"Pain and death are part of life. To reject them is to reject life itself." - Havelock Ellis

Pain and fear have always been secondary to me; whether if it's physically, mentally or emotionally administered. Not that I claim to be a trooper in this "brave" new world nor am I contesting the notion that I'm a toughie built to take any shit thrown my way. But that's just the way I grew up to be.

In my youth, I loved thrill rides and carnivals. My eldest sister, Mitchell, & I were the daredevils who enthusiastically undertook any form of thrill ride, be it the multi-storey demon drops, the vikings, the triple-looped roller coaster or the bumper cars...both of us were always the first to volunteer and queue relentlessly for our turns, no matter how many people were in front of us. When I was 7, Mitchell drove me in the bumper car & halfway through, the ride went horribly wrong & I went home crying, forehead bleeding coupled with a black & blue eye. That didn't deter me. In 2003, Mitch& I stood in the queue in Korea's biggest themepark at freezing cold temperatures (in our ill-prepared thin jackets cos we weren't experienced in packing for cold temperatures then) just to have a turn on their scariest ride...refusing to give up though we were due back into our tour bus in 15 mins. In 2000, Mavis & I were atop of an 18-storey demon drop in sydney; her eyes squeezed shut & nails dug deeply into my arm (holding on for her dear life), while my eyes were wide opened staring at the countdown screen that goes 5...4...3...2...1, all the while anticipating the plunge to down below. I would recall that later on, Mavis went off green-faced to a corner while I queued a 2nd time (...was not as fun this time around). Since then, I have been charting the dates where I will experience bungee-jumping (but my prof told of his slipped disc story that kinda deterred me) & sky-diving.

Emotionally at a young age, I was taught to cope with pain and fear in a unique manner. I wasn't detached (like my mum). But I have learned that when my emotions took a turn for the worst, I would just have to move on after a period of spacing out. My tears flowed lesser as I carried heavier experience baggages, reminding myself after each time that every occurence is a lesson and one should not allow themselves to dwell. Sure, there are times where I lose track of my emotions and got melodramatic, however, my coping mechanism always bounces back pretty well...thus in no point of my youth do I face issues such as the need to self-mutilate, take up smoking/glue sniffing, or engage in gang-related activities or fights (however due to narrow-mindedness of Asians, I tend to be categorised as being having a "past" due to my interest & ownership of tattoos...I no more feel indignant & have accepted it as part of my culture's stereotyping). If you can't fight it, live with it...besides, I have proved myself in other ways such as my academics and my innate ability to engage people in conversations (with more than passable grammer & vocab).

Lest to say, physical pain wasn't much of a concern of mine. My somewhat selectively traditional mum hates it that I started having multiple piercings since 13, which channelled to tattoos. As of now, I have retired all my piercings but my tattoos irritate her to no end. So much so that when I lost my toenail in a freak accident 2 weeks back, she got into sarcasm mode whenever I whimpered & whined about the pain (" I thought your skin is very thick? Since you can tattoo yourself what's losing a toenail?). I also hated visits to the doctor; not because I fear pain or injections...but rather, I hated the feeling of waiting such a long time to see the doctor, who will proceed in less than 10mins to complete his prognosis. I always prefer to self-medicate because I hated waiting alone. I could count with the fingers on one hand, the number of times I was accompanied by someone vaguely resembling an adult, to the clinic when I was a child, no matter how sick I was. It was usually me alone, so, I rather skip the boredom of long lonely queues and self-serve.

Today, I suffered a bout of severe gastric, which was rather alarming cos I seldom experience stomach-related pains. Needless to say, I refused to travel to the clinic after several visits to the loo & my boss's persuasion. Why am I still able to type this? It's lunch-time & I have just self-medicated with the aid of my colleague's miracle stomach-flu pills :D