A Blog About An Asian Medical Student. Yes that's redundant.

Monday, December 31, 2007

POON Classics: The Greatest Experiment Known to Man

I know, some of you are wondering "what happened to the POON club on Facebook?"

And when I say some, I mean, an Asian girl.

And as my girlfriend will tell you, I only aim to please Asian girls.

In order to keep some semblance of regularity to the POON blog, I'm going to start posting 'POON Classics,' essentially highlighting the great moments from my blogging history.


... was the first arc of my ill fated 'Dissonance Connection' blog, which had a steady readership, until I stopped updated (sound familiar?).

Let it not be in vain.

I'll be re releasing these posts will ALL NEW FOR 2008 BRAND NEW CONTENT!!! Just like Star Wars, only with more Wookies!!!!!

Back before the Dissonance connection ended, I had one die hard fan. I hope he's still here to post regularly. As I expect all of you to. Or else the blog dies. Again.

Not that you care.


And for a little trivia, I had a buddy who actually skipped class to read every single segment of this blog, finding it so interesting he would gamble his medical school career on it.

Please love my writing. It compensates for my penis size. '


Yes, I realize I haven't updated my blog in months. I'm currently working on 'www.doyoubelieve.ca' which can be used to keep you updated on my daily exploits of madness and debauchery. And um, Pokémon. Minus the debauchery... and Pokémon...

I will be using this space to keep you updated on a personal endeavor I will be undertaking. I call it 'Project David Doesn't Sleep.'

Recently, in my Physiological Psychology class, in between lessons of humility, I found out that Leonardo da Vinci had slept fifteen minutes every four hours, totaling one and a half hours of sleep a day. This led me to consider - why is it a short nap leaves me more refreshed than the eleven hour blackout I have immediately following midterms. If the second greatest Ninja Turtle can operate on little sleep, then certainly the all-powerful David-Man Poon can simply SURVIVE it.

Hold me.

According to my textbook, numerous studies have shown that roughly two weeks are necessary for the body to adapt to a polyphasic sleep schedule (multiple sleeps per day). Over the next three weeks, I will embark on a journey ridden with peril and nightmare, both in the bed and out. Those not of the faint heart can witness my slow transformation from David Poon to man in this journal chronicling this daring procedure. And those who fear for my life, do so - I may not come back from this one.

The plan is as follows:

1. Have three sets of wakefulness, lasting seven hours long, with three, one hour naps between. This will total three hours of sleep a day, at least until I get used to the setup. The hours of alertness are: 23:00-06:00, 07:00-14:00, and 15:00 - 22:00
2. Keep a fridge fully stocked with Full Throttle, No Rush, and Mint Java-Chip Frappachinos. Red Bull sucks.
3. Lose ten pounds. I figure if I'm going to be awake, I might as well exersize.

While I'm at it, throw in a few girls and we'll call it the greatest three weeks of my life.

There's more to this ridiculous journey than meets the eye. In four weeks, finals season begins. If I am unable to successfully complete my mission and convert to a polyphasic sleep schedule, I will most surely perish at the hands of first year computer science. Should I realize my goal, I will have more time than any other mortal to cram. The stakes high, the rewards extraordinary, and the logic nonexistent - it begins.


- David

If I start crying uncontrollably, don't touch me - I may asplode your mind with my psychic powers.

And the original comments posted:

omy I finally got to reading your blog and I have to say that is a worth goal! I commend you for it - please ignore me if I start laughing at you troubles involving lack of sleep. I doubt I'll be able to help myself.
November 13 11:44:41 PM

Oh boy.... Didn't Kramer from Seinfeld try this? Wasn't there some form of disasterous result?? Will you be answering your phone Vandelay industries as well?? Sorry. I support you to some extent. I really do. Just don't get sick or anything. Because theres no use making your life miserable to impress Leonardo DiVinci. Michelangelo was always the cool one anyways. It was the nunchucks. Cowabunga Poon! Aubs
November 07 8:59:12 PM

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

What I Miss About High School. A Card to You.

What I Miss About High School.
A Card to You.
Nostalgia by David Poon.

As I ‘grow up’ to begin living as a working, rational, responsible adult, I visit my beloved hometown of Regina, Saskatchewan, less and less often. But as Christmas approaches, the holiday season, I make my pilgrimage back to the place that raised me.

One could assume one of two things about someone who reminisces greatly about high school:

1) That grades 9 – 12 were, in fact, reflective of all the greatness that person could ever achieve (such as high school sports heroes who insist on wearing their team jacket well into their thirties, “academics” whose only real talent was buttering up teachers, and pretty cheerleaders who grow ugly, fat, and David Poonish).

2) Students who faced such intense, psychological trauma in high school that the only way for them to continue life is to psychoanalyze that period for at least a decade. And go emo. I love emo.

Naturally, I would fit both categories quite well. I mean, for point 1, I was the president of my high school! And, for point 2, I was the single most unpopular, suckup to the teacher, IB Asian nerd president in the history of Campbell Collegiate (no joke – ask anyone who graduated with me).

But other than the fact that I’m a sad little puppy dog, there is a real reason that I love to look back.

It happens when I’m driving.

Well, yeah, I SHOULD look back when I drive so I don’t get rear ended.

I meant, like, look back on my life. Like, seven years ago.

You know, look back…

There is a long stretch of road that I travel frequently getting from the South End of Regina to the posh, surrounded by brick wall South End of Regina. It contains part of our Ring Road highway, and goes straight into our residential area. In short, this long stretch would leave me bored, narcoleptic, and likely in a hospital bed if I didn’t spend it with my mind wandering.

At this point, I should mention, it is the same stretch that I took every day for four years to get to high school.

In no particular order.

I miss rollerblading over the summer without having to worry about how much more effectively I can use that time. To have someone visit me at my door (sometimes a girl!) and spend an afternoon gliding on the streets.

I miss my rollerblading accidents. From my friends pushing me towards a small body of water near my house to teach me to stop, to my face first wipeout at a four way stop, to the great amusement of a lady who nearly ran me over. Oh, and the old man who began yelling advice to me from his car window as I struggled around the lake (“STRAIGHTEN YOUR LEG!!”).

I miss capture the flag in my backyard. And that time we guarded our flag so poorly it was stolen by bigger, older kids.

I miss walking around school with a severed Pooh Bear head on a stick without people glaring at me funny. Well, at least the second time I did it.

I miss karaoke nights at the Asian bar. If there was ever a bigger waste of time than hanging out with Asian kids, I didn’t care – it was high school. At least the girls were cute.

I miss taking the time to dress up for school. Not to impress someone – just because it looked nice.

I miss grade 9s looking up to me. I don't know why, but they did.

I miss the Backstreet Boys being popular.

I miss playing Virtual Tennis in my basement. And always winning.

In fact, I miss all the Poon Parties in my basement. For the record, the largest Poon Party to my recollection was 90 people at my place at once. To the people reading who don’t know what a Poon Party is, think high school bands, unofficial yearly awards, karaoke, Dance Dance Revolution, and chicken balls.

On that note, I miss Too Ply, the greatest high school band to almost accept me. I’ll write a blog about that sometime. And for the record, I had a hand in writing their hit song.

I miss Improv! And debate! And all those other things I’ve since sacrificed so I can be a “better” doctor.

I miss our IB (International Baccalaureate) study parties. Sure we “cared” about our marks, but we could still gamble some of our learning for some fun. Before we had to worry about how our education would affect our career, we could worry about how funny our presentation could be, with insider jokes and all.

Come to think of it, I miss in jokes where pretty much everyone understood them.

I miss not doing homework on a Friday night.

I miss not doing homework on a Friday night and not feeling guilty about it.

I miss not worrying about how my worries will actually become reality.

I miss the absolutely ridiculous wonder and obsession I had with being cool. I don’t think I ever got to BE cool, but damn it, IB Nerd Cool. Hah. I’m hilarious.

I miss fundraisers that didn’t have to be about Africa. No offence. And with that, I miss using Kleenix without being told about the environment.

I miss having wisdom teeth.

I miss throwing candy at my teachers in class. I miss (successfully) debating my teachers for bonus marks. I miss bonus marks that were actually bonus. I miss fighting over 2 percent on an exam as if my life depended on it (it did, BTW; don’t forget I was a premed).

I miss the IB adjustment.

I miss horribly awkward first dances. I doubt any Darude song could get my heart pounding as fast as the first dance with a girl I barely knew.

I miss Darude.

I miss that sortawarm/sortalight/sortafresh morning feeling that we got when we realized that we sat outside on my stairs for too long.

I miss going to school knowing that I would walk by virtually every single person I liked in one day, making plans for that weekend, never having to worry about making each moment count. There would be many more, and besides – they already did.

I MISS the world being that small, where everything outside was still romantic, still mysterious, still heart stoppingly, breathtakingly, beautiful and naieve. Where every day was still wondrous.

As we grow up, each day we are more disappointed, every moment we feel slightly more hopeless – we loose that enthusiasm, that willingness to believe that every moment had value in some way to our lives.

What I miss about high school is the sheer excitement of seeing every new experience with an inspired eye, not bogged in realistic boundaries, but limitless optimism. To feel the butterflies in your stomach before your first band concert, not because you were afraid, but because your performance still mattered to you. To greet to someone you admired and have them reply meant the world because real, worthy idols could still exist.

To smile in the hallway and know that it was normal, it was sincere, it was okay to make a new friend.

Most of us, typically, come home during this season. We go back to where we grew up, to at least some of the people who raised us, to reenact traditions we did over and over before. That timelessness, that joy, at least in my opinion, is where the holiday magic lies. This time of year, for a brief moment, I ask you to forget what limits we’ve set upon ourselves, and look at our lives with a sense of positive possibility.

Before my first day of grade 9, I was given a piece of advice from a family friend who has long since disappeared from my life. In helping me deal with my worry of not being liked, he told me,

“You’re all in the same situation – you’re all looking to make friends.”

By the time I finished writing this, I come to a very comforting realization.

I would never have had such fond memories of being home, had it not been for all of you, my friends.

Happy Holidays. I owe you so much.

- David

Sunday, July 1, 2007

David Poon: Forever Longing.

David Poon: Forever Longing – An Experiment in the Distance

When I was young, I’d go to the Canada Day festivities around Wascana Lake, fighting mosquitoes and waiting in line for pizza. Quite alike the day signifying the birth of my country, it was also the origin of my distaste for the outdoors and my subsequent weight gain.

Perhaps most vividly, I remember watching happy (heterosexual) couples enjoying themselves walking around the lake, the man buying the girl some ice cream, the girl then obligated to consumed the creamy goodness he offered. It is no secret that I was a fat kid back in the day, and as elementary social hierarchies dictate, fat kids never get to talk to girls (unless they listen to the Backstreet Boys, see previous POON blog posts).

As such, I was left to aimlessly wander in the park, holding my Mommy’s hand, and looking at girls who I could never have.

In short, I dreamed of being kissed underneath the fireworks. Silly, I know. But those were big hopes for a kid. Heck, those are pretty big unattainable goals for me even today.

For as long as I can remember, every Canada Day has been spent with my family. In particular, we would watch the fireworks together, despite the incredibly short duration Saskatchewan fireworks last. Even when I somehow ended up in Saskatoon (for what is otherwise known as the ‘Great Pre-Med Rush’), waiting up late for an exciting, yet a consistently brief and unsatisfactory big bang.

Yep, I hear you, sounds like a typical night with me.


Perhaps the closest thing my family has to a tradition is watching the Canada Day fireworks. I realize I’m not the most exciting guy ever, but I usually would never pass up the opportunity to host what my friends would call ‘Poon Parties’ (pretty much sobre karaoke and Dance Dance Revolution nights… actually, if you’re reading this blog, you’re probably been to one. You’re lame).

But when it came to Canada Day, maybe the biggest excuse to celebrate of the year, I would look away from all the drinking, dancing, and partying (ie; avoid fun) and spend a relaxed time with the family. And that was okay.

Well, until recently. In 2005, Saskatchewan celebrated its centennial in what may have been the greatest Canada Day Party on the lake that I ever missed out on. I remember my lame buddy telling me about it:


Yes, he sounds like that. And no matter how dumbass the guy talking about the party sounded, I was jealous. Maybe it was time for me to cut the proverbial umbilical cord, and follow all that Canada Day partying. Family time can be any day – July 1st is for superfun.

I’m going to wager that we’ve all had those moments where we’ve wondered how much more exciting could things have been should we wander from the wegular woutine of weveryday family life (10 ‘w’ words in this sentence… no, 11! Elmer Fudd would be proud).

Besides during Canada Day, high school gym class, and porn watching, I’ve never felt lonelier than in Calgary Chinatown. My Grandparents live there, and honestly, it’s hard to pick up hot Asian chicks (yes, I once had a fetish) when Grandmom is repeatedly telling you to eat more so we don’t waste food.

“Aiya, Lee Ling, that fat Asian kid being excessively fed by his Ah-Ma (grandmother in Cantonese) is so totally hot.”

“You’re right Che Xie Wong, we should so totally put on our schoolgirl outfits and invite him out to bubble tea!”

No. No. I wish. But no.

As a kid, I would look across the dinner table, above the Dim Sum and the Peking Pork Chops to glance at a girl I know I could never follow or get to know. Have you ever felt like that? Wondering how things could be if you could connect with someone for only one day?? That pit of longing in your gut is only felt by hopeless romantics – normal people think that’s just gay.

But exploring Chinatown to welcome the (apparently) exciting night life would never be an option – a commitment to family is obviously the priority. Yesterday, on a Saturday night, I’m eating rice porridge with my Grandmother and Father while the rich Asian kids outside race their RSXs.


This Canada Day, in between actually having a girl who likes me and hearing about my friend dressing as a beaver for a drunken orgie-esque party, I knew it was time to go to the Edmonton river with my friends, and maybe have some ice cream with my girlfriend.

Recently, my Grandfather has been hospitalized. Nearly 90 years old, it’s been quite different going to Chinatown now. This is my second consecutive weekend here. Visiting him last time left him thinking that the only reason I would come to see him is because he is going to die. Dad told me I had done what I needed to do, and it was unnecessary for me to visit again.

After much debate with my Father, when I finally convinced him that I should get to Calgary he advised me to stay only a day, worried that my presence in his hospital room wouldn’t be too helpful. This meant I would be back Sunday night, July 1st – Canada Day. Perfect.

Despite being told repeatedly by family that I shouldn’t stay, that I couldn’t be of any real help, and that my Grandfather may actually live, it became quite obvious that despite being given every oppourtunity, and in fact having been encouraged, to go out and have a good time, there is an important difference between enjoyment, and happiness.

All trials considered, there may be no stronger correlate to happiness than family.

What shocked me over the past couple of weeks was my Grandmother and Father both having advised me not to stay in Calgary, even though they are going through so much. Though typically I don’t disobey family, I changed my bus tickets to stay as long as possible.

A little after, my Grandmother told me, not knowing my travel changes, that she hopes that I’d be able to stay longer, even though she also wants me to go back to Edmonton and ‘have fun with my girlfriend.’ Really.

Due to my Grandfather’s seemingly declining status, my Mommy and sister flew to Calgary today. In apparently the greatest collision of fates ever, I’ll be in Chinatown, on Canada Day, staying at home with my family, girlfriendless, watching the parties across the way.

I hope the fireworks are beautiful tonight. They always are.

- David