Skip navigation

After a night of frustration, mainly at the stupid UNSW medicine entry form. I’m here to offer another life changing story from my mysterious past.

Firstly about the UNSW thing. I found out that after typing in ALL your information into text boxes and accidentally highlighting parts of the page and pressing backspace doesn’t delete the word you highlight but rather it takes you to the page before, and deletes all the information you just typed in the last hour.

How frustrating. Hopefully this story will make me feel better.

My second story is another from my childhood, another memorable one that means quite a lot to me.I dedicate this to my father.

The scene is set in 1996. My family has now moved out of our apartment in Berala, and we moved into a quaint 3 bedroom townhouse in Dundas.  Funny how 2 years can make so much difference. We lived in relative luxury, my parents having never owned anything larger than an apartment and me, finally having enough room to run; up stairs and across large hallways.

I remember in the end of winter, for the first time in my young lifetime of a mere 5 years, I was faced with the loss of a family member. My Grandfather had passed away in Hong Kong. Admittedly I do not remember him all that well, but even today when I see photos of the handsome smiling man in his 40’s in my dad’s photograph cabinet I can’t help but think of the times he had rocked and cradled me as a baby.

Father and Son

The loss hit my dad infinitely harder than it would ever hit me. He took an express flight the day after hearing the news, a grim expression on his face as he bundled me up and kissed me goodbye that morning.

In hindsight, the courage and bravery it must have taken to act as a father although his own father was no longer with him makes me tingle with pride mingled with sadness.

Back then I did not understand grief and what had happened. I was not unhappy for my grandfather at the time because of the euphemisms used, but I was upset that my father was leaving. I could not believe that he was going somewhere without me, I had never been without either mum or dad for more than a span of 6 hours.

To be honest, I was afraid that he would leave me, forever. I was afraid I would never see him again.

That ball of emotion I felt welling in my throat as I watched my father walk out the door will remain with me forever.

2 weeks passed, I remained upset. My mother consoled me with tight hugs and constant meals, to take my mind off my father. But the only thing that gave me hope was the sound of his voice. He only called twice in his visit but I savoured every second.

Fathers day arrives and at school, there is a fathers day stall. I remember feeling low and unhappy the whole day, I didn’t speak to anybody, I didn’t eat, didn’t do anything but just sat there staring at the same point on the wall. Somehow I summoned the courage to confront the stall tables and choose out a gift for my father.

My dad had told me countless bedtime stories of sail ships and the ocean prior. My father had been an avid sailor all his life, in fact my Grandfather even more so, volunteering in WWII for the British Navy in Hong Kong. So keeping this in mind I bought him a glass bottle with a model sailing ship inside it.

Everyday I waited, I clutched onto the glass bottle, a reminder of my father and my father’s father. Then finally the day came. The day my father came home.

I could not sleep the night before, the morning I managed a bowl of cereal, and for the rest of the day I sat clutching onto the gift in my tiny palms. The doorbell rang, and I surged forward shouting in delight as I hugged his knees whilst he swept me into a tight embrace, I thought I saw a tear in his eye, but to this day he claims that it was only the trick of light.

13 years later I still have the glass bottle with the scale sailing ship. Its kept in the same photo cabinet as my Grandfather’s portrait.

This story reminds me of importance of a strong relationship between me and my parents. In hindsight I could see my selfishness in wanting to keep my father home to stay with me, but because of it, I feel that our bond is as strong as ever. So I guess it must be true; absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Although for me to enjoy such a realisation, I also see how my father faced grief, as a man, on his own and I recognise how difficult it must have been for him to come to terms with the loss of the same bond that I now felt.

Now I can’t say that I don’t dread the time when I too will be faced with such a loss, but through these reflections, I believe there will be a time where one understands that whatever happens, happens. And it is not what happens that matters, but it is how we deal with it that defines us as humans. To remember is much better than to forget.

In saying this, I will always remember you Grandpa and may you bask in the love and tenderness that your sons and daughters have shown you.

.:. Danny

Back from my intense maths session, I’m here to regale you with my first story from my childhood, its quite a memorable one with lots of meaning in my life and is  ingrained into my memory forever.

But firstly, I would like to reflect back on the terrible events that happened on this day 8 years ago. May all 2993 of those who lost their lives rest in peace. It is more important to commemorate the fallen than to forget that the terrible events ever happened. The following video may contain scenes that may disturb some viewers.

Now that the sombre part of this entry has passed, I wish to lighten the mood with one of my childhood stories. For those of you who were at Ms Treskin’s interview session on Wednesday, you may already have heard this, but I have extra details that I accidentally omitted.

Being born in Hong Kong, my family moved to Australia in 1995 when I was at the tender age of 3. Times were hard, both of my parents could not speak English and money was hard to come by as all my parents savings and money were still overseas, we relied on the donations from blessed relatives and close friends.

The story is set in a shopping centre near Berala in the inner western suburbs in a scorching summer of 95′. A 4km walk  to the shops is tough enough for two young adults and their toddler but in 35+ degree heat, it would have been killer.

Upon arriving at the shops, sweating profously, no doubt. A Macdonald’s must have caught my eye, (as my dad walks into my room reminds me just then) because I was basically drooling at the mouth staring at the burgers and chips and most importantly the ice cold soft serve cones.

The thing was, my parent’s wallets were totally empty except for a few traveller cheques that they would use to pay for groceries and a mere 30 cents, that they had planned to borrow a trolley from Woolworths for groceries; I guess back then you had to pay for your trolleys instead of slotting in a $2 coin and loosening it from the stand nowadays.

Well instead of using the money for the trolley, my parents opted to carry all the groceries by hand while in the store as well as on the ardeous 4km walk back to our apartment just so I could enjoy the wonderful taste of a soft serve cone in the middle of summer.

I remember vividly all 3 family members, me, my mum and my dad, taking turns licking the ice cream, the sweet cooling vanilla enveloping my tastebuds.

That sweet taste has never left my mind since, as I draw upon this experience to remind me how hard my parents have worked to raise me in an unfamiliar environment, the sacrafices they had made; moving away from friends and family, giving up past jobs, just so that they could offer me a better life, in a country free from conscription and what they perceived as tyranny. (the jury’s out on this one)

Nowadays, I have a lot more than 30 cents in my wallet each and everyday and I can potentially buy a soft serve cone from Macdonald’s for 50 cents whenever I pass one.

But thats not the point of the story.

My humble beginnings serves as my constant inspiration to not take anything for granted; no matter how small or large, to always love those who are dear to me, putting their needs before my own and to never rest knowing how far I’ve come, but to always strive to achieve more in everything that I do; there is always room for improvement.

I hope you have enjoyed my first story of many and that you too may have a similar situation or story that you can draw upon for inspiration.

If anyone can try and decode my STAR story, help me try and find a result for this story, I’m at a loss to say what I have learnt as a result of this experience apart from the above, and I just don’t know if they are applicable in a med interview. Thanks in advance to those who help.

Stay tuned for the next tales of interest, when I have free time after my study sessions or when I possibly get bored of maths homework and feel like procrastinating.

.:. rest in peace 911

Danny

I have always wondered how it would feel to start a blog of my own; what with the need for constant input, uploading ridiculously hilarious pictures of peers, typing words in an interesting fashion so that it won’t be boring to read, I can see why one would feel a bit intimidated but I’ve done it, I’ve finally started a blog and I will try to the best of my abilities to commit to it.

Formalities aside, I’ve made myself a blog to try and bottle up what memories left of school there are in my twisted labyrinth of  my mind so that I’ll always have a place to return to whenever nostalgia kicks in, which I predict will be pretty soon.

I also plan to take as many photographs with everyone as inhumanly possible in the next few weeks which is a severe jump for one who is highly unphotogenic, so the greatest ones will be coming straight here for further luls and whatnot.

I promise if you guys keep reading and commenting here, I’ll have more incentive to post up regularly and entertain you with wild and quirky stories from my youth and my not so young days in high school, so stay posted whilst this blog of mine starts to develop into a fully grown blog-monster. For those who were at Treskin’s interview session on Wednesday, you know how interesting my STAR stories are, even if they’re not about medicine.

Hopefully no one gets bored reading my spiel here, as you can see I’m quite new to this new thang but I’m happy to learn and progress to bigger and greater things. And now I’m running out of things to say off the top of my head so I’m off to do some maths and may come back later to detail you with a story from my childhood/highschool life.

.:. Danny 😉