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.

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*

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.

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).

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.

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

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.