Time dilation

My dad’s begin radiotherapy for the cancer in his neck. So far, it sounds like he’s impressed—the process has been more or less painless, and the biggest side effect so far has been that he gets a really dry mouth all the time.


He did explain that, at first, he was having some pretty claustrophobic reactions to having to wear the custom molded face and chest plate. Undrstandably, probably—if I had something form fitted out of heavy radio-proof lead that fit flush with my front, to the point where I couldn’t even open my jaw, I’d probably be pretty fucking scared too.

I’m relieved that he feels better about things.

He did mention in a message that chances are, they’ll completely eradicate it—but that there is always that likelihood that it pops up again in a few years and they’ll have to fight something similar again. I don’t know what I think about that—but I guess we’ll deal with this first.



I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be around people lately.


My grandfather passed away. That was pretty tough for me. The last time I saw him was when [CM] and I were in Montreal for our wedding there. And then the next thing I know–  he was gone.

I wonder sometimes why my parents don’t speak about their grandparents very much. Actually, I don’t know anything about my grandparents. They don’t even really tell me much about their own parents—by the time there was anything to say, it was only in remembrance really.


I’ve been pretty alone lately. This is mostly because CM is up working on her mandatory rural hospital placement—she’s completeld 1 month out of 3 months service so far. We just have to tough it out for a little while longer.

I’ve been alone lately, but I wouldn’t say that I’m feeling ultra lonely—not most of the time anyway. But maybe I’ve always been a bit of a loner, and maybe that’s how I got started blogging in the first place?


I’ve just been thinking about people, and the relationships they have with other people. And memories. And connections. And those sorts of things.

I’ve spoken to my dad in recorded whatsapp messages more in the past month than I have spoken to him probably in the last two years, barring the times when I was actually in front of him on vacation. It’s been strange, but at the same time, it just feel right and familiar in other ways. It’s all just strange.


I know I’m rambling but it’s just that mortality has been a lot on my mind since I started this whole Australian adventure. Both of my grandparents have since passed away with cancer. One of my mom’s siblings passed away from cancer. My dad was recently diagnosed. Hell, even I was told a couple of years ago that I had a growth (in my hip bone, but it seems benign).


When my dad told me the other day that my grandparents’ house had officially been sold—I paused for a moment. I spent so much of my time growing up there. I don’t know if my dad knew when he left me that voice message, but he said something along the lines of “We’ve handed over the keys already, we can’t go back there anymore.” A part of me wanted to go back there I guess. Even if it was just empty rooms, I can even now just picture it all.

My sister and I used to link up elastic bands on end and put a knot at the end of the ensuing chord, then we’d throw one end through the stair rails and swing around pretending to be Spider-Man—back in a day when my uncle used to collect the comics (way before the movies came out). We used to build forts out of the sofa cushions, and hide under the kitchen and dining room tables.

Even if the rooms were empty and devoid of furniture, I could still point out the part of the ceiling near the stairwell where I used to rub off the plaster, because I somehow thought that that was fun. I would probably even remember which steps creaked, and which ones you stepped over so that you didn’t make a sound when playing hide and seek.



I keep forgetting that it’s been a decade since I left for Korea now. Facebook, of all ‘people’, is the source of the reminders. I remember how a decade ago, drama was thick and active, and it happened over the course of hours and days. Nowadays? Weeks go by and I don’t notice all the time.

Maybe it’s because of work. It seems like some silly cliché that lawyers work too much, and I seem to remember thinking at some point that that would never be me. But here I am—putting in 40 hour weeks at the firm, and teaching for 3 universities part time on the side. And since CM’s been one? I’ve somehow managed to fit in about 10 hours of judo into the last week alone.


Maybe it’s because I’m alone at home most days after work—I’m not unhappy, I don’t feel like my life is out of control. But I wish I could stop time from getting away from me.