure I do not need to pour more salt to a wound you already have, but I'm just a little bit angry enough to type it out and so I will.

I appreciate you calling me and telling me, and most of all, I appreciate your friendship so yes, I will always be your friend, and Trusted Aide. You and I still share many things in common, and you've been a good friend, and I don't abandon friends for fucking up because my friends did not abandon me when I fucked up too.

But I'm going to apply for a Long Leave, if you don't mind. I have appointed my replacement and the running of the Brainz Assembly will be in good hands.

To the both of you.

I love you both to bits, still do. You guys probably don't even realise how much you all mean to me, and probably don't understand why I am so upset by all this when I was not the betrayed party.

The reason is this:

I've NEVER had friends. I was a loser, nobody wanted to be friends with me, I was a fucked up and fat mess until YOU guys (you, him, Bra, K, V) came and became my friends and accepted me for what I am.

For the first time in my life I was included in something, I was part of a GANG. Not a gun-totting, drug-dealing, people-killing Gang, but a GANG of friends whom I can count on to have my back or hang out with me and keep me in check when my job gets the better of me.

A gang of friends I could trust, that I could say to people when they ask: "Oh, I'm having dinner with my friends" or "I went to Penang with my gang of friends".

So maybe you can forgive me for being angry at the both of you for messing all that up? I will never have all six of us, the Penang gang (and 5/6 Melaka gang) together again the same way, and I am angry about that.

I know I over-react but that's how it is. I am angry at the two of you for taking that away from me, and I am really, REALLY sorry for being selfish when the both of you have enough guilt to bear already.

I want to be the big person (not physically, I got that covered, but you know what I mean) and have a little perspective and reason on this matter and maybe be like my sis, who said: "Be happy for them. Get a little perspective. Bryan will get over her soon enough and life WILL move on. Jee never liked you and you'll find new friends."

I still love you both, my friends. And I hope you will understand that I need some time to sulk, to mope, to fret and sulk some more.

But most of all, I hope that you'll both still be there for me when I finish sulking.

Yeah so now anybody can read my blog again

But only because I myself got lazy to enter my password to bloody read my own blog

-______________-""

So anyway it's 12.55am in the morning and I of course, have work tomorrow. I am going to be at 50% brain capacity at work (which is exactly 0.1% less than my usual brain capacity at work) but I don't know.

I felt like blowing some dust off my very dusty blog.

I guess there really isn't much to blog about. I ain't exactly living life to the fullest in the States like my Zenzei, nor do I possess the unerring sharp wit and oddly cheerful/chill disposition of Lord Jeembie.

I resemble nothing more than a mad dog, anguished and torn between chasing that damn tail or biting that damn mailman.

Because my life is, indeed, a mad decision between being a journalist and not a journalist; being a good daughter and not being a good daughter; being poor and uh, well, even poorer.

(No choice there.)

But like everyone when they run out of blog ideas, the best thing to do is paste a huge-ass pic of a cute baby and call it quits.

So here.

MUAHAHAHAHAHA.

It's a quiet night

BEHOLD

Possibly the cutest creature ever born into the Earth. My niece; Ann Wong Pui Ling. As of today, she is ten days old and she has stolen my heart ten times over. I cannot believe I am saying this, but she is a miracle. A sheer miracle.

I held her for the first time today, and she seemed quite content to sleep on my (fat) arms, swaddled in a blanket and peering at me from half-open eyes. She has no clue who I am, but I'm sure over time she will come to realise the giant face with the goofy smile on it is mine.

I think my entire family is going to spoil her rotten, and I'm sure we cannot be blamed for it.

*goofy smile*

That aside, I have not much to update; save for more about work.

Work... which is not as fulfilling as I thought it would be. It is, in essence, a very lonely job, this job of mine. Much time is spent riding on trains, meeting and being surrounded by people you only perfunctorily acquaint yourself with and then chances are you'll never see them again -- or if you do, you have forgotten them and as such, it is awkward.

It is a lonely job, this job. You attend functions and write about them, you see politicians squabble among themselves and report about them too. You return to office, where everyone is too busy with work (or too busy looking as if they're busy with work) to talk to you.

Everyone IS nice, very nice, but at the end of it all you won't be meeting them out of work.

I used to have that -- hanging with colleagues after work, but it was taken away from me. Or rather, I backed out of it. I don't regret leaving, but I regret having to give up that part of my job that was fun, where my colleagues were also my friends and I could kick back and have a pint with them.

Now, the only ones who drink are the editors, and the editors are far too scary to do any kick-backing and pint-ing with.

I miss my friends -- K, V, JE, Zenzei, Braman. I want to go on a holiday but it seems we're poorer ever since we began earning money on our own.

We are all too poor to afford a vacation but Lord knows I need one so, so, SO badly it hurts.

The worst part about it all is that despite my perpetual destitution, my all-consuming job and such and such, I KNOW I should have nothing to complain about.

My job is a great job that most people would die to experience. My family is a gift of which till today, I;m not quite sure I deserve entirely. My friends are amazingly, STILL my friends even after everything bad or tumultuous. I am healthy, my niece is healthy, and poor as I may be, I am happy.

But I am, somehow, embarrassingly enough, lonely. Its a feeling I cannot describe. I don't think I can describe it without coming off as ungrateful or whiny. So I won't.

God.

I need a vacation. Please?

And because it's Sunday in the office

and right now, only my colleague is here; editors are thankfully still

a) eating leftover rookie reporters from the Reporter Stew they made last night
b) boiling Journalist-soup with carrots, parsnipes and some additional blood, sweat and tears

Coz y'know, editors roll like that. My time will come when I too, become an editor, and shall find that the flesh of a terrified rookie journo tastes better than lamb.

I'm supposed to follow up on a story but since it's Sunday, nobody is going to answer my calls now, are they?

So thats' why I'm blogging now, as if I don't already have enough writing to do on a daily basis.

So since it's been a long while since I blogged, I guess you're going to have to put up with an extra-long bunch of nonsense.

Sun-shiney days

So yeah my old/new job has been a rollercoaster ride where I came close to being inside the Editors' stew pot on many occasions. I swear I saw my news editor look at me and think:

"Now that scared reporter... she'll be great with potatoes and a bit of basil and rosemary. Hint of pepper. Now to convince her that the pot is merely a funny-shaped chair..."

I have also gotten 'up close and personal' with some of the slimiest politicians in the world, jolok-ed Ministers, snooped around Kampar, called up people and witnessed some of the finest liars in the world in action.

Yeah, it's been awesome. I've done so many stories and written so many things I can't really remember half of them. But being in newsdesk has been surprisingly, amazing.

I have always had an aversion to newsdesk, see, because I don't do so good with giving facts as they are. I like going round the whole background story before arriving to the point because I believe in telling the entire story without gaps in them.

I'm like that in real life, and I'm like that in writing.

I've gotten some flak for that in the first few weeks, but my Lord, I think I may have finally gotten the hand of it at last. I've learnt some about giving the facts without frills, to give readers only what is necessary for them to know, and filtering what isnt:

a) new
b) important
c) or will have an impact on people.

So no; what our Health Minister had for lunch does NOT count.

(P/S: He had vegetarian food. He's vegetarian. I had lunch with him. I was pretty much invisible, he was talking to my EDITOR)

So.

On a more personal note...

I have no life except work. I think about work on my off-days, I think about work during work days, and I think about work even when I am not working.

My parents are beginning to give me hurt looks again, as if I am treating the house like a hotel, but what can I do? I need the overtime money; credit card bills a-piling, see. So if I work overtime, I can cover for any bill shortfalls.

But money is so small these days -- a hundred bucks is like ten bucks these days.

Shit, did I just type a double dash, like I do in my stories? F-it.

I'm still trying to hang out with my friends (hello!) as often as I can, and I've gone out a few times with my ex-colleagues, who've been great to me. LOADS of gossip about my ex-employer but I won't go into it here.

I'm still hopelessly in-love with my dogs, who have been crazier than ever, and continue to plague and love me.

I suspect Lucky is an alien from outer space, sent to dispense love and affection to unsuspecting owners.

And for now, that is more than enough.

Marjorie's very stale Margarine and then some.

So, many things happened.

I got my first ever front page byline in theSun. It was hidden by a half-wrap advertisement but I think I'll take whatever cookies sent my way.

I bought Danish butter cookies for the office to celebrate the fact that I don't suck. Or at least don't suck much.

It's slightly comforting. But I still make stupid mistakes and I feel totally ashamed. I seem to have most my touch, being in the previous place made me careless with my facts. That will take some time to break, but by golly. I'll do it.

So. Marjorie's Margarine is back in slippery business. Wrote another 500 words or so, very proud of myself. Here is the fourth part:

CHAPTER 3

Matthew, better known as Bloodlust Writes, woke up with a vicious headache and a very pretty, slightly pinkish girl sleeping on his shoulder. He was sitting inside a train filled with people in suits, dresses and the work-wear of those who wished they had better jobs. And definitely better pay.

The train sounded as loud as the screeches of the Leering Men Who Killed My Only Family.

He glanced around, eyes squinted, head throbbing and legs stiff from hours of sitting. He had no idea where he was headed, but he knew what he wanted to do. And what he wanted to do was retrieve the wisps of blue from within those sons of bitches who ate his father.

There was only that small problem of how, but he thought it a minor detail. If anyone can lead him to them, it’s the brown-haired girl that slept next to him. The one with a little bit of drool down the side of her mouth.

He shifted uncomfortably, and she woke up with a jerk.

“I thought you said you had a plan,” he said to her, testily. She looked abashed. “I did. The plan was to bait them with your brains, capture one of them, and force the truth out of them.” She looked downward, and rubbed a stain of blood off her pants.

“But they… were not quite what I thought they would be,” she admitted.

Writes bit back the urge to be sarcastic, mean and just a little jerk-ass. He wanted to tell her that she caused him to lose everything. But seeing something misty in her eyes softened his already soft heart.

(Of course he has a soft heart. Just because he was bloodthirsty didn’t mean he was a monster.)

He sighed. He looked around for a few short moments, taking in the other passengers, taking in the battered seats, taking in the entire situation.

He couldn’t.

But he was certain that the lady sitting three rows down to his left had a dark and mysterious past, muttering to herself and surreptitiously feeding something inside her large brown handbag a slice of bread every now and then. He knew there was a story there. Maybe she kept her children inside the bag, after she had cursed them with a spell that would keep them as children forever – except it went wrong and they ended up the size of rats.

Or maybe she had a pet mouse inside her bag and just didn’t want the station master to find out.

But that was too boring. That was not his style at all.

Marjorie was, however, looking at him strangely. Her body tense, she straightened and leaned towards him.

“You had another idea didn’t you?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “No. I had a story in my head. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

She nodded. “That’s it. That’s just it.” She sat back, with a satisfied air, as if she had finally proved her point.

Something clicked. Suddenly. But Marjorie didn’t notice his eyes glazing over and his extra furious biting of skin that was the trademark of his ‘ding!’ moment.

(Some people get lightbulbs going off in their heads. That was too common for him. Writes just sucked more blood and felt a visceral, innate brain orgasm.)

Marjorie picked at lint on the chair. “Whatever. You said you had an idea.”

Writes nodded. He had it. He really did. He had toyed with that idea at first but what she said just made up his mind.

“I do. I am going to follow you around. Sooner or later, they’re gonna show up. When they do, they’re going to eat my ideas. I’m going to let them. Then I am going to show them what a real horrible idea looks like.”

Marjorie’s jaw dropped. “Wha- what do you mean?”

Writes shrugged. “Well, if they can eat and regurgitate a warped version, surely that warped version is still going to be mine? My consciousness? The ideas they eat belong to me, and I figured they’re a part of who I am. Isn’t that what you said?”

Marjorie shook her head furiously. “That’s not how it works! When they consume you, you are gone. YOU cease to exist. Your ideas are all that remains of you –” she stopped. “Wait.”

Writes grinned. “Lightbulb moment?”

Marjorie grinned nastily. “No. More like an exploding margarine moment.”

But her expression softened suddenly. “This is a no-recovery kind of plan. Once you’re consumed you don’t exist anymore. I can’t get you back into your body. I don’t even know if your crazy idea will work. If it doesn’t, we’re both dead and so is the world.”

Writes shrugged. The world was of little concern to him. He was more interested in knowing what being a blue wisp of nothing would feel like. Maybe like cotton candy.

That, he figured, will be just sweet.

**** to be continued***

(links to parte one and parte two and parte three. You know. if you're interested.)

Ya that's all la. I am lazy now. Kthxbye.