Monday, September 15, 2008

Sulk

Anger is a funny word. It is no longer scary to me.

I finished the damn news story and now I have an oral presentation to do that is based on my first creative writing assignment. Then there's the Drama essay and the second creative writing assignment, following that would be the second news story and let's not forget the monologue that I have to prepare for Drama class where i'll have to go solo and lose feeling in all my fingers and toes. Oh yes, then the feature writing for Journalism and last but not least, a lovely script for Screen and Sound plus the biggest assignment for Creative Writing. Did I say all that in one breathe.

I just sound so bitter these days, I'm like a crinkled and withered prune, faded and jaded by age and experience. I need to go somewhere far away to feel a 100 years younger and better. The other day in Journalism class we had to write a very short piece about the few hours we experienced on Friday morning getting ready for the class. When I read mine out for the tutor she complimented me and said "that's very good I get a sense of stress in yours."
I didn't even mean to make my character sound stressed so I'm naturally just freaking out. What a bummer, ei?

When I think about those long summer holidays spent back home, I am envious of that carefree and lazy routine I had. Of the person that I was. I just feel different. I know I sound different. I know I am different.

Let me tell you that this sucks.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Anything Goes

I'm sitting in my room, a room I share with another girl (yes I have to share my privacy too, alert the media will ya?). I'm eating leftover mihun from lunch today. I'm still hungry. And I have to write my first ever news story which I want so badly to turn out nicely.

Today was stupid and there is no better word for it. Pointlessly and uselessly stupid. I have literally done nothing and for the first time it is not actually my fault. Ok I mean yes of course it is, but I didn't literally sit down and do nothing. If that was the case I would be feeling stupider and crappier. I was doing alot of things, but none of them proved to be actually fruitful.

Morning, 830am: I got up and woke Vivek for class. Went back to sleep and dreamt that I had already gone to the damn police station for an interview for the news story which is what I should have been doing instead of sleeping.
10.30am: Woke up again, rolled over and swore colourfully at my blanket. But no problem right, I still had time because class was only at 1.30pm.
11.30am: I am showered, changed and shot up with coffee, all ready for anything to come my way. Except for this: While packing my bag, I realize that my notebook is missing. My extremely-important, black and shiny notebook with all my class notes, research and story ideas is gone. I look everywhere in my flat and decide that if it's not here it has to be in Vivek's flat because I'm usually there half the time. It's already getting late and I still have to cook lunch so I have to go to his flat anyway, which is where all the groceries are. I do a quick search in his room, half-expecting to find it obviously, because where else would it be? It is not there. In near tears, I chop vegetables and fry some prawns and eggs. Vivek comes out and sees me distressfully making mihun. I tell him everything and he searches his room immediately but comes up with nothing. I tell him that it may be in the library when we went there on Monday late at night. He tells me that there are two of our friends already at the library so we call them and ask them to check Lost and Found. While waiting for their call, I make another call to another friend, hoping I just left it in his flat because I had been there on Monday as well. Nothing so far, and negative from the library. We eat quickly and I tell Vivek that I may have left it in my media class even though I don't remember taking any notes. We check the rooms in the building and also the Lost and Found there. I am furious with myself at this point and I tell Vivek that I have to check the library for myself. Before we get to the library I remember that I had entered the computer labs right next to the library yesterday, before Drama class. I run in there and lo and behold; my precious notebook is sitting there, in all its pink Post-Its glory and smirking at me. What a broomstick.
Afternoon,1.45pm: Search of the Big Black Notebook is over but I miss my Creative Writing workshop in all that frenzy. I console myself with the fact that I'm not missing much and this is the first tutorial that I've missed in 6weeks of university. Woo-hoo. Vivek and I return to the flat to finish our meals and I plan my next few hours; some bank work for tomorrow's rent and the visit to the police station. When I get to the Murdoch train station I find out that there's actually a bus that passes the Police Station and I am overjoyed as my original plan was to walk. The feeling doesn't last because when I get there, the station is closed. Spying a number for general inquiries, I put in a quick call to them and they tell me well, yea the office is closed and no, I can't exactly barge in and demand some time for a short interview. The lady on the line is pleasant and gives me a number for the Youth Action Team (as my story involves young offenders, or juveniles if you like). I call the YAT and they tell me that I have to put my request in writing. Well, the story's due tomorrow and no, I'm not doing last-minute work, I only had this idea to interview the police yesterday so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Evening,5.30pm: I am back in Vivek's flat and I've researched for 24-hour police stations. The one the lady recommended to me is an hour away from here by bus. I found another one though, that wasn't too far away and was on the way to Vivek's work (also, it is where the infamous secondhand bookshop is).
6.10pm: I have reached the city of Fremantle and I go on a wild search to find the police station. I pass a town hall which has a library as well and I get distracted but do an about-face and keep looking. I find the police station after awhile and again, have feelings of happiness which again don't last very long either because the lady who greets me at the counter doesn't look too certain that she can help me (let alone be allowed to even talk to me). I wait there for nearly 10minutes until she comes out with a piece of paper bearing an e-mail address to forward my queries to. I am right, she is not really supposed to talk to "the public" which is why she can't even sit down and talk to me casually about young offenders that are terrorizing the neighbourhood and getting away with it because the laws in Western Australia protect them from incarceration and a criminal record.
6.40pm: The wind blows my only cap away and the bus comes at the same time so I can't run in the streets and scream about my cap like the madperson I want to be.

As you can see, it has been a very productive day. Let me excuse myself so I can go scoop some water up with a fork. Good night ladies and gentlemen, pray that I can make myself proud in the next few hours.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Virago

I am reading something special for Drama class. A greek tragedy that's part of a trilogy based in Thebes, written by Sophocles. It's pretty feisty and feminist for a play written a long time ago.
Also, I got back the assignment on Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing and I finally understand what my tutor was trying to say (and I actually got it back about three months ago, so you can see I'm a little slow). He said that there was too much of speculating in my essay. I couldn't comprehend what he meant but basically he was trying to tell me that my denial and confusion about Shakespeare being a chauvinist was clearly evident in my paper. I kept on using words like 'maybe' and 'perhaps' because I didn't want to say it outright that he was, indeed a pig. So, next time I suppose I have to either stay on the damn fence or be convincing when I pick a side.

Screw Shakespeare for now, I'll see him again this semester when I read Othello. Can't wait, I tell ya.

Also, I'm taking Creative Writing. I've been absent from here because I'm too damn busy writing in my notebook everyday. It's pretty addictive but I'm glad that writing has become a daily habit now. When I'm ready, I'll post a few things from my notebook here but only when I'm ready and you can bet your ass that I'm going to edit it furiously. A few times.

Another class that I'm taking is Screen and Sound. I got to play director yesterday and it was pretty wonderful. I totally can't take centrestage on screen. No friggin' way. I'd be so unconvincing as a character, no matter which part I play. Even if it's like a tree in the middle of a courtyard. I'd probably start giggling nervously. I mean, who would hire a giggling tree? Seriously?

And the last one is Introduction to Journalism which is very exciting but daunting too. I've got a superb idea about my first news story but I've gotten overzealous and thought about too many angles. Which is a problem because I have to fit everything into a package of 300 words. And be concise and articulate, neither traits that I possess. My drama tutor caught me in the headlights last week and asked for my name when I was standing in the middle of the room and I stumbled about four times before I could get it out- "Mmm..mmm..mi..mi..milan." It was pretty hilarious. You had to be there. Extremely articulate indeed. Me taking a drama class, that's another good one. If I wasn't in the Murdoch Computer Lab I'd be rolling on the floor by now. Yea, heeeelarious.

That about covers my units this semester. And my life, pretty much.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Monologue

Would you look at that?

Last post published on the 7th of July, 20008. *clicks tongue* Shame on you, Mil. There goes the pipe dream of writing everyday.
So, alot of things happening here in the land of KL. Anwar got arrested, roads got blocked, people get riled up and other people don't give two spits. I'm not sure which category I belong to, all I know is that who are we to judge this poor guy who is under extremely public scrutiny. Boy would I get plastic surgery if I were you, Mr. Ibrahim!

And of course, alot of things happening in the Sadhwani household, nothing new, nothing new. I feel underappreciated, trodden on, happy and frustrated all at the same time but eh, life goes on.
So, ahm. I have no privacy left. Yep, people come in and out of my room daily, to take showers, to play computer games and once in awhile poke and prod through my stuff as if they own everything but surprisingly I'm taking it in calmly.
It was only today as I sat down in my room and looked around that I realized that it bugged me to hell and back. Eh, I can't call anything my own anymore, I thought to myself.
My drawers have been open, my table has been touched, my shower has been used but worse...my bookshelf has been tainted. Yes folks, my bookshelf was opened and closed while I was gone and I could tell the moment I walked through my damn door. Oh, so much drama, Mil!
Despondent, I looked around my room once again and felt incomplete. Nothing was mine yet everything was 'mine'. What do I have left. I guess all that's left, I realized, is what is inside me and around me. Not the material things, not the phsyical things. It feels *WARNING- major drama alert* like everything's been taken from me. But no matter how hard you or anyone else tries, you can't take the things that truly matter from me. You can't take myself away- my tears, my laughter, my sorrows, my joy, my pride, my sense of self, my essence. I have been left cold without everything but the knowledge that I have friends who care, everywhere I bother to look, their smiles, their stupid jokes, their comforting words, their little quirks- this warmth is what takes me through the day and the night.
No matter how hard you try, you can't take all this away, can you?

And that's what it's all about.

Monday, July 07, 2008

I Thinked

I thought...

- that I would have all the time in the world to update this site, not only to keep my scarce but precious readers happy but to indulge myself in free-thinking and writing for pleasure

- that I could spend hours reading new books and writing here at least four to five times a week

- that I would certainly have some amount of time to myself, because this is so crucial to my well-being; i love people but I need at least an hour or two to be with just me.

- that I would have a lovely holiday

but ah,I thought wrong.

Gee, why so negative Mil, that ain't like you. True, this isn't like me at all, but this is the way I've been feeling for quite awhile now, and this is my first chance to come here and talk about it. However I can't bring myself to start complaining when I know that generally I'm a pretty damn lucky lady.

Basically, what is the point of could have, should have and would have if it's already past. I suppose I have to make do with what I have, which isn't much given the current situation, but it's something. What am I babbling about?
The reason(s) I haven't been supremely satisfied are, well, the flies. From the moment I open my room door after a nice shower until the moment I close my room door to request, no, demand some privacy to talk to Babes (because, really, I don't know what I would do without him and his patient ears) I am bombarded from every possible angle. Oh, the fly. If I didn't have that small, barely-there conscience in me, I would have squashed it by now. Oh yes.

I don't want to say anymore because like I said, I am a lucky person, people have got it much worse, I'm sure. But what really kills me about all this is that I don't have my parents and my brother all to myself like I usually would have without the flies around.

I steal precious moments alone with mom and dad because it is such a pleasure when we are able to talk freely without the conniving and prying ears of the fly. I sit with my brother when he studies because otherwise it is always there, ready to jump in with an unnecessary question or comment. It makes me want to cry when I think about it properly. I don't care for the most part that I have to do an endless amount of things for these flies, I'm glad to in some way because then they leave mom alone for awhile. I don't give a damn that the fly comes into my room and touches my things when I'm not around. I couldn't care less that they use my car when I'm knocked out in the mornings. After thinking about it further, I would even go as far as to say that I don't mind not having time to read or update this site as often as I want to, or sit in my room with music in my ears to block out the chaos that takes place in my house.

I just want my family.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Touch Down

This is my first post since I've arrived in good ol' KL. By the way, it is still great despite the ridiculous price of petrol now (which is only good because there are less cars on the road. wheeeee highway!!! I ain't speeding, don't give me that glare Darling!).

I arrived on Saturday, 21st June at approximately 10.10pm. The flight was stupid and my only savior was a book I bought just the day before leaving (well, of course what else would your savior be). I was upset too because I had to say goodbye (god Mil you're dramatic) to my darling. This stupid Australian girl was staring at me as I sniffled into my tissue like she'd never seen a person cry before. I mean, geez, what do I look like to you, a soap opera?? (Hmm, maybe so, considering the drama that happens around me.)

I was so nervous to see Mom and Dad, I mean in a good way, I didn't know what I would say and what I would do when I saw them, especially Mom (fully knowing she would burst into tears the moment she saw me, which she did by the way). I was too happy to cry but I already did my part on the plane anyway (as always, WHY do i choose the damn airplane to do this, WHY). But all in all, it was so wonderful to see everyone again and you know this beats Skype any old day (Skype can kiss my bum by the way, their call quality sucks big time but I still need it to communicate with my other half so Skype if you're reading this, I do love you :D).

Sunday was great- I managed to get up in time for coffee AND the ashram, both equally superb. I don't like being fussed over but it was really touching how so many people inquired about me through mom and dad. It's always nice to know that people care about you, even if you aren't aware of it. Don't underestimate those around you is all I can say after this.

All in all, it's been really great but there are just two teeny tiny flies in my ointment, and they both have names that I shall not mention here (*coughdevilscough*). I pause now as I debate within myself about what to say and what not to say here but the bottom line is that I easily lose my temper with one of the flies in particular. She, I mean It, just rubs me the wrong way I suppose.

Let me start over. These flies that I talk about are actually people I'm related to. They don't come often, which I thank the Lord for but when they do, our lives are literally turned upside down. When I was a teenager, my rage was worse, my temper utterly horrible and out of control when they made their visits. I made my feelings nearly transparent and I'm sure I hurt the people I love with my actions and words. However, the most important thing that I didn't do was question these outbursts that happened frequently. Now that I'm older, I feel (although my feelings could be wrong obviously) that I have better control over my temper and that even though I get angry almost every time It opens Its mouth, I attempt to reply It in a calm manner. But like I said, I could be wrong. Also, as I grew older, I started thinking about the cause of my almost irrational anger towards It. I say it is almost irrational because it isn't only me who becomes impatient towards Its' constant stream of chatter, commands, requests and comments. This only makes me feel slightly better though, because I wanted to understand why exactly it was me who kept on getting angry at It (by the way, am I completely evil to name her It but even if I am, never mind, allow me to continue; perhaps it gives me a sort of aesthetic distance for now to write without getting angry all over again).

Therefore, while all this questioning was going on, before I arrived home, I told myself to try and not lose my temper and to really try this time. It was then that I realized that I tell myself the exact same thing almost every time I know that I'm about to face this particular situation, only to disregard this sensible advice even after just a few days spent with It.
However, it was only today that a sudden realization came to me (and as it always happens, it hits you when you're not thinking about it, and it hits you years later even though it's been staring at you in the face for all those years). Maybe, I'm slightly jealous of all the privileges that this fly receives. Think about it. This is a relatively young fly; eleven this year to be exact. Yet she has an iPod, something me, a twenty-one year old doesn't even dream of possessing. If you know me well enough, the way most of you do, you would know that having an iPod is an extremely unimportant thing to me. However, I use this example to show you the stark contrast between us. When I was eleven, I used an old walkman to play my music (and loved it to death, might I add). But then, thinking about it again, times have changed, so this isn't a very good example. Kids these days own a handphone by the time their eight years old, some even younger. So then, what is it, you may ask.

I think the thing that bites me the most is how she is allowed to speak her mind so freely and get away with it so damn easily.

Even though she gets admonished every now and then, it is only those few times. If we (I refer to other people in my family), at the age of eleven had decided to speak our minds (and I'm sure I did, knowing me and my brazen ways) we would have been smacked silly (which was certainly what happened with me, boy did I get smacked silly when I was younger). I am jealous that nobody disregards her opinions and tells her to shut the hell up. Perhaps this is because she is the youngest in our whole family,so they listen to her intently, even when they don't want to or don't have to. She butts in where she is not needed almost anywhere and everywhere and nobody tells her to mind her own business (it does happen like I mentioned but not always which is enough to hit on my nerves), she interrupts adults while they're having a private conversation and nobody stares at her like she's grown three horns on her head (I used to get that feeling plenty of times- people staring at me as if I had grown sharp extensions atop my skull).

I'm jealous that at this age, adults treat her almost like an adult while I at that age was still considered just a child (better to be seen than heard, was that the old adage?). I used to seeth with rage, wishing to grow older faster, so that people would take me seriously. At times, I still feel that way, perhaps because of the way I look (assuming all my readers have met me in person, I'm extremely short and I'm not exaggerating). As a kid, I knew I had great ideas but nobody wanted to listen to them and I was angry. Enter the fly who spouts frivolous things most of the time and everyone listens to her. This is what has been bugging me and I still cannot accept it. But what could I do? When I feel frustrated I go to Mom and she listens with a sympathetic ear but ends with the advice, "Be patient." While this isn't bad advice, it's not something that helps me very much. But what can she do either? Also, obviously Mom has so much more to deal with so complaints are the last thing she needs to hear at this point of time. I bitch to the right hand alot and she certainly makes me feel better when I'm done but what can she do too?

Bottom line is, there is nothing to do but to accept it and accept it fast before I go insane trying to change things I can't change. Today I spoke to Babes and used the word Karma. Right after I said that, I knew it was the perfect thing to say. Karma will be a better teacher, whoever She comes to. So there you go. I'll let it go now.

Ok, I admit it's rather fun bitching about it, but it is not fun having to deal with it, so perhaps by writing this, I develop a certain kind of understanding of this situation. Because in reality, it is not all her fault. It is the authorities that raise her. If there is little or no admonition, how would she know when to speak her mind and when not to? I only channel my anger towards her because it is her doing the talking (and also her accent grates my ears like a piece of chalk screeching against the surface of a blackboard).

This has been a long and boring post, so I'll be back with nicer things I hope. Loves to all and extra love to my Dear. It is super wierd without you around.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Nervous Laughter

I seriously forgot what it's like to write out my thoughts everyday- it's pretty liberating even though I sometimes have to censor myself from well, myself.

Howdy everybody, no cleaning has been done so far, except for slight changes in the bedroom, but nothing major. Tomorrow in all probability, we are going to have a little get-together in our filthy house (we have to be brutally honest, don't we)so I think some cleaning has to take place today.

It's amazing, how I've never told you about what my house is like. I haven't told you alotta things, have I? So, there are seven rooms in my house, two of them occupied by people I already knew and the other three taken by two indian boys and a chinese couple. I've not had any major problems with this living arrangement, except for one tiny thing. You know how I like my kitchen clean, and it usually is, after I clean it, but only remains so for a few hours 'til the next morning. Now, I usually have the patience to endure this small and tiny frustration but when I've scrubbed and wiped every surface, it IS pretty sad that it doesn't retain it's sparkle for at least a few days. I love the sparkles! Why can't we have it sparkling??

Anyway, small thing, no worries. Some day I'm sure they will realize that sparkling is good for all wo/mankind. Because I will drill it into their heads. Ahem, I could try out for the military, ei?

I'm counting the days to reach back home but I'm also dreading it because Babes is going to be left in stupid Perth. Stupid, it is STUPID. You know I have yet to discuss future plans with dad and mom but I'm sure it will come up during this trip (especially with mom counting the years 'til I tie the knot, I kid you not, hey that rhymes!)and I'm actually not dreading it, because I think I should have a vague idea by now about what I want to do. Not just with my career but I suppose life in general.

Obviously, Babes plays a big role in this, bigger than he realizes and perhaps even more than I realize myself. Let's be straight, the long distance was absolute rubbish but of course, you're worth everything my dear. Sometimes I wish we could say to one another, let's just see where life takes us and let's simply float merrily along it's currents but that would have been me about three years ago. Now, hopefully older and wiser, I know that's pretty idealistic. Yes we can float to a certain extent, I'm certainly not planning to organize every tiny detail of the future because we all know life doesn't work that way. But we do have to have some ideas, no? I'm aware though, that whenever Babes asks me, I get nervous and start laughing in my agitated manner (sounding deceptively like a donkey, I swear) and I tell him "Let's not talk about it now, sweetheart." Because I'm pretty good at denial I suppose. But we will have to have a serious discussion someday (sooner than later would be better), sit down at a table, maybe get out pen and paper and map out two courses that hopefully run together for a very long time. Aww, ain't I so cheesy?

I love you Babes, as you always tell me, I'd do anything for you too. Even the dreaded D (that's Distance for the rest of you, and mind you it sucks,SUCKS I tell ya!). Yea, but as I was saying, anything for you. *cue nervous laughter*

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Self.Conscious.

Um, hi.

So, exams are over and in some crazy way, I miss having things to do. I woke up at 2.30pm today thinking about what time I should start studying when I realized that there was nothing left to study for, until August that is.
But fret not, there are still a million things left to do, like clean my room, the kitchen, the whole house, outside the house, around the house and maybe if I'm still feeling energetic, other people's houses. Yea ok, I'm not that insane just yet, let's see what happens in a few days.

Thanks to Mr. Klumsy (an affectionate but appropriate name for one of my housemates in Perth), I might start having more visitors here because he discovered my blog. This makes me shy and proud all at the same time and I realized yesterday just how uncomfortable I am with people even talking about my blog. Goddamn, how will I write a book like this?

I must go prepare lunch so it's see you later for now. I'll be back later. With more stories, promise.

Sunday, June 08, 2008

Awful Slang

Yes, I am in the midst of studying for my exams, but I had a sort of argument with my two housemates about my feelings on the word 'chick'. If you know me well, then you know I get quite offended if somebody uses this word, especially if it's a girl. The argument escalated and sort of hung on the fact that no one knew where the word originated from. I don't think I'd be able to rest without doing some quick research, so here it is. Mind you, it is from Wikipedia, a source I barely trust, but then again, who and what can you trust these days; especially on the Internet. After the exams, I plan to do in-depth research on this matter and if Wikipedia is right, the slang DID originate from a man and it was used in an extremely degrading manner. Here it is, prepare to get appalled and please remember this the next time you open your mouth to say the word 'chick'.

From where did the slang use of the word chick originate?
In: Word and Phrase Origins

Answer
The word chick is a short form for chicken and it's use in American slang to refer to a young woman is attributed to Sinclair Lewis' book Elmer Gantry (1927).


"He had determined that marriage now would cramp his advancement in the church and that, anyway, he didn't want to marry this brainless little fluffy chick, who would be of no help in impressing rich parishioners. But that caution he had utterly forgotten in emotion, and her question was authentically a surprise, abominably a shock."

Taken from:
Wiki Answers (Answers Corporation).2008. http://wiki.answers.com/Q/From_where_did_the_slang_use_of_the_word_chick_originate
(accessed June 08, 2008).

Saturday, June 07, 2008

Just A Little Whee Whee

Hello. So I got up at 6am today. Yes yes, I know, shocking. I mean, I don't think I've done that since high school, not even then maybe cos' everybody knew I had to make a late entrance to maintain my rep as a badass. Haha, that's funny. Badass. Ahem, anyway, I got some sleep in the afternoon so it shouldn't be a problem falling asleep, I mean, studying in the library, which is where I am now, yet again.

Why is it that we only get sleepy when we think of studying? It's a universal thing, I'll bet. I can see everyone nodding again. That's nice, we've come to an agreement.

So, in exactly two weeks from now, I'll be flying back home. I can't believe how time just managed to sneak by us and whoosh by. I can remember, with extreme clarity, my first day here in Perth, Western Australia. I realize now that I never exactly told you how that went, I did actually but quite briefly, mostly because it wasn't the best of days- the only good part was that I was able to find comfort in the arms of my dear. Well, how did it go, you ask now? I felt slightly like a lost puppy, to be honest and I had just spent (as I mentioned in a much earlier post) the entire flight bawling my eyes out (how I cursed the fact that I didn't have tissue!)so I wasn't in the mood to get excited just yet about being in a new country. And like I had said about the curfew issue, it didn't feel liberating in any way to be 100 zillion miles away from the parents. I missed Mom as soon as I stepped onto the escalator that carried me to the immigrations. I missed dad when I passed (and err, went in) the tobacco shop. I missed Luvesh when I was on the plane and watching Beauty and the Beast. I missed grandma when I first tried cooking butter chicken in Babe's kitchen while he was at work. And I missed my friends when I saw so many other young people mingling in the courtyard of my university (and I of course, was the little lost duckling amongst the big and graceful swans). Yea, but wasn't I supposed to tell you how the first day went?

So, I got picked up by Babe's friend, W, and slid into the backseat, exhausted from all the waterworks I managed to spout on the flight. I just wanted to sleep, really and there wasn't much view from where I was sitting. It was all green and er, uninteresting *gee, Mil what a flowery description, no wonder you're doing English!*
We got home and I pretty much fell asleep after a hot shower. I woke up ravenous and really ready to eat. The nap did wonders, I was far less cranky and grumpy than when I first got into the car. But that's when homesickness hit, and boy it hit hard. Once again, I was really lucky (as I always say) compared to many of the people that I know, including Babes himself to have him with me during those times. When I heard Mom's voice on the phone, all I wanted to do was run back to KL but I would be tired like, 15minutes after a bold attempt to do so. Plus I was hungry and Babes was making this incredible-smelling butter chicken from a jar so I had to eat. At least, before attempting a marathon. Felt much better again after the food but I also became pretty sleepy, because let's face it, Indian food makes you long for a pillow and a blanket.

This memory is the most vivid one- after dinner, me and Babes stepped out into the night air to get some *cough* fresh air (hahahahaha). I glanced up and forgot everything- for the sky was dotted beautifully with winking stars. I felt, crazily enough, like they were trying to tell me something. Maybe they were, haven't you ever heard of talking stars? Yea well, I have okay! Well anyway, I guess if they were trying to tell me something, it would have been something comforting and reassuring- something to remind me that we were going to be okay, as long as we had each other and to also remind me that no,I wasn't dreaming any longer! (These days, me and Babes like to tease each other by asking, "So are you still dreaming?" and usually the person being asks smiles and says "Yep, for sure." Heh, how cute is that ei?)

Needless to say I slept very well and woke up bright and early the next day, ready for Murdoch University, Perth, Western Australia and the rest of the world.

Coming up, my thoughts on something that I was reading about today. (Remind me, please?) For now, it's back to the L-I-T in the LI-BRA-REE!

I am so lame.

Wednesday, June 04, 2008

Big Girls Don't Cry

Ahm, cliche perhaps?

So here I am at the GCL of Murdoch University which is a computer lab situated next to the Murdoch library. Thus I am here prepared to study for my exam that is on Thursday, 5th June 2008 which is technically, tomorrow. My first paper is the foundation unit that all first-year students have to take (it is mandatory rather than "strongly recommended"). In retrospect, it wasn't too bad as I was told it would be; mostly deals with philosophy and psychology- two things I am pretty familiar with. Philosophy both fascinates and depresses me. I have come to see Nietzsche in a more positive light than before; after reading his theories on the will to power but I can't shake the feeling that philosophy was made for people and by people who were on the verge of killing themselves or teetering on the brink of insanity. By the way, Nietzsche did go mental on everybody- a story that unfortunately fascinates me more than his theories.

Ahem, why on earth am I talking about Nietzsche when he's not even coming out in the exam. Probably just a meager distraction from my wandering mind. Oh, how thee wanders! You know what, I have to vent about my feelings on Shakespeare. Ever since I first read him (this was way back in form 1 when I was naive and just thirteen years old) in my high school class, I adored him. We read the famous scene in Macbeth where he says that all of us are mere actors on stage, playing roles in the performance called life. I will never forget the first line:

"Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow,"

It was magical, it gave me goosebumps, it made me want to cry and laugh at the same time and I longed to read more of his works. Now, eight years later, I had to do a paper on his play (Much Ado About Nothing- which is fantastic despite what I'm about to say) and I had to decide if he challenged or perpetuated gender stereotypes in this particular play. Because I am a feminist, but one who is a Shakespeare fan, I instantly dispelled the notion of him perpetuating gender stereotypes. I thought, no way! I shall remain indignant! He can't be like that! He can't be a chauvinist pig!! I refuse to see it!!

Err, yes so you see the extent of my denial. Alas, I finally had to see the light. After reading many (and I stress on the word 'many' as I foraged high and low to find something that would reassure my fears) critics on his work, both men and women, I was forced to see him in a different light. Needless to say, I was crushed, sucker-punched, sad, devastated, disgusted and angry! Once again, you get the sense of my dramatic reaction to this. He was indeed, quite a pig. He tried, I believe (because we always have that last, tiny vestige of hope inside us) to create a character that was a feminist in every sense of the word in the 16th century "man's world" but in the end, he married her off. Oh yes, that was the blow. I'm not saying that I'm against marriage or that feminists should be against marriage. I say this in that tone of voice because this particular character was fiercely against marriage and spoke out against all the butting males in her life. Oh, it was wonderful. In my bookshelf blog, I shall quote a few things from Much Ado Abour Nothing and you will see what I'm talking about.

Oh well, not to worry, I'll get over myself. Sniffle. Also, that was good practice for my literature exam on Monday which I'm really enjoying studying for!

Hee. Loves to all. Aww, thanks for coming here. :D

Sunday, June 01, 2008

It's Hard To Say

When you're eyes burn because you haven't slept, it's hard to say.
When you know they're red without looking in the mirror, it's hard to say.
When you crave for a bed but all you have is a chair, it's hard to say.
When you think you can't hold on much longer, it's hard to say.

It's hard to say when something snaps inside.
It's hard to say how much you want to hide.
It's hard to say what you're looking at.
It's hard to say that you won't put up a fight.

When you have nowhere to go because there's no privacy, it's hard to say.
When you long for a corner but all you have is open space, it's hard to say.
When you start to hallucinate and feel a twitch of paranoia, it's hard to say.
When you see things that were never there, it's hard to say.

It's hard to say when something wilts away.
It's hard to say how much I want to say.
It's hard to say what I am put here for.
It's hard to say that I never knew before.

Friday, May 23, 2008

Defy

After not writing for so long, coming here is wierd. But nobody's calling me sane. I have two assignments due tomorrow, one I'm really excited about (literature) and the other not so much (creative arts). Time and time again, I question myself; if my interests clearly stood out (even now, it's right here under my nose) why on earth did I bother with psychology? I almost hate looking back, but these thoughts tend to come to you. Nevermind that, it's all water under the bridge now. I may or may not decide to finish the psych degree, but all I know is that I can't see myself as any kind of counsellor. Maybe I could a few years ago, and maybe I did. But not anymore.

Why am I here when I have two assignments due tomorrow? Just takin' a little break is all. Today's been a wierd day. I've been in a sort of limbo-like daze. I attributed it to lack of sleep and perhaps that explains why I'm even more paranoid than usual but ack, I want the weekend to arrive. I shall do my best with these asses and get sleep. SLEEP. How thee tempts me so.

Today was my last tutorial for two classes, one I couldn't get up for and the other was close-to-unbearable. I suppose I'm still shy, especially around girls and I don't know what to say to them. Plus most of them look at me in an odd way, which has been happening to me since kindergarten. Hey I smile at you, you can smile back y'know? It's so strange how girls can be so ungracious to other girls. Aren't we suppose to be on the same team?

I was just telling Babes a few weeks ago that back when I didn't have a car and had to travel by LRT, I had decided to carry out a simple social experiment. I decided that I would smile at everyone who caught my eye. It was more fun than I thought it would be, because most people smiled back. I concluded from this experiment that the people who smile back the most are elderly people (and it was really heartwarming too...awwww). Sadly, the people who smiled back the least were girls who were around my age. They just refused to smile back. Some would stare back blankly, some glared and some just looked away. It was really interesting to me but also pretty disappointing. Why wouldn't they smile back? What is this catty competition that goes on between people of the same sex (in fact, if I had to say, I don't think this happens more frequently with boys, I think it's more applicable for girls). However, I don't have any solid facts to back that up, it is just anecdotal experience.

Oh well, look how the brain goes into overdrive. I need to stop thinking and start writing. Goodnight folks, more to come.

p/s- I had a wonderful, awesome, thrilling experience last night watching football with some of my friends here and my Dear. I somehow will never forget this experience and I'll decide if I want to talk about it or not. It is sacred to me in a way. I may not be completely in love with football (yet) but I fell in love all over again with the person I spend all my days with. I can't explain it in a coherent manner but something about last night was simply magical to me.

Ok, off I go I DO need sleep.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Fragmented thoughts: Part Two

I had planned to give you a detailed analysis about the book I mentioned in the previous post but maybe a preview would be good, just so you can decide if you want to read it.

In the quiet of the twilight, disturbing thoughts come to me. I participated in a discussion about catcalling and found out that some women take these things as a compliment. How, may I ask, is that possible? Are we so insecure and worried about our looks that a random stranger who whistles/calls out something lewd at us can make us feel good about ourselves? What is happening here?

Society makes a big deal out of appearances, especially for young women. Apparently, to lead a full and satisfying life, you have to look good, all the time. If you want people to like you, you have to look good. If you want a great job, you have to look good. Hell,if you're a girl and if you want people to look at your Facebook profile and pictures, you have to look good. Mind you, I didn't explain what 'looking good' is. Looking good, in this day and age means wearing "something" (but it doesn't have to cover much of your body, take note)- usually comprising of material with strings everywhere, and just a belt for your bottom half ('belt' refers to the things that pass for skirts these days, I quote Levy, 2005). To add appeal to your pictures, you usually have to wear an indecent amount of make up on your face (this is usually best accomplished if you own a black pencil eyeliner and proceed to smear it all around your eyes). For the finale, and for people to gawk openly at you; you have to attempt to give a seductive smile or pose in the pictures that you upload; in fact, it's a plus if you're slightly inebriated with alcohol or any other form of drug(s) and/or making a pass at your girlfriend(s). Hey, the real winners are the ones who take off their tops or have their limbs attached to another girl. That's to whom the awards go to, by the way, in case you're interested. If you manage to have some sort of physical contact other than touching (i.e. kissing, groping etc) with another girl, then (*drum roll please) you manage to get into the Hall of Shame. Excuse me, I meant Hall of Fame. For there is no such thing as shame anymore.

What I want to know is- who told us that this is acceptable? The television, the media? Cosmo? If so, I want to say that they're all wrong. Yet, how can I say that when anyone can see that the majority of young women these days are buying into this ideology? Day by day, I feel that any progress made by the fiery feminists of the 1960's slowly fade away. Some girls think they're overcoming the patriarchy by doing it this way. In reality, it's far from that. Apparently, it's liberating to dress and act this way. I need somebody to enlighten me, because wearing that much of make up, as far as I know, is uncomfortable, wearing close-to-nothing can be insane around here because of the weather and the high heels don't help either.

I don't look good all the time, I'll tell you that. But I'm having a fantastic life. But when I see what I'm forced to see everyday, around me- in university, on the streets, on the television and on the Internet, I am saddened. I was reading a blog yesterday and the girl wrote: feminists are so caught up with the minor issues (she was referring to a comment made by a feminist about a television show called the Tudors, if I'm not mistaken) and they fail to see the bigger picture. I heartily disagree. This is no minor issue. It's happening everywhere, whether you believe it or not. If we let it, this will become the only picture. But, day by day, I get a sour taste in my mouth and wish to close my eyes to reality.

Day by day, it gets worse.

p/s- did you know that the Indian Cricket teams playing for the IPL (Indian Premier League) hired cheerleaders from America to cheer for their games? Guess what they wear? Yep, you got it right. (IMO, they're skirts get shorter and shorter everyday and I thought I was just being paranoid but when I looked closely one day, the skirts disappeared only to be replaced by boy-shorts. I don't know which one's worse).

Fragmented thoughts

I've recently managed to pass up three challenging assignments and have four more to finish. I'm enjoying the creative process immensely but at the same time I am craving a break. It's a wierd combination.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before but I read this book last year, around September or October and it blew my mind. I recently re-read it and I think it's worth mentioning here: Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture by Ariel Levy (2005). Published by Pocket Books in London. Ahm, I suddenly adore referencing because I've been doing loads of that recently. Teehee. I shall discuss this book further when I'm finished with everything.

Time is fleeting and so brief. Somehow, it'll be 11pm before I know it and I'll be looking forward to drinking coffee on my front step in the morning with Babes before class. Sometimes I think that's my favourite time of the day, before everything begins and because that's when the sun comes out, in her strongest moment, overpowering the tiny pale moon that just a few hours ago, was the only source of light. It get's dark here at 6 o' clock in the evening these days and if I'm inclined to believe everything I hear, then it'll be getting dark earlier as the days pass by.

I had a lovely conversation just a few minutes ago. One of my friends is attempting to quit smoking and has been semi-successful (which we shall applaud to, semi or not, it is still a small step to a daunting task). As me and my other half stole a few precious moments alone in the cold midnight, he crept up behind us and stood three feet away as we inhaled and exhaled plumes of smoke. He stood there and it puzzled me. I wasn't aware that he was planning on doing just exactly that; standing there. As I watched him, my puzzlement turned to amusement as I realized that he had come to inhale our leftovers. I asked him how he was doing with quitting. He revealed then, that he only had one cigarette since the Saturday that had passed. I was impressed. After awhile, perhaps feeling the need to explain himself, he said that it was not that he couldn't live without it; it was just that he was craving it from time to time. I mused over this for awhile, then commented:

"Doesn't that just mean that you can't live without it?"
"No, it just means that I want it," he answered.

A sudden thought came then.

"So, it means that it is your infatuation, but, not your true love."
"Exactly."

That is precisely what it was, and what it is. It is an adolescent infatuation with something wild and dangerous. You can liken it to having a crush on a celebrity (we remember those days, don't we?). We are attracted to these sticks the same way a fourteen-year-old boy was attracted to Pamela Anderson. However, after a certain number of years, the phase dies off and we are left with little, or no feelings of it.Can the same be said for our infatuation? Will it eventually die off without any effort on our parts? I think not, even if I would rather lie to myself. With celebrity infatuation, it can be explained away by fluctuation of hormones, especially during puberty, thus, when our systems are more or less stabilized, we rarely get such strong and intense feelings after that. With this infatuation, there is no fluctuation regarding biology. If we let it, and if adolescents continue with their infatuation, it grows into obsession. If I have to be brutally honest, there is no way in hell do I want to be obsessed with nicotine.

What is my point? I want to say that I have cut down significantly, but that is no solution. It is a small step in my viewpoint but I am sadly biased. I suppose my point is, that I never saw it in this way until today, and I just wanted to share my a-ha moment with you. And yes, even if I do promise to put an end to it, would you believe me? At times, I have trouble believing it myself. But I try. No, because as Yoda once said: "Do or do not, there is no try." So I shall do.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Still Waters

Time: 5a.m.
Venue: , 24/7 Learning Common,Murdoch University Library, Perth
Song playing in my head: Come Back To What You Know by Embrace

I recall a time like this, almost exactly two years ago when I was awake at this ungodly hour for the same purpose. I had just watched a football match and decided to write about my experience on this very blog. It's amazing how many things have changed since then, and how some things will never ever change, despite the ever-moving hands on the clock. I am still Milan L. Sadhwani. I have not aged one bit so don't believe everything a birthday cake tells you (especially the lucky candle- they put that in to make you feel older, not luckier). I still sing in the shower, in my room and in my car. I still adore food and going out to eat in a nice restaurant. I still enjoy the small things around me. I still am a little girl and get scared easily even though I put up a "macho" front. I still have the same friends (I sure hope so) and I remain grateful for their being in my life. I still can only appreciate home; home to me is family, three square meals and a cosy room to retreat to.

Home is what I crave now. This place is not and never will be home. Perhaps I had assumptions about getting used to this country. Perhaps I thought, in a few months, I would be alright. The thing is, I am alright, I just want my home. You could say that I have a family here, and I certainly attempt to have three square meals in a regular day. But I don't have that coveted room. I don't have the safety net I once did. I don't want to have to look right and left everytime I leave my house. I don't want to brood over what might or might not happen. I just want a home.

I did not mean to bum out anybody, do take note. I might not have a home but I have somebody I can call home and that makes up for the paranoia and wariness that haunts my days in Australia.

Damn, don't I sound melodramatic. I guess all I really need is not look at everything as responsibilities, but as a challenge (as corny as that sounds, but hey I can be pretty corny when I want to). And also it would be nice to wake up one day and discover that my fairy godmother has cooked, cleaned and done my laundry. Oh yea, and my assignments too, if it's not too much trouble. But this is also life, no? What the hell am I whining about, did you hear yesterday's top news? This man from Vienna trapped his daughter in a small room for 24 years and had 7 of her children. Boy, aren't we lucky that we ain't European?

Ok, sending out happy thoughts to all. I promise, I do have some left, despite the above post.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Ahoy!

Yo, why with the greeting, I don't know but I now am suddenly craving cookies (Chips Ahoy!).

Been almost a month, ei? My my, I do miss writing (for non-academic purposes).

So, here a few things that's been on my mind.

1. You. 'Cos, I miss everybody back home.

2. Being a student away from home is a challenging and interesting experience all at once. I've learnt so much in these two months, possibly more than what I learnt in a whole year being at home and with my parents. So much thought has to go into everything, and I mean; literally everything: cooking, cleaning and even grocery-shopping. Back home, I barely used to think as I put item after item in a shopping cart. Admittedly, I didn't think about what I was purchasing because I usually wasn't the one paying for it. Here, however, EVERY cent counts. I've learnt to be extremely frugal and thrifty, two things I thought I could never be (not when it comes to food or books that is). I enjoy good food, most of which is totally out of my budget, but the time will come for the occasional splurge. Being frugal has also taught me the value of delayed gratification; it can be rewarding to hold back. My dad and I have the same theory on spending for food: it is well worth it, unlike blowing the cash on clothes or other things (but this does not mean my dad understands my theory of splurging on books; you should see his reaction when he used to get bills from Borders or MPH, yikes!). Spending money on food is worth it simply because the experience is fantastic; even though you can't technically keep what you bought (because it's already in your digestive system), you can savour the delicious memories that come from eating amazing Korean barbecue or splendid Thai cuisine, not to mention sweet memories of being with people you love and sharing great food and drinks with them. I have so many of these memories with my parents and Babes and I cherish them with all my heart and be grateful to Dad for trusting me with his credit card (I wonder now if he regrets doing this, aha!).

3.Living without my parents also means something else; no curfew. All this while I imagined myself jumping for joy at this simple fact, but it's an altogether different story after awhile. At the beginning, I must admit I was giddy with happiness, but then I realized, I had to be responsible enough. No one is here telling me what to do, true, but I had to make wise decisions for myself. For example: staying up late. If I did this, I wouldn't be able to wake up for class the next day, and let's face it, missing classes here is a big deal considering how much Dad is paying for tuition fees. And let's not forget, I am horrible at being on time or waking up on time. Basically, freedom is great but it comes with consequences. (If my Mom ever read this, I'm sure she'd wonder if I was being possessed by strange aliens from another plaet). Plus, with so many chores to do at home, there's no time to waste (ok, now I do sound like I've been possessed by wierd aliens).

4.I am now even more into football than I ever was, thanks to Mr. Fanatic, but it's a nice thing, don't worry :D Speaking of which, the big game is coming up on Sunday- Manchester United vs. Arsenal and I'm super-psyched. Wee!

5.I am doing well and am happy here, but I do feel lost without my books (trivial as this is). I miss my favourite books and at times feel like a part of me is incomplete because I don't have them here. I suppose that's a strong way to put it, but yes, I do feel that way. I anticipated this happening, but I didn't expect to such a degree or extent. I surprised myself as well, when I realized this. However, I am learning also, that I can't have everything, so it's okay. Plus, the bookstores here are pretty fantastic and they store my favourite books, so in moments of longing I can always go and sit in there to re-read my favourite chapters. Also, even better news is that alot of people are making trips to Perth so I will soon be reunited with my own copies. Ahhhh, sweet relief. (The libraries in Perth are not bad either!)

6. To end on a happy note, I am learning to cook on my own with fantastic help from everybody and especially Babes who is wonderful in the kitchen and extremely supportive in being my guinea pig. Speaking of everybody else, I am really lucky; I already have a new set of friends which I didn't have to hunt around for; most of them live with me. Thank you everybody.

Keep in touch people =)

Signing off,
Dwarfy Terrorist (it's a long story but the name has stuck)

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

The Waking Dream

Um,hi!

So, guess what? I'm sitting in the Murdoch University library, it's 2.08am, Perth time, 1.08am, KL time. I'm wearing my SWAT t-shirt and jeans and typing on my Acer laptop.I'm sitting next to Babes and after being here for two weeks, I still feel like pinching myself to validate that, yes indeed I am finally here, in Perth, Western Australia. After dreaming about it, talking about it, planning about it, thinking about it and ruminating about it for more than a year, I am here. We are here, together. It's been a crazy ride, not just metaphorically but literally too. I had initially applied for the July intake but IDP informed me that Murdoch decided to give me the green light for February, 5 days before my first class would commence. Mad rush. Mad packing. Mad unpacking. Mad packing again. Mad goodbye to books, bookshelf, car, room. Surreal feeling to leave mom, dad and brother at the airport, too agitated to cry just yet (but of course I decided to do that on the plane with absolutely NO tissues available therefore having to resort to sniffling into the sleeves of my t-shirt; how very sophisticated). Even more surreal to actually arrive. It will take time to sink in, but that's something I don't really have these days.

Classes are fantastic, days are slipping by with just reading all the assigned text but this is what I've been waiting for and I have no reason to complain or rant anymore about my academic life. So far, so good, touchwood *knocks on table*.
What more can I say? My other half here has been fantastic in comforting me when I get bouts of homesickness. I miss mom and it's hard without her but I suppose this is training for married life (oh boy, that's another story, we'll cross that bridge when it comes to that).

I have many stories about life in Perth but Mr. Dickens beckons me to his writings and I must go. Bless you all.

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Psychologist

...and I will never have to be one!

Today, Curtin University of Technology turned down my appeal for extra exemptions to the measly one year they gave me. Today, I decided to turn this disappointing piece of news into something extremely fantastic.

I am liberated from the field of psychology. I don't ever have to look at another lab report and pretend I want to read it. I don't ever have to conduct searches on Ebsco.com about The Effects of Motivation on the Mentally Ill. I don't ever have to look at pages and pages of SPSS and feel like an ant in an elephant's house.

Instead, I get to jump into this wonderful, exciting, scary new world of english and creative arts. Except that it doesn't even feel new, it feels like I'm coming home to things familiar and comforting to me. I get to read and read and read some more. I get to feel like I can actually do something right. Boy do I hope I can do this right.

I know this all sounds so incredibly cheesy but I am happy.

The price I have to pay is six months more of the dreaded Distance but we are good on both sides and this makes me even happier. I promise silently to be good and to not make the same mistakes. I do this with a light heart, because I am armed with the knowledge that we get to spend 3 years together and get to know each other even better.

I'll be back soon, I can't write very well with this hyper, crazed, Friends-obsessed person in my room. (gee, who am I to talk)