Unleash the Orange

Closer

2012-01-02T00:26:00.000Z

What I've learnt from being ill is of the extent of kindness and mercy a mother has towards her own child. But Allah loves you even more.

What Do You Do?

2011-12-15T22:35:00.001Z

Life can be pretty hectic sometimes; I've attended every day of hospital firms so far (apart from one when I was in Amsterdam; yes I still need to post my bit on that here, along with the EuroTrip memories), and I do usually stay longer in hospital than I have to, looking for 'extra' things to do. Yes, you could call me a 'keen' student, and doctors do usually have to tell me to go home. But when I'm not learning, I find I have A LOT of things on my plate. I'm president of Teddy Bear Hospital, I'm VP of Muslim Medics and Dentists, and write the weekly 'spiel' that goes out in the emails, I'm representing Barts on the Medical Students Committee at the BMA, Charity Week overseer, and I teach lower years their lectures (through the MESS society). These are the main positions I hold, and with each come a million jobs and responsibilities, where if things aren't organised and sorted out, people could be let down.

Sometimes there can be a 'conflict' between academia and extra-curricular stuff; for example last week (the week running up to Monday's exam), as with every week actually, I had something to do every day: helping out and giving tours on interviews days, a talk on the medical profession and mental health given by psychiatrists, meeting friends. Oh and a deadline on Friday for my essay to be marked by the cardiology consultant. A few months ago I had the choice of doing the essay on anything heart-related, but as there was a patient on the ward with Tetralogy of Fallot (a congenital heart condition), I thought it would be cool if I did it on that. Until the consultant wanted me to include a bit on the embryology of the heart, which is slightly difficult (let's say that people do their PhD's on just that). So Friday was slightly hectic with me trying to finish off the last few paragraphs with references, with the whole three weeks prior involving me on the tube reading various embryology books, trying to decipher the pictures of the developing heart, and typing out my interpretations on my Blackberry. And Friday culminated in me rushing to Newham Hospital to hand in a hard copy of the essay, and I think going to see friends afterwards.

So in the end I had the whole weekend to revise Cardio/Resp/Haem for the exam on Monday. But that didn't really happen, I was way too chilled out for some reason. Was I too confident in myself that I knew everything? Not really, but coming out of the exam, I'm happy that I didn't stress. The exam was relatively straightforward, which could be because I spent way too much time on the wards and subconsciously picked things up. But only when the results come out, will I know if I have to make some major changes in my life.

In a way I'm glad I am this busy, as it's taught me much about how I work inside and how I deal with others. Staying behind and peeking inside other departments in the hospital has opened doors for me, and I've met many cool people as a result. Even helping out on student interview days has made me really appreciate what I have going for me, and I can see myself in all these keen beans wanted to get into medicine. I'm also quite saddened by the number of people in my year who don't really seem to enjoy what they're doing, and don't grasp every opportunity that has so kindly been presented to them.

Crossing Paths

2011-12-01T21:35:00.001Z

Today was the last of my four fortnightly GP days with this surgery. I have to say it has been an enlightening experience, certainly giving me a better insight into GP life than I had before. And we saw some really interesting patients, like another polio case today, heart murmurs galore and a stroke patient who had so much difficulty expressing what he wanted to say, it was upsetting. But the Muslim doctors were extremely nice and we were bought lunch every time we were there. At the end of the day, as everyone went to get their logbooks signed off, I went upstairs to pray, where I found the cleaner cleaning up. I went into a small room and prayed, and as I finished, the cleaner asked me to remember to turn the light off. Then he spotted the prayer mat in my hands.

"Oh you're a Muslim? I want to become a Muslim!"

It's funny how some things in life just happen; how if you intend to make one small step towards doing something good, the Heavens and Earth open up for you just to make it possible :)

2011-10-29T09:42:00.000+01:00

Let go of the life you planned, to see what life is waiting for you.

Sortie

2011-07-28T14:39:00.001+01:00

It feels amazing to be back from our Euro Trip! We had a wonderful time in all the European countries, with all the different types of people and their languages and customs, and the scenic views and landmarks, and the drama experienced on the trip; both the highs and lows, but there is something different about home. The feeling I got when I stepped onto the crowded (new) Metropolitan Line train; metro newspaper (filled with articles people like to call news) under my arm, the announcer speaking in a language I could understand, the familiar roads in my area, the weather, and then home to the familiar musty smell of my bedroom, sitting down in my chair, surrounded by all my things, my wallpaper. The feeling I got when my mum had seen me returned safe and sound, listening to all the stories I had to tell. The cats, the gerbil and the rabbits. Unpacking my luggage and returning my possessions to where they belonged. The pile of post waiting to be opened. The pile of Medicine books waiting to be read. The friends waiting to be socialised with. The blog waiting to be updated.

There is no place like home.

P.S. I've returned to a house devoid of siblings; one has gone to Gaza, whilst the rest are visiting Grandma, which leaves just me and my parents; something that hasn't happened for 20 years! And now I'm off to play Fifa and Halo :)

Summer So Far

2011-07-16T10:37:00.001+01:00

Back from Norway, and currently lying in a hotel room in Budapest (Hungary) waiting for everyone to wake up so we can get on with the day's activities. So far (4 days in), we have had an absolute blast of a time, and even though we spent 23 hours straight on trains through Austria, Germany and Holland (including waiting outside a dodgy station in Venlow-Holland in the early hours of the morning), we haven't had a lack of entertainment. Bruges was stunningly beautiful, albeit a little on the touristy side, but definitely somewhere I'd like to go back to, even if it was just for their chocolate shops.

First impressions of Budapest weren't good; as soon as we left the station, it felt like we were still in a Soviet state; it just had that weird feel to it. But when we got more into the city, things started to look up, and so did we as we noticed the citadel and castle in the hills towering over us.

I plan to write about each place I visit and give it a rating out of ten, but that's as soon as all the places have been visited, inshaallah. If I don't misplace my passport. Yes it happened again, but this time it was in my bag and not in Seville airport!

Results

2011-06-18T19:14:00.001+01:00

Do you remember when I said I'd be aiming for a 'merit' this year, after having narrowly missed out on one last year? Well, with the amount of extra-curricular work I found I'd taken on this year, that aim would have to be scrapped; no way could I be in the top quarter of my year group without dropping all of my societal commitments and becoming a bookworm for the rest of the year.

I can confidently say that I didn't do nearly as much work this year as I did last, and all that was on my mind during the revision period was just to pass and see myself through to third year Medicine. So for the three weeks leading up to exams, I spent all my time in the library, collating lecture slides I thought were the most important into separate powerpoints, one file for each module (or three in the case of Cardio-Respiratory). I had always intended to make a timetable and organise myself properly, but the sheer volume of work that needed to be covered, I thought, couldn't be compartmentalised into a simple tiimetable; as long as it's all covered, I thought, it should be fine.

My time in the library was funny; I mostly just sat there in front of a computer screen, reading stuff, occasionally going off for little walks, whilst everyone else isolated themselves in private cubicles and made colourful, detailed notes; occasionally interrupting me on their breaks and asking how revision was, to which my reply was always the same: 'it's alright I suppose'. And then they went on about how stressed out and 'behind' they were, when I know they clearly weren't, and they were just asking how my revision was so they could 'compete'; well that's how I analysed our encounters.

The last week before exams, a friend and I organised online revision sessions, covering one module's worth of PBLs a day. One person speaks on the microphone, guiding listeners through the Google powerpoint they made on their chosen PBL. It was a great success, with over 70 listeners on most days, but I found myself teaching many of the PBLs, and although this was good revision for myself, I thought the preparation time for all of these presentations could be put to better use. Time was running out, and things were starting to look desperate. The last few days of revision were dedicated to going through past papers and skimming through my powerpoints, and although we were assured by staff that past questions wouldn't be repeated, they were a good test of the knowledge I had, or I thought I had.

So exam day one: the Short Answer Question paper, the paper that everyone dreaded. I thought it went alright, compared to the majority of people who complained that it was too difficult. Their complaints continued the rest of the week with every other exam; the EMQ paper, OSCEs (practical exam where we get to see 'patients', and I always seemingly find pathologies that aren't supposed to be there), and the anatomy/microanatomy spotter, after which people's complaints were most vocal.

I thought all the exams went alright alhamdulillah; obviously some questions were impossibly difficult which just needed educated-ish guesses (and which were hotly debated over after the exam was done), but I found that my stress-free approach to things helped a great deal with getting through an exam as well as preparation for the next.

But by results day, when I logged on, I really was not expecting what I saw: I got a merit! Alhamdulillah :)

Free?

2011-06-11T18:47:00.001+01:00

Slightly Busy

2011-06-04T11:12:00.000+01:00

At the moment I'm in the process of cramming in more knowledge than I have ever accumulated in my life, so I apologise for the lack of 'monthly updates'. But expect a thorough and detailed review of the five months since the beginning of 2011. For the moment though, I need to revise for the exams starting on Monday!

^Something I made during a previous bout of revision boredom.

Willpower

2011-05-18T11:04:00.002+01:00

It's been a few weeks since the London Marathon, and while the leg pain has subsided and I can think clearly now, I thought I'd write about how it all went. Preparation? Well, I'd always planned to train since the half-marathon in October, but I had never gotten round to it, not if you include a random 20km run with a friend once; and if you do the maths, 20km is less than half a marathon!

People had been training extremely hard for this one day; monitoring their diets and following intricately-planned training routines. Not that I don't believe in that sort of thing, but I've just been up to other stuff and didn't really have time for it all. I play football twice a week, run from home to the station (usually because I'm late), and that's about it. So I did have some reason to be slightly anxious the night before the race; the exhibition at Excel where we registered was full of eager beavers stocking up on their name-printed shirts and energy drinks. I bought a pair of South African-made running socks that felt quite padded and comfortable, got my running number and kit bag, then got out of there, passing the stalls where people from various other cities around the world were advertising their marathons.

The morning of the race; with pasta in my belly from the night before, and excitement levels at their highest, watching all the crowds converge from the tubes to marathon start line. My phone charger wasn't plugged in the night before, so I was relying on the half battery I had to take all the photos and make all the calls I needed during the race. Yes, I 'needed' to make calls; running can be that boring sometimes! I met my friend Farhan at the lorry where they take your kit bag to the finish line, so I got changed and gave my red numbered bag to the people at our lorry, before realising I'd left my phone inside, and thus began the frantic search for my bag.

So with my phone finally in my hand, and oyster and bank cards in the zip-up back pocket of my shorts, we started running, taking loads of photos of the wacky and bizarre costumes some runners wore, and witty comments people had written on their signs and vests. Things were going well the first 10 miles; not tired at all and Blackberry Messenger-ing my way through, occasionally grabbing a bottle of water or Lucozade the volunteers were handing out. It was a beautiful sunny day and the crowds of spectators along the route really spurred you on, with people even handing out their household reserves of fruit and sweets. I think this is why they call it the best marathon in the world; the people, the kids sticking their hands out to get as many high-fives as possible; the atmosphere was something I had never experienced before.

After the first 10 miles, I felt a little pain in my right knee, but I would not let this spoil my day. Just one foot in front of the other I thought, and stay with your friend. Look out for other friends running, say hello to them, before politely overtaking and wishing them luck. Halfway through we see the Barts Running Club congregated behind the barriers, cheering on the runners from our university. This stretch of road had two lanes; in one direction people just passing the halfway mark, and in the other direction was the 22 mile sign, with runners in this lane noticably more tired than in ours.

20 miles, and we were in the 'financial district' of London; Canary Wharf and other tall buildings, and where I had volunteered to help the year before. Here I bumped into another friend volunteering, and quickly took a picture of him, before telling him everything was fine, a bit of knee pain but that was it. I wish it had stayed that way! I had given up trying to encourage Farhan to keep up and keep breathing (more a motivation for myself than anything), and I lost him in the crowd behind me. I hadn't yet reached mile 21 and the pain started to kick in; the knowledge that if you stopped running for one second, your legs would cramp up... I had to keep going!

My photo-taking was less frequent now, just focused on reaching that finish line 5 miles away. And then, after passing the Tower of London, it happened. My entire right leg seized up and I was stopped in my tracks; the spectators on the side urging me on with their looks of sympathy. What could I do? I couldn't go on for another four miles in this state, with my leg refusing to continue, throbbing with pain. 'I can't give up now', I thought, so I wrapped my hands around my leg and lifted it, and with a cheer from my newly-formed fan group, I carried on; pain still radiating along my entire leg. For the rest of the run, the only emotions I had were fear; fear that things would get too bad for me to continue, and hope that I would get myself across the finish line. I had wondered how I could ever have gotten this far without the tubes of Lucozade gel people were handing out (of which I took more than one each time), the Red Bull shot I drank at Tower Bridge, and the company of my running companion.

I was alone, and through gritted teeth, clutching onto the Lycra that hugged my painful leg, I carried on. People were slowing down, slowing me down. I couldn't let that happen. I just wanted to push them out of the way, but instead had to squeeze past them with a polite 'excuse me' each time, the pain multiplying. And then came mile 22; and the Barts Running Club again; what a boost of morale they gave! I managed to take a quick picture of the cheering group of familiar faces, before they disappeared into the distance (or rather I did). Then Embankment, nearly there! The memories of all the people being stretchered away earlier served as a motivation to not let that happen to me, but just as I was approaching Westminster, my other leg cramped up. No! I massaged it for a little bit, ignored the burn, and limped laboriously on; the last stretch! And then I heard my name being called from behind the barriers; more friends! I couldn't give up now. I was practically there! The sign said 800 metres to go. That was like, two track lengths... I could do that!

Seeing Buckingham Palace had never been so pleasing, and as I approached the finish line, I ignored the pain and took in the atmosphere. This was amazing. A life moment in the making.

I crossed the finish line, and had a gold 'London Marathon 2011' medal placed around my neck. As I walked along the Mall, leaving the finish line behind me, a sudden overwhelming emotion gripped me. I wanted to cry. I don't know why, but I just wanted to. Now I understand why so many of the great sportspeople are overcome by this emotion. Something they plan and prepare themselves for for so long, and then they achieve it; everything paying off, after all the toil and sweat, they hadn't envisioned or prepared for the moments that came afterwards.

Ten minutes later, Farhan emerged from the crowds, and with medals around our necks, and wearing T-shirts that proclaimed us to be finishers of the London Marathon, we sat down in the radiant sunshine and reminisced, already discussing if we should run another marathon elsewhere.

Willpower played a major part in me finishing, but my legs were the things that carried me through. I don't know why they put up with me sometimes. I love my legs.

Earth and Dust

2011-04-14T23:10:00.000+01:00

I never knew that going to our friend's mum's funeral today could have such a profound effect on us all. Sure, we've all been to funeral prayers before, listening to the guy over the microphone say who died this week; occasionally an extra moment of contemplation spent when we discover it's a child. But when the prayer is over, we just get back on with our normal lives, and draw no real lessons from our momentary exposure to death.

But this time it was sort of different, personal; seeing our friend walk in, motherless, while we all sheepishly stood up to greet him. And after the prayer, making our way to the graveyard where we got our smart clothes stained by the clay-coloured mud, seeing our friend try to hold it together while he shovelled meagre amounts of soil onto his mother's body, trying to hurry things along so he could get this emotional ordeal over with.

There are only two things in life that we are certain of; we were once born, and we will one day die. But we are never prepared for the latter; neither for those close to us, nor for ourselves. In a recent university lecture, we were taught that since the moment of birth, we are all in a process of ageing, and that we all have one definite outcome, whether it be 70, 50, or even 20 years down the line. Or tomorrow.

I found it strange how our perspective of things changes when emotion is so harshly triggered. When a loved one passes away, you see the whole world through different eyes; a much more empty and 'foreign' world, compared to the beautiful and happy world when good events in your life take place. But what makes us experience such despair and anguish when someone dies? Is it the suddenness and unexpected nature of the event; that we weren't prepared for it? Or is it simply due to the realisation that we are going to miss them, and that they won't 'be around' any longer? That feeling when you imagine what they would be doing, or where they would be sitting had they been alive. Or is it the uncertainty of how the future is going to pan out without such an influential figure in your life? Maybe it's a combination of all three, but sooner or later, we adjust and get back to what we were doing.

Whilst death isn't a topic often discussed at the dinner table, we should think more about it, so we can steer our lives in the direction that we feel would be most beneficial to ourselves and others, as well as appreciate that death is just part of a journey we have to provision ourselves properly for.

As I removed the clumps of dirt from the rollups of my trousers, I thought of the nature of human beings; that we came from this earth, we live off its produce all our lives, and we will return to it, yet we feel far superior to the status that we actually deserve. So no matter how big or 'gangster' we may act sometimes, or how 'successful' we may have been in this short life, we will end up in a hole in the ground, with people shovelling dirt over our body.

How do I do?

2011-03-15T23:37:00.001Z

With a mega-hard exam that you've sacrificed precious sleep and time over out of the way, how do you feel? Pictorially (because my fingers aren't in the mood to type today), I'd say it's like this:

In reality it's more like this, with one obstacle overcome I have ten more placed in my path:

But at the moment I just want to be like this:

Just a little longer.

Lost and Found

2011-02-23T09:36:00.002Z

I left my bag on the tube the other day. The contents of said bag: university notes, my (orange) stethoscope, HD camera and various other bits and bobs that I hold dear. I'm not particularly proud of the fact that I can be so absent minded and non-multi-tasking (I was reading about organ donation at the time; maybe someone should donate me a brain), but it happened nonetheless and this is my attempt at moving on.

Looking back, it was quite funny the way I reacted; first having a weird feeling that something was missing, to contemplating chasing after the train (I was at the top of the escalators by this point), to running to the supervisors office and trying to patiently wait whilst they got contact with a station lower down the Jubilee line. When no progress was made there, I attempted to get off at every station and ask if anyone had handed in any bags. When that avenue was exhausted, I felt completely helpless; that lack of connection between myself and my possessions, and the thought of someone going through my stuff without my permission was almost as bad as losing my things in the first place.

So there I stood on some platform, bagless, clutching onto my anorak and a copy of Student BMJ, and I felt strangely happy. The thing is, from the moment I got off the train to me realising there was an absence of weight on my right shoulder, I felt completely content. It's not like the possessions in my bag were keeping me alive in any way; and the importance I attached to them was clearly not that much otherwise I'd never have let them out of my sight!

Things are going to be okay I thought; notes can be rewritten, stethoscopes, cameras and perfumes can be rebought. Possessions come and go, but there are many things in life that one cannot afford to lose, at any cost. Health, intellect, the gifts of sight and hearing, family and friends; all are more valuable than the contents of any bag.

I haven't had any news of the retrieval of my bag as of yet, so I'm not writing this from a position of 'everything is okay now so I can be as contemplative about this as I want', but just a little lesson I learnt; we complain so much about the smallest of things in life whilst we don't appreciate (or even take notice of) the things that are going right for us. We need to have more of a 'gratitude attitude'.

But probably the biggest lesson I learnt from this is to always check if you've left anything behind when you get off the train!

(A work by Banksy)

There's a happy ending to this story: ten days later I got my bag back, with everything still inside! After calling the lost property office every day, only to repeatedly hear they had nothing, it was such a surprise to hear one afternoon they actually had a bag that matched the description I gave! Not only has this taught me that there are still nice and honest people left in this world (or maybe just quick to spot suspicious items on the tube), but I've had the best of 'both worlds'; learning valuable lessons the tough way, but getting everything back and learning that actually, whether you like it or not, the possessions you hold dear are the things that define you.

The Year of 'Yes'

2011-01-15T16:07:00.000Z

One of the advantages of stop-starting blog posts is that you can look back at your previous attempts at trying to string words together into something with meaning and go "nah!" and delete the whole thing. I've just done that, so rather than letting you waste any time reading pointless intros (if this isn't one already), I'll get straight to the point: unless it's something morally objectionable, say yes to every opportunity that comes your way.

I'm going into this new year holding various positions at university; I've been Charity Week rep, publicity officer for Teddybear Hospital, committee member for MESS (the group that teaches first years medicine), Student-Staff Liaison Committee member, treasurer of the Islamic Society, and I hope to continue with these things next year, as well as try and get the Dodgeball Society up and running. Every university email that I got at the beginning of the year, inviting me to take part in various things, I've said yes to, and although sometimes it can be difficult juggling multiple things at once, I can say you develop into a better person as a result. Not to mention the millions of friends you make and the awesome times you experience on the way!

So whatever it is, from helping out at open days to playing sport with people you don't really know that well, to attending a talk on something you don't know much about; say yes, and you'll see more and more doors open for you!

OctoNovemDecember

2010-12-30T16:11:00.001Z

Right, I've had this sudden urge to get this ~~bi-monthly~~ tri-monthly post out of the way. Because I'm the one who's done all of the things I'm writing about, apart from re-living some of the memories at the time of writing, I lack a certain enthusiasm when it comes to typing them out, especially if many of the things I did took alot out of me at the time. But still, this will be good to look back on and draw some sort of lessons from, in the distant future inshaallah.

So, the 'highlight' of October was Charity Week. That took up the majority of my time, and I can say for sure that it was the busiest time I've ever went through. With uni in full-swing, I somehow had to juggle my role as CW rep and learn the cardio-respiratory system, whilst getting emails and text messages every 30 seconds, asking for random favours (which I still have the problem of not being able to refuse) and feedback on tasks I assigned people. It was hectic, and although the stress was sort of getting to me, I felt happy in a way; that my time was not being wasted and my efforts were all being driven towards a tangible result. I met loads of amazing people on the way, and got to learn more about myself and how other people work.

I have to admit, there were times where you just lost hope in people, and many of the tasks that I had assigned to others ended up being done by me or the other reps. But in the end, with venues booked and caterers sorted (finally), our events were a massive success alhamdulillah. Whilst all the CW stuff was being done, on the side I was directing our film that we wanted to show during the 'big event' dinner. Now this was a lot of fun, but it also had its moments. There were loads of occasions, even when we'd barely gotten started, where people wanted to give up. I couldn't give up, and although it probably was the least stressful option, I would not let a project of mine be lost in the filing cabinet of regret.

Watching the final product, it would seem that the preparation for it went smoothly, but if you thought that you couldn't be more wrong. The first day of 'filming' involved an iPhone HD camera, and a few seconds of what we'd hoped would be a chase scene, the market scene, as well as a deathbead scene (which we didn't use in the end - if you've watched it, it would all make sense). The Darth Vader mask was an integral part of the proppage, and the actors were quite important too... when they were around. When we finally did get hold of my friend and his proper HD camera, the first evening of filming was haphazard to say the least. We'd managed to grab a bunch of first year dentists to act as 'extras', while we improvised our 'Dragons Den' script; at the same time trying to cater for everyone's timetables. Even after a considerable amount of filming that evening, people still wanted to give up. This was not what I envisioned.

The main actors (me included of course) and the cameraman all met up at university that weekend, to try and get the rest of filming done. This wasn't helped by the London-wide transport problems, but we managed to get quite a bit done, including the 'inception' and waking up bits, and our rooftop scene, which we didn't really have planned until we realised we could gain access to the roof (you can see a recurring theme of disorganisation here). We were happy with the way things were going, until security caught us and ejected us from the building, after giving our IDs back and threatening to report us. But all on our minds was the question: was that it? Was this the end of the line?

No it wasn't (obviously). We sacrificed a few more evenings, tired out of our wits, and it got to some of us. One of our main actors decided he couldn't take any more 'petty' attention to detail made by the cameraman, so I had to use the footage we had to kill him off somehow. I don't blame him for his decision; as a matter of fact I'm surprised I had anyone left by the end! But something I was utterly impressed with was the way our Darth Vader actor handled things; he didn't complain once and he did all what was asked of him. Next time though we definitely need a proper script, and not a random storyline that we keep adding comedic quips to. A massive motivation that kept us going was watching the final version of our first scene, and it fed us ideas on how we could dramatically end our film.

The fight scene, I thought, was the biggest highlight (maybe apart from the absolute jokes we had on the first proper evening of filming). The showdown between Darth Vader and the two remaining actors was symbolic of our own endeavours; every obstacle we faced had been overcome, but this final hurdle. Our filming of this scene had been delayed by a night because of rain, but that allowed us to include a cool day-to-night effect which only added to the uniqueness. The actual fight was epic, and when the last lightsaber blow was dealt, we all felt a collective sigh of relief as our days and nights of work (in the same unwashed clothes- to help with continuity) was in the form of a tangible film. With all the galivanting around our medical school building done, the feuds (both on and off camera) sorted, and the cameo-appearance of the most legendary lecturer ever caught on film, that was a wrap. This was all done for Charity Week 2010.

What else happened? Oh yes, tube collection day; what you could call the 'standard' bit of CW, where everyone stands outside London Underground stations holding collection buckets, with the optional addition of wearing an outrageous costume. Luckily, with me being on the teddybear hospital committee, I was able to borrow the massive teddybear costume we have, and I think that certainly contributed to our collection totals. Who can resist a cuddly teddy holding a bucket in your face? But that day didn't start too well to be honest; we were due to start our collecting at our respective stations at 7am, in time for rush hour, but as I arrived at Whitechapel, I soon realised that everyone had slept in, with one person (me) having to somehow man five stations.

The only permit I had on me was for Upton Park station, so I headed down there; my competitive drive the only thing stopping me from giving up and saying it wasn't our day. After an hour of holding my bucket in people's faces (to varying degrees of success), I decided I had to leave so I could catch lectures at university. I went to the supervisor's office on the platform, knocked on the door, and pushed it open after hearing no reply. The supervisor was sitting there doing his own thing, so I thought I'd quickly sign out and leave before a fuss was made. Just as I finished signing my name, I look up. Something did not seem right; I asked him if he was OK, and that was when he replied: "I think I'm having a heart attack".

I can't remember what was going through my mind when I heard such words, apart from "call an ambulance quick!"... which I did, and the minutes I spent alone with him, checking his pulse, trying to keep him calm, mopping his sweaty brow, were filled with anxiety and tension. Imagine the first 'patient' I ever have, and he dies; what would that do to my self-esteem? Alhamdulillah the ambulance people arrived and hooked him up to an ECG machine (which they let me interpret the results of, as we'd just learnt about ECGs in our Cardio-respiratory module). I helped them take him up the station steps and asked if they were going to the Royal London (as I had lectures there), which they weren't, so I took the tube back, running late for uni, but slightly chuffed that I was there in the right place at the right time, where he'd otherwise be suffering a heart attack alone and without help. I wanted to tell everyone on the tube what had happened; the adrenaline was still pumping, and the morale-boost I gained in the midst of this hectic Charity Week allowed me to survive the day of tube collections, with my extremely helpful (and organised) bunch of friends being there all the way. And that night was the night we finished filming :)

So, on to November. I went to a car show at Earl's Court with my car friend (I really should stop calling him my car friend, but really his love for motors is what defines him); we saw all these shiny new and old cars, and then was the Top Gear Live show, where the presenters of the TV programme did quite a good job on stage, and riddled in between their appearances were spectacular stunts, like one where a samurai guy on a motorbike had to 'defeat' a JCB digger, climbing all over it and 'slicing' massive parts of the digger off with swipes of his sword. The show ended with a giant-sized football match involving Clarkson and co driving the three-wheeled Reliant Robins. Twas quite a good night.

This time last year, I missed an event at the BMA library where if you brought along a new member, you would both get a free copy of Kumar and Clark (it's a medicine book practically every student/doctor uses), and you can get it signed by Professor Kumar herself! Yes, it's a lady; quite an amazing an inspiring lady at that. So this year I brought a friend along and I received my copy, but only after I met Kumar, so I couldn't get it signed. But, and this is one of the highlights of being at Barts, she sometimes lectures at our uni (being an ex-student here herself), so a couple of weeks later I got it signed after one of our lectures with her! Since then I've bumped into her on the tube a few times, and we have our little heart-to-hearts about medicine and life :)

Oh and another thing that happened in November was that we got two rabbits.

The beginning of December involved us taking an exam for Cardio-resp and Metabolism, and with me and my Charity Week antics, it meant I had to revise extra hard for it. I walked out of the exam not knowing whether I had passed or failed (I did pass alhamdulillah), but what we were all looking forward to after the exam was over were the holidays, which were only a two-week module away! This module was half chosen by us (based on competition for places), and what I ended up getting was 'communicating bio-medical information to young people', or in other words: fun. We began by meeting Nora, our tutor, and she took us to the Centre of the Cell (a place in our research building where schools visit and do fun activities), and let us sit in on one of the visits. The rest of the two weeks involved planning for a presentation we were due to give to some year 6 children at their school (we chose to do it on the heart), and bringing in sheep hearts added to the 'interactivity'. Suffice it to say, that was the highlight of our presentation, and indeed the two weeks. The module ended with a tour of the Science Museum given by Nora, as she used to work there. My my, how the good childhood memories were revisited!

And then came the holidays; two weeks of meeting friends, chilling (especially with the snow), and having a 'sleep-over' which combined the two. Goodbye 2010 :)

My three months in status updates:

*First week back at uni and it feels like I've learnt more than the whole of last year!

*doesn't get the jubilee line. Like every weekend these past two years, you're supposed to be letting me down today!

*I spoke too soon; the jubilee line never fails to disappoint :/

*Guys stop crying over not seeing Johnny Depp visit our uni; we are the real celebrities!

*Whacked in the eye during training yesterday, and the PBL room clock falling on my head today... whoop de doo! :P

*I'm just making everyone aware... paediatric intensive care has been taken by me (in my head). You can all fight over the second place :)

*Psychiatry is awesome, literally! I've never said 'wow' after seeing a patient before! :O

*bumped into Prof Kumar on the tube again. Look out for my name on the 8th edition of Clinical Medicine! :P

*One of the best feelings you can have is when the film you're directing finally takes shape, and all you thought was impossible becomes a blissful reality.

*has a special place in his heart for London transport, and it's filled with nothing but hate.

*can't believe I've been duped out of £49 from amazon.co.uk; free amazon prime trial indeed!

*I take my last status back... thank you amazon! :D

*has had the CRAZIEST of days! Unfathomably crazy... << the heart attack day

*is forever indebted to *deep breath* Talha Ansari, Farhan Ullah, Abid Akhtar, Sultana Azam, Farhaan Saraf, Adnan Shah, Shaheed Walji...

*[continued]... Harry White, Sarah Wylie, Shehzad Kiani, Humza 'Sheikhy' Sheikh, Ali Bakir, Aamna Adel...

*[coninued again]... Fizza Hussain , Saadia Aziz 'Day-dee', Misbah Haq , Mohammed Ali , Hali Bizzle, Anam Ali...

*[coninued, last one]... Aria Khani, Ferduche Emm, Nabila Esha Z, Suleman Sainel Kanani , Eamon Lahrach and everyone else who got involved. In terms of awesomeness and teamwork, we OWN charity week! And look out for the DVD version of our charity week film (with out-takes) <3

*can't find it in myself to wear Thursday socks on a Tuesday... quite sad :/

*Great, the tubes are suspended on the morning of a Kumar lecture :@

*had a day full of meetings, but got my Kumar and Clark book signed aand is now the proud owner of a sonic screwdriver :)

*Big up the jubilee line driver who's keeping us entertained during these delays. I almost don't want to get off at my stop! :D

*My back has probably infarcted over how much we spacehopped today. We went from Hyde Park to Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Embankment, Westminster, then the London Eye, Blackfriars, Millennium Bridge, St Pauls and finishing up at Barts Hospital! And yes, we did get a 'stop and account' from the police :D

*Interviewing schizophrenic patients is certainly one way to spend your Eid! :D

*gives anyone the right to give me a punch if I haven't done my writeup by tomorrow... (this should be enough of a motivation :))

*would just like to say good luck to all the freshers in their Funmed exam tomorrow... you'll feel amazing after it's all over!! :D

*Highlight of the day: listening to and touching a fistula, and everyone saying 'wow' when it was their turn :P

*will be back when the tsunami of xfactor-related statuses has passed...

*You know you've done too much kidney revision when peach slices start to resemble renal cortex...

*Thyroxine levels must be through the roof today! ¬_¬

*So what was that thing I was planning to do when exams were done? Oh yes, relax :)

*has had to slightly alter the letter to my MP as it turns out all lib dems are voting For the tuition fee rise! Whaaat?!

*Feeling so betrayed right now

*With only 9 men starting, a draw is a good result! Well done Cricklewood United Football Club !! :D

*is 22 years old and still looking forward to sleeping over tonight :)

*Based on that performance, I am NEVER going to clean out the cat litter tray again! Omg, I need a shower.

How could I have forgotten the spacehop we did for Charity Week? That was seriously awesome, and on the Lord Mayor's day too, which meant we witnessed a fantastic firework display on our back-straining travels!

Pledges

2010-12-10T01:07:00.000Z

At the moment I'm feeling extremely incensed at the way promises over tuition fees have been broken, with my faith in the whole democratic system (which I have to admit wasn't the strongest to begin with) left in ruins. One of the main reasons I voted for Lib Dems was because of the policies they made to protect student rights, and apparently all of that is forgotten now. The motion to increase the upper limit of university tuition fees has been passed by a small majority, with scenes outside the Houses of Parliament tense; clashes between police officers and student protestors leaving casualties on both sides. The police have really become a symbol of the ruthlessness the country has towards those who speak out against what they don't agree with. The same way the hypocrisy of the term 'freedom of speech' results in the arrest of the Wikileaks founder, people who so passionately protest against the 'elected' government do so at their own peril, being met by heavy-handed police tactics that only exacerbate the situation.

Youths do not respond to police intimidation and violence by just obeying and following their 'designated protest route'; I find that the whole concept of a protest that follows a timetable set by the people you're protesting against defeats the object in a way. Protests should be there to make as many voices heard as possible, making an impact on their target audience, and unfortunately it seems this can only be achieved through the use of vandalism and the symbolic bonfires that the TV cameras can all catch and broadcast. The level at which the protests have gotten out of hand should've been noted by the politicians, who can't just get this vote over with and continue with their career-driven lives; this is going to be hanging over their heads for a while. This is going to affect so many people down the line, and the society-damaging effect it's having is seemingly unapparent to the blind politicians who believe this is the only way forward.

It was quite weird seeing images of Prince Charles' car getting vandalised by protestors (with him in it, on the way to a theatre performance); in a way it's symbolic of the blatant disregard the ruling elite have for the people, and how even when their personal property (probably paid for by the taxpayer) is wrecked, they can continue as if nothing happened, with the Prime Minister more 'shocked and regretful' about their 'attack' than the destruction of the whole of society.

It has still yet to sink in, but we have been directly lied to by the politicians we voted for, and even though they are fitting the stereotype of what it is to be a politician, this has affected me deep down. If you're reading this Mr Clegg and Ms Teather, I hope you find the courtesy not to run for parliament next time, as any pre-election pledges you make hold no credibility in my eyes. Poor children's chances of pursuing their dreams at university have all but been ended by you.

August and September

2010-10-17T16:51:00.128+01:00

Right, I plan to finish this bi-monthly post in one sitting, and judging by the amount of texts I've sifted through to jog my memory of what happened the last two months, this may be a little long...

The way August began seemed like it would be completely different to the way July went; the turn of the month brought completely different weather, and seemingly less fun stuff to get up to. But a couple of days in, and my hectic schedule was in full flow once more. This is what happened:

I went to the cinema with all my siblings and watched Karate Kid, which was quite good (albeit predictable), but I was particularly impressed by the acting of Jaden Smith (Will Smith's son). Another oft-memorable family event was when my Grandma came to visit. It's not that we don't see her often, but she doesn't usually come down to London, and since her Parkinson's disease has stopped her from driving, she takes the train from Hampshire to see us. Picking her up from her platform and travelling with her on the Jubilee line, I felt a strange connection that I hadn't really felt before; she is the mother of my mother, and I realised that the amount of love a grandmother feels for her grandchild is almost unmatchable. For as long as I've known, I can remember her bringing presents every time she visited, and although I've grown out of material need from her (well, almost; she brings me a chocolate orange whenever she visits), there's a certain excitement still felt when she comes round.

What did take up a chunk of summer was Charity Week, and although it takes place at the end of October, alot of planning and work has to be put in from the start, especially when it comes to finding a team. Our mode of contact was through online forums, and because people (including myself) forget to check them from time to time, I found myself almost feeling alone with the task of organising Charity Week, whilst everyone else did their own thing, and especially as the job description of CW rep was to 'basically organise timetables for tube collections' (which it wasn't), I wasn't 100% sure what I was really supposed to do. But slowly but surely, people came together, and one of our preliminary meetings (with a few guys in my year) was held in Edgware Road, talking about what needed to get sorted for Charity Week, and then up came the topic of entertainment. We decided to make a film, and started brainstorming some cool and wacky ideas that would hopefully make its mark on the CW scene. More on that in next month's post.

What wasn't in short supply this summer was the number of meet-ups I had with friends, especially with the friend I went to Scotland with (the one who's into cars); going karting a few times, eating at swanky restaurants (and I mean very swanky), as well as paying for but missing several other events, like a Le Mans-style race around Silverstone (a 6 hour race we managed to arrive late for). One event was called Red Bull X-fighters, which admittedly I thought involved planes, but was actually a cool motorbike stunt competition. On the day it was raining quite heavily, and because qualifying was cancelled the day before, we presumed the proper event would too be cancelled, and that there would be no point trekking to Battersea power station only to find that nothing was on. Unfortunately, it did go ahead, and instead of sitting in our platinum-ticketed seats (with backstage access), I watched it online. Boy did we miss out!

I visited Covent Garden for the first time, when a friend invited me to a tea shop in Temple, called Bou Tea (now unfortunately closed down). There I sampled some crazy teas, and afterwards walked around the tourist-filled square, entertained by all the random street performers exhibiting their 'skills'. I can't believe I only just discovered this place, and even though it was full of tourists, it felt somewhat magical, like another little scene from a Zelda game.

The pre-season was underway for Cricklewood United (my Sunday league football team if you didn't already know). And this was when my summer took a turn for the worst; during one of the friendly games I was a substitute, and I came on as my team was losing (quite a common occurrence). Just as I get my first touch of the ball, barely thirty seconds in, two players from the opposing team came at me from different directions and tackle me badly, leaving me writhing on the grass in agony. One of them caught my leg in between his, and somehow twisted sideways, and that was when I heard the cracks. I was sure that I had broken it, with me clutching at the tufts of grass in excruciating pain. Needless to say, I couldn't play the rest of the match, and I got my mum to take me to A&E, where they said it was just a ligament tear, and they didn't even give me crutches! I'm tempted to put a picture up showing the horrific bruising I sustained. So I spent the rest of my summer hobbling and hopping everywhere, which obviously slowed me down alot (meaning I had to leave places way in advance if I had to get somewhere else in time). But it gave me a chance to take in my surroundings more, and actually appreciate the small details in what I'd usually just walk straight past.

Ok, so when I promised to get this blog-post done in one sitting... either it's been a month-long sitting, or more likely I've been extremely sidetracked by life. I know this post is going to appear in the October section, but now it's the end of November, and with exams in five days, I really need to knuckle down with revision. So I'm going to finish up this post by listing the rest of the things I've done and call it a day (or two months more like). You're probably bored by this point anyway. So please show your appreciation for the list!

List:
The start of Ramadan (and long days fasting).
A football reunion with college mates whom I haven't seen in donkeys' years (and yes, during Ramadan).
Regular fast-breaking meet ups with friends at various restaurants, and at a primary school friend's house.
CUFC season starts, with the injured me watching from the sidelines (first match a respectable draw).
TEDDYBEAR HOSPITAL meeting! (I'm the publicity officer)
Eid, and the usual Fatine party games and presents :)
Helping loads of people with personal statements (somehow they think I'm the right person to come to :S).
MESS training! Basically I now teach first years Medicine revision lectures :)
FRESHERS FAYRE! (with me donning a teddy bear costume and handing out flyers I made).
More Charity Week prep.
Imperial Potmed, and I find myself helping loads more prospective medics with their personal statements.

And riddled in the middle of all these events are various trips to see friends and watch films et cetera.

So that's about it! Finally. And now I leave you with the compulsory list (yes, another list) of my status updates; I hope things will be more organised from now on.

*That karting adrenaline should keep me going for a few days :)

*can't believe I'd never been to Covent Garden before today! Jokes! And check out Bou Tea for a menu of awesomeness!

*And there I was planning what to have for lunch...

*got mistaken for an Italian drug dealer today. And the funny thing is I've taken a month off drugs and the sort :P

just tried out the Xbox Kinect. Allow, I've got a wii at home!

Less than 30 seconds on the pitch, and I need to go to hospital because of over-aggressive opponents :/

*My Greg House limp has progressed into a Jason Bourne limp. Aww yeah!

*50 stars in, I can safely say Super Mario Galaxy 2 is the best game I've ever played :)

*A vending machine in the whitechapel library. That's what I'm talking about!! :D

*Transport against London.

*Good start to the season Cricklewood United FC !!

*Don't mess with Fatine family party games... we are so competitive!!

*When an Indian waiter says that a curry isn't spicy, he basically means they've only put half of the world's chilli reserves in the recipe. The tears are still flowing xP

*needs to get Halo Reach out of his system before uni starts...

*Didn't know that wearing a teddybear costume for two hours could make me unbear-ably sweaty! >_>

*is dicing with death at Rye House racetrack. Mr Hamilton wouldn't be too proud of my performances so far :/

*Forget last year's material, I just hope I can remember how to write! :s

*It's true; discovering I still had the ECG stickers on my body did leave me quite amused. How sad! :D

*Tried caviar for the first time ever; tastes a bit like fish. Give me fish fingers any day!

Oh and how could I forget, MBBS Year Two has begun!!

Farhaan and Farhan exhibiting the new green handbook.

Trainers

2010-09-24T17:01:00.006+01:00

Since the half marathon I've entered is fast approaching, I thought I should get some running shoes that won't actually destroy my body after I've run 13 miles in them. Naturally I thought there should be some hint of orange on them, so I let my consumerist guard down and went shopping. And here are some of the trainers I had to choose from...

These were too orange (I know, could there be such a thing?!)... something I probably would've bought when I was 10. The camera doesn't quite catch it, but they were eye-stingingly fluorescent! Next...

These were alright, but they looked like more casual trainers than running shoes, and I'm sure my knees would suffer after running a while in them. They are a bit bland-looking too. Next...

These were just perfect. Just about the right amount of colour, they seemed comfortable, and I had my eyes on a similar pair for a while, until these 'updated ones' came out. They have space in the sole for a special ipod-connecting running chip I have, and according to my mum, they could double as 'smart trainers'. I went running around Regent's Park with them today, and my do they feel bouncy! Just like the 'lunarglide' name suggests!

Private Joke

2010-09-10T02:21:00.001+01:00

This video, I think, illustrates that how funny a joke can be depends on the audience; how they've been brought up, what career paths they've chosen, and what they're 'into'. Before I discovered the video below, I found it difficult trying to explain to my friends what I meant by an 'in-joke'; that some people will never understand the hilarity of some situations simply because their frame of reference is so far removed. So who better to show how this works than Fry and Laurie? :D

July: Penguins and Porsches

2010-08-16T18:16:00.034+01:00

As you can tell from the lateness of this post, yet again have I found myself getting up to loads of things and trying to pack as many activities in a single day as possible. As soon as the sun makes an appearance, seemingly so do many friends I thought had forgotten about me, and I find myself accepting various invitations, from football to tea drinking. The World Cup began quite slowly, but from the quarter finals onwards, the matches started getting more exciting. And who better to share such a spectacle with than your football-loving buddies at a friend's flat?

So Spain won it all in the end, and with me being an avid Holland supporter, I did feel some disappointment at them having lost the final. I have to admit the tactics they used were a bit dirty, wanting to disrupt the Spanish passing game, but I didn't really like everyone's response afterwards, saying that Spain 'deserved' to win the tournament; they lost their opening game to Switzerland for crying out loud, while Holland were unbeaten in both the run-up to the final and their qualifying games! There was a long debate between friends of mine on my facebook status, with friends sharing my sympathies and accusing others of not being true football fans for not feeling some sadness at Holland losing. Holland remains the best team never to have won the World Cup, and they deserve much better judging by the number of high quality players they've fielded throughout history.

One of the more bizarre stories emerging from the World Cup has been of a match-predicting octopus. I can't believe how stupid people can get, believing that just because a hungry octopus chooses food from a box with a country's flag on it, that it knows that the team will win. What I find more absurd is how long news agencies allowed the story to go on for.

The field near my grandma's

I went paintballing with a bunch of Imperial guys, first and second year medics. When it came to sorting the teams out, I found myself with all the inexperienced people doing it for their first time. But it didn't matter; by the end the other team were sulking because we'd beaten them badly, them claiming we were 'camping'. And for those who don't who don't know, camping means to sit somewhere and wait for people to come so you can easily get the kill. What we did was think tactically and use the advantage we'd gained by winning the round before to employ more defensive tactics and let them bring the flag to us (it was a capture-the-flag-and-take-it-to-the-opposition's-base setup). Just for one round did we employ these tactics, but they carried on moaning about it. Still, it was a fun day, and after initially thinking we'd get battered by the ruthless paintball veterans, I left with a pleasant feeling of victory: real, hard-earnt victory that relied on teamwork.

One definite highlight of this month was going to Wales for a few days, staying at my friend Annas' house. Although the weather a lot of the time was terrible (what did we expect, it was Wales!), we still managed to see all the places my friend hung out at, as well as watch a very forgettable Predators film. But most of the time we stayed at his house and played Pro Evo (I'd much rather have preferred Fifa, a preference I'd made as audibly as possible after my every match loss). One of the more memorable cinema experiences I had was watching Inception (not in Wales... I've changed the subject now), and I'm sure I don't need to go on saying how great a film it is. Truly a masterpiece!

I've been to the park a few times, taking advantage of the weather as much as possible. A few of us from uni met and soaked up the Regent's Park sun, playing with the various balls and frisbees we'd all brought, before deciding to make a funny film with the cameras we had. All was going well with filming multiple takes of one scene (we knew this could be a comedy masterpiece), until memory cards started filling up and batteries run out, causing us to cut filming short and promise to return more prepared with more props and better script ideas. Another park trip involved meeting up with friends to train for the half marathon we signed up for in October, but since we hadn't seen each other for a while, the lap we did of hyde park involved more conversational strolling than jogging. Still, a half marathon hardly needs training for, does it? And what's summer without the obligatory trip to the zoo with my mum and little brother? We saw all the usual animals, taking into account the feeding times advertised, and I could comfortably say that otters are by far the most interesting/adorable, feeding time or not! (which is why they were the subject of my AS level psychology observation). There were so many spectators watching the penguins get fed it was almost impossible to see anything, and the area where the monkeys were free to roam amongst visitors was much more lively than when we last visited.

I've been on a few outings with my friend who I went to Scotland with, and calling him a car enthusiast is definitely an understatement. Cars and motorsport are practically his only hobby, but I was flabbergasted by what I saw when we stopped outside his home: a Porsche 968 parked outside his garage door, seemingly unused and looking absolutely stunning mashaallah! We took it out to our bowling trip in central London, and the roar of the engine was too phenomenal, like it was a caged tiger wanting to be unleashed. Driving past prompted looks from passers by, and I can almost understand why some socially-depraved individuals resort to buying expensive cars to compensate for their lack of personality. It was an old Porsche which certainly had character; the white leather seats fashioned to give maximum comfort to your body. All in all it was a very cool experience indeed!

From what I could not imagine to be a more unique experience that riding in my first Porsche came the next unique experience: riding in a Porsche around a racetrack! And not a normal run-of-the-mill racetrack at that; this was Silverstone, the home of the British Grand Prix! After arriving quite late (as is the theme with my friend and his outings, which is how we completely missed the Farnborough air show), we were briefed, I was given a tyre-smelling 'passenger' bracelet with the Porsche name on it (this was a track day specifically for Porsche club members by the way), and before we got onto the track, I had a chance to see some other cars speed along the start line straight. Most of the cars were flashy customised 911s, but there were a couple of lotuses and an amazing Ford GT40, and I even I know that that was one classic car! We got talking with the co-owners of the Ford, people who run a classic car refurbishment company, and they said it was worth a million pounds! Such a beauty, and for a person who's not really 'into' cars, this whole day was turning out to be a once-in-a-lifetime moment, with me getting my video camera out every few minutes to record something new.

As you could probably guess, all the Porsche owners looked as if they had a bit of spare change, and I tried to blend in at lunchtime, flashing my wristband at the Porsche centre (which apparently wasn't the one that said you were a member, but I let my swift walking and air of indifference grant me entry past the steward). Inside they had a few old cars, and upstairs was where the food was being served, with me being surprised at how free everything was, feeling quite guilty when I asked for a posh bottle of orange juice without paying for it. Whilst sitting down at a table, I scanned the room to look for the most likely candidate who earlier made us skid off the track and onto the gravel; the rules were that there was to be no overtaking on corners, but there a few ~~road-raged~~ impatient Porsche drivers who didn't listen, and because of the wet conditions, we lost control of the car after we made way for the aggressive drivers, taking the corner all wrong and ending up with gravel in our brakes (which we subsequently had to get removed by driving really fast around the Silverstone outer-track place). Overall it was an exhilarating experience, and after sitting in the car for some intense laps of the circuit, I decided to just be a spectator and watch the rich men play with their fast toys; I think I prefer it that way.

So with the month drawing to a close and loads of friends going on holiday, leaving me here, I decided to cheer myself up by finally buying a new laptop, and leave the expensive touch-screened former love of mine to be fixed another day. This month will also be remembered for my brother when he 'bus case' (as my friend colloquially puts it); found not guilty for carrying an offensive weapon during that protest at the end of 2008, with our martial arts expert a tad bit more experienced than the prosecution's (holding the world record for the number of black belts: more than 40!). And oh yes, a new season with Cricklewood United was approaching fast; could we improve on last season's display, and more importantly, could we afford to play another season with the student budgets we all had?

[This blog post has taken absolutely ages to slowly write out, and I set it to the 16th of August just to make me feel better. It was probably the day I decided to start :P]

My month in status updates:

is almost as interested in grandma's ornaments as much as in grandma herself!

Giving tours of my uni has only made me love it more

Holland were robbed... (or robbened)

Inception; what a film!! :O

has only just learnt that turning up to an asian wedding on time isn't normal >_>

has decided that getting dropped home in a vintage porsche is better than a replacement bus service

maybe should look out of the window before putting sun-cream on next time

is on his new laptop; no fancy unfixable touchscreens this time!

We've been muscled off the silverstone racetrack, and now have to fix the car if there's any hope of getting home. Otherwise a great day to have a friend with a porsche :)

The Gratitude Attitude

2010-08-06T23:55:00.000+01:00

Since the turn of the month, as swiftly as the weather has changed, I've sensed a nationwide shift in mood, and especially in myself with university routine looming near, I find that there's a strong feeling of lethargy in the air. As if I've been overwhelmed by the amount of 'free time' I've had, I feel I need a structured timetable back to take control of my life.

Coincidentally (or not), there's this book I'm reading called '59 seconds', a sort of self-help book, written by a professor and containing some interesting psychology-related stuff, and it's one I'd recommend reading. It's not that I've particularly reached a phase in my life where I've turned to such books, but the front cover was catchy (it's how I judge books; and yes, I know the proverb warning me precisely against doing such a thing), and I had vouchers to spend. It's actually a very interesting book, and you may see further blog-posts based on its content. The first chapter is on happiness, and contains studies on how happy people can become by doing certain simple things.

Part of this chapter talks about the 'gratitude attitude', something you experience especially when you've lost something, adding credence to the saying, 'you don't appreciate something until it's gone'. The comparison they give in the book is when you walk into a room that smells of freshly-baked bread; you notice the smell. But when you stay in the room you notice the smell less and less, until it's part of the 'background'. But when you leave and re-enter the room, you notice it again.

Some researchers asked two groups of people to write lists; one group had to list things they appreciated, and the other group things that annoyed them. After following both groups up, they found that the 'grateful' group were significantly more happy, living healthier lives and were more optimistic about the future. So actually just taking a step back and thinking of all the wonderful friends and assets we have at our disposal will ultimately make us 'happier' people. (I'm sure there's a debate as to what being happy is, as is discussed in the book, but you get the idea).

I know it's easy saying this sitting on my perch, relatively unscathed from what life has thrown at me, but really when we do reach that stage where we feel that nothing could get worse, as if everything in life that could go wrong is going wrong, think of people whose situations are worse. You haven't got a penny to your name? Well, there's someone somewhere in exactly the same situation as yourself but without any legs, or in the middle of a war zone or famine. We don't really have to be doing much to be taking advantage of how lucky we actually are; for example the gift of our lungs, organs built specifically to take air in and provide as much surface area for blood to carry oxygen and release carbon dioxide with. In the time you've read this blog-post so far, you've breathed at least twenty times, and probably without noticing much. There are people out there who can't breathe by themselves anymore, and have to depend on machines to stay alive; just to put things into perspective.

Having the 'gratitude attitude' not only would make us happier people, but it would be a step towards us using our physical and mental faculties for doing good. Charity is one of those things, and as it happens is also on the list of what can bring you genuine 'long-term' happiness. With Ramadan around the corner, now would be a better time than ever to list down all of the little things, the people, the opportunities that we take for granted and should be appreciating more.

You can stop focusing so much on your breathing now, unless you want to carry on...

Turkey

2010-07-23T12:00:00.000+01:00

Since I've left blogging about Turkey quite late; re-adjusting to London life, I've put the memories of what I thought and felt in Turkey to the back of my mind, so it's slightly difficult to recall those memories exactly, but this is what stood out for me:

Important issues out the way first: Food. We weren't disappointed when we thought Turkey would have a kebab shop around every corner, but with vendors competing against each other for prices, we found that quality was lacking sometimes (but then again, that's what you get when you economise!). There was this one place that serves koftas (near the tram stop in Sultanahmet); it was absolutely delicious! We did have to spend slightly over what we'd usually pay, but it was worth every lira. I have a video of us trying to describe the experience of eating there (which might not see the light of day since there are so many to go through). There were fish places next to the Bosphorous that served cheap but nice food, and we steered clear of the proper restaurants that tourists would visit, but overall I think we did get a well-rounded food experience. And being the budget-savvy travellers we were, we stocked up on breakfast food and snacks from supermarkets we passed. Turkish ice-cream is certainly unique with its consistency (which I can't quite remember because it's been so long), and every so often we'd bump into roasted sweetcorn stalls, which we did intend to eat at but couldn't find the opportunity to. Still, I'm sure I know what sweetcorn tastes like. I remember the first tram we took from the airport; once the doors opened at one stop, we knew we had to eat there sometime, with the smell of scrumptious food wafting in; we called it the kebab stop. What was slightly disturbing was when we heard that not all the meat served is halal (especially in tourist parts), and even more disturbing was that they used pig or donkey meat as a cheaper substitute for lamb! After that news we did take our precautions, but it is slightly difficult trying to believe people say the meat is halal when they're serving every different alcoholic beverage you could imagine.

The people were extremely friendly and welcoming; I've found that with other places I've visited, when a person starts a conversation with you, they either expect you to buy something from them, or to become your tour guide (a generously-paid tour guide that is), but not here. The people would go out of their way to help you, not expecting anything in return (the way it should normally be if you ask me!), taking their time out to direct hapless travellers who can't read a map. Now would be an opportunity to talk about our guide who was recommended to us by a friend; an extremely nice guy, who didn't have the best grasp of English, but any language barriers were overcome by simple hand movements. He took us on a cruise of the Bosphorous (not in his own boat, just using his citizen discount thing), then we went to various mosques with companions of the Prophet (pbuh) buried in them, as well as a cable car ride up to a place where we could see the whole of Istanbul. Oh yeah, I'm talking about Istanbul here; maybe I should've mentioned that at the start. We had our guide for the whole day, and I would recommend getting one if you wanted to see places not really frequented by tourists. He was even kind enough to introduce me to seven Turkish girls (yes, seven, all at once) whilst waiting in the queue for a cable car, saying that I was available for marriage. Let's just say that I've had less awkward cable car journeys in my life.

The places we visited were awesome, and I mean really awesome. There are the standard tourist haunts in Istanbul (the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace), which are breathtaking in themselves, but then there are the places almost hidden away that you have to trek through suburbs to get to. I felt somewhat special walking through the crowds of mosque tourists kept at bay by the wooden barrier, as if I had a VIP pass to go and pray. And what was especially magical was praying early every morning in the Blue Mosque, joining the single line in prayer before going back to bed in the hostel, avoiding the stray dogs on the way back. What I love about Istanbul is that there's a story behind every piece of architecture, with every Ottoman sultan wanting to leave their mark on the landscape. And it's also sad in a way, to see all of these beautiful buildings and wonder what could have been. But more on that later. One outstanding experience was when we were taken to an old mosque; the oldest mosque in Istanbul in fact, built in 717 with a companion of the Prophet (pbuh) buried there, and seemingly run by young students who memorised the Quran. We noticed that on the ceiling you could see a faint image of Mary painted, from when it temporarily became a church. The same with Hagia Sophia, the monstrosity of a building dominating the landscape, where inside it was adorned with both Islamic calligraphy and murals of angels and Jesus (pbuh); too much to take in if you ask me.

Istanbul wasn't the only place we had the pleasure of visiting; after some meticulous planning and haggling for coach tickets, we decided that we wanted to go to Fethiye (on the partial advice of our guide, who kept changing his mind over how beautiful/expensive/pointless certain places were). Fethiye is a seaside town on the south-western coast of Turkey, a journey taking 14 hours by coach, and due to our intentional timing, it meant that we'd be travelling by night so we wouldn't have to fork out for a hostel. After we'd barely left Istanbul, the girl behind me in the coach threw up (and predictably the same happened on the journey back- but not the same girl), so with the smell of vomit wafting through the coach, I flicked through the Turkish-language TV channels on the screen in front of me and tried to get some shut-eye before we arrived.

Fethiye is an amazing place. Once we arrived we dropped our things off at the hostel we booked (which had a scenic view, friendly staff and guests, and where we caught some of the World Cup), and went for a lovely walk before taking a minibus down (through a village covered in England flags and full of what you'd call 'chavs') to Olu deniz, a beach renowned for its beauty. And we weren't disappointed; as if taken from a postcard, everything looked perfect. With the mountains towering over us, the sun shining and the water as clear as crystal, we hired a pedal boat in the Blue Lagoon and just took the whole atmosphere in. We had the option of paragliding off the highest mountain peak into the sea, but instead went the safer route and booked a cruise for the next day.

The boat cruise of the twelve islands around Fethiye was probably the highlight of the whole trip, where completely chilling was the idea. The weather couldn't have been better and although the boat was full of sun-searching tourists, that didn't stop us from having our fun. Every so often the boat would stop at an island, and we could dive off it into the lagoon, which I have to admit was a little unnerving once you got to the diving platform, but enjoyable when you'd done it. My swimming for the day was cut short when I decided to paddle my way over to a cliff and climb on a rock, and get pricked by a sea urchin, leaving me with some very painful and deep splinters on my foot, which would have to get looked at once we got home. The rest of the trip involved us getting off at a couple of the islands and having a walk around, having lunch on the boat, and towards the end, ride some cool waves whilst standing at the front; the boat swaying and rocking, rising and falling like we were in a storm. I would definitely recommend visiting Fethiye, as it's a place that could definitely get away with the title 'paradise'.

So with all of the great places, food and friendly locals Turkey offers, what are the downsides? Especially after visiting Topkapi Palace which housed jewel-encrusted hairbrushes belonging to the sultans and whatnot (as well as items belonging to various Prophets- some of which looked dubiously well-kept); extravagance to the extreme, you wouldn't need to read a history book to figure out what caused the downfall of the Ottoman Empire. Looking at an exhibition of all of the robes various sultans wore, you could see that through the ages they went from very simple in design and look, to ridiculously over-decorated, reflecting the indulgent lifestyles they must've led. And then there came secularism after the fall of the Caliphate, in the form of complete separation between religion and life, and unfortunately the legacy Ataturk (the 'founder' of modern Turkey) left behind is seemingly still being upheld. I've heard that life in the countryside is different, but from what I saw, they almost worship Ataturk, building statues and naming architecture after him. I felt alot of the people out there were trying too hard to be Western, brushing aside their rich history, and thinking that being Muslim by name is enough (as demonstrated by the Turkish bath guy who said it was 'tradition' to go in practically naked). The modern shopping street (the Turkish equivalent of Oxford Street) is called 'Istiklaal' street, which means 'freedom'; hardly a name for a place full of overpriced brand-name shops. But the winds of change are slowly but surely blowing; just recently there was a fear-mongering news article on how Turkey is slowly becoming less ~~militant against religion~~ secular, so there's hope yet.

So there it is, Turkey in a nutshell, which has taken me ages to write out and then re-write as my posts don't like being saved. I feel bad for ending this review on the negatives of Turkey; really it is a wonderful and magical place, admittedly having many people who do their own random thing and call it 'Islam', as well as those kebab vendors who racially profile you (just because I was with two Asians, they assumed we were vegetarian!) but nevertheless definitely a place worth a visit (although it did rain four times when we were there, which doesn't usually happen). And if you have the time and the patience, you could go all the way to Fethiye and absorb as much of the breathtaking scenery as possible. I've probably forgotten a load of stuff that will come back to me once I've seen all my videos, but yeah, go Turkey! One of the better holiday destinations.

June-ish

2010-06-29T00:17:00.001+01:00

You may have noticed that the design of this blog has somewhat changed, from just the plain black and orange look to this one; after seeing the new design options I had, the amateur style I was going with was crying out for change. I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with the background I have; there may be a little bit too much orange so I may change it further, probably depending on the mood I'm in. But a massive change that I could implement finally was the width of various parts, meaning I now don't have to manipulate YouTube videos to make them fit, or adjust picture settings so the border doesn't get cut off. I also noticed some other nifty gadgets that I hadn't seen before; apart from the fish tank and various games, something that I may want to add is a photostream, as I practically relive my memories through photos (how else can I remember what I've done during the month?). I'm unsure about putting adverts in my blog; I know it can make me some money, but I wonder how much, and will it interfere with the feng shui balance of my blog? Surely I'd need loads of people to see my blog for the adverts to be of any use, but is that the real purpose of me writing, and do I want all these randoms to see my blog? I'm not sure.

The summer holidays so far haven't exactly been filled with days of chilling, and by chilling I mean just sitting around doing nothing. Much like the past academic year, I've had a list of things in my head I need to do; this summer I need to find a job, go to various things I've been invited to, do all the projects I've been planning to undertake (filming, writing, university society work etc), watch the World Cup; so I really don't have much time to sit around, and nor do I want to. I know next year is going to be much tougher with the workload, and if I start the year knowing I've gotten alot of the 'recreational' stuff out of the way, I can do much better with the 1+1=3 stuff.

I went to Scotland with a friend for the weekend recently. He's a rally driver and there was a competition up near Castle Douglas. He said I could be the co-driver for a couple of his races, but (on the 'advice' of my mum, and for safety's sake) I chose to walk the entirety of the track and take in the depth of the mysterious forest, hurriedly making for the bank when I heard the deafening buzz of a speeding car from the distance. There were moments when the race was stopped (probably due to a crash farther on), and that was when I truly felt 'at one' with nature; just myself and the innumerable pine trees, and no phone signal. The hotel we stayed at was nice, neighbouring a field of cows; I got my own room, and managed to watch Algeria's first World Cup game there. Actually the whole area we stayed in seemed quite peaceful and dreamlike; the drive through the country lanes was as if someone had delved down into my deepest thoughts and extracted the perfect scenes onto Scottish canvas. It was too nice.

Other things that happened this month: I watched a play: one of those rare occasions in my life. It was alright; a little too deep for my understanding, but it had a couple of actors I recognised from elsewhere. There also were protests against the 'freedom flotilla' massacre, which really had a 'good' feel to them.. And I had another MRI scan; alhamdulillah the pituitary growth hasn't grown further, but I still haven't managed to get hold of a picture of my brain!

Oh, and I went to Turkey for a week, but that deserves a blog-post on its own.

My month in status updates:

loves how the neighbours have bought a trampoline, inspired by my early morning bouncing :D

has done the unthinkable and bought an Algeria football shirt...

MRI scans and hayfever aint the best of mixes...

is on the way to Scotland. All matters are to be taken up with batman until I get back.

is in the Scottish wildnerness following a rally course in the hope of finding civilisation...

Come on Algeria! No really, come on >_>

Algeria just showed England very nicely. Fireworks in Cricklewood, imagine if they won!

is definitely feeling more half Algerian than half English tonight :)

is on the way to Turkey, but the tardis is staying at home.

can't believe I had to explain to the Turkish bath guy that public nudity wasn't part of My tradition >_>

has witnessed some spectacular scenes, met some wonderful people, swum in some paradisical waters. But there's no place like home.

World Cup Fever 2010

2010-06-16T15:18:00.004+01:00

Well, that time is upon us once more; the World Cup will be filling everyone's screens and minds from now until mid-July, and the mood and feeling surrounding such an occasion is like no other. I've wanted to write about the World Cup for a while, because of the intense excitement everyone feels in the midst of it, and the sense of anticipation before it begins. It's not 'just football', as many ~~women~~ critics claim; this only happens once every four years, and you could say that every football-playing man has dreamt of lifting that trophy, that beautiful solid-gold trophy. Drama is at a high even before a ball has been kicked, with squad selections, fixture lists (and who has qualified) and doubts about players' fitness and injuries. This is the month that every professional top-flight player works towards; only the best are chosen to represent their countries, with the hopes of whole nations resting on their shoulders. In the build-up to the start of the tournament, programmes showing the history and highlights/bloopers of the World Cup are broadcast, and that only adds to the excitement.

At the beginning you have three or four matches shown on television daily, even the most average of teams in the competition have something up their sleeve, and sometimes the best goals come from them. This is a platform for people to pursue their childhood dreams, to show their talent off to prospective clubs, and leave the worldwide audience in awe as they shine. The knockout stages are the most dramatic, where a single loss means an early trip home, and a win allows your team to fight one more day. You couldn't get more suspense than when a match goes to penalties; England have never won a penalty shootout and will avoid them if they can, but for the moment we can enjoy asking each other which matches are being shown today, and where we want to watch them together. And we can go on discussing possible scenarios where certain teams get a certain number of points if they won, drew or lost, and the effects that would have on other teams in the group. Things are especially exciting in 2010, as Algeria have qualified for the first time in my life, and they've been drawn in the same group as England. I'm hoping Algeria do progress to the knockout stages, which is unlikely as England and USA are far stronger, but it should be entertaining nevertheless! I've bought my (very pricey) Algeria shirt and can't wait to see how they fare; last time they were in the competition, they beat West Germany!

Some people may criticise the World Cup for becoming too commercialised (like Christmas), but the thing is, the football has remained the focus, and although yes, companies do take advantage of the event by making so many football-orientated (and entertaining) advertisements, the spirit of the beautiful game and purity of competition have not been tainted. It's still an opportunity for nations to come together and witness the spectacle that transcends all boundaries. It's difficult to explain how a spectator feels when the World Cup is in full swing, and it's different every time because of the different host nations, different matches being played, and new faces on the pitch. And once you start to get used to the whole thing; whether it be the Argentinian skill, Italian defence, Dutch flair or Brazilian genius, it's over, and every guy (and girl, who has a four-yearly sudden interest in football) has to wait for the next one to roll on, and inspire generations anew. But for now I'll try and take it in as best as I can.

UPDATE: With my late blog-posting, almost a week of the tournament has passed, with criticisms of the match ball and how difficult it is for players (and goalkeepers) to control it, as well the the 'vuvuzelas' (African trumpet things) drowning out the sound of everything in earshot. With the actual matches, some would say it has been a slow start as few goals have been scored (that changing when Germany met Australia), and Algeria had to slip up against a team they needed to pick up points against; the Algerian keeper making a muddle of a straightforward Slovenian shot, almost re-enacting a similar one the day before involving the England keeper, which raises further questions about the state of the ball. So I'm hoping Algeria can do what they do best and somehow unpredictably get results in the other two games. Otherwise, we've had New Zealand picking up their first ever point in their tournament history, with a very late dramatic goal, and the real minnows in the competition, North Korea (who qualified for the first time since England lifted the trophy- in '66), playing the best team in the world, Brazil, and holding them at 0-0 at half-time! It needed two world-class Brazilian goals to defeat them, but North Korea did manage to pull one back, and it was quite a well-worked goal too! The 'group of death' in which they occupy (including Ivory Coast and Portugal) may not finish as predictably as we'd thought!

Results

2010-05-31T11:10:00.003+01:00

Last Thursday I got my exam results for first year, and I passed! All I can say is alhamdulillah, thank God I've passed the one year mark without any slip-ups, and can look forward to 4 months of retake-free summer. To be honest, apart from one paper that was too close to call, I didn't think I failed, and overall I think I got an A. Checking the results brought back memories of logging into UCAS seeing if I got a university place, but the results were comfortable passes and I'm happy, sort of. We had to get more than 50% in every paper to proceed, which I did, but I'm disappointed I didn't achieve a merit (as far as I'm aware, since friends who did get merits already know), which is reserved for the top 25% of the year.

I don't think I particularly deserve a merit, unless you count the hours spent in extra lectures every week throughout the year, but I didn't spend one sleepless night revising, and certainly didn't put as much effort in during our one week of study leave as others did. I'm not a fan of re-writing notes out neatly to pretend you're doing some revision. Sure, you'll have something ordered and tidy to read from on the tube to the exam, but it's just too time-consuming and laborious, compared to just reading from the notes and lecture slides you already have; the route I chose to follow.

But maybe I should have been a bit more ordered in my revision; I did have a timetable from which I knew what I exactly wanted to revise on a certain day, and the piles upon piles of material were sorted out into their respective modules, but there was something extra I was missing; maybe taking a more organised approach from the start of the year is a good idea, so by the end, you have all the key things you need to learn summarised and highlighted ready for your final few days of delirium.

I hate the idea of being mediocre, whether in exam results, sporting prowess or just life in general. I think it's our parents who shape us into people who either really have that urge to achieve more or just settle for second place. I don't like doing second place. Remember in our younger years when we wanted to do well in something because it would make our parents proud? Or when we found something cool and wanted to show them, and present said object in front of their eyes, and they would gleam in appreciation and pride? Although those shows of praise have all but ended (almost), I still have the urge to try my hardest and do my best, be the best, because it's been instilled in me; it is me.

So next year inshaallah I will do better!

April and May

2010-05-24T12:35:00.006+01:00

I'm back from finishing my first year at university, and with revision and exams out of the way, I can finally publish the stuff I typed out ages ago for the last two months...

APRIL
Well, another exam out of the way alhamdulillah, and going with the theme of not having study leave before the exams my uni is adopting, I thought this would be the most difficult exam yet; Brain & Behaviour and
Locomotor modules are no easy feat to get your head around. Learning all the different tracts in the spinal cord and what would happen if one had a lesion on one particular side did take some time to understand, but I think learning about how pain and sensation works was probably one of the more interesting things I've learnt this year. Things became especially mind-blowing when we started to learn about the structure of the brain, and what every region controlled. For example if a person suffered a stroke to Wernicke's area (a part in the dominant hemisphere - usually left - to do with reception of information), you could ask them a question, and they would hear it, but they would give a completely random response to do with anything (an example oft-used by my lecturers was to do with butterflies and clouds). If there was a stroke to the same area, but on the different side of the brain, the person would get something called neglect syndrome, where the person would ignore everything on the other side of the body. So the person would ignore people, what they see, what they hear; everything is neglected on that side (even though their hearing and eyesight works fine), and most bizarrely, they would neglect themselves! So they wouldn't dress, wash or shave themselves
on that side. If you brought their neglected arm in front of them, they could fling it away with such force that their shoulder could become dislocated.

There is so much left to discover with the brain, and indeed the whole body, and sitting the exam made me aware of the many fillable gaps in my own knowledge of the syllabus, let alone the unexplored territory. But it went better than I thought (especially considering that apparently 60% of the last year group failed this exam). I felt such a feeling of relief, and I'm still feeling it; I remember during our cardiorespiratory module looking at the timetable for the rest of the year and dreading the B&B exam, but being here doesn't seem too bad alhamdulillah.

I did take a few risks though; when I shouldve been revising for the exam on Friday, on Wednesday I volunteered for the teddybear hospital safety day. I've been involved with the teddybear hospital group at my
uni all year, and I really love it: just going to schools and teaching five and six year-olds about germs, medical equipment and teeth-brushing, and where they bring in their ill teddybears that we bandage up. This day was when the schools came to us, and at our research centre we have a pod room suspended in the middle of the
building where there are cool activities for the kids to do, so they went there for a bit. Also the police, fire brigade and hospital staff came with their respective vehicles (and horses), and we taught them a bit about being safe and healthy. The day was focussed around the children, but I have to say that maybe the volunteers (us numbering about 50) probably had more fun, and the source of a lot of it was from the helium balloons. I was responsible for tying the balloons around the kids' wrists, which I must have messed up, because there
were a load of balloons up in the ceiling further down the hall. So we had the pleasure of first retrieving these balloons and then sucking out the helium to some hilarious effect!

MAY
This month was supposed to be dedicated to revision for exams starting on the 17th, but again I found myself up to other things, like running for press officer for teddybear hospital (which I managed to get, at a krispy-kreme filled AGM), and auditioning for MESS (which I don't think I've praised highly enough on here). MESS, the group at uni which gives extra lectures on Tuesdays and Fridays for first years on recent topics covered has practically been a lifesaver; I've barely missed one session, and has been an amazing almost-substitute for the revision I've supposed to have been doing throughout the year. Students from upper years volunteer to give the lectures, and I can only be proud to give something back to a group which has practically
been getting me my much-needed passes. I wonder how I'm going to cope next year without it. The audition just involved me giving a short lecture on a topic covered during first year, and as we'd just sat the B&B exam, I thought I'd do some neuroanatomy, which my co-auditionees couldn't believe I'd take a risk with, but a topic I found quite enjoyable as well as easier to understand than some other topics out there.

I've had a history with revision; not a very good one. As soon as I sit down to get some work done, I find myself drifting away and being distracted by other things I wouldn't normally be interested in. This time though I've been watching House, the medical drama that forms a kind of bridge between myself and where I want to be, and motivates me to get revision done. My promise of 'no films for two weeks' has been upheld, and a timetable for the week ensured I covered all the stuff I needed to.

So onto exam day, and the administrators had problems with booking exam venues, which found us going to Barts hospital in Barbican and doing the exam in the Great Hall. And boy was it great! Half an hour before the exam you could see us all on the benches at the edges of the vast hospital square, frantically going through notes and trying to remember drug names and disease mechanisms. This was the dreaded Short Answer Question paper, and you could tell people would be happy scraping a pass. This paper could cover any PBL we did during the year, as well as 3 brand new ones they gave scenarios for beforehand, plus a hidden never-before-seen one. The stairs leading up to the great hall were magnificent; this place dripping in history with its
painted walls and oak bannisters. The hall was covered in golden engravings of the names of all the hospital benefactors over the centuries, and at the front hung a massive portrait of Henry VIII; adding to our sense of occasion.

We all came out not knowing whether or not we did well; it was more of a 'write alot and hope for marks' exam, and the next day we thought would give us some reprieve. This was the Extended Matching Questions paper, where they give you a list of words to choose from and match a few of them to the sentences describing something we were supposed to have learnt earlier in the year. This paper was slightly easier, as the answers were practically in front of us, but there were some tricky questions to do with cranial nerve nuclei and their pathways. This would be the last time we'd sit in the great hall, so I took a few moments to soak the atmosphere in.

Wednesday was a free day with no exams, but allowed us time to prepare for OSCEs the next day, and the anatomy/microanatomy spotter on Friday. We were at Barts hospital on Thursday for our OSCE exam; an exam where you have various stations with patients sitting in them, and with you having to examine various parts of their bodies. In between these stations were some EMQs we also had to answer, relating to the patients we had just seen. Before the exam we all had to wait in a lecture theatre for the other groups to finish; all of us dressed smartly, some with stethoscopes hanging around their necks. The exam itself, I thought, was quite fun. At every buzzer, we had to move stations and see new people, hurriedly reading the scenarios beforehand and quickly deciding what procedures you were supposed to do, do them, with occasional interruptions from the examiner asking questions. In the various stations I had to: locate the apex heartbeat/listen to all the valves, locate the jugular venous pulse, guide a blind person to another chair, examine someone's lungs on their back, test the motor function/reflexes on someone's arms, examine knee joints, get consent from a reluctant patient, resuscitate a dummy, examine the function of cranial nerves 5, 7, 10, 11 and 12, do an abdominal exam, as well as answer all of the EMQs in between. Overall I loved it, but some friends said they made silly mistakes and missed stuff out, but it's an exam that's difficult to fail unless you really had no clue!

The final exam day; just an hour and a half on a computer answering multiple-choice questions based on the pictures of dead bodies they give you. Revision for this is either hit or miss; you either know all the different tissue types and what microscope slides look like or you don't. Guessing won't get you really far, but walking out of the exam, alhamdulillah, I didn't think it was that hard. Sure, there were a couple of questions that you had to make informed guesses on, but nothing too impossible. The time spent after the exam wasn't really full of celebration as you'd expect, but our usual probing of every question took precedence. I went for lunch at subway with the group of friends I was debating answers with, and then went to watch Robin Hood at Westfields with another group of friends. In the end, a happy but subdued climax to our exams and the end of the year. And results come out on Thursday!

The bi-monthly video

The video is an old animated film of Animal Farm; I remember my mum borrowing this from the library a couple of times for us when we were young. We obviously didn't understand the deeper politics-related meaning behind the story, but I think it engrained in us an early ability to recognise the concept of injustice.

My two months in status updates:

That's the last time I'm bringing my scarf near a horse's mouth!

The demon headmaster in Doctor Who!! :O

Who suggested that football should be played with the same limbs you need to walk home afterwards with?

is loving the daylight at this late hour :)

Thinking about thinking, talking about talking, understanding understanding; lectures are getting bare trippy! :P

can't wait for tomorrow when i cruise about town in a wheelchair... feeling sorry for you GP surgery sitters :P

The skill of pushing a wheelchair and holding a video camera is one I have yet to acquire...

You know you're doing a medicine writeup when Office doesn't recognise most of your words...

"Damn their filthy Yankie hides!"... Lecture quote of the day :D

loves how everyone was flailing their arms and legs about to try and get some marks today :)

believes tfl has a list of all the important days in his life >_>

Omg! I can see myself on the BBC marathon programme!!

Cricklewood United FC 8 - 0 Blood Sweat & Beers. For once i can say i'm proud :)

is ecstatic that the lib dems got my area, but gutted overall :/

is getting addicted to the sound of his own heartbeat. Buying a stethoscope now was a wrong decision!

felt the urge to practice his OSCE's on a blind man today, forcibly.

The silence before the storm :S

really needs to stop thinking the examiners are trying to trick him ¬_¬

Learning all this anatomy, i'd have thought i'd be fluent in Latin by now. Vescere bracis meis as they say...

maybe shouldn't have said there was something not right about the tone in someone's arms :S

Standing between myself and 4 months of summer... One exam!

The sun couldn't have shone on a better day, but i'm a bit sad the year had to end so soon!

just had an afternoon nap... because he can! (and was a bit tired)

Petition to remove the word 'for' from 'transport for london', and maybe the word 'transport' too!

In other developments, the Lib Dems won our constituency which was good, although Conservatives won most seats overall. More importantly, my laptop broke, completely. The motherboard decided to just die, and so the screen is blank, and I just picked it up from the shop with the knowledge that it's irreparable (which I'll confirm when I contact hp), but hopefully I can get all my important data off it. But still, my beloved touch screen laptop that was just so beautiful and compact, gone. On a more positive note, I now own what will probably be one of my more important (and dear) possessions: an orange stethoscope! :)

Marathon Fever 2010

2010-04-28T13:58:00.004+01:00

As a couple of friends decided they were running the London Marathon for charity, another friend thought it would be a good idea if we volunteered as staff, advertised for by a volunteering group at our university. The meeting for volunteers was to take place on the Friday before the marathon; the same day as our exam. Luckily the lady offered to meet with us quickly afterwards as we couldn't make the time, and the two hour meeting that everyone else endured was summarised for us in ten minutes. We were also handed pull-string bags with the marathon logo emblazoned on the front, and inside was all sorts of stuff: lots of food as well as a cool t-shirt, cap and bib we were due to wear on the day (and a waterproof poncho that came in handy, but I still wonder why they packed that marathon foil stuff). As we walked out of the student union building, our excitement couldn't be contained, and we couldn't wait to be part of something big!

The morning of the marathon, and travel plans looked like they would be disrupted by the regular weekend works on the tube, but TFL had some mercy and the jubilee line was working for once. The first train leaving Neasden was at 7am, and I needed to get to Canary Wharf (the location of the mile our group was covering- mile 19) by half past 7. So I texted in to say I would be a bit late, and boarded the train wearing my white marathon t-shirt with 'STAFF' stitched into the front. There were a few people already on the train who looked like they were running it, and I just stood there as more and more marathon runners got on, feeling a little important inside, that I was made partly responsible for their safety.

Most runners got off at London Bridge while I stayed on until Canary Wharf, where I was met by a crowd of people wearing identical t-shirts and caps to me. After a bit we were showed around the course, and were dropped off in pairs at the locations we were supposed to steward at. My friend Farhaan and I were luckily placed just before the water station, where a lot of the action would take place, and were told that our job was to answer questions from the spectators and ensure that they didn't cross the barriers.

The buildings overhead were mighty, and we stood at the foot of The Canary Wharf building itself, helping the water people open the catches on the bottles, ready for the inevitable horde of runners to grab them. Suddenly we were all alerted to the presence of the oncoming wheelchair racers (who are traditionally the first to start), and they zoomed past ignoring offers of water bottles. With the crowd barely present at this stage, we thought we could liven things up by helping hand out water, so we grabbed a couple of bottles each. The small group of elite women runners passed next, again with no-one taking water. But as the elite male runners with their entourage of motorbikes and cameras passed, one Kenyan lagging behind did snatch a bottle from Farhaan, who was ecstatic at his achievement (Farhaan that is, not the runner).

Slowly slowly, the average Joes and Janes began to trickle through; the fastest way out in front, with the less able and the more wackily-dressed coming later in their droves. The spectators were behaving themselves so we decided that water distribution would become a more permanent role of ours, and the helpful feeling inside was overwhelming; now multiply that thousands of times for all the runners that needed hydrating, and you got one hell of an altruistic buzz. It was surprising how many people actually said 'thank you' or 'cheers mate'; when they should've been concentrating every muscle fibre on running, they made the effort to be polite even in times of exhaustion. Such are the formalities of Brits I suppose!

Water was getting scarce on our side of the road, so we had to dodge runners to get to the other side and bring back soggy cardboard crates of new bottles, whose numbers needed further replenishing just after a few minutes (and towards the end we realised people further down our side had loads of bottles). As we were both bent over opening caps on new bottles, we got a tap on the back. It was one of our participating friends who noticed us, when it should've been the other way around! Such a surprise, inducing feelings of awe as he had covered 19 miles and still sped along, not having time to stop and have a chat. About four hours of handing out bottles with wide smiles across our faces, and sticky feet due to the lucozade bottles runners were disposing of at our feet, the numbers began to dwindle, and the water distributors began to leave. The two of us were finally left with barely any water to hand out and to cheer on the remaining few stragglers. A few still persisted with their costumes, which were clearly weighing them down; like a few rhinos, a massive doll, a stormtrooper and a replica of the Angel of the North (but missing its wings).

After an exhausting but enthralling day full of photos and videos (which I have yet to go through and edit), and which involved the indecisive sunny/rainy weather, we received a text from our group leader to say that we could return to the station and sign out. We were told that we'd be getting our silver volunteers' medals soon (yes, we get medals!), and encouraged to take part in more events; and if this was anything to go by, you could count us in! You can learn so much about people just by being exposed to them, albeit for an average of three seconds each, but I've learnt much about myself as well; that helping complete strangers can sometimes give me the greatest satisfaction I can ever find.

This is my human

2010-04-16T23:35:00.003+01:00

March-ing on

2010-04-07T18:14:00.007+01:00

I think this month has been the most enlightening when it comes to meeting patients; I have almost been blown away by the endeavours some patients have made to become well again and get on with normal life. Probably the most memorable was a patient we met during a MedSoc home visit; my most enlightening hour and a half spent with a patient ever,and it will probably stay that way for a long time. We arrived at the front door of his ground floor flat, the disability lift in full view, used to overcome the four steps to his front door. Probably an old-age pensioner we thought, and as we rang the doorbell, the doors eerily opened by themselves. But on the other side was a friendly, healthy-looking young man to greet us, except he was in a wheelchair. Not all disabled people are old, and by the time we sat down in his kitchen, the photos pinned to the notice board told us that he certainly wasn't without a family either.

Our patient suffered a spinal injury after he fell out of a tree (being a tree surgeon at the time), resulting in him losing all sensation and movement in his legs. He described the scene as he arrived at the spinal injuries ward, and how when his friends and family came to visit, they told him that he wasn't that bad compared to other patients in the ward. At the time, he felt as if his whole world around him was falling apart; all his plans and hopes for the future gone to waste. And although he was grateful for all the work the healthcare team did for him, he said they should focus more on the psychological well-being of the patient after such incidents, even if seeing such injuries was a normal occurrence for them.

He did admit that after taking it all in, he was quite well off compared to other wheelchair users; he retained his bladder and bowel function, and compared to many other wheelchair occupants, he wasn't spiralling into depression. But he did recall the seriousness of his injuries; even now, at any point could pressure build up against his spinal cord further up his back and cause more serious complications, leading to death if his breathing was impinged upon. And without his constant physiotherapy and daily exercises, he would barely be able to sit upright on his wheelchair as well as prevent muscle wasting.

His family and social life seemed very healthy. He had a wife and a young daughter who were the focus of his life, and with the obvious career change he had to undergo, it gave him a new perspective on life and people. He now writes columns in newspapers and his blog, and published a book about the experiences he had to endure. We discussed in detail the large-scale changes he had to make to his life and daily routine after the accident, and he was thankful for the disabled-access car he drives, so he is able to take his daughter out like a normal father should do.

His story was so complex and touching, and he spoke so eloquently and clearly, using clever anecdotes to describe his situation, that I couldn't help but feel empathetic towards him; that he was just a normal person trying to get on with his life, and adapt to it without the use of his legs. This is something that doctors maybe don't properly appreciate, that many patients with seriously disabling injuries had completely normal lives beforehand, and would probably need help adjusting psychologically to such sudden incidents and the state they have been left in. But they certainly do not need to live the rest of their lives alone and bored; albeit they will have to change their living patterns, but with the right support and mindset, they can lead very happy lives.

Our patient said he didn't agree with people who said that being in a wheelchair was the best thing that ever happened to them, because he would definitely change his state of not having the use of his legs if he could, but he copes and adapts and I think there are so many lessons that can be learnt and applied to the life of a doctor from patients such as these. If unexpected pressures and strains are suddenly put upon you, there is no point collapsing and giving up, because there are people that depend on you who may be in worse situations. The biggest lesson he has learnt in his life (something I ask every patient I meet) is that if there is a seemingly unachievable task at hand, there will always be a way around things to finally get it done.

So yeah, that massive chunk of text above was lifted straight out of my regular reflective piece of writing I have to do for my GP. Another day I saw a schizophrenic lady (just after talking to two alcoholics ~~anonymouses~~). She looked twice the age she was, and listening to her story, quite understandably so. As a child she was sexually abused, and by her late twenties (after she was abused again), she realised that that not everybody felt the same she did; not everyone was experiencing the same depression and psychotic thoughts
she was. When I asked her how the strange experiences manifested themselves, she said that the voices she heard were 'outside of her head', like someone was in the room with her, and she recalled some terrifying hallucinations that she saw, even whilst sitting in the GP's office one day. Her poverty didn't help, and every bit of money that she could scrape together (from the jobs she couldn't keep due to her 'strangeness' with others), she spent on a therapist that she thought could help. This was a while ago when mental health services weren't as advanced as they are now.

It was extremely easy to empathise with her, due to her remarkable ability to re-enact what she said and thought so well, with such extreme emotion, and I felt so lost in her world. But there was a point in the conversation when I knew exactly what she meant; when she recalled picking up 'hidden meanings' in what people were saying and body language, and attaching significance to certain colours, as it's what I went through two years ago. It doesn't matter what someone is trying to tell you, your brain works overtime to link things together and produce a meaning that attaches to warped ideas you already had in your mind. It doesn't matter if someone is telling you how their day was or what they ate for lunch, certain words are picked out from the sentence, as well the tone of voice analysed to derive some hidden meaning, any meaning at all. Conversations between people are homed in on; adverts, noticeboards and headlines are closely scrutinised, and all the while you are sure in your own mind that everyone in the world around you is against you. When the psychotic thoughts are removed though, I have to admit that the faculties you have after being cured, of being able to pick up on subtle nuances in people's behaviour, is quite useful. I nodded in understanding to every word she told our group, and now she regularly takes medication, not suffering from any of the symptoms (apart from some drug side effects), and it looked like she was really appreciative of the work the health professionals did for her. But you can never tell with a previously psychotic, paranoid person; are they just saying it because they fear they're being watched, and they're trying to pass off as being 'well'? The acquired label of once being mentally ill seemingly never goes away.

Anyway, in other developments this month, I took part in the BBC Sport Relief mile (well actually, we ran 3). My friend asked me down about a month prior, and the night before I got the reminder. So after football, I manouvered my way past all the tube delays to arrive at Embankment; a gloriously sunny day with everyone happy beside the river, and ready to run. It was an extremely refreshing day alhamdulillah, and with my friend running the slowest three miles ever, it gave me a chance to stop every so often and just take in the atmosphere. The BBC cameras were on me as I approached the finish line, and just before I crossed it, I stopped, looked back, and encouraged my friend on, with us clutching each other across the finish line. It was definitely a Hollywood moment, looking great on the big screen (but I don't think it made the final cut :/), and we went off to collect our medals and bags of free goodies they had waiting for us.

On the back of the triumph of running three whole miles, I accepted an invitation to a slightly longer run of a half marathon in October, with Barts buddies this time. I know that even though I've got ages to train for the run, training is probably not going to happen. Things are always more exciting when you're caught unprepared.

This month I also found myself hosting my uni's Muslim Medics and Dentists annual dinner, which was very unexpected (I obviously knew before I arrived :P). I do remember one day a committee member saying it would be cool if I co-hosted it with him, but I thought it was just a passing comment. So a few days before the event, I was asked to write a script, and being the unrefusing dummy I am, I inserted it into my already packed schedule. The event itself went quite well alhamdulillah; as I was given free creative reign over the script, I thought I could insert jokes here and there. Proper jokes, and they did serve as good fillers when stuff was being sorted out in the background. I think people were amused more at the fact that I was telling jokes, rather than at the actual content; an extremely tough crowd, but I think I managed somewhat to induce smiles from an otherwise stern-faced bunch of Muzzies.

About a week later I was invited to another dinner hosted by Queen Mary, called Colours and Honours and where they give awards to various clubs and people. Basically just the Octagon building (an amazingly constructed 8-sided building with busts of ancient philosophers overlooking everyone), filled with over-excited barely-dressed girls and suited guys, all looking forward to the boat party afterwards. Charity Week was nominated for fundraising, and I and a couple of others were to represent MMD and collect the award if we won (which we did). It's not that I was particularly active during Charity Week, but I think it's supposed to be an introduction to me being next year's Charity Week rep, a position I found myself in, as a result of being elected to the MMD committee (another position I found myself in). It was during this glitzy evening (with halal food may I add) did I realise the extent to which the Barts-QM rivalry went, with everyone booing when as so much as our name was mentioned. It really took the biscuit when a highly controversial student article criticising our union president won article of the year. But overall it was fun, witnessing the type of event a lot of people dedicate their lives towards: just to go up on stage and pick up an award, receiving a moment of praise and appreciation for the work they put in.

My month in status updates:

feels privileged to be part of the exclusive group to have seen the elephant man's skeleton :D

should be asleep in bed, but is instead in a supermarket filming stuff with mates :D

being a policeman, destroying a supercomputer, taking over a TV studio... all in a night's work, standard! :D

My MedSoc is unmatched in levels of enlightenment!

has 600 friends... apparently

will be surprised if he didn't make the final cut for Sport Relief tonight.

In a museum full of diseased body parts, doing blind people experiments... Too good! :D

Shutter Island is my type of film!!

The video below is a cartoon that I used to watch so much as a child. It was part of a video collection of cartoons from MGM that were mostly slightly dodgy or racist; those old fashioned ones. But this cartoon I'd like to think was revolutionary at the time, with the ideas expressed and the humour envisaged. It has definitely contributed to the ~~richness~~ stage my humour has reached. Let's hope youtube don't take it down!

And finally, here's a quote that I was made aware of by my friend Adnaan:

If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you. - Oscar Wilde

[By the way, the word 'anonymous' is an adjective and so hasn't got a plural form...]

Panto

2010-03-27T22:33:00.003Z

Last year had a few highlights that stood out from others, and without a doubt, one of these was the taking part in the Imperial Islam Awareness Week 'panto' (as well as a later charity week one). The hilarity experienced during early morning and late night rehearsals was almost unbearable to my abdominal muscles, and the outcome of the end product couldn't have gone better.

I had the pleasure of being part of their IAW panto again this year; again organised, written and directed by Omar Hafeez Bore (the legend), could we pull it off again this year? This was due to be the last performance that he would be organising (which I sincerely hope won't be the case), and we all wanted it to be spectacular. I was promised my big acting break (as opposed to the other two where I was more of an 'action' actor), and I had the fortune of not having any exams in the run-up to the panto performance, and so I was able to give up a few mornings and evenings to rehearse.

I and a couple of others are considered to be panto 'veterans', there from the beginning, so it was funny watching all the new people try to get the hang of our lecture theatre 'takeover', which has been the common feature in all of our performances; counting up in sequence, with each person having their own number. The story then usually progresses into something Islam related, and for the latest one, it would be a sequel to Slumdog Millionaire, with 'Jamal' trying to win a million pounds for charity. The TV crew are really a bunch of people who want to make the questions more Islam orientated, and I'm the policeman who puts an end to that, drawing gasps from the audience when I destroyed the 'supercomputer'. This was set to be the most immersive panto yet, with loads of videos shot for Jamal's flashbacks that he uses to answer his questions. Never did I imagine I'd be in a supermarket at one o'clock in the morning and witness a scene where three guys would be fighting over a last carton of soya milk.

Unfortunately, when it did come to the night, technical problems overshadowed the preparations, and instead of some last-minute rehearsing, people were frantically trying to convert the videos we shot so that they could be viewed on the lecture theatre computer. Some of the videos didn't convert in time, but the main ones did, and the story wasn't really affected, but some awesome ones had to be left out.

As with every panto, preparations were very much down to the wire; last minute tweaks with the powerpoint presentation (in which the main gimmicks of our performance are embedded) and ironing out details that we hadn't thought of before. And once we finally got going, it all went extremely smoothly alhamdulillah! The second half of the panto wasn't rehearsed at all, with just the format of the millionaire questions to go by, and any difficulty switching on a video or powerpoint mistake was cleverly filled in by some on-the-spot jokes. After my bit was done and I was watching the rest of the panto, I sat tearing up bits of paper to use as confetti when the million pounds was won, and I thought it provided quite a glamourous climax to our performance. Everyone loved it, and I will savour these moments for a long time to come. But I think the best part of any panto I've been in is the rehearsals, where comedic genius flows free and where unintentional gaffes are written into script.

I feel kind of empty immediately after such exciting events in my life, but that feeling has been short-lived this time, as my to-do list gets longer and longer; you can tell by the two weeks it's taken me to finish off this post!

Fun-filled February

2010-03-05T20:59:00.011Z

The most obvious highlight of this month, revision and exam aside, was the two weeks of hypnosis I had the pleasure doing. It was literally awesome and mindblowing. Compared to other people's module choices where they were dissecting up bits of arm or writing essays on blood vessels and diabetes, we on the other hand were hypnotising each other and being hypnotised by the teacher. We also learnt some wicked stuff on how to tell what people are thinking based on eye movements, and other cool human behaviour stuff. Successful hypnosis depends on the 'pre-induction' questions the practitioner asks the patient, and when enough is known about their personality and methods they use to relax, then a suitable technique is used to hypnotise them (the coolest one being where you can make their hand unconsciously levitate). So we learnt one or two of these techniques every day before them being used on us as a group, after which we were told to partner up and practice.

The scripts for hypnosis are quite long (they usually take around half an hour), and located on multiple random pages of our sheets, so we had to seemlessly and silently flow through the procedure without having to fumble through the bundle and find page 33 so we could wake them up. There was a funny moment when my partner turned to the wrong page, which had to conveniently be the 'amnesia script', which is used if you want to the patient to forget something suggested to them earlier in the session. The idea of the script is to convey long-winded, confusing sentences (which do make sense), but keep the mind occupied trying to untangle the meaning and hence allow them to forget. While my partner was reading, she herself got confused and couldn't hold in her laughs, and it didn't help my state of trance either.

Our exam was to basically hypnotise someone, but without scripts, and the lady who wrote the hypnosis textbook was there to examine people (but sadly not the pair I was in). I had to go through the whole procedure of asking my partner questions about what their problem was and explain the process of hypnosis to them before anything began, as well as asking them not to chew any gum, switch off phones and go to the toilet (which we obviously rehearsed beforehand). And then we followed the template of certain scripts (based on how they best relaxed- again pre-rehearsed), but had the opportunity to add our own little bits in or adapt them if we wished, so I added a little submarine for them to climb in and go 'deeper and deeper' into the sea, allowing them to go deeper and deeper into trance. Our examiner told us we both did astoundingly well, especially with our imaginations and my ability to cause my partner to smile during trance, so I take it we passed!

The last day of the month, I received my result for the triple-module exam, and alhamdulillah, despite some harsh marking, I got 70% (which yes, is good in my eyes, and the eyes of the guy who worked out the class average). This result can kind of let me rest a little, as I now don't feel the need to justify myself being at medical school in a sense; I am supposed to belong here and the exam results prove it. Although, the next challenge is trying to maintain (or better) my rhythm, as you could probably say that every exam you take in Medicine is progressively more important than the last.

My month in status updates:

Lesson of the day: when going to head the ball, avoid your opponent's teeth. You are likely to bleed.

In all my 21 years, never have I been in a reversing bus. That all just changed.

will be stretching his short-term memory to slightly more than 30 seconds tonight

Ah, exam over. I wonder how long I should give it before I revise for the next one :P

Getting hypnotised twice in one day is my idea of a module well chosen! :D

Hand levitation hypnosis is like, the coolest thing I've ever experienced!

needs a flapjack to celebrate the submission of his writeup on cholera, but maybe should take some tetracyclin first just in case :P

really needs to get down to inventing a station waker upper!

Video of the month:

And finally,an interesting quote used by our hypnosis teacher, from Henry Ford:

If you believe you can, or if you believe you can't, you're right.

404: Not Found

2010-02-26T23:59:00.003Z

I was recently looking at a friend's profile on Facebook, as you do, and I got a weird feeling when I realised that I was looking at a profile picture that would never ever be changed again. The thing is, my friend passed away just over a year ago, and it struck me that apart from his wall, where people occasionally send their best wishes to the afterlife (where the internet will be infinitely better, if needed at all), nothing else on his profile will change. He is going to remain 'single', his hobbies won't change, that quote from Malcolm X will stay there, and he'll never join that group "Rest in Peace - *insert his name here*".

It got me wondering, how many dead people's profiles are there on Facebook? Isn't it a bit creepy that physically deceased people can seem so alive on the internet? In about fifty years, we'll just have loads of these 'ghost' profiles piling up; having practically no worth, because nobody will really have an urge to want to preserve the status update badman Johnny made on New Year's Eve, or how many "Don't you just hate it when *insert mundane life occurrence here*" groups he joined.

And then there will be the hundreds of millions of youtube videos made by dead people, some of which may probably have more worth than a few words strung together on a Facebook page. Imagine it, we'll be watching intimate and from-the-heart messages by vloggers who'd be long gone, to be replaced by new, full-of-life youtubers who think they'll live forever. I don't know, maybe the internet itself will be dead in a bit, maybe there won't be an Earth to have an internet connection on in fifty years. Maybe they'll just re-introduce what hotmail did some time ago; which was to deactivate someone's account if they hadn't used it in 30 days. I don't feel the same about books or creative works made by people in earlier centuries; maybe because I wasn't part of that generation and I'm in the middle of this more 'alive', techno-savvy one, but I do sometimes feel like making my own "R.I.P. Yasin Fatine" Facebook group just to get everything sorted, and to freak everyone out :P

And breathe...

2010-02-20T15:44:00.005Z

Well, the latest round of exams are finally over, and I never seem to take full advantage of the moment of freedom afterwards; even after this mega exam consisting of Human Development (basically about stuff where the sun don't shine), Cardio-Resp ("lub dub") and Metabolism (digestion,diarrhoea and a re-haunting of Biochem), I didn't exactly know how to celebrate. The exam in my opinion, went quite well alhamdulillah; not too many tricky questions, and compared to FunMed, I didn't have to quickly fill any gaps in whilst the examiner told everyone to stop writing. I actually quite enjoy exams, especially if I'm properly prepared for them and even if I'm not, the vibe filling the whole room is something unique. Exam halls aren't places regularly frequented, and the seriousness of both the invigilators and fellow exam-takers is something I find quite amusing. All past friendships are forgotten once those doors open, with people managing only an awkward smile as they walk past to find their seats.

When you're sitting the exam, everything in your mind is a jumble; do I start at the beginning or skip to a certain section? Our exams involve Short Answer Questions (SAQ's) and Extended Matching Questions (EMQ's, where they give you a list of 20 words and you have to match them to the descriptions given; quite tricky sometimes). All past papers you've done are nothing in comparison to this exam, why on earth do they have to shake things up when it's my year, always?! But maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you wonder if you'll finish in time, and whether or not you'll make a fool of yourself in front of the markers. Any little sound becomes amplified and could put you right off your flow; any constant coughing, or interruptions by the examiners, or the constant clockety clock footsteps of the invigilators can really annoy you. And it doesn't help that every so often you can hear a tube train run underneath the exam hall. It's actually one of the reasons why I want to take a dyslexia test (apart from getting extra time); I get to escape to a quieter venue to sit my exam!

The morning exam was the online anatomy/micronatomy spotter (no, it doesn't mean identifying zits); they give you pictures of corpses and microscope slides, and either ask you to identify bits or layers of cells, or their function and what they produce. This exam was easier than the FunMed one, and apart from some menacing placenta questions, it was quite a chilled exam, especially as alot of questions were repeated from earlier years.

When it's all over, and you think you've done well (which in Medicine's case means scraping a pass), there's an overwhelming sense of relief as everyone gets up from their places with wide (and sometimes uneasy) grins on their faces. And then begins the chatter about how everyone found the exam, and what they put for specific questions; and I'm quite a guilty culprit when it gets to this stage, needing some sort of reason to justify some of the answers I put down during the exam.

So now I'm in the middle of a clinical hypnosis module, I can relax, literally. An update on that will come once I actually finish learning and experiencing everything and get assessed (but so far it has been phenomenal!), and once I get this PBL writeup done; my blog being the last excuse I can make before I really get down to typing 2000 words on Vibrio cholerae and how it causes diarrhoea. Goodbye.

January Juxtaglomerular Apparatus

2010-02-11T11:43:00.004Z

I need to remember to stop mentioning that my month has been a hectic one. It's always going to be hectic from now on, and I have to get used to it. My days have been choc-a-bloc with lectures, PBLs, extra lectures and cadaver examining; I fit eating somewhere in there too (nowhere near the cadavers, although they do get your salivary glands going ¬_¬). Anyway, several things happened that didn't happen the month before, like becoming part of a new PBL group (they shuffle things around in the new year); and so far I don't think we have gelled very well at all. We're just different people, and the higher male numbers in the group create an imbalance with who says what, and generally it's either very quiet (most of all when I'm cracking my jokes or introducing some 'psychosocial' ideas), or very noisy with people speaking over each other, maybe in an attempt to impress the tutor. But I do feel that sometimes people are with-holding information in an attempt to deprive it from others; which is a bit too competitive if you ask me.

So yeah, I've noticed that my blog posts are mainly going to be revolving around life at uni, which would make sense since I spend most time there, but after these exams I'm promising myself to have a proper life again. Sometimes I question myself and wonder whether or not I do have any hobbies, or what I've achieved generally, but it could be just forgetfulness especially if I'm caught up in the moment of hectic pre-exam cramming (which I'm not really doing at the moment). Maybe my 'competitive' nature and random urge to start 'projects' serve as a sort of reminder to myself of the things I can achieve. Maybe that's with everyone.

So what happened this month? Algeria qualified for the world cup, by beating Egypt in a tense final encounter, and which has resulted in the countries (and their residents) not talking to each other any more. They just played each other in the semi final of the African cup of nations; Algeria losing 4-0 with 3 players sent off (including the goalkeeper for headbutting the referee, which surprisingly got him only a yellow card first). So I am looking forward to seeing Algeria play in the world for the first time (in my life), and ironically they're drawn in the same group as England, so that will be fun to watch!

I also became a first year representative of MESS, which is basically a student-led group at uni who get upper years to give extra lectures on the topics covered earlier that week by lower years. I actually love it, and have barely missed any. I practically learn more in MESS than I do in real lectures, even though the extra lectures are held in a dingy chalkboard lecture theatre in the basement of the hospital; it's where I've learnt most. So now I have to make lecture announcements twice a week, along with another rep, to the rest of the year on what would be covered that evening. Plus I've now got a cool hoodie with my name on!

What I like to do is look at a month and wonder where I was the same time the year before. But January/Febrary time is especially significant because of the turn-around my life has undergone in these months. Two years ago I was in a completely different world (in almost every aspect) to where I am now, and last year was halfway to where I wanted to be. I hope to talk a bit more about my past once I get my short-term future sorted out, i.e. not flopping this 3-modules-in-one mega exam! So I'll leave you with a few things I'm including that I haven't done in the past, to paint myself, and you, a better picture of what this month has brought.

Facebook status updates:

-They dragged it out for ages, but twas a sad end to Tennant's doctor :/

-Stop and search number 4, standard

-is in a room full of dead bodies... alone

-Best feeling today: pulling the cord on the routemaster bus for the first time in 15 years!

-The force of gravity beats ironing any day!

-Transport FOR London?? You're having a laugh!

-Who needs changing rooms when you've got a tube carriage all to yourself?

-has concluded that meeting the BMA treasurer has done no harm to his future bank balance

-Professor Kumar ♥

-has yet to learn that oyster cards don't open front doors ¬_¬

-Standing outside the egyptian part of edgware road. Maybe I should keep my distance :P

~~~

Ah, how can I forget Professor Kumar? She is one of the co-writers of Kumar and Clark, Clinical Medicine; THE book used by doctors and medical students all over the world, and she gave a couple of lectures on gastroenterology at our university! She qualified from there, and she is one of the nicest people ever! You would think that being world-renowned could have a negative impact on your personality (especially if you're a doctor already, and apparently she's from Pakistan- not that that's related at all :P), but she is so down to earth, and warned us of becoming arrogant in the future; that we were like everyone else, just choosing this career path because we wanted to help people. She is quite funny, and knows how to keep a bunch of students interested, bringing in three patients suffering from random gastro-intestinal diseases, and telling stories of her life experiences, and the lessons she learnt on the way.

A friend's moment of pondering:

If black is the absence of colour, how do colourless things exist?

Another friend's cool quote:

May the (mass x acceleration) be with you.

Competition

2010-01-26T20:23:00.008Z

Continuing from the last post, now that I think about it, I am quite selfish, and maybe moreso than other people. Not in the usual "I want it all" sense, but in competition, I want nothing more than to come first. If there is a level playing field and a concept of 'first place' exists, second place is not an option. I know it's quite a bad way of thinking, and I have toned that urge down quite a lot since my younger years, but it still remains, and quite strong too. When I go out bowling with friends, or enter a football tournament, my competitive nature takes over. I don't openly show it, as it can cause unease and discomfort with other guys (who, let's face it, are probably feeling the same), but I like to call it friendly competitiveness.

Having grown up knowing nothing more than achieving the top every year at school since year 1, my parents haven't exactly been discouraging me from quenching my competitive thirst, and I'm happy they haven't. I believe in trying your best in everything you do, and if it means unwavered aiming for first place, then so be it. Now I'm studying medicine with 340 others in my year, I have to be a little more realistic; many graduates are taking the course, as well as unsociable bookworms and people retaking the year. Of course it would be phenomenal if I somehow managed to get the best grades in the whole year, but I've learnt there are other methods of becoming the best person you can without having the absolute top exam results. But I still aim.

Of course, you find many people with competitive streaks have a sense of loathing for their fellow competitors; willing to go behind even their friends' backs if they wanted something achieved, which isn't rare at medical school. Competitive people are probably more likely to cheat their way into first place, if they had the chance to, which is maybe why the concept of cheating exists in the first place! Another small disadvantage of being first also may be that you haven't learnt enough, or got the mindset to improve on an aspect of your performance in the future.

Some people may not like competition or those who pursue it, but it could be that they feel they can't keep up with them, and if given the chance, they would gladly pinch top spot and the rewards that come with it. The rewards: Most of the time competition may not have an instant tangible prize, neither would there be a physical first place either; life being a sort of large-scale competition, and whether people like it or not, we're all competing. Gone are the days of hacking each other to death in 'survival of the fittest'. It's much
more subtle than that; we're still competing for the same things: resources, partners, houses, jobs, but without the spears and war-paint, most of the time.

The best feeling about winning first place is the feeling itself. Knowing that you've taken up the challenge (most of the time in your own head, where no-one else really cares), and are experiencing the joy, the ecstasy, of knowing there's no-one else above you. It's a sort of freedom gained; the open space above you is so unrestricting, and it helps you aim for so many new horizons. The feeling is only temporary, until the next bit of competition comes along; so yes, it probably is an addiction. Either it's an addiction to the feeling of winning, or it could a constant yearning for attention and acceptance, but I like to think it's just the extraordinary euphoria you feel that surrounds your moment of achievement.

Last Thursday I won the Imperial Quran competition for the second year in a row, alhamdulillah. And even though I had my mum telling me not to be too optimistic; this being a more difficult one than last year, memorising 10 pages and against 6 other people, in the end I found myself walking up and collecting my winner's certificate. I made quite a silly mistake halfway through my recitation but I won the 'final showdown' (which I was half prepared for in my competitive every-scenario mind). The point is that after I made the mistake, I was sure that I wouldn't win it, but just by carrying on and with Allah's help, things that you don't expect, or think you deserve, can most certainly happen.

I've experienced a lot of loss in recent years; not getting into medical school two years running, crushing disappointment at sporting events (loads, practically every Sunday now), and even the losing of my mind at one point. But I've managed to appreciate that the more you've been on the receiving end of defeat, the sweeter success tastes.

It's not the position you stand, but the direction in which you look.

Be nice to each other

2010-01-10T19:33:00.004Z

Well, what a weird week it's been. At a time when the weather has made front page news, and travel has been at times severely disrupted due to the snow, it's been a chance for our Great British population to complain about something new. Personally, I find snow quite enchanting, and its concept a bit weird. You go to sleep with the streets outside chilly but bare, and the next morning, "flump!" Like the sky saying "well, here you go", thick snow has been deposited everywhere over cars, trees, houses and streets. A blanket of freshness, and although the temperature is probably the coldest you've experienced all year, you can detect a sort of warmness coming from the radiant whiteness, like the world around you has been dressed in cotton. The crunching sound of fresh snow beneath your feet, the sense of optimism you feel when its practically waiting for you to mould it into a throwable sphere, or sculpt it into a carrot-wearing companion, no experience is comparable.

Of course, things do get a bit spoilt when it all turns into mud-coloured mush, and the inclination everyone has of being friendly to each other gradually thaws. Sometimes you can learn life lessons in the weirdest of places; Baker Street station, one morning there are delays on practically every line leaving it. The station announcers are ushering us to different platforms if we want earlier trains, and I finally settle for the Metropolitan line that would take me some of the way to my GP placement. The platform is quickly filling up with no sign of train approaching, and when one does arrive, and doors open, everyone scrambles to the front of the crowd in an attempt to board the train. And it was then did I hear what I never would expect myself to hear in such a setting: "BE NICE TO EACH OTHER!"

Like an authoritative schoolteacher telling off her pupils in the lunch queue, the lady over the tannoy system was trying to calm the pushing and shouting crowd of commuters who were desperate not to be late for work. It's funny, if some people are even slightly impeded upon in any way, they start to lose their inhibitions and begin to get nasty, even though the only consequence would be running a few minutes later than planned and maybe feeling cold for a little longer. And then they need to be taken back 30 years in their personal histories to be reminded to play nice. It made me wonder about how selfish I actually am, not only in situations where the concept of queuing doesn't exist, but in life in general; how far would I have to be pushed before my animalistic instincts got the better of me?

By the way, I love certain memorable days on the calendar. Today is 10/01/10 and for some reason I always feel like doing something special on these days, just because the numbers in the date look nice next to each other!

New Year's B10gging

2010-01-03T22:31:00.001Z

I love my blog. It's a thing I have full control over; I decide what I should write and when, it's colour scheme and design (which I do intend to change, when I get the hang of it all); any little detail that I want included or removed is completely up to me, and no-one can make me do otherwise (unless they get hold of my password somehow). I could even stick a random picture in or a word in a sentence somewhere and I won't 'lose marks' or have my editor tell me off; totally up to me. I could continue with what I've been doing the past year, writing my ovoviviparous monthly entries, but I want to take it deeper this year; I want to extract lessons from my adventures, a bit like the reflective pieces of writing I have to do for my GP placement.

I'm a person who likes to embark on projects, or intend to do them at least, and a great thing about having a Blackberry now is that I can quickly nip it out and record what has been going through my mind before I forget it, and so I'm able to compile my list of new things I want to do, unleashing as much orange as I can! One thing I've wanted to do is share things I like, something I haven't really done on here, and what a better time to start but now?

There is a youtube channel called 'Shaytards', by a guy called Shay Carl, and he started a project up (yes, he's into his projects too... but on a bigger scale) where he was going to vlog every day for a year and put the daily video up on youtube. He's a cool guy, and his family is adorable! He has a habit of saying 'tard' after lots of things, such as his children (to protect their identity from internet snoopers); so his son's called sontard, daughter is princesstard and the younger daughter is babytard. He had another aim where he was going to grow his beard (beardtard) for three years, and on the first of January 2010 (3 days ago) he'd shave it off. So he's a cool guy, and he gets together with other mega-rated youtubers to make videos with them, moving to LA from his hometown in Idaho. I think he actually makes quite alot of money from the number of viewers he gets, but his videos are entertaining, and he always gets ideas for new projects and gets other youtubers to take part, like the weightloss channel he's started (since he himself is a bit on the chubby side)... shayloss.

Anyway, this is one of the 300 or so videos at the moment; there are too many good ones to choose from, and he plans to continue past the year mark, especially as his wife is pregnant now (with foetustard of course). Some people may think everything he's doing is too invading on his family (and I do think it may be a bit damaging if his children aren't called by their real names all the time), but if they're alright with it and he's making money from it (after all, he quit his job to spend more time with them, and make videos), then why not? It's interesting knowing about the life of someone on the other side of the world, and you do get quite attached (maybe why everyone likes TV soaps so much). Some people even cried when he got rid of his beardtard!

This has actually made me want to start a regular video thing, maybe in the future when I have growing offspring to film; I doubt I'll put them up on youtube though!

December Deliveries, Disappointments and Delights

2009-12-31T23:46:00.007Z

The final week of term was just awesome. Ok, there was snow, now there are relaxing holidays, but even more awesome was when our PBL tutor let us look around the maternity ward he works at (a couple of days after taking us out to dinner). Not only that, we went on a ward round and sat in on a meeting with all the healthcare workers, talking about the different problems faced with particular women giving birth. It was like a PBL session but with real professional people, and real lives at risk. With this speciality, two lives are at stake; the mother's and the baby's, which is why there probably is a greater emphasis on the teamwork aspect of the job. The consultants were discussing so passionately about guidelines and practice, while I just sat at the back with the junior doctors, trying to decipher the complex medical terms they were so casually throwing around.

After the ward round, my friend and I were given the chance to watch an actual live caesarean birth! An experience not even upper years have been through yet, we took the opportunity with open arms and asked as many questions as possible and felt so grateful for being there; witnessing a new life come into the world. The doctors were so preoccupied talking to us, they forgot to properly check if the anaesthetic was working or not, and cut straight into the woman's abdomen, with her feeling it! There was a point where each doctor took an edge of the hole in the uterus they had cut, and started to pull in opposite directions, and you could hear the rip as the amniotic fluid began to gush out, with them finally fumbling inside for the baby before pulling its head out with a pair of forceps. The stitching up of the three layers took some time, and the lady also wanted a sterilisation, meaning she wanted no more kids, so they tied off and cut her fallopian tubes (the tubes from the ovaries to the womb area- meaning eggs can't get to where they're supposed to). I found that quite puzzling, since she wasn't exactly old and now had three children, she may change her mind in the future. We actually walked in at the beginning when they were getting consent for the sterilisation, and since she spoke little English, the doctors had to make extra sure that she knew what a sterilisation was.

Anyway, with every new life that comes into the world, another one is lost, and probably through an unjust cause. I was actually incensed at the recent execution of a British man in China, convicted for carrying 4kg of heroin into the country; I would usually ignore these things when reading the news, but this guy had a history of mental illness, and it was clear, even to me, that he'd been tricked into carrying it. Having bipolar disorder and delusional psychosis, a person can dupe themselves into believing fantastic stories, let alone have other people do it to them. I know that there are people around the world in a similar situation but don't carry a British passport and haven't got the media attention this guy has had, but the injustice he has faced just leaves me lost for words, especially as there were reports of the judges at his trial openly laughing at his rambled speech begging for his life. So this year ends pretty much the same way last year did; injustice, death and a scarcity of common sense.

But ending on a positive note, I've learnt so much from this year, thankful for all the people and opportunities I have all around me. I've learnt that it can be difficult trying to keep a monthly diary thing, but hopefully I can look back in years to come and see myself develop in one of the most critical stages of my life, and just laugh at the petty things I used to worry myself with. I might actually continue with it, maybe, but vlogging is definitely easier! Today I spent my day at the BMA library with a friend going through the PBLs of the upcoming module which we actually managed to do, and I think it is the main lesson I can draw from this year (although implementing it slightly late); when you've got time to get something done and be ahead, just do it!

Deeper Than Skin Deep

2009-12-16T21:47:00.008Z

Today, I ran into a person I hadn't seen for more than three years; I'd tried to visit him since, but he was always away. The consultant plastic surgeon I did my work experience with back in 2006 was walking into our medical school building and I couldn't help but call his name. He was walking with two other doctors, one of whom I recognised as a 'lower-down' plastic surgeon, who I don't think properly recognised me when I talked to him. I didn't blame him; it's been a while, but the consultant (Mr Shibu- 'Mister' being the title they give to surgeons, taking away the 'Doctor' they'd been working for all those years) did recognise me, and even remembered my name (well, my brother's name, but close enough :P). Probably quite old judging by the number of years he must've put in to get where he is, he still looked quite youthful, and hadn't lost that playful glint in his eye. The couple of weeks spent with him were of the most enlightening ever. He not only opened my eyes to what medicine really was about, but taught me a few plastic-surgery related things, and didn't think I was a waste of time, as I hear most consultants tend to do. He's funny and friendly, trustworthy and caring; passionate about his job, someone I really look up to and hope to be like one day.

The work experience itself was amazing; seeing a wide range of diseases and disabilities, from genetic impairments to gunshot and knife wounds. There was a baby girl whose nerve supply to her face was underdeveloped, leaving her unable to even smile. But for every problem there is a solution (well, almost), and the plastic surgeons were at hand to sew things back up and make people's limbs more aesthetically pleasing to them. A very rewarding and noble field, which I am seriously considering as an option (which is the same for every speciality at this stage I suppose, but this one more so).

Speaking of aesthetic pleasure, I went down to a car-boot sale which was at the school I took my brother for Saturday morning football. It's just the usual thing; people selling things they don't want, but with this being a good school (The Malorees, where a few of my siblings have been ~~bullies~~ pupils), there were a few middle-classish people selling their unwanted items (including, if I recall correctly, a Nintendo 64 for 20 pence!). There was quite a good stall of just antiques and paintings, and I couldn't help but be drawn to the liquid green embedded in glass paperweight (it caught my eye because I remember a similar one being in the George Orwell book '1984'). 3 pounds only? Bargain. After a couple of rounds of the car-boot sale (and buying a Lord of the Rings DVD for a pound), I revisited the stall and decided that I needed a matching vase to hold my peacock feathers in (oh yes, some guy was selling peacock feathers randomly in the middle of Whitechapel.)
So in the end I decided on a cool red molten-twisted look vase, which I'm pleased with (as in, it's doing what it's supposed to... being a vase), and it sits happily atop my bookcase, displaying my picturesque plume of peacock feathers :)

Post FunMed Post

2009-12-12T22:41:00.003Z

So, I've had a chance to properly unwind since that exam, and taking a proper step back from the hecticness (which really hasn't even properly started yet), I can say I'm actually happy. Alhamdulillah. Yesterday I helped future students, interviewees, with tours and just sat with them and their parents before they went in for the dreaded interview, trying to calm their nerves. There was an afternoon shift and a morning shift for any students wanting to take part, and I opted for the afternoon (as I had PBL and lectures in the morning, and one missed afternoon lecture wouldn't be too difficult to catch up on), but I did find some time after my early morning PBL (problem-based learning, if you're wondering) to hijack a tour someone else was giving and discovered some things I didn't really know about the place, like the whereabouts of the museum I had wanted to visit (apparently displaying the bones of the elephant man). I really enjoy the experience of sharing with others, especially new people, and the morning tour I helped give was so passion-driving, the parents wanted to enrol at our university! Yesterday was a reminder of how lucky I am to be where I am, doing the thing I've wanted to do. In the evening I also received my final result from the FunMed module (being a combination of separately-marked sections), and I passed! I got 62% overall, with the year average being 59%, but it has been a proper wake-up call for me to knuckle down and study for the rest of the year!

The cool Senior Common Room being used as an interview waiting area. On the upper floor are displays of human body bits.

My earlier-than-normal PBL on a case of a woman giving birth was quite enjoyable, at 8 in the morning because our tutor had surgery later. He's an Obstetrics and Gynaecology guy, who basically sees new babies into the world and deals with 'women's issues' every day. He used to be the president of our union, and is quite a fun-loving guy, to the extent that he finds me 'extraordinary' and has to tell his mates about me. I tend to focus on 'psychosocial' issues in our cases, maybe due to the fact that I haven't researched the scientific side in as much depth as the rest of my group, but also because they are the cause of everything! Like the case of the pregnancy of our city-worker Cathy (the case we've been looking at), if it weren't for psychosocial issues, she'd never have got pregnant in the first place! Anyway, I do find that my rather quiet PBL group is a perfect audience for my ~~attention seeking~~ controversy-stirring outbursts.

The module that we're now learning is called Human Development, and it is a nice change to FunMed where you practically knew the stuff but in less depth. This is more or less new material we are learning, on the anatomy of the pelvis, all the reproductive organs and how they work, and the development of all the organs in the embryo. Interesting stuff. But the other components of our course are still on-going, like our GP placements and the poster task we had to present on Thursday. In our PBL groups we had to plan, design and produce a poster, and every week since the beginning of the year we had meetings and planned what we needed to do for it. Our group is quite laid back (leaving the printing 'til the day before), but in the end I thought our poster was too cool; the theme we were supposed to go with was "don't believe everything you see and hear in the media", and everyone else in the year focused on one issue like "does drinking coffee cure Alzheimer's?". We on the other hand looked more into the figures side of the things, using 4 outbreaks of diseases as an example, each illustrating how the media manipulates figures to produce catchy headlines in different ways. Well I liked it anyway.

Looking forward to the holidays has been something I've been doing for quite a while, so I can catch up properly on work and take that deep breath before the beginning of another term. But this week has been rather relaxing, and I'm getting into the swing of things, even if it does mean waking up early when it's still dark and windy outside. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Flow

2009-12-06T15:20:00.003Z

When we are talking, all it really is, is just the transfer of information from one person to another, in a similar way to computers interacting with each other; you get a query, and then a reply. Emotions are the same sort of thing; electrical information travelling from the brain which has responded to other external information, and the expression produced; laughing, frowning, crying, body language in general, is interpreted by other people in the form of information, telling them how you're feeling or what you're thinking. Basically, we are just complex computer programs, in a complex computer network, bound by laws and limits... I wonder when the patch is being released.

November Nervousness and Nonchalance

2009-11-27T23:34:00.004Z

What a day it has been! Eid celebrations, and two exams; rushing back from the mosque in the morning, taking the bus to the Mile End campus where I was due to take my Funmed exams, before realising they started half an hour later than I thought they had. There was enough time to take out my notes and frantically memorise a few more names of drugs we may have needed to know (and yes, I am a supporter of last-minute revision!). The night before, all I dreamt about was of all the Medicine I'd learnt over the 9 weeks, and this whole month (with me turning 21 in between) has been filled with on and off revision. To be honest, apart from all the extra lectures I've been attending since the beginning of the year, I don't think there has been a solid few days of just revision. If you plotted a graph of my revision activity against time (rediscovering the geek inside of me), it would look alot like a camel, with hemorrhoids. You could say that in the run-up to exams I've done the least revision, as the day before I had MedSoc, and the day before that I was writing reflective pieces of writing for it. But anyway, the 2 and a quarter hour exam was alright, apart from it being held in the noisiest exam hall EVER. Someone's table kept squeaking as they wrote, and the district and hammmersmith and city undergound lines were running underneath the hall (yes, really!), so everytime a train passed, everything would rumble. But the most annoying thing was the invigilator's shoes... tap tap tap clock clock clock. She knew she'd be striding along the rows of nervous exam-takers that morning but still insisted on wearing her tap-dancing shoes.

The second exam was computer-based, and as I always have the fortune of being in the group that goes first for everything, we took the exam at around 2pm whilst the rest took it at 3 (them having another hour to revise anatomy and the oft-confusing microanatomy). We all sat down at the computers, knowing that we had 45 minutes to answer 45 questions; and from my calculations that makes it a question a minute. So we were 15 minutes through identifying bones and tissue and nerves and blood vessels, until the invigilator (yes, the tap-dancer again) said that we actually had 30 minutes to do the exam, and so she reduced the end time on the board by 15 minutes. Great. I almost had enough time to finish, but for the timer in the top right corner of the screen showing the actual time rather than the minutes elapsed like it usually does. I guessed the last few and then finally, freedom! It didn't feel that great to be honest, but we bumped into our eccentric 'head of Funmed' lecturer and thanked him for his entertaining lectures. Then I and a few friends sat in the campus Costa with my green tea and carrot cake (and chocolate cake, because I didn't want to pay the 25p charge for an under £5 card transaction), and just chilled. And where I discovered that I got clinical hypnosis and then brain structure and function for my module choices, which is quite good, although not my top (most competitive) choices of reconstructive surgery and dissection. But I'm still happy :) Oh, and on the tube home whilst I was finally completing my delayed learning objectives for MedSoc, I turned to the pregnancy page, and just as I did so a pregnant lady boarded my carriage! So in exchange for my seat, I got to ask a few questions and fill in my page without having to do any research. Sorted.

So, I'm in need of a solid weekend of sleep before our next module which starts straight away on Monday, and more intense than the first, Human Development. I just hope in the meantime I can develop myself a good work pattern and not leave things til the last minute! Yawn. Bye bye November!

September Streptomycin and October Oncogenes

2009-11-18T23:25:00.002Z

Well, it has been a HECTIC month and a bit, and here I sit, faced with a backlog of notes on what I did during September and October, with my daily tube journeys filled with thoughts that I feel I have to record on here, but not find the time when I arrive home to type up, and forget by the time I wake up the next morning. So far, my new uni has been amazing, which I obviously have been planning to delve deeper into on this blog; like the MedSoc days where we go for our GP placements and (unique to only a few practices) go on unsupervised home visits! We have to write reflective pieces of writing after each time we have these days, which I've found myself typing up the night before (as with every deadline I'm meeting so far), and this past week has been a week where I've found myself having the most free lessons, intending to wake up early on Friday (deadline day for our module choices) and write on here finally, but I didn't, and later found myself joining the afternoon 'Practicing Medicine' session with a lady theatre director. We did some cool exercises on self-confidence and public speaking and the different possible states we could all be in as doctors (although, I didn't know when we'd ever be tired enough to be 'floppy'). She asked us how we were finding the course, and I could relate to every response the others gave; hard work during the day, long journey home, tiredness in the evening, and then waking up the next morning for the same, and really only Sunday to sit down and think about working (that's if you get home early from football), otherwise it's just doing the work the day before the deadline. With exams coming up in a couple of weeks, I need to change my ways!

So, September was obviously Ramadan, and for a couple of full weekends I went on a course that more or less covered the whole Quran, and then there was the 27th night spent in the mosque, and how we had to go home straight after fajr. And then there was the start of the football league; quite difficult especially as we were fasting and couldn't drink at half time. But it's been good.

On the last day of Ramadan I went to a Japanese culture festival with Ismael which was cool; seeing a culture I haven't really delved that deeply into, and going around the stalls was very insightful. I bought a few things, including my name written in Japanese, which apparently means 'strong desire and ambition', met with Ismael's friend called Akira, and his mum and little sister. Afterwards went to a little introductory lecture to uni, and met a few new people, but left for the mosque as everyone went to the union for drinks; wanting to spend my last hour of Ramadan somewhere worthwhile, cramming in as much worship as possible!

Eid was enjoyable alhamdulillah; we left for the mosque at quarter to seven (we had to be ready at the park for a league match at 9:30; yes, football on Eid!) but the tube wasn't working and the bus drivers must have slept in or something, so we were walking back past our house about to pray locally when my dad offers to drive us down to Fulham to pray. I'm glad we did; I met a few old friends (and I mean ancient-old!) The khutbah after the prayer I thought was quite inspirational, and even though alot of people don't like the shouting style of sermon, I thought the message he conveyed was quite powerful.

We got home, played our match in the local park (for once, and with my mum and dad catching most of it!), lost the game which was mostly down to the sorry state the pitch was in, and went back home to discover a chocolate fountain, strawberries and marshmallows waiting to be consumed! Then our unique Fatine party games; the traditional treasure hunt, a blow-the-marble-with-a-phenomenally-long-straw competition, and an alphabet game where you have to think as many words as possible starting with that letter (like when you're on the phone and trying to spell out your postcode). Then presents: a stress ball with ears, a t-shirt with a large light-up digital clock on the front, a few funny books and some other nifty gadgets, as well as the prizes we got for coming second to the girls in every party game! Then pizza hut, then home, preparing for enrolment the next day!

~~~~~~~

Hmm, October has been so busy that it's difficult to remember what exactly went on every day, but some memories stick out more than others:

Getting my new Blackberry with more texts that I could shake a stick at, and unlimited internet. And with the nifty keyboard, I could find myself reflecting on the day without forgetting what happened by the time I got home :)

Ah this post is long overdue so I'm just going to polish up the rest of my notes without going into every little detail...

Family reunion for Grandma's 70th, it was good seeing all these half-posh (and in one couple's case full-posh!) people who were in some way or another related to me, and I found I could mingle with them quite comfortably. There are some amazing people in our extended family; like our great uncle Don who used to go deep-sea diving and defuse sea-mines for a living!

Freshers' football tournament- We had 3 people who don't even play football and lost ridiculously badly

Sunday league football- internal politics are tarnishing our team spirit- a new team has formed and we lost a game we should've easily won, and we are now sitting dangerously near the foot of the table. The manager has since left and we have our captain/chairman doing the team-picking.

Imperial ISOC freshers' dinner- I had to recite Quran, again, but I'm happy that they let me (and our uni) join the Quran competition this year! And there were various other dinners I found myself taking part in one way or another, but no breakfasts curiously.

Met my old Imperial buddies, including Annas, finally... 'twas good catching up with them.

So in a nutshell that's what happened. So I'm off to do more hectic things like reflective pieces of writing (which I could put up here I suppose), and think about how I'm going to remember everything I've done in November!

Return

2009-10-25T00:23:00.001+01:00

I could not have been at a better place than Edgware Road tonight; as I listened to the voicemail my mum left me, as I heard the words, "Call me back, it's serious', I knew what had happened. Standing in the middle of Edgware Road, receiving the news of my Grandma's death, seeing people enjoy life, wasting it away here, I could see the stark reality of everything, of life and its purpose; it was all laid out there in front of me.

Jiddah, as I called her, wasn't very well for the past month or so, and she went into hospital this morning, falling into a coma after her heart failed. For a while now she's said she wanted to die and to meet her Creator, with the past few weeks particularly painful for her. It's so sad thinking back to all the special moments in my life that involved her, no longer going to happen. Even though she was miles away in Algeria, we always used to send home videos of ourselves saying hi to her. I remember the time when I first met her since I was two, and the amount of love and care she showed me, a part of whom is inside me, treating the son of her eldest son so preciously. I didn't need to spend years with her to know of the unconditional love she had for us all. I remember how the wrinkles in her face so perfectly defined themselves whenever she smiled, which was everytime I walked into her room and sat down next to her. Every morning I used to have breakfast with her, and she sat on her bed with her fan shooing the flies away from me.

We don't exactly know her age as records weren't kept during the colonisation of Algeria, and neither could she read, but she was extremely wise, probably as with most elderly people, solving family disputes and giving her many opinions on the world from her small window-viewing bed. I hear the family out in Algeria are extremely shocked and upset at her death; she's been there for them all their lives, and it will probably be a while before 'mum's room' becomes just another room. It will be a very difficult night and morning for them, and my dad. We can only pray that she's met her creator and waiting for us on the other side.

It must be a terrible feeling when you lose your own mother, the one who went through the process of carrying you, staying awake for you, worrying about you; a bond you will find no stronger elsewhere. That's why this has taught me to value the mother I still have even more.

To Allah we belong, and to Him we shall return.

Are You Not Entertained?

2009-10-23T15:30:00.001+01:00

A few of weeks back I went to see a film that Vue were re-showing for one night only, nine years since it was released. The film... Gladiator. There so many people in the cinema ready to watch a film you could easily get on DVD for the same price, but then again for such a good film, I'd expect nothing less. If I was obsessed enough to watch a film I already own, there definitely would be others, and I brought my brother and his friend to come along so I wouldn't seem like a lonely weirdo (everyone else I knew couldn't see the point), but I did bump into some old friends who were there for exactly the same reason. It was fun, experiencing something I enjoy with a load of strangers, most of us probably knowing (and lip-syncing :P) all the lines of the script, watching it on a big screen for the first time. I loved it, and I'm sure the couple behind me loved it too, judging by the tears the lady was wiping away by the end. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and by the end, the cinema-goers went their separate ways, satisfied that they had re-lived a special moment in their lives once more and as if saying, "meh, I knew the ending anyway".

I may as well take the opporunity to talk about the film I consider to be my favourite hands down; it's got everything, and you just feel so attached to the characters because of the sense of injustice you feel that has befallen them, and of course, the real tearjerker at the end when he dies. I believe real heroes in films should die; you just got that much more respect for them (even though, yes, they are fictional). There are so many layers to the film, not just story-wise or how characters' relationships with one another develop, but with how deep each character goes; like with the 'villain', Commodus. It's explained that he's not a 2-dimensional villain but a 4-dimensional human being, and you can swap the roles of hero and villain in your head and almost relate to where he's coming from. On the high-quality picture in the cinema I noticed the backgrounds of alot of the scenes, like in the markets, and it looks like they've paid so much attention to detail! All in all, this is the film by which I judge all others. This is perfection in my eyes.

10/10

Captivating.

Starting Again

2009-10-03T07:56:00.001+01:00

Wow, what a couple of weeks it's been! One week into the start of new life at uni and I already needed rest! We started on a Saturday which was unusual, with the groups of new people huddled outside the Medicine building which you have to join and introduce yourself to, before moving on to another group and forgetting everyone's names. The building is actually amazing! It sticks out like a sore thumb from the rest of the rather run-down Whitechapel, all futuristic and quirky-looking! And the main lecture theatre is too cool; award-winning design: all green with a few red chairs representing a poppy field (for some reason). But the library does retain its traditional look, maybe a bit too traditional...

Almost every night of both weeks there's been an event, obviously involving alcohol and the usual frolickings of freshers young and old, which I avoided, but which hasn't been an obstacle to my friend-making. We had loads of introductory lectures; a recurring theme this week, before having to go down to the Mile End campus for enrolment, for which we had to queue up for three hours! But it was a good opportunity to make friends and have proper chats. I'm actually surprised at the number of people I've become acquainted with during my first week; not only the 'hello and go back to your life' kind of friends, but the ones who would actually stop and talk. One guy I met on Monday was too cool (and still is), from Singapore, I have a feeling I'm going to get on well with him; having the same kind of humour and chilled-outness as my old maths buddy at college. Actually, forget that, I've just discovered that he has to go back to his country to finish off his national service. That really sucks!

Of the few highly-interesting lectures we had on the history of Medicine and everything, one was particularly eye-opening. A lady came in with her Doctor, and was HIV positive (the lady not the Doc). It was so enlightening hearing her story; that Medicine can't only take a person's well-being into account but also has to consider the social and political environment around that patient. It was sad learning that after she arrived from war-torn Northern Uganda, she contracted HIV and was kicked out by her partner after mothering her first (thankfully HIV negative) child, and then a second, and then learning of all the terrible side-effect inducing drugs that she had to take to suppress the virus inside of her. Very enlightening.

The first week ended with a lecture that terrified the hell out of us all, and is apparently an annual tradition at this university. We were all sitting there expecting "An Introduction Lecture on Clinical Medicine & Dentistry" and boy did we get it! The lecturer is apparently head of the Brain and Behaviour module, quite a large guy and the way he spoke made him the perfect pantomime villain. He went on about the rules, about people who turn up late not being allowed in, about our dress code and about his book that he wanted us to buy, and then there was the mobile phone incident. Someone's phone went off in the lecture and he warned that the next phone to ring would be dealt with. Sure enough, after a few minutes, a girl's phone did ring, and she was asked to come to the front, where he took the phone and dropped it in a jug of water! Everyone gasped! Later on he randomly read out two names who had to come forward, and to emphasise his point about buying stethescopes, he made the boy take off his top and the girl put her head to his chest and listen to the heartbeat. Towards the end we were all wondering who this freak of a lecturer thought he was, whilst he was showing dodgy pictures and figures from last year's fail rate, and that because extra students accepted the uni as a first choice, they'd have to kick out 55 students by the end of the year. Basically, we were all 'shook'... and that was until his last slide showed that the whole lecture was a spoof involving upper-year actors... Phew! But it really gave me an unexpected boost to make me start work.

The second week involved me meeting my new PBL (Problem-based Learning) group, and we had our first session dealing with a case of a guy who'd tested positive for HIV (it's like there are no other diseases in the world!) I volunteered to chair the group, which was me basically going through a set of points, making sure we'd covered our bases in terms of learning objectives, and getting a few members of our rather shy group to talk, but it was OK, and the next day (apart from sports trials and me forgetting my kit) we again sat in our group thinking up poster ideas for "Don't Believe Everything You Hear In the Media". Ah yes, sports... I wanted to do something different for a change, so instead of choosing football again, I went for badminton (which was way too crowded so I left early), and then the hockey trials, which were way far up North-East London somewhere. After a few drills we got down to the match, which is a bit like football, apart from the ball; which if you happened to kick with a bad toe, would hurt. They took my number down, and I went home.

And how can I forget Monday: Learning Landscape! We went down to Mile End in our labcoats and were given 'True or False' sheets to fill in about the human body and we were allowed to walk around the lab with all these bodies, bones and organs on display for us to touch and examine! Holding the brain was probably my highlight of the day :D

Thursday and Friday were mainly full of long Ethics lectures; quite interesting when you got into the swing of things, but initially very long-winded with very long words, but then he asked people what the definition of 'good' was, and then everyone started to pay attention. By the end, I left the lecture questioning loads of things that people could initially assume being 'right' or 'wrong', but with my new frame of mind, I now knew more than just patient consent and confidentiality. Learning about 'legal fiction' was particularly interesting!

Friday was also the second of our MMD (Muslim Medics and Dentists) events: a house party with a quiz on general/Islamic/Medical knowledge which really gets me going, and I began to answer questions I didn't know I knew the answers to! And, as with every evening of the past fortnight, I left for home shattered, and glad the weekend was ahead of me. And it's just the beginning of a hopefully long and successful time inshaallah.

July and August

2009-09-15T23:55:00.000+01:00

Ah, recording my monthly musings have been rather delayed because of everything else in life I'm up to, and I thought since July and August had a similar theme (not really), I'd just do them together!

It all began with my slightly chipped front tooth getting rechipped, sustained from my July the 19th 2004 episode. My mum superglued it back in after I retrieved the small enamel jigsaw piece from my lollipop, and it felt weird until I finally lost the fragment down the sink, and constantly prodding the gap with my tongue didn't lessen the weirdness. The dentist sorted it all out in the end :) Lasered in and everything (although there was some stuff that did suspiciously smell like superglue). The dentist said it was the best mouth she'd seen all day (and then she saw my teeth :B).

I again went paintballing with my St. George's friend Haseeb and his lot; we got there after a chilled-out train journey where I was reading my Yes Man book in between catching up with my mate. We got things going after his friends finally arrived, and the weather was quite nice; not too hot and not too cold, but that all changed later on, with the thunderstorm raging on and off, the rain pounding down like it had a vendetta against us. The other team was full of cheats; people who didn't go off once you shot them, so I decided to get out of the castle I was supposed to be defending and navigate through the thorns all the way around the edge until I was behind their base, stealthily shooting them in the backs before disappearing again, take that! On the way home the thunderstorm raged on, and Victoria station was evacuated because of the leaking roof and flood, but it was an experience, and if I wasn't in the 'Yes Man' phase, I probably could've enjoyed a nice dry day at home.

I saw Ice Age 3 with my brother and his mates (my friends were practically non-existent at this time), and I liked it, certainly better than number 2!

Then an Iraqi charity dinner, £25 per ticket, me and my brother and his mate, waiting ages for the food and doing bizarre things in the process. And afterwards the raffle, which my brother bought FIVE tickets for, before we had any chance to discuss whether we should be getting them or not. Our eyes were on the two Wembley tickets up for grabs, but what did we win? A women's arab dress. And then another! My brother went up to collect the first, I went for the second, but I was gobsmacked even the first time that one of our numbers was called!

Obviously the thing that stood out most in this month was the trip to Spain and Morocco (which I'm still typing out the diary for!). My final thoughts being quite mixed; Spain looked amazing, clean and was full of character. It's just sad seeing an old Muslim land no longer in the hands of the Muslims, with them being relegated to less affluent parts of town, and the old landmarks turned into tourist attractions, adorned with crosses. But nevertheless, it was an enlightening experience, and to be honest, I enjoyed the character of the place more than I did Morocco. I'll try and elaborate further after my diary's finished inshaallah.

My brother and I also joined a newly-formed football club, Cricklewood United, and the first day of training didn't go too well for me; I collapsed every so often because I'd twisted my ankle in some slim and unstable red football boots, which weren't the most comfortable in the world. But luckily, I had another pair I saw in a sale recently, exactly the same type as my red ones, and which also happen to be my mum's favourite colour.

They look nice, but a training session in these beauties left blisters and rubbed heels. But it did make me appreciate how cool blisters are; the body making cushions so you could feel more comfortable, that's what they essentially are!

~~~~~~August~~~~~~

The month kicked off (literally) with my first proper official-like football match in more than ten years (with my last time being in the under-10's league at Lillie Road), if you don't count the couple of matches I had at Imperial. It went alright, until I came off with cramp in my left leg, and we lost, but it was good getting to know our new team-mates, and how greedy some can get with the ball!

We went to Brighton as a family, ate freshly-made doughnuts (where you see the machine making it and flipping it over in the oil) and ice cream that we had to run to the car in the heavy rain. Sea-world, a very old Victorian aquarium with a cool tunnel so you can see the sharks and the big 40 stone (I think) turtle swimming along from underneath. I also saw a couple of smaller turtles getting intimate with each other, not making the '5th leg' mistake again ¬_¬, and managed to touch a shark fin before noticing the 'Do Not Touch' sign. And that's about all Brighton had to offer, apart from the pebbled beach of course.

Another match, we drew this time, and I came off with a cramp in my left leg. More training, but with the new boots I bought from Niketown. I noticed their bright colour behind the counter days before they got on the shelves (I saw some footballers wear them before... yes I'm a sucker for subliminal advertising), and just as I was about to leave and contemplate getting some non-orange ones as well, but I'm sure you'll agree they are quite nice. They're just like the ones in my dream!

We got an ice cream machine which is supposedly like the ice cream vans make, and they do taste the same, but it also needs you to freeze parts of the machine beforehand, which I think is a bit of a cheat. The ice cream at Hamleys was also nice; we went around London as a family, on the boats in Hyde Park, the pet section at Harrods (and the fossils weren't bad either!), and stood where my mum always used to stand when she was working there all those years ago... 'twas good. The next day three of us went to my afghan friend's house and chilled playing FIFA, and we liked it so much, we went to another friend's house the next day after my mate's wedding to do the same! Oh yeah, the wedding; we sat ourselves down in the packed venue and played with the toothpicks whilst some guy at the front was speaking Somali, and the occasional cheer as we picked up our friend's name being mentioned. Not many of our secondary school friends turned up which was sad, but the food was nice, and the lesson learnt that day was that if a Somali guy offers you some green sauce, politely decline; it's hot!

There was another dinner, this time for Palestine, and they had an auction at the end (after the nice asian food), and to get things going, I bid for practically every painting out there, until others bid higher. This did work out until the guy who I was mainly bidding against decided that he'd bought enough paintings that night, resulting in me having to lug home a massive £55 painting on the bus!

(It looks better upside-down I think)

And another friendly football match, winning this time, and my first goal! Oh and how can I forget the awesome family picnic we had in Richmond park? Sheltered by an old tree enswathed by the bracken, spotting a few deer and their fowl on the way, and eating food we could've easily had at home, but without the wonders of the wilderness all around.

I've just realised how much waffle I have to ~~delete~~ go through in my monthly notes before I can call this a legible monthly memoir. I haven't written anything on September yet; maybe it's better that way...

The Light

2009-09-02T14:15:00.017+01:00

Since it's Ramadan and all that, I thought I should talk about my ever-increasing experience and love for a certain book. Now is a month where people are putting so much effort into completing its reading, without putting that much thought into how deep this book actually is. Yes, the Quran. My earliest memories of learning the Quran go back to my reception class at school, where we all obediently followed exactly what the teacher said, without really knowing what all the Arabic meant, and I have a tape somewhere of my three year-old self repeating Suratul-Feel (The chapter of the elephant) over and over again in my cute and innocent voice. I had obviously read translations of the Quran as I grew older, but my real hands-on experience was when I started lessons with my brother at my friend's house, towards the end of primary school, and which went on for about five years; just us three students and a teacher. There I learnt all of the rules of tajweed and of some stories and why certain verses were revealed at certain times. The young teacher was extremely nice, and with probably the best voice I've ever heard reciting the Quran, mashaallah. I remember standing in Taraweeh once, and he was leading one night for some reason, and I just proudly stood there, "That's my teacher".

Various Quran competitions kept my memorising levels up during my teenage years, as well as Sheikh Hasan's amazingly insightful Islamic Studies lessons, making us memorise the English translations too. I hadn't done much Tafsir, learning about the explanation of the Quran, apart from during the last ten days of Ramadan once, and our weekly sunday circles, but Imperial changed all that. The weekly Tafsir sessions on Suratul-Fatiha opened my eyes up completely to the multitude of layers the Quran possesses. We weren't only learning 'standard Tafsir', the meaning of words, but the Arabic root words they came from, and the meanings of those. We learnt of the different classes of letter that can make up a word, and why they were chosen to make up that word. We were asked questions such as why Allah chose a certain way to phrase something and not another in order to express such a meaning, and why a sentence was composed in such a way and not another. It turned out to be the deepest time I've ever analysed a piece of text; this wasn't a simple dissection of an anthology, these were the words of God, so intricately placed together to produce something so flowing and poetic. These poetic techniques weren't put here by accident, and the effects on the meaning and feeling of the verse they each made were plentiful.

We were taught that the Quran makes reference to other chapters (that may or may not have been already revealed at the time), for example, the final verse in Suratul-Israa' makes reference to the next five surahs in order. I found it amazing, and we were sent home, encouraged to find our own undiscovered phenomena with this book (which, if you look properly enough, are alot!). Each of the 114 chapters is coupled with another, which could provide a mirror image to the other, or compliment the other chapter in meaning, and each one has an axis about which the rest of the surah 'rotates'; so the Quran isn't only linguistically perfect, but visually also. You can get out your calculator and start doing maths with each letter having a value, and finding patterns, or you can just count the number of words that crop up and correlate them with others; anyhow, the possibilities with this book are endless, and more are yet to be stumbled upon.

The Quran wasn't revealed as a "Here you go" one book. Over a period of 23 years, bit by bit, a few verses at a time, it slowly came down through the angel Jibreel, and reorganised and reassembled according to how it was told to be, until the revelation was complete. It makes reference to events at the time, as well as events that were prophesised to happen, and until the end of time, we constantly find new things relevant to our age that weren't realised before. Back then it was memorised, as well written down on leaves and fragments of bone, and to this day, it remains unaltered, untouched to the letter. The Quran contains so many scientific facts that were unknown of at the time, only recently being discovered. It begs the question: How can an illiterate man in the middle of the desert, at a time when the world was in some of its darkest days with regards to scientific discovery, produce something so intelligent that doesn't go one bit against modern established science?

If I was doing this blog for over twenty years, I would find that I was such a fool two decades ago for writing the things I did, and want to change and edit my blog-posts to suit my views and ideas now. With the Quran this never happened, resulting in not one contradiction in the entire revelation over the 23 years, a proof of its divine roots, memorised word for word by so many people around the globe, preserved by memory and by writing until now.

The Quran is a proof unto itself that it contains the words of the Creator. Fourteen hundred years ago, at a time when Arab society was full of well-versed poets, this book came down leaving them speechless; how could anything so pure be reproduced by a human being? And it is a challenge Allah gives in the Quran itself: "Produce a chapter like it if you are truthful."

It's overwhelming when you realise that the text you're analysing came from the same being that made you, and everything else around you. So next time when you're listening to the Imam reciting at a hundred miles an hour, or if you're reading the Quran, try to peel away the cloak upon cloak of depth and discover this immaculate guidance that has been left for you until the end of time.

مرحبا

2009-08-27T00:32:00.003+01:00

Mishary Al-Afasy, one of my favourite people ever.

How I've Yearnt For You

2009-08-23T15:39:00.007+01:00

I'm truly grateful this year for Ramadan. I don't know where I'd be without it year upon year; it's given me a chance to just step back and re-evaluate my life, and without the constant thought of what to eat, I can instead focus on doing something else. Sure, Ramadan involves days, mornings, evenings like the rest of the days of year, but it gives me an excuse to try and do something that little bit extra, make more of an effort. And since it's fallen in the summer holidays, with no work to worry about, it's given me ample opportunity to properly make use of my free time.

Ramadan is quite weird, where you get yourself into a routine, that when it's all over, you've got to remember that you're not doing it any more, and you have to re-adapt yourself to normality. The same can be said for Taraweeh; everyone gets into "we must finish the Quran by the end of the month" mode, people flocking to the mosques, all standing in line side by side with people burping out contents of their scoffed-down Iftars, while the Imam zooms verse through verse, occasionally stumbling, in an attempt to round the night off one thirtieth closer to the end of the Quran. And when it's all over, it's all over. We go home, and look forward to the same next year.

Yes, we have the weekly "what we should be doing in this month" khutbahs, and everyone gets way excited over the vibe (and what to eat at iftar), but it is something we should keep up for the rest of the year. It should be like a staircase, with every Ramadan involving you working to climb that next step, and maintaining that level for the other 11 months, before trying for the next step the next Ramadan, but sometimes we do find ourselves tumbling down.

At a time of such immense reward (multiplied up to 700 times), maybe we should tone down on our usual activities and focus on more religious things. I'm not a big fan of doing something, or stopping something, for a month and then going on with normal life for the rest of the year, but now is an opportunity that can't be missed, and we never know if it's our last.

Maybe our normal lives are the routine we have to snap ourselves out of.

Day Five - Fez Furthered

2009-08-10T14:15:00.002+01:00

We woke up at 10, but I still felt quite exhausted. We went out for a chicken panini breakfast (without cheese) and haphazardly settled our debts to each other whilst paying for the bill. The ice cream across the square was nice, with an array of flavours to choose from; everyone went for the cheaper 10 dirham two scoops whilst I had to go for the three: equivalent to £1.50! (Vanilla with nuts, cappuccino and pistachio for future reference).

We then decided to walk the long straight road (instead of taking a taxi) down to some building which might've been a synagogue, and relaxed underneath some palm trees and next to an empty swimming pool outside. Quiet, shaded and isolated, we spent some of the most enjoyable moments ever there. We made up rhymes about our holiday so far, and decideded on trying to incorporate 'muchas maracas' (our phrase of the holiday- from a Lynx advert) wherever possible when talking to the locals. And then we made up a game; whenever someone said "yes" or "yeah", they have to do 5 pressups from where they were standing. We thought it was a good idea, and even before leaving our peaceful oasis, we'd done loads of pressups already, which was hilarious! We tried to catch each other out but I failed miserably; "Is your camera working yeah? ... Damn!"

We managed to get only 200 metres, to the massive golden gates of this tourist attraction, when we unanimously decided we should stop; doing pressups int eh 45-degree heat under the sun, whilst tourists tried to take pictures not including rolling-on-floor-laughing youths wasn't right. We were mental that day, and sweaty. We began to head to the old city again, but to the market part this time. It's split into several main parts: shoes, henna, meat, ornaments and stuff. we just walked aorund, looking for a mosque, clutching our things tightly, being bombarded with "Come in - cheap!", "Where you from?", and a few "Pakistan!". Alhamdulillah we managed to get through unscathed, but we stumbled upon a Muslim-only 'mosque' we went pas the day before. Some 'saint' was buried there, and once inside, we saw people with candles and sitting around doing nothing apart from congregate around this little fountain, and listen to a guy singing a weird song. Allow!

And that was a glimpse of pre-market market bartering for a jalabiya.

We went back towards home, through the narrow winding market-filled streets, past the place where the wood man made his wood (quite a cool guy who looked like he had Parkinson's but at the same time hand-make some awesome wooden objects. I bought a snake in a box and a spinning top he made on the spot... using his feet!) Back all the way to the synagogue place, past the royal palace, praying maghrib and isha along the way at a mosque, and to the main-looking district where there were colourful light-changing fountains all along the road and a massive one in the roundabout. We stopped off at a Moroccan (obviously) restaurant, which sold couscous and tagines and stuff. The prices were quite high, and we agreed to eat there once they knocked off the 10% service charge (we are students after all- an excuse that works with even the most persistent of beggars and 'tour guides'). The couscous was nice, but way too much to eat; a massive bowl of sauce and and mountain of couscous between two. We tried our best, which left us not in the mood for ice cream afterwards. We returned to the hotel, picked up the luggage we left, and walked for about 20 minutes to the train station.

The train to Marrakesh left at 2:30, with the time being 12:30, we sat in the overcrowded cafe, football showing on the TV; and even that didn't stop me from eventually falling asleep. When I awoke, I found a cigarette stub and sugar sachet between my fingers, a bottle lid on my shoulder, and my travel-mates all looking at me laughing, with one holding a lighter...

The lights weren't working on our part of the carriage, which was just as well because I planned on catching up on some serious sleep. I didn't. Instead, the 8 hour journey through the night turned out to be one of the worst parts of the holiday for me, with pitch blackness outside, and an annoyingly long beeping alarm going off throughout the train at each stop to wake people up; our stop being the last. And once I thought I'd settled myself across the uncomfortable leather seats, the alarm would go off again or someone would push past my outsticking leg. Not very enjoyable at all! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Beep Beep Beeeeeep BEEEeeep

Day Four - Fez

2009-07-31T11:30:00.003+01:00

Waking up for fajr didn't feel nice; only a couple of hours of sleep and what seemed like a full night's worth of me getting up to turn off Shuaib's loud alarm, one by one we got up; and still shattered, we all stood in a sleepy line and prayed, hoping get some more sleep afterwards. But we didn't; we got ready to leave for Fez instead, so we could make the Friday prayer there in time. We were told by the hotel guy that the first train to leave would be at 7, so we painstakingly left (after I took a cold *absolutely free* shower to wake me up, and watched the window too), following the path the mainly female workers took early in the morning to take the ferry to Spain, back to the port.

From there, the taxis, of which most could only take three people and were charging quite high prices. After securing one for a price we were happy with, we focused our attention on another, and whilst we finally managed to negotiate a reasonable price, the first taxi drove away! This happened quite a bit, but in the end, all 7 of us managed to arrive at the train station by 6am. We read the board: Fez - 7:45am, "Hmm, yeah, that's not bad." We thought. But as we were about to buy tickets, we were told that the board only displayed arrival times from other places, and that actually, the first train to Fez would leave at 11 something!

So again, the whole separate taxi thing to the coach station; we were not going to wait more than five hours for a train, and the first coach to Fez would leave at 7:45; an hour to wait in this noisy, paranoia-triggering gathering of passengers, beggars and 'bag-carriers'. I remember noticing such a typical North-African-mentality feature of this bus station: it didn't have a clock, and I was alerted to this fact when Redwan panickingly came to me wondering what this old lady was asking him for... the time. The tickets were 63 dirhams (each), and we realised they pulled a Ryanair on us when we had to pay 5 dirhams extra to store a bag underneath the coach. Whilst finally on board and everyone had settled in, and once all the beggars and salesmen had done their rounds, it set off; every one of us effortlessly just fell asleep, with the exception of me. My friend's heads bobbed from side to side and forwards and backwards as the coach turned and slowed down, nothing awakening them. I on the other hand did what I did best and looked out of the window, occasionally shutting my eyes but instantly awoke if so much as a fly buzzed past.

Once we were out of the city, I realised that Morocco was actually quite a beautiful country; so many things growing in what seemed like desert; shepherds and their sheep, cows, the yellow landscape, fields of sunflowers and corn, people producing piles of salt (either that or rice), mountain valleys and fertile soily hills, orchards and funny-looking thorny trees; it's the kind of stuff you'd have set as your desktop background, a couple of green trees in a bare field of yellow, or an artistic set of winding tractor prints on a dry muddy hill. Looking out of the window really helped me relax and remember our adventures the day before, and here I am now, writing on the coach as the others sleep, missing out on the beauty outside, and whilst the stranger beside me watches on, refusing my offers of pineapple juice. Correction: he seems to like paprika-flavoured pringles :P

The slight aroma of the vomiting girl's produce at the back didn't really hinder us from staying on the coach, but what more of an issue was, was the lack of toilet. Two of us were bursting for a couple of hours, which reminded of the ways you could make a sleeping person wet themselves. As soon as the coach doors opened, they ran out and answered the call of nature. This was it: Fez, and it looked like we alighted in the middle of nowhere. Then came the usual taxi-driving stalkers we all came to know and love, and in the end we went to a taxi bay place and took two taxis, our efforts at trying to reduce the 50 dirham "tariff" futile. The first hotel we were dropped off at was full, so we loaded the bags back up and managed to reduce the price of going to another hotel by 5 dirhams to 15; tariff indeed!

'Hotel Royale' had quite decent rooms, with en suite showers and toilets, so we decided we could let our impatient taxi driver friends go and I gave mine 65 dirhams; a 50 note and 15 in coins. He then drove off. I looked at my remaining money and then it struck me,
"What colour was the 50 note I gave?"
"Pink" my friend replied.
"Have you got any 50's on you?"
He produced one... it was green. "Damn, I think I gave him 50 euros!!" The other taxi driver was still there, and after we told him what had happened, instead of cracking up laughing (which he probably saved for another time), he gave us his number, and that we should call him after we got settled in the hotel. Some 'tour guide' character was straight on the scene, and was there giving his two cents on what we should do; I wondered why he'd be so helpful... not!

Some of us went up to check the rooms whilst I was left downstairs to deal with the 'tour guide'. I'm not really a person to say no, and he insisted he show us another hotel, so a couple of us followed him and tried to converse with his broken-English-speaking self. I had a look at the other hotel room; I didn't like it- but I think it was just the feeling of the 50 euros gone that dampened my mood. We settled for our first choice. The rest is boring (apart from our delayed Friday prayer that we missed... the reason why we woke up so early in the first place!), but when we went out to eat (after changing our seating 3 times, doing a group vote to decide which place had the best AC :P), we conveniently bumped into our 'tour guide' again, but Gallael, the legend when it comes to dealing with the locals, told him that we didn't have any money, and that he would be 'touring' for Allah's sake. the guy said yes, but then he changed his mind when he saw that I'd rewarded the taxi drivers for coming back. Yes, I got my pink 50 euro note back!!

Later on, we went through the usual hassle of getting 3 taxis and visited the old part of Fez; the narrow winding alley-like streets and a multitude of 'tour guides' and beggars. With the useless Lonely Planet maps, we couldn't ask anyone for directions, or they'd start to lead the way and expect to get paid by the end, and the more we walked through the run-down labyrinth of filth and insecurity, the more I didn't want to be there; why were we here in the first place? That was until I saw it- the mosque. Amazing architecture and beautiful patterned designs, with two wudhu fountains at either end of the shiny multicoloured tiled courtyard and one in the middle; the place so calm and such a difference from the mayhem outside.

We stayed a few hours, took loads of pictures and prayed asr, after conducting a group vote deciding on whether we should pray inside the mosque or in the courtyard where the front appeared to be. We also saw a boy dunking his whole head into the long basin full of water, and this gave birth to our idea for the 'suicide competition'; who could dunk their heads in for the longest won! The biggest challenge wasn't holding your breath, but holding your laughs; it was hilarious, and the first to lose would probably be the first to crack up; a flurry of bubbles being the tell-tale sign. We later stood in the courtyard and prayed maghrib with everyone else in the fairly-full courtyard (ignoring the chanting at the end). It was a serene experience, but also weird, as everyone wasn't standing in your standard straight line, but slightly diagonally, like we were footballers standing for a national anthem. I blame the architects.

With the dark of the night approaching, we made our way to the tallest point of the city so we could admire the view from the top. The walking journey was long, and we decided to ask only people who looked like they were going somewhere, religious-looking people or shopkeepers. It kind of worked. We managed to shun our 'tour guide' friends by pretending to know where we were going (even though we didn't), just kept walking, said hello to loads of kids playing football, and continued our brisk walk uphill through the narrow musty walkways.

We arrive at the top (which we later found out, wasn't), and found an extremely expensive-looking hotel, completely out of place and somewhere we wanted to get into and take pictures from its gardens. We had to buy something if we wanted to get in, and even then we'd only have access to the terrace. I'm glad we made the decision to go ahead with it; the hours spent on top of the lit-up old city were some of the most chilled-out hours of the holiday so far, especially with the hectic travelling we'd been doing earlier. We chatted about our adventures so far, I updated my diary, we tried to film the most memorable quotes of the holiday so far, we imagined a few scenarios of becoming lost in a silent, dark Fez, if Salman went missing, and the film 'hostel' came up in the conversation.

After totally relaxing for a long while, we got down to business, and considered all of the possible scenarios we could pursue over the next few days all the way to Friday when we'd go home. Every one of us tired, we triple-checked our plans and voted on how we'd like to spend our days, where we'd be travelling to first, and for how long. Just then, on cue, the hotel guy says it's time to close, and we taxied it back to our hotel, stayed up 'til fajr telling jokes in the room with the two double beds (where 4 of us were staying), taking the limits of our sanity to new levels. I finally dizzily staggered to my bed, more than ready for my first long sleep.

Day Three - Tangerines

2009-07-27T23:03:00.019+01:00

I woke up for fajr fairly refreshed; it seems that 4 hours of sleep is just enough for me. Then there was the usual wait for everyone to do wudhu (conveniently falling back asleep ¬_¬), and only 2 bathrooms to the whole hostel! We prayed fajr very close to sunrise on the roof terrace, which was an extremely calm and spiritually nourishing moment, and then everyone went back to sleep, relying on me to wake everyone up at 9. I stayed up and went downstairs to first have a shower unhindered, then type up Day One as well as check Facebook and the usual stuff.

I woke everyone up at the time I was supposed to, and only one person actually listened; everyone else went back to sleep after giving their pledge of awakedness. By the time everyone had woken up, we went downstairs, ignored the (probably drunk) nutcase in the kitchen, and instead got our breakfast from the bakery as we did the day before. Then we made our way to the coach station (via the 3 or 33 buses - for future reference :P), and boarded the midday coach to Algeceras, sat at the back, and had a chat with the two ~~stalkers~~ ladies who conveniently were taking the same coach, who took our photo the day before at Alhambra, and who I later learnt, saw us at the mosque as well. Before we spoke to them, we thought our trip was jam-packed; one of them came from Paris, through Barcelona, picked up her friend from Madrid, then to Granada, to Malaga and Marrakesh, then London, Vienna, America and back to Mexico where she lives! Our new-found friends got off at Malaga, and the rest of the journey was spent either talking about our intruiging conversation and the Spanish name assigned to Gallael (Geraldo), about hair straighteners (Qasad), Arabic culture and haggling techniques, or playing DS, or just sleeping with the slight bit of dribble emerging from the mouth.

Four hours later, and after admiring the clean sandy beaches (I didn't really, I was half asleep), we descended from the coach and bought our ferry tickets at a shop opposite the port, before getting halal meat and chicken sandwiches at a nearby shop. Al-Jazeera sport was on, and I was finally able to make use of my bilingual self, asking for no olives or tomatoes :P This place didn't have a full Spanish feel to it; you could feel the Moroccan influence seeping through. Would Morocco be just an Algeria with tourists? Only time would tell.

I didn't understand the whole ferry timing thing, with Morocco being an hour behind Spain, but the 5 o'clock ferry ended up being 7 o'clock anyway. The ferry journey itself was phenomenal! After boarding through what looked like a car park, we soon found the upper deck, with the breeze blowing and the sun shining, we enjoyed every moment of it, and each other's company, with the knowledge that the lifeboats were a few metres away :P We forgot about the lack of sleep and were full of energy, taking loads of photos and videos on the way. We imagined scenarios of people/things falling overboard and what we'd do in certain random situations, and then we watched the sunset together... amazing. Looking away from the sun and back towards it quickly, you could actually see it move! And slowly, it disappeared behind the calm and vast ocean. This journey was probably the best experience so far! We had our passports stamped on the ferry, and after an exhiliarating ride, we drop anchor at Tangier, Morocco.

Now, I was expecting a watered-down version of Algeria, but as we entered the port town, it seemed just the same: Mayhem. This was no Algeria Lite; similar attitudes, similar accents (sort of) and a clear disregard for toothpaste or soap. The first guy that came to us asked if we wanted a hotel to stay in or a taxi. He had a heavy Italian mafia accent, probably picking it up from a film or something, but he certainly did sort of look the part! Even after we said no, he followed us all the way to the currency exchange; these kinda guys being quite erm, persuasive; we wouldn't want to disappoint him now would we, capeesh? But we did. One other moustachioed guy tried following us (something that we realised we'd probably have to get used to over here), but we ended up walking to the nearby coach office, finding that the last coach to Fez had already left, and so we'd have to spend the night in Tangier. Golly.

Armed with our Lonely Planet guide, ignoring the stares and offers of rooms, showers and hash, we chose one place, and you could see the glee on the hotel guy's face. We instantly became his 'friends', and the standard of jokes he was cracking showed he was over the moon at the impending transfer of crusty moroccan banknotes in his favour. We initially thought it was 50 dirhams for the whole room (in which four of us were going to be sleeping on the floor- cockroach territory), but we were swiftly brought back to reality when we realised it was 50 per person (with the option of an extra 7 dirhams for a shower)! The lobby place was intricately decorated with patterned tiling (well, under the deceptive cloak of night), but the rooms were plain and adequate for the night, with a sink in the corner. Which should've been in the bathroom. The bathroom had what you'd expect, minus a sink; a toilet and a shower. And a window; a window that was head-height and accessible to any corridor-goer who could turn their head to the right and know if the toilet was occupied or not. Great stuff.

We went out looking for somewhere to eat, and as we didn't want to wander too far (as we loved to do back in seductive Spain), we settled for a place we passed on the way in, a small kebab hut thing that we all congregated around. And as they told us the price of one, I had the 'cheek' of asking a moroccan customer how much he was paying, just to make sure we weren't being swindled. Even though I avoided the salad and chips in my bread (and I wouldn't have had the meat either, or the bread), I did get a bit of a tummy ache. After everyone else went for seconds, and me just sitting wondering what on Earth I was doing there, we went for tea in a quiet restaurant the hotel guy recommended to us. I was absolutely shattered, especially as I didn't sleep on the coach earlier, but I did have the brainpower to visualise how a 'hostel' scene would pan out for us, which I thought was become increasingly likely, until the tea showed up half an hour later. I sleepily watched the others drink their mint teas, before we returned to the room in time for the hotel's 1pm curfew.

At that point I wished I was back home; my basic needs weren't being met, and at least with Algeria I knew what I'd be up against in advance and be able prepare for it, but I was thrown into Morocco not knowing what to expect, coming to the conclusion that actually, Algeria is better in loads of respects. At least there no-one shouts "Namaste" to Yemeni's!

[Wow, this day (after the ferry) was pretty painful, and I took a two day break before typing up the Tangier part just to brace myself for the recollection. It's somewhere that won't be making my list of favourite places anytime soon!]

Day Two - Fountains, Flowers and Finesse

2009-07-24T23:23:00.017+01:00

As we sat in one of the many open-air courtyards of Alhambra castle palace, fountains gushing, birds whistling overhead, and people taking pictures of the awe-inspiring art that covers every inch of the walls, I couldn't help but notice the recurring phrase carved in Arabic into every wall and pillar: "There is no victory except with Allah", the motto of the ruler of Granada at the time. Even though it's in everyone's faces and people are taking pictures of it, it looks like they're missing it's meaning; this place once stood only because of the people's faith in God, and it now stands as a lesson to later generations, that as seemingly easily as something can be gained, it can also be lost. Now, it's just a tourist attraction, but remains standing as a reminder of what could be, and was.

I'm kind of glad that my camera battery ran out before I had a chance to take pictures of this place; it gave me a chance to properly take everything in and not worry about documenting everything on film. No-one could properly take pictures of this place and do justice to its beauty at the same time, you just have to be there! You'd need to take a hundred pictures of one spot to understand how it feels being there. I just put my glasses on and looked at the most well-crafted place I've ever seen, the man-made and nature complementing each other brilliantly.

Then we just wandered around the gardens, climbed the castle towers, and honestly, the word 'amazing' is an understatement. I can't describe it. The gardens of flowers and fountains with goldfish and attention paid to every intricate detail. On the way to one of the gardens supposed to be representing one of the forms of paradise, we cooled ourselves down with the water gushing down either side of the tall garden staircase, shaded by the intertwined branches of trees overhead. You couldn't get more perfect a place than this. Our last 'wow' moment involved the longest corridor of roses I had ever seen! Engulfed by a tunnel of pink, you just had to stand and stare into the distance as the pinkish sunlight streaked its way through the gaps where the roses chose not to grow.

The way back to the town from the castle was fairly easier as we were all going downhill, and we sat down to a shawerma for lunch, happy with my souvenir postcards and clay plaque reading "There is no victory except with Allah". The ice cream shop we went to later was nice, with its wacky flavours and pretty ice cream decorations. I chose ferrero rocher. Then I had caramel. We then asked directions towards the small mosque where we prayed and met a moroccan/spanish kid (7 years old, and called Al-Ghali), communicating with him through mainly sign language, "face- book", "computer", "poke, yes?"

We made our way up to the main mosque, sitting on the peak opposite Al-Hambra. Inside we just chilled, had a little talk about our priorities during our travels, with the conversation gradually changing to which kebab shops were the best in England. After relaxing for a couple of hours in the shade of the mosque, we prayed maghrib (and to be honest I was quite freaked out by the whole chanting thing after prayer), then we met a moroccan man who said he'd help us with our trip to morocco, and who we'd meet after we found somewhere to eat. We continued down some narrow lamp-lit walkways until we found a nice spanish/moroccan tea place, and we had some nourishing rice and meat. they had a whole menu full of different teas, and the two young brothers running the shop made us feel very welcome.

We retraced our steps, guided by the streetlamps and familiar landmarks and graffiti, along the alleys, taking loads of pictures on the way. We again came across the mosque converted into a house, which we were quite annoyed with, and we finally found our way to the moroccan man's baklawa shop, where we met some other guys who spoke english, two of whom lived in Willesden for a while! It's a small world.

After my fairly long chat with one of the guys (an asian, who's travelling through Algeria to random places), and getting details about Morocco, Salman and I paid a visit to the nearby mosque we went to earlier to see if it was still open (it wasn't), but on the way we met Al-Ghali again! He took us to his dad and gave us each incense sticks, probably because of the euro I gave him earlier. Happy that we were rewarded materially for going to the mosque, we returned to the hostel to find Suzie (a fellow hostel stayer) jovially reminding us again to be quiet at fajr time and at night (with a few choice swear words :P), as she had told us on the roof earlier. We then had a group photo with her (which was slightly awkward). Instead of going out and eating ice cream, we spent the rest of the night on the roof terrace pointing our laser down at random passers by (and their dogs)... too hilarious!

Then we discussed our plan for the next day (like the adults we were), which involved leaving the hostel at half ten, and probably waking up ten minutes before.

Here are a few more photos of Granada from my friend's camera:

July the 19th

2009-07-19T07:49:00.007+01:00

Well as I write this, it´s now the 16th of July, but I can´t help but think of the date ´July the 19th´ as it´s been a day that has changed my life on more than one occasion. July the 19th 2004, I was walking with my friend near a tunnel near my old house, when we were attacked by five boys and two dogs, and it´s a long story, but what happened was that we got battered; kicked in the face, everything, blood flowing everywhere, bruises on top of bruises, with me having to repair two slightly chipped teeth as a result. That moment had changed my life and the way I would see everything in the world from then on.

Then came July the 19th 2005, exactly one year on and at exactly the same time, I cut my fingers extremely badly on a circular saw whilst not paying attention and playing with the power switch. Blood was gushing out like a fountain and I needed stitches to repair them, initially thinking I´d lose them, and I´m now left with visible scars on two of my fingers. As I now look at them, I still can´t believe it happened! I hadn´t felt so much pain in my life. But alhamdulillah I learnt something.

Since then, it´s been relatively quiet. But as July the 19th approaches, and I´ll be in morocco by then inshaallah, I can´t help but think about it. Should I be believing in special days where I could expect something to happen to me, even though I believe Allah is controlling of everything? Or since nothing has happened the past few years, is it a lesson to Not believe in ´mathematical fate´? All I know is that on July the 19th I´ll be doing everything normally, I don´t want to be superstitious and be wary of everything I do; I may even forget about it until it´s the 20th! But what happens happens, and we can´t change it, but if we do decide to go water-skiing or something on the 19th, it will certainly be... interesting :)

Maybe I should treat every day like July the 19th.

Day One - Picking Oranges

2009-07-15T15:48:00.012+01:00

The check-in went fine alhamdulillah; none of the drama you usually see on cheap airline TV programmes, and after a bit, we sat ourselves down in the plane (most of us getting window seats) and awaited take-off. As the plane sped along the runway and made its ascent, I thought I saw smoke coming out of the engine nearest to me, and I thought we were going to crash, but as we were safely in the air, I realised that it was probably just some low-floating cloud. Phew.

With Ryanair, there is no food served on board unless you pay extra on the flight, so I spent the whole journey trying to sleep; it doesn't matter what kind of strangers are sitting next to me, I will have my sleep! But I didn't get any, and we landed 3 hours later in Seville. Our luggage didn't take long to arrive on the belt, but once I saw mine, I noticed something different about it; one of the straps had been ripped off along with part of the bag. In the end we found the Rynair customer services and they asked for my passport to take my details down and then gave me a piece of paper I had to fax off to Ireland along with the receipt of the bag. I thought I'd fax it to my mum and she could do the rest as the receipt was somewhere at home, so I called her. Great luck so far! But it gets better. We boarded the bus after finally establishing what the price was with the driver, and I looked out of the window onto the sprawling city that was Seville, finding Ice Age 3 and Harry Potter posters quite amusing for some reason.

We walked to the coach station from the bus stop, with my half-functioning rucksack, and noticing a beautiful park with fountains and palm trees next door. At the coach station I queued up to buy the tickets while the others got changed and brushed their teeth (yes, in the coach station!). I was just expecting to save a place in the queue for the others who'd come later and all chip in with the Spanish they knew (which let's face it, isn't much :S) to try and get tickets, but that was when I said my first proper sentence in Spanish to a Spanish person, "How much are 7 tickets to Granada?" I felt very proud of myself indeed!

We were about to check in our luggage at the coach station so we could explore the city a bit, until two police officers stopped us and asked us for our passports, when I realised, I didn´t have mine! Where could it have been?! I then remembered, Ryanair. Luckily I had a photocopy I showed the police, and I had a missed call from what I presumed was them, and after discovering I only had 45 minutes to get back to the airport and retrieve it, I took a taxi with two of us, and in the end got it back. Alhamdulillah. I could've been far away in Granada without a passport if it hadn't been for those policemen!

After considering eating at a very expenive restaurant, instead we took a heavily discounted tour bus around Seville. The open-air top was amazing; seeing the beauty of the city from above (ish) with the wind blowing in our faces, occasionally trying to grab oranges growing on the many lush Seville trees, listening through headphones at the recorded tour-guide messages as we went from landmark to landmark. We stopped off near the centre of the city, where the streets were all cobbled and pristine. It looked like a perfect city, apart from everybody walking around practically naked (and probably without suncream on too!). But that did kinda spoil the atmosphere. We ate at a restaurant near the bull ring, and the first thing you noticed when you walked in were the humongous bulls' heads mounted on the wall; about 8 of them, with pictures all around of these 'courageous' bull-fighters killing these poor animals.

I felt quite disgusted, but we ate grilled fish and chips, paid the fairly high sum, and left to explore some more, including the cathedral and the giralda, which with the massive tower, used to be the biggest mosque in Seville, now just a tourist attraction adorned with christian crosses everywhere.

Other events included me patting a horse and getting hair everywhere, washing in a random fountain, and taking loads of pictures, before one of us noticed that one of the horses had a 'fifth leg' ¬_¬ We went down a nice-looking tunnel, and found ourselves in such a peaceful arena kind of place (with of course a fountain), and where in the end we decided to pray.

But the last place we went to in Seville was probably the best. We were wondering if we'd have enough time to visit it before the coach left, and we decided we did. It looked magnificent from the outside, but inside the 'Palace de-España' was much more breathtaking! Up the steps we find ourselves facing a MASSIVE courtyard (and I mean massive, bigger than a football stadium), with an equally impressive gigantic fountain in the middle over the bridge; looking magical with its spray being spread across the courtyard by the moving wind.

We obviously got wet as we had planned, which really cooled us down from the blistering summer heat. It felt amazing. Afterwards we walked through the nice park (with more fountains) back to the coach station where we got on the coach for the 3 hour journey to Granada; with the view of the beautiful vast sunflower fields unable to lull me to sleep for some reason. A hollywood film dubbed in Spanish wasn't what I was in the mood for, and while everyone else was sound asleep, I just stared out of the window into the distance.

Arriving at Granada at the dark of the night, it felt so far enchanting, with the feeling of it being one big Edgware Road (minus alot of the arabs) quelled when we approached the main square; festival lights decorating overhead, and the cobbled streets beautifully reflecting everything. After alot of searching and asking around, we found the hostel we booked: Al-Maktoub, which was surprisingly homely, although I don´t know why such an un-arab normal place would've got such a name. From the outside it doesn't look like much of a hostel, but once inside we were shown around and bagsied our beds (with me getting the top of one of the triple bunks!), before leaving our stuff so we could explore the city a bit, but not before we checked Facebook on the hostel's free internet downstairs!

We initially considered eating at a Turkish 'halal' place (which apparently has the Guiness World Record for the largest doner meat thing), but instead we chose a nice little shawerma place across the road, and it was so nice we considered eating there for breakfast the next day ¬_¬ The night-time atmosphere at the 'Plaza de nueve' was so chilled out and calming, and while the others went off for shisha, three of us went up towards Alhambra, where we were due to visit properly the next day, but just to get a feel of it at night. Up the quiet hill road and through a large gate, the stream of water flowing downhill sounded so serene amidst the quiet of the night, and the emptiness of the whole place added to the magic. The graffiti on the walls on the way there (and all of Granada for that matter) was quite cool too, and I made sure I documented them! Then, the bells chimed for 2am, and we made our way back to the hostel for finally, a full night´s sleep. We thought.

This day was hectic, and it was only the first!

Day Zero

2009-07-15T06:54:00.005+01:00

Yep, I´ve decided to keep a log of everything I´ve done on this trip... depending on how often I come into contact with a computer. But since I´m sitting in a Grenada hostel with free internet access, I thought I may as well make a start on typing out the contents of my notepad. And then I´ll try and add photos later on maybe.

The day before a major trip, for me, is usually quite laid back, followed by a few fairly hectic hours, with a couple of games of FIFA interspersed in between. There were no hiccups with the coach from Victoria to Stansted, it left on time at half one in the morning, and arriving at the airport at three. No sleep so far.

When we entered the airport, it didn´t exactly look like one, more like a refugee centre! People were sleeping everywhere. It´s funny how quickly people can make somewhere feel like a home, not caring if people are looking or not. But there were people absolutely everywhere; underneath tables, next to luggage weighing machines; it was like everyone was playing one big game of hide and seek, quite badly.

After praying in the chapel (which had quite a nice piece of art I forgot to take a picture of), we sat down to eat at a cafe, while I bought some crisps and a Pepsi Raw, waiting for Pret a Manger to open so I could get my dolphin-friendly tuna baguette :)

And then I realised, that if I wanted to sleep, I shouldn´t have drank that Pepsi (with natural caffeine :P).

June

2009-07-12T19:52:00.002+01:00

I've written many more posts in June than I'd usually do in a month, probably just to fill the immeasurable void that my absent friends have left, but June was a pretty nice month. So nice and eventful in fact, that I can't think of any J words befitting it. So in a nutshell here's what happened:

I watched Terminator 4, quite an awesome film. But last time I checked, films need stories. 'Twas good anyway.

I passed my theory test, not too difficult alhamdulillah. And on the way there I thought I broke my arm after running for a bus and bashing it on some railings, painful! The scars look pretty cool though. That was after an interesting debate I had with a Muslim and Jewish girl on the bus to Golder's Green. I got on the bus at Neasden and ~~eavesdropped on~~ overheard the two people behind me discussing Israeli politics and I thought "great, two Jews discussing politics all the way to Golder's Green!" And then I realised one of them was a Muslim when they started talking about religion. But I had to interrupt when the Muslim girl said that it didn't say anywhere in the Quran that alcohol is haram; I'd heard enough and I had to break my 'ignore everybody' British tradition and stop her there. And then the debate about whether Hadith can be relied on or not ensued. Yeah, I'm a nosy parker.

I watched Terminator 4 again with another friend. Not as good as the first time, but still alright.

Ronaldo got sold to Real Madrid for a whopping £80 million... a world record. I didn't really like him in the first place even though he's a phenomenal player, but I've got an excuse not to like him at all now that his ego has outgrown Manchester. Which reminds me, I need to get my footy career going and join a club!

I had an MRI scan on the same day as a football tournament. The scan went alright, and afterwards our friend took the team to the place in his nice blue Peugeot 107. The only problem was that this place was in east London somewhere, and even though we had 3 GPS's in the car, the 3 hour journey involved going round in circles, getting lost a few times, and due to my inability to know which exit at the roundabout we get off at, a few extra miles of motorway to cover. I wasn't the most popular person in the car I have to admit. There were loads of almost-accidents as well, but none as bad as the toe I thought I broke during the first match of the tournament. We bowed out of the tournament losing on goal difference, met a few random friends there (as well as both the other Imperial teams) and tinseltown afterwards at midnight did kind of make up for the loss. But 6 weeks on, my toe still hurts!

I went to Oxford Brookes university with Ismael for a Japanese course open day... and I found it quite interesting learning about all the 'kanji' symbols they have, thousands of them, and in the third year of the course you go to Japan! Then I went to the hospital for my toe, and after a few hours of waiting, I find that it's not broken, only bruised :/ But it still hurt like mad!

I also went paintballing with LSOP guys, which was amazing! In a new place called Mayhem; much better than the money-grabbing Delta Force and cheaper too... better scenarios and more intense, especially as if you get shot anywhere on the body or gun, you're out. One forest scenario was so massive, if you ran in one direction for about 20 seconds you'd only be halfway to the other team's base! The last game involved a dummy called Sheila that we had to take from the middle (with the optional bonus of using her as a shield :P) and take her to the other base, and we owned the other team in that game, but it was probably because they all decided to just try and run the whole distance. The paintball people were very nice and they even pick you up from the station and help you when you've lost your glasses case on one of the fields ¬_¬ But I did notice that they all have a habit of saying "fella" to everyone way too much! We all came away decorated with the usual bruises, which certainly would not have been in my case if the rest of our team knew how to shoot a gun in the right direction! My "we are better than them!" speeches didn't really work either. But on the way home a couple of us decided to look at the tube map and quickly get off at any station we thought had a funny name and take a picture beside a sign. We got the idea from the station we first got off at... Theydon Bois!

I went to one of the many court sessions my brother had; yes, for that little metal thing he got arrested for way back in December. We met the barrister representing us, quite a cool guy who went to QM! Watching the court proceedings were quite funny, you could sense the subtle humorous undertones they all carried in their speech, even with the judge! I don't think they took my brother's accusations too seriously, which was good, but another date has been set with a jury and everything.

Then exams, but who cares?' I certainly didn't. I did my best to try and sound serious when putting my theories across when writing; all it was was just randomness, but I'll still be waiting next to the phone in case I did stumble upon something real in my ramblings and they want to offer me an honorary doctorate because of my contributions. Just in case. I missed my last exam because I conveniently booked a nurse's appointment for injections for that day. She called me up beforehand to ask me to bring a helicobacter test kit and 200ml of pure orange juice... baffled. And I discovered I didn't need them in the end.

The Avenue School reunion was nice; seeing old faces and reliving old memories; the food was nice, and at the end we managed to pack up everything before the storm got going. On the way to the car I found an amazing laptop kinda phone (a Nokia E90), and there I stood, under a tree, sheltering me from the downpour, whilst I tried to call the numbers I found on the phone. I also felt weird vibrations coming from underneath my foot, and I was tempted to dig in the mud and stumble upon a new electronic discovery, but the rain was telling me to just get to the car and keep trying the number that wasn't picking up. I finally did get a response, and on the other end was a gratified mother who explained that the phone was a gift her 7 year-old son received from his dad. Then they passed the phone to him, "Thank you!!" I felt good. I felt like I had a purpose. The next morning the dad (who's an accountant) came to pick up the phone, and after I refused the money he offered (obviously!), he said he'd offer with any financial advice I'd need, and his doctor sister could be useful too!

I also received a call from my primary school friend (secret handshake guy) who recently got married, asking if I could sort out the classmate invitations for his wedding party; and again, I felt my overwhelming sense of purpose. But then I realised I was leaving for Spain on the same day as the party :/

So there it is, a bit late late for my liking (2 weeks of staring at notes on a blog draft), June in a nutshell... a rather large nutshell. And tomorrow night I begin my journey for Spain and then Morocco inshaallah!

Banksy, Bristol and Breaking News

2009-06-28T18:52:00.002+01:00

Last Thursday saw me and my brother go off all the way to Bristol for a Banksy exhibition. The hour and a bit bus journey to Victoria, catching (and almost missing) the coach to Bristol, the 3 hour coach journey (sweltering without air-conditioning), the 10 minute stop-off halfway there, the coach almost leaving without us and loads of others ("I said ten minutes!" the coach driver said in his country accent), finally arriving, going to the exhibition, exploring Bristol, and then back on the coach, 3 hours, BOILING hot, no stopping-off, and then the bus journey back home. Was it worth it? Yes!

The exhibition was awesome! The queue for the museum wasn't too long, and after admiring the funny brochure/map we were given, soon we were faced with a melted ice cream van, an aeroplane with a guantanamo detainee pilot model, and various funny statues towering over us in the main room. The queue was leading up to another room, past the gift shop, where the blaring of recorded radio programmes talking about banksy could be heard coming out, and once inside, I was blown away by the sheer genius that was reflected in the works of art on display. Having a good chuckle at the radio hosts condemning Banksy for his 'criminal damage', I took photos of almost everything (which, now I look at them, aren't very good quality due to the darkened rooms) and couldn't not be amazed at the cleverness, simplicity and sheer brilliance with the way each piece of art was conceived and brought to life. Next was a room where the exhibits moved... a CCTV bird guarding its chicks, a caged monkey doing art, chicken nuggets hatching from their eggs and pecking at a tub of ketchup, an old, tired tweety bird, various sausages and hotdogs kept in lizard containers. I think this video catches the mood of mainly the second room quite well:

The rest of the museum (over the whole 3 floors) seemed normal, until closer inspection found lots of randomly-placed Banksy pieces dotted here and there trying to fit in with the other exhibits, like a painting in the gallery with "HOME SWEET HOME" plastered over it. Or in the ancient exhibits section, there was a South American statue with it's back faced towards us and a price tag on it, or something I noticed high up a wall; one of those colour experimentation strips framed. There was also a model of the old city of Jerusalem that I think Banksy had bought from someone, and he placed loads of toy soldiers on it representing the Israeli occupation; Banksy is too cool!

I loved it, but the 5 hours set aside for the exhibition was way too much, and we ended up exploring a bit of Bristol whilst waiting for the coach home. The park next door to the museum was phenomenal, almost uninhabited (especially considering there was a Bristol uni open day next door!), with the amazing weather, it was definitely a highlight on its own; with a massive hill/mountain in the middle with waterfalls and paths running down it. The view from the top was astounding, and that was where we decided our next destination; seeing boat masts in the distance, we headed off towards the harbour, down some deep mysterious paths in the park until we found ourselves on the road leading to the docks. Once there, we could only marvel at the place; the surface of the water glistening like a sheet of diamonds. There we were, soaking up the sun, walking along the edge of the water, admiring all the boats that went past, but alas it was time to go, and we made our way back to the park, back towards Borders where we'd meet our coach home. We had quite a while before the coach arrived (and it came late too!), so we spent some time in the bookshop, looking at the Banksy section, and discovering they also had a Game inbuilt!

After a bit we were on our way home at the back of the sweltering coach, so I took out my laptop that I'd been lugging around all day and started learning a bit of spanish, and that was when I realised that we hadn't gone to the gift shop! I wanted to see the t-shirts!

And upon reaching home, we discovered that Michael Jackson had passed away.

Spore-adic Searching

2009-06-25T00:14:00.018+01:00

Well, that's all folks. The official end to my year at Imperial. It wasn't as I expected: no fireworks, no madness, just me aimlessly wandering around uni hoping to bump into friends, which didn't really happen, at all. I actually missed the exam today because I needed to get my MMR jab and a 'heaf' test done, and I came in so late that there was no-one I knew around! Even the normally phenomenally-long queue at the library cafe had probably relocated to outside a nightclub somewhere. Even though I knew I was leaving a few days after, I did feel some sort of nervousness when I sat the first exam, but still managed to blag my way through the essay questions by letting my imagination do the talking, and by merely guessing the MCQ answers... allow negative marking! Then I left an hour early, chilling, before returning to feel the mood of everyone coming out of the exam. The second day I felt a little more adventurous, drawing little smiley/sad/wiggle faces on the phospholipids I drew, before trying to convey what I thought should be what bacterial spores looked like (dandelion seeds), that grow like hair out of the little bacterium (and I tried to support my theories with pictorial evidence wherever I could), but really, if there was a nuclear apocalypse to happen, you Would want your house to be a spore! I think I conveyed that idea pretty well, as well as them being the reason Domestos can only kill 99.9% of bacteria. Again, I left an hour early, giving a cheeky smile to those stressed-out biochemists who looked up from their sweat-dreanched exam papers.

Anyway, long story short, after the second exam I went to all the pharmacists in South Ken, walked to Knightsbridge (where my phone camera broke... again), in Harrods, through Hyde Park, Oxford Street Boots, then some specialist medical equipment place off Oxford Street... looking for a Helicobacter test kit I was asked to bring in, for this 'heaf test'... no one had it! My mum (after getting pure orange juice, which I also needed for the nurse) asked the local pharmacists next door to the doctor's surgery, said they didn't have it... so I called the surgery; apparently I needed a prescription to get it, got the prescription, got the test kit from the same place they said they didn't have it... problem solved. Or was it?

My third day was planned out quite well in advance, go to nurse, get MMR and heaf test done, go to uni and join in with the post-exam celebrations. That was until my phone broke, so I planned for that to be sent off as well as my occupational health form. So, I went to the nurse, gave her the Helicobacter test kit, and apparently, I didn't need it! After a few hours (and miles) of searching, I discover that a heaf test and Helicobacter test are two different things, the complete opposite of what the reception assured me! But alhamdulillah, I didn't actually need the heaf test in the end, so I sent the form off anyway, and arrived at an almost-empty Imperial late because of the long queue at the post office (which probably belonged at the library cafe). I went to my pigeon-hole and collected the accumulation of marked work I didn't remember doing, before returning my locker key to the nice-ish lab technician lady who earlier in the year caught me going through the lab equipment drawers whilst I supposed to be doing an experiment, and hasn't stopped reminding me/everyone about it since!

As I was using my backup Sony Ericsson phone (the one that had half-destroyed itself during the mountain ordeal), I only took down a few numbers from my LG phone before sending it off and saved the rest on a memory card. I remembered that I'd agreed to meet a friend at Westfield later on, and so I was sure to make note of his number, only to realise that once I was at the shopping centre, it was his house number, and on the other end was a not-so-English-speaking grandmother. So I ended up trawling through Westfield (Europe's largest shopping centre, I think) for about an hour, searching the shops he'd most likely be in, whilst my phone battery decided to die on me. In the end, I went into the Apple shop (where I noticed an HT guy working there, random), charged my phone, and called loads of mates to try and get this friend's number. I finally got my hands on it, and once I called, I discovered he was sitting just opposite the Apple shop, where I met him and we all lived happily ever after. Phew!

And that was my life story for 3 days. What did I learn from those days? That phone numbers (especially the right ones) can really help when you're searching for someone... and that prescriptions are pretty useful things too.

Oh and note to self; remember to empty your locker before returning the key! It saves the embarrassment of having to ask for it back :S

Snap

2009-06-20T19:41:00.002+01:00

I finally decided to upload this year's worth of photos (more than 300... so far) onto facebook, with me deciding to finally deal with the hassle of sorting through pictures from two cameras and organising the jumbled up photos by renaming them and putting them into monthly folders, before uploading them. Things were going well until I decided to delete what I uploaded after I discovered I hadn't put some in the right place, and that was before I faced the ordeal of having to tag everyone in and caption the photos. Now that facebook has by increased the limit per album to 200 photos, I thought it would be much quicker tagging everything and captioning all at once; but I was wrong, by the time I got to photo number 200 of the first album, facebook's connection decided to time out, and once I logged in again, everything was blank! But today, I don't care... because my phone camera started working again!! Out of nowhere. I had one of those moments where I felt I had to take a picture (I've had alot of those, hence the two albums :P) and I tried it... there were no lines on the screen! I was absolutely gobsmacked, and it's ironic because I was filling out the insurance form just this morning; we thought we'd cancelled the insurance, but they were still taking money out of the account, so why not. And even then they wanted an 'excess' amount ¬_¬

My phone is pretty disastrous with the touch screen texting and high monthly bills and everything, but yeah, I'm just happy I can take random pictures again!

Alhamdulillah.

Dreamy Decisions

2009-06-17T17:20:00.011+01:00

The dream I had last night, it was too weird! I was sitting in a sports shop, no-one there, empty apart from this little Brazilian boy who's brother worked there I think. Anyway I saw these amazingly nice orange and black trainers and asked the kid to see if they had any football boot versions of them. They were a hybrid between these (my old ones)...

and these...

The young Brazilian kid came back with completely the wrong ones (wrong colour and everything) and so I got his big brother to come down from the hut (which was weirdly upstairs) and have a look. He came back with some orange ones, and whilst I marvelled at their beauty, I compared them with the ones on display, and noticed they weren't the same! So I asked him to get some more, adamant that I would get the same ones as on display. But again, the wrong ones, albeit quite beautiful; so I asked him to look again, and so he went back up to his hut, this time taking ages. I mean, it felt like hours, and I don't remember what I did to entertain myself during that time (I know, great dream). But he did finally come back, near closing time, but again, they were the wrong shoes, and I was beginning to think that they didn't have the ones I wanted (and now that I think about it, they didn't even ask my size!). But the ones he gave me were quite cool; orange and white with funky ridges and bumps and the studs underneath were nicely designed. Then it was closing time; no chance to find them today, and I realised that the shop for some reason had been booked for a party, and all the tables and everything had been folded up and moved against the shelves.

Quite strangely, I was invited to play football against two of the partygoers, in a large caged pitch that was underneath the hut (which I hadn't noticed the whole time I was in the shop!). It had a goal either side, and the two Brazilian brothers watched through the cage as I put on these white and orange football boots with the funky ridges and beat the two grown men at football, with me amazed by the shoes' ability. After the fun but brief game, and not noticing anyone in particular at the party, I went back into the dimly-lit shop and looked around the shelves where I first saw the trainers of my dreams (literally :P). Squinting up at the top shelf, I noticed the pile of boots I'd earlier turned down (under a spotlight), took them off the shelf, and had a nice look at them; quite beautiful, but they weren't the right ones! Funny thing but I don't remember having any worries about how much any of them would cost. "Hmm," I thought to myself, "could I still take all of these pairs home, even after they find me the right ones tomorrow?" I never found out... I woke up.

But today whilst at Brent Cross, I did see some white and orange football boots that did look very similar to the ones I saw last night... and for one moment, I did believe that I was still dreaming!

Alarm clocks shouldn't exist because...

2009-06-13T09:15:00.017+01:00

1- They're technically not 'alarm' clocks; I just looked up the definition of 'alarm' and here are a couple, among others:

*fear resulting from the awareness of danger
*a device that signals the occurrence of some undesirable event (hmm, waking up maybe?)

So personally they haven't caused me much alarm, apart from when they don't flipping work, which brings me to...

2- They don't flipping work. Today was quite an important day for me, not only was I accompanying Ismael to Oxford for an open day, but more importantly, today is the day facebook bring in usernames (at 5:01 AM... thanks facebook), and I wanted to get my preference in early before some ~~awesome~~ like-minded person got there first... and well, they got there first. This morning I didn't wake up to the sound of an alarm clock, but rather to the sound of silence; I randomly sat up in bed and stared at the clock for a while, analysed it. "Hmm, I set my alarm clock to 6:10 so I could make a username (and go to Oxford), but it says here 7:05. Hmm. And I need to leave in ten minutes, interesting." There's always that pause before the panic ensues, before jumping out of bed, giving breakfast and shower a miss, and getting clothes on whilst cursing the alarm clock, which I probably sleepingly snooze-buttoned, and which brings me to...

3- They have snooze buttons. They are just asking to be pressed. Even if the alarm clock is 100 metres away, I make the effort to reach over and press it, just for that extra few minutes in bed, and those few minutes more, and those few minutes after that. What I'm saying is, I have a snooze button addiction (yep, and I've joined the facebook group); I don't need it at the moment. Snooze is quite a funny word by the way.

4- Alarm clocks are just annoying. I know you can change the alarm tones on your phone, but anything that has no compassion when waking you up deserves to be hated, and I ended up hating certain phone ringtones. Even if it was in the middle of the day and coming from someone else's phone! Annoying.

Anyway, I'm sure there are more reasons why alarm clocks shouldn't exist, but I wonder how people managed without alarm clocks, or clocks at all for that matter! Was everyone late for everything? Or weren't there things to be late for in those times? Maybe the invention of the alarm clock caused everything to change; before we just 'did' and things just 'happened', and now there's the wait for clocks to tell us to 'do' and things to 'happen'.

Back to my waking up story; I found a few minutes to switch on my laptop and get on facebook, fairly sure that no-one could have the same username in mind as me And be bothered enough to log in two hours after it started. "Orangepeeler, perfect!" I thought to myself. And to my dismay, someone had already taken it! Orangepeel... the same! My world was beginning to fall apart in front of my eyes. So I thought I'd think of a good one on the way to Victoria coach station and so I logged off.

On the way I tried logging on with my phone but it wouldn't work; and I had a few ideas: orangesoda (probably already taken by an avid Kenan & Kel fan), redambergreen (after getting desperate and looking at some traffic lights :S), then it hit me... apatheticorange! Yes! It's 'apathetic orange' AND 'a pathetic orange'... something people would point out, and I'd would say "Yeah you loser, I meant it that way, I'm awesome." (and yes, I did consider awesomeorange)! But yeah, it would be a good icebreaker in conversation :P So anyway I got to Victoria and went into the nearest coffee shop to hog their Wi-Fi and get my username in, but guess what, there was no Wi-Fi, and I was distraught until I discovered they had Wi-Fi on the coach we were taking! So I logged in and after first trying orangesoda (surprise surprise it was taken), I did it, I typed in apatheticorange and clicked 'check availability'... "Please please please... YES!" So for the rest of my life now, my facebook profile page will be identifiable as facebook.com/apatheticorange ... mwahaha! I'm sad. And I'm taking my sadness to Oxford.

(Edit: all of the above has been made redundant as I've changed my username to something much better in my opinion: yasinspiration!)