So I'm a working girl now. No I do not identify with being a woman, yet. Maybe sometimes, when I need to bribe people to buy me chocolate to stave off the PMS blues.
It's been two months since I've started the writing job and I look back in wonder - where did the time go? Yes, I finally understand how people feel when they joyfully proclaim, "THE WEEKEND IS HERE!" When Friday comes around, I do feel actual bliss, especially when the hand on the clock says 6. I understand when people tell me that they're just too goddamn tired to come out and talk to people they don't really know or like. They want to sit at home and stare goofily at the wall. And I finally get that there's nothing wrong with that.
As usual, I'm trying to do too much with very little time. I think my life would be abnormal if I wasn't being Superman. I will not post up my plans here just because I don't want to jinx it and also because, if it's on the Internet then you can be assured that the whole world will know it. Actually, on second thoughts, there are a lot of things out there that goes unread. I am still plundering my way through undiscovered gems. Gah, I sound like a conventional travel writer - this is what working in a lifestyle magazine will do to you!
The office is quiet today, looks like it's a busy week for launches and press conferences. It's quite fascinating really, to be a part of all this. Sometimes I just want to sit in a corner and watch everything unfold. If you are a member of the media, you will be greeted warmly at the door. People will stand by to usher you to your seats and you will be given a goody bag (to be honest, the most exciting thing I got from a goody bag was mayonnaise but I'm not complaining). Of course, if you work in a glamorous magazine, the goody bag will be as shiny as you. There is almost always a good chance that you'll be fed by the end of the event, even if it's just light refreshments. I've seen a proper buffet and also been part of a sit-down meal (SWANKEH). The bottom line is, the public relations team of any company has to be nice to the media. And it makes me sad really, because it's all so fake. Oh boo-hoo, take a number, nobody cares.
Yea that's another thing you realize too - it doesn't matter if your life is falling apart at the seams, if you have something to do, you have to do it. No one is going to be there, handing you the tissue while you sob about your latest crisis. There might be someone there, but all they'll be handing you is another piece of paper. They might also demand an explanation for your missed deadline. No tears, no sympathy, no molly-coddling. Not everyone is going to be sympathetic if you can't find what you're looking for or if you got yelled at by the marketing guys.
And I think that is what's missing from education. We are so used to being spoonfed information that when we finally reach our respective offices, we blink when someone says, "Find it yourself."
Oh Malaysia, how you give me heartaches.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
2010: Looking Back
I spent the whole day rifling through my old posts and clearing up junk. I feel zen now, if that is an adjective. It should be, if it isn't. Last year, I went through some huge changes - with my life, my outlook on it and my habits. I learnt the value of hard work and of finishing things. 2010 was my last year as a university student at Murdoch. I am now a graduate, and I wouldn't be had I not gone through said changes. I'm not sure exactly, what brought it on. Maybe it was Gran, glaring down at me from wherever she was (I can imagine her gallivanting in PD or Chennai...trust her). I wonder if change always has to come from pain, but it does make sense.
In December 2009, Mima (beloved grandmother to me) passed away, peacefully, while sound asleep. I guess she didn't like the nurses we hired for her. It was painful for us, but it was nice to see her float away from her human shackles. There was a collective gasp, then a sigh of relief in our house. She had suffered enough.
In January 2010, I developed a weird case of shopaholicism. I went to One Utama weekly, hungrily going into shops and buying pretty new things. I wonder now if it was my own way of dealing with sadness. I also wonder if Gran possessed me for awhile, pissed off that Dad gave me a credit card and neglected to give her one.
In February 2010, I went back to Perth, plumper, darker and shiny with my new trinkets. I made new friends and took Children's Theatre. It was the beginning of the end. I organized a graduation party and was diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection.
In March 2010, I attended Vivek's graduation and got his Mom to hate me. 9 months later, I found out that she was just starting to like me. Oh, the irony. I auditioned for the part of the pirate in CT and got the role of the singing, dancing duck. I'll never live it down.
In April 2010, I went to IKEA and bought a wok for AUD$9.95. It grew a thin layer of rust after 5 months. I stopped asking the other half to come with me to movies. We began to lead separate lives, meeting back at the dinner table.
In May 2010, I performed my role as a dancing duck (they cut out the singing, damn you, short attention span!)in front of giggling children. I passed up all my assignments and fell back onto my chair, giddy with relief and exhilaration. I wanted to do it all over again. I booked my ticket for Melbourne and cried when I handed over my debit card to the flight agent. She was nice about it and gave me her name card to shut me up.
In June 2010, I signed on for a winter unit which specialized on comedy in plays. I studied Wilde, Fo and Stoppard. I watched countless movies and ironed clothes. I moved into my own room, without a room mate. I watched her move out and went to put up my posters on the ugly white walls. We went to see Me and Orson Welles two months later. I quit my job at the Asian cafe and got hired at an upscale Malaysian restaurant. I was on my way to selling out.
In July 2010, I flew to Melbourne and promptly fell in love with it. I spent a night at Syar's place and made butter chicken in her kitchen. Then I spent the rest of the nights in a blurry haze of alcohol and raucousness. I looked up at the city lights and saw the possibilities. I came back to Perth and immediately wanted to fly back. I made friends with good people in Melbourne and none will be forgotten. I slaved over my Winter Unit and came out with an appreciation for comedians. I picked up more shifts at work and made up for all the money I spent in Melbourne.
In August 2010, I found out that I had to take five units if I wanted to graduate by this year. I took a deep breath and enrolled for three heavy units and two light ones; one a first year unit in Photography, the other a course on the transition from the university to the workplace. Everyone whom I told this too asked me how I would manage to sleep at night. I replied, "Soundly." My Italian boss and his wife from Malaysia sold their business to an Australian man. They told him not to change anything. He didn't listen. Two of my flatmates got involved in a car accident. They're better than ever now.
In September 2010, I bought my ticket for the annual Village Ball and blew AUD$200 getting ready for it. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but the jewellery from Diva was pretty. I reasoned that I could use the dress for clubbing. I grew to appreciate photography; urban landscape in particular. I always liked them big buildings. I attended Shashank's graduation and went to eat pork ribs in Tony Roma's after the ceremony. We ended up in an English pub later, one of the last places left in Perth where you could smoke in the alfresco area. They were overruling this a week from that day. My new boss caught on to the fact that I didn't have a Responsible Service for Alcohol certificate (RSA) and told me that I had to get one or I wouldn't get a shift. I paid $90 for a woman to tell me that alcohol in Western Australia needs to be monitored. I read Eat, Pray, Love and enjoyed it.
In October 2010, I attended the Village Ball and couldn't stomach the cheap wine. I came home sober and with my hair undone. I booked my ticket for Malaysia and told my parents I was coming home two days later than the actual date. I interviewed an inspiring man who started up his own copywriting business after he got disillusioned with mainstream media. I started to take a real interest in politics, the environment, the nature of business news and journalism. I watched the Eat, Pray, Love movie and was disappointed. I got lost in McEwan, Lahiri and Kundera. I got disgusted at the world after researching for my politics essay.
In November 2010, I went to hell and came back. I passed up eight assignments in two weeks. I saw the licking flames and roasted in a slow circle. The feeling I got from finishing it all was incredible. I got crazily drunk and said bye to Perth. I didn't know that I wasn't coming back. Dad got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma seven days after I passed up my last undergraduate assignment. I got called for an interview at Wisma UOA for the position of an 'information analyst'. I didn't take the job.
In December 2010, Vivek and I decided that we couldn't continue our relationship as I would be staying back in KL as opposed to flying back to Perth in January, as originally planned. We broke it off two days before his 23rd birthday. He left for Bali and I stayed over at Payal's house. We played Taboo. I got my results back on the 10th of December - I had graduated. Payal and I went out for drinks the next night and neither of us remembers much. It was a good night. I went for an interview with Smart Investor and met the editor for half an hour at the Aman Suria office. While shopping at Jaya 33, I was reminded of grocery shopping in Perth as a couple. Somewhere around the third week, Mom and the brother fell sick, and I followed suit. I celebrated the New Year's with Payal and Nim. We were rudely shoved and groped in the crowd, but it was a good night.
2010 taught me plenty and showed me how to have a good time. I came to realize that all you really need to survive this thing called Life is yourself and your precious friends. If you stop looking for happiness in people and things, and start making life happen, the happiness will come by itself. It is something that needs to be worked at continuously, much like having a relationship. I advocate having a relationship with yourself and not jumping the gun, like many of us have done in the past. I forgot how nice it is to sit at home all day in pajamas and read my way through a whole book. I forgot how cool it is to see movies back to back (again, in my pajamas). Clean your room weekly and open the windows. Smell the rain and don’t ever think that you are alone.
With pain, comes gain. This I promise you.
In December 2009, Mima (beloved grandmother to me) passed away, peacefully, while sound asleep. I guess she didn't like the nurses we hired for her. It was painful for us, but it was nice to see her float away from her human shackles. There was a collective gasp, then a sigh of relief in our house. She had suffered enough.
In January 2010, I developed a weird case of shopaholicism. I went to One Utama weekly, hungrily going into shops and buying pretty new things. I wonder now if it was my own way of dealing with sadness. I also wonder if Gran possessed me for awhile, pissed off that Dad gave me a credit card and neglected to give her one.
In February 2010, I went back to Perth, plumper, darker and shiny with my new trinkets. I made new friends and took Children's Theatre. It was the beginning of the end. I organized a graduation party and was diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection.
In March 2010, I attended Vivek's graduation and got his Mom to hate me. 9 months later, I found out that she was just starting to like me. Oh, the irony. I auditioned for the part of the pirate in CT and got the role of the singing, dancing duck. I'll never live it down.
In April 2010, I went to IKEA and bought a wok for AUD$9.95. It grew a thin layer of rust after 5 months. I stopped asking the other half to come with me to movies. We began to lead separate lives, meeting back at the dinner table.
In May 2010, I performed my role as a dancing duck (they cut out the singing, damn you, short attention span!)in front of giggling children. I passed up all my assignments and fell back onto my chair, giddy with relief and exhilaration. I wanted to do it all over again. I booked my ticket for Melbourne and cried when I handed over my debit card to the flight agent. She was nice about it and gave me her name card to shut me up.
In June 2010, I signed on for a winter unit which specialized on comedy in plays. I studied Wilde, Fo and Stoppard. I watched countless movies and ironed clothes. I moved into my own room, without a room mate. I watched her move out and went to put up my posters on the ugly white walls. We went to see Me and Orson Welles two months later. I quit my job at the Asian cafe and got hired at an upscale Malaysian restaurant. I was on my way to selling out.
In July 2010, I flew to Melbourne and promptly fell in love with it. I spent a night at Syar's place and made butter chicken in her kitchen. Then I spent the rest of the nights in a blurry haze of alcohol and raucousness. I looked up at the city lights and saw the possibilities. I came back to Perth and immediately wanted to fly back. I made friends with good people in Melbourne and none will be forgotten. I slaved over my Winter Unit and came out with an appreciation for comedians. I picked up more shifts at work and made up for all the money I spent in Melbourne.
In August 2010, I found out that I had to take five units if I wanted to graduate by this year. I took a deep breath and enrolled for three heavy units and two light ones; one a first year unit in Photography, the other a course on the transition from the university to the workplace. Everyone whom I told this too asked me how I would manage to sleep at night. I replied, "Soundly." My Italian boss and his wife from Malaysia sold their business to an Australian man. They told him not to change anything. He didn't listen. Two of my flatmates got involved in a car accident. They're better than ever now.
In September 2010, I bought my ticket for the annual Village Ball and blew AUD$200 getting ready for it. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but the jewellery from Diva was pretty. I reasoned that I could use the dress for clubbing. I grew to appreciate photography; urban landscape in particular. I always liked them big buildings. I attended Shashank's graduation and went to eat pork ribs in Tony Roma's after the ceremony. We ended up in an English pub later, one of the last places left in Perth where you could smoke in the alfresco area. They were overruling this a week from that day. My new boss caught on to the fact that I didn't have a Responsible Service for Alcohol certificate (RSA) and told me that I had to get one or I wouldn't get a shift. I paid $90 for a woman to tell me that alcohol in Western Australia needs to be monitored. I read Eat, Pray, Love and enjoyed it.
In October 2010, I attended the Village Ball and couldn't stomach the cheap wine. I came home sober and with my hair undone. I booked my ticket for Malaysia and told my parents I was coming home two days later than the actual date. I interviewed an inspiring man who started up his own copywriting business after he got disillusioned with mainstream media. I started to take a real interest in politics, the environment, the nature of business news and journalism. I watched the Eat, Pray, Love movie and was disappointed. I got lost in McEwan, Lahiri and Kundera. I got disgusted at the world after researching for my politics essay.
In November 2010, I went to hell and came back. I passed up eight assignments in two weeks. I saw the licking flames and roasted in a slow circle. The feeling I got from finishing it all was incredible. I got crazily drunk and said bye to Perth. I didn't know that I wasn't coming back. Dad got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma seven days after I passed up my last undergraduate assignment. I got called for an interview at Wisma UOA for the position of an 'information analyst'. I didn't take the job.
In December 2010, Vivek and I decided that we couldn't continue our relationship as I would be staying back in KL as opposed to flying back to Perth in January, as originally planned. We broke it off two days before his 23rd birthday. He left for Bali and I stayed over at Payal's house. We played Taboo. I got my results back on the 10th of December - I had graduated. Payal and I went out for drinks the next night and neither of us remembers much. It was a good night. I went for an interview with Smart Investor and met the editor for half an hour at the Aman Suria office. While shopping at Jaya 33, I was reminded of grocery shopping in Perth as a couple. Somewhere around the third week, Mom and the brother fell sick, and I followed suit. I celebrated the New Year's with Payal and Nim. We were rudely shoved and groped in the crowd, but it was a good night.
2010 taught me plenty and showed me how to have a good time. I came to realize that all you really need to survive this thing called Life is yourself and your precious friends. If you stop looking for happiness in people and things, and start making life happen, the happiness will come by itself. It is something that needs to be worked at continuously, much like having a relationship. I advocate having a relationship with yourself and not jumping the gun, like many of us have done in the past. I forgot how nice it is to sit at home all day in pajamas and read my way through a whole book. I forgot how cool it is to see movies back to back (again, in my pajamas). Clean your room weekly and open the windows. Smell the rain and don’t ever think that you are alone.
With pain, comes gain. This I promise you.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Take a Break
Ok so I lied.
I did end up in the bookstore, and not even a secondhand one (I went to Dymocks!) and, well...bought a book. So what else is new.
In my defense though, I got a book that I thought might not be available any more in KL - We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I saw it years ago in MPH but hey maybe they ran out of stock right?
Of course, since the shopping bug has bit me (since January 2010 when I bumped my knee on the ground after toppling out of a roller-coaster in Genting - more on that later, remind me to tell you the story) I couldn't resist going into other stores. No I didn't buy clothes, which is what everyone wants to hear but I did buy a belt once at Harbour Town. It was 4bucks. I bought some pretty stationery! I got a purple to-do list notebook that folds down like a desk calendar. It's awesome. And a black and purple pen. And also some stuff from the Reject Shop - more stationery. I swear I wasn't even planning to go into Dymocks...it just happened!
Anyway, there is just too much to do these days, I feel like my head is going to go kaputs. Doesn't help that I got a Credit for an essay that I was hoping would get a Distinction. Oh well. Just have to work harder. It wasn't my favourite topic (ethical issues...euw) to write an essay on and perhaps I was a little de-motivated. When I love the topic I need to write on, I usually do well. Like when I wrote about Virginia Woolf. It was very exciting. I'm not expecting a Distinction for the second essay I passed up because I don't think I structured it very well but hey, miracles have happened.
I am going to watch Masterchef and eat lunch...then ARRRRRGHHHH...back to work. Damnit.
Two more weeks, chin up!
I did end up in the bookstore, and not even a secondhand one (I went to Dymocks!) and, well...bought a book. So what else is new.
In my defense though, I got a book that I thought might not be available any more in KL - We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I saw it years ago in MPH but hey maybe they ran out of stock right?
Of course, since the shopping bug has bit me (since January 2010 when I bumped my knee on the ground after toppling out of a roller-coaster in Genting - more on that later, remind me to tell you the story) I couldn't resist going into other stores. No I didn't buy clothes, which is what everyone wants to hear but I did buy a belt once at Harbour Town. It was 4bucks. I bought some pretty stationery! I got a purple to-do list notebook that folds down like a desk calendar. It's awesome. And a black and purple pen. And also some stuff from the Reject Shop - more stationery. I swear I wasn't even planning to go into Dymocks...it just happened!
Anyway, there is just too much to do these days, I feel like my head is going to go kaputs. Doesn't help that I got a Credit for an essay that I was hoping would get a Distinction. Oh well. Just have to work harder. It wasn't my favourite topic (ethical issues...euw) to write an essay on and perhaps I was a little de-motivated. When I love the topic I need to write on, I usually do well. Like when I wrote about Virginia Woolf. It was very exciting. I'm not expecting a Distinction for the second essay I passed up because I don't think I structured it very well but hey, miracles have happened.
I am going to watch Masterchef and eat lunch...then ARRRRRGHHHH...back to work. Damnit.
Two more weeks, chin up!
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Smiggles
So, I finished my essay. And now I don't know what to do with myself. I'm nearly done with my readings for class on Thursday. I'm ahead of schedule. I feel wierd!
Usually I'm busy not doing assignments and feeling immensely guilty while I not do them. Wow I'm suddenly on top of things.
Ok let's not jinx it. I've still got 9 assignments left. And not all of them are as weighty as the essay so I'm just putting things in perspective. I need to memorise lines as well because I'm a showgirl now!
Over the holidays last December I spent the majority of my time reading. It was beautiful really. I didn't on the tv set, I didn't go online, I forgot to shower sometimes. I covered a lot of ground but obviously I went to another book sale and brought back a carton full of books. I need a new bookshelf. Anyone with a spare please be a doll and pass it to me. When my parents came down I actually passed them books I had finished. I know it's shocking that I was able to part with them but I did it! I still have about 30 books with me in Perth though. Don't tell them that. Oh and I bought more. Geez.
Funny thing happened when I moved to Perth. In my first semester, I hated all things Australian just because I was that homesick (and deranged...not much has changed). I even boycotted Australian writers and in my head I made them out to be not worth my time. In one of my classes, I was introduced to Peter Carey and was forced to read one of his short stories. I liked it. But being the stubborn bull that I am, refused to pick up his books still. During my winter break last year, I was browsing the awards list on Wikipedia - I believe it was for the Booker Prize. Peter Carey was on the list for his book Oscar and Lucinda I believe. I checked the library catalogue - they didn't have Oscar and Lucinda, but they had True History of the Kelly Gang. I had heard of Ned Kelly but I was still a bit skeptical when I checked out the book. Nothing in the back cover really spoke to me. But as I struggled through the first few pages (it is written in 'slang' and it is quite difficult to read at first but one gets the hang of it quickly) and managed to pull through, I found that I could not put it down. His language was evocative and poetic, even with their odd slang use of 'chooks' (chickens) and other things. I quickly fell in love with the character of Ned Kelly (I imagined this really buff dude in my head covered with nothing but sheepskin on appropriate parts...oops) and the love story between him and his future wife was really intimate and breathtaking. When I finished it I didn't want it to end which is the feeling I get when I read a really really good book and then I realised I had officially lifte my boycott. But it was totally worth it. Peter Carey is now one of my favourite authors and I recently bought Oscar and Lucinda. Will tell you how it is.
I've also been recommended Tim Winton on several different occasions and I met a lady at my workplace who is friends with Winton (omg, how exciting!!!) and spoke highly of Cloudstreet. In her words, she said it was "the best book she had ever read in her life." I wanted to go out there and then and buy it but then I looked in my wallet. But money issues aside, the book is really hard to find, apparently because it sells out really fast. I shall not give up though, I will have a copy very soon.
Off to go shopping ( I will try and stay away from the bookstore...no promises though).
Usually I'm busy not doing assignments and feeling immensely guilty while I not do them. Wow I'm suddenly on top of things.
Ok let's not jinx it. I've still got 9 assignments left. And not all of them are as weighty as the essay so I'm just putting things in perspective. I need to memorise lines as well because I'm a showgirl now!
Over the holidays last December I spent the majority of my time reading. It was beautiful really. I didn't on the tv set, I didn't go online, I forgot to shower sometimes. I covered a lot of ground but obviously I went to another book sale and brought back a carton full of books. I need a new bookshelf. Anyone with a spare please be a doll and pass it to me. When my parents came down I actually passed them books I had finished. I know it's shocking that I was able to part with them but I did it! I still have about 30 books with me in Perth though. Don't tell them that. Oh and I bought more. Geez.
Funny thing happened when I moved to Perth. In my first semester, I hated all things Australian just because I was that homesick (and deranged...not much has changed). I even boycotted Australian writers and in my head I made them out to be not worth my time. In one of my classes, I was introduced to Peter Carey and was forced to read one of his short stories. I liked it. But being the stubborn bull that I am, refused to pick up his books still. During my winter break last year, I was browsing the awards list on Wikipedia - I believe it was for the Booker Prize. Peter Carey was on the list for his book Oscar and Lucinda I believe. I checked the library catalogue - they didn't have Oscar and Lucinda, but they had True History of the Kelly Gang. I had heard of Ned Kelly but I was still a bit skeptical when I checked out the book. Nothing in the back cover really spoke to me. But as I struggled through the first few pages (it is written in 'slang' and it is quite difficult to read at first but one gets the hang of it quickly) and managed to pull through, I found that I could not put it down. His language was evocative and poetic, even with their odd slang use of 'chooks' (chickens) and other things. I quickly fell in love with the character of Ned Kelly (I imagined this really buff dude in my head covered with nothing but sheepskin on appropriate parts...oops) and the love story between him and his future wife was really intimate and breathtaking. When I finished it I didn't want it to end which is the feeling I get when I read a really really good book and then I realised I had officially lifte my boycott. But it was totally worth it. Peter Carey is now one of my favourite authors and I recently bought Oscar and Lucinda. Will tell you how it is.
I've also been recommended Tim Winton on several different occasions and I met a lady at my workplace who is friends with Winton (omg, how exciting!!!) and spoke highly of Cloudstreet. In her words, she said it was "the best book she had ever read in her life." I wanted to go out there and then and buy it but then I looked in my wallet. But money issues aside, the book is really hard to find, apparently because it sells out really fast. I shall not give up though, I will have a copy very soon.
Off to go shopping ( I will try and stay away from the bookstore...no promises though).
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Say It With Me: Drama Queen!
Geez, I'm dramatic aren't I?
Didn't realize that until I read my last few posts. Don't even want to read back further than that, I want to cringe a little bit when I think about it.
Why is it so hard to read back on what you write? I'm having that problem as I'm writing for my huge creative writing project due in 3weeks. I have about 1,000 words. I need 4,000 more. And please don't look at me like that I'm taking 4 units this semester. Because I'm an idiot that's why. Oh, and also I'm racing to graduate by this year, I don't care what it takes!
By the way, I'm allowed to be dramatic now because I'm taking a unit called Children's Theatre and I get to play a duck. Yep, I'm not a tree but I'm supposed to be a cute, waddling, yellow, fluffy duck. I don't even know how to wiggle my ass (without some alcohol in my system). I am not going on that stage sober! But uhm, yea it's for children. I can't have tequila on my breath. Oh screw it, they're probably drinking more than I am right now. So, I am a Von Duck Family Singer and I get to sing a song (about ducks naturally, we don't actually have it yet so keep yer' fingers crossed!) and dance around in a showgirl kind of way. Get the feeling that this shouldn't be for kids? Yea. You should see our costumes too. I tried it on and looked like a really naughty french maid. Oh well, don't worry. I'm not going on stage without protection.
Right now I'm finishing an essay that's due tomorrow. I have 800 words left which really doesn't sound that bad. I was tempted to skip work but if you skip work you can't pay rent so that was outta the question. I now have enough for rent plus 10bucks to spend. Three cheers for my bank account! This is what happens when you work in a crappy Asian food cafe place with kiasu bosses who are really nice but are too damn cheap for their own good. I was cutting up onions and threw out a bit that looked dodgy and my lady-boss took it out of the trash and put it back on my chopping board. Lady, buy another bag, it costs like, I don't know, 2dollars? Geez.
What else - I have to workshop a creative writing piece and let my peers give me constructive criticism (rip it to shreds and kill my self-esteem). I have to submit a journal that is supposed to encompass records of my thoughts about 13 weeks of drama class. I've only done 1week. Oh well. I have to workshop a literary journalism piece that I've interviewed so many people for but I haven't found the perfect subject yet. Students can be really boring. I mean honestly. All we do is study, eat, sleep, binge-drink and wake up in the hospital. Where is the excitement?
My parents came to visit two weeks ago. Yea, time flies. It was so cool but I miss them already. I've been here for three years but this friggin homesickness refuses to go away. It's like a disease, I swear. I mean I like Perth as much as the next Asian despite having things thrown at me, but eh. Home is home I say.
I Dream...
Of nostalgia and Enid Blyton,
of mischief and twinkling eyes,
Of water balloons and sleepovers,
of Spice Girls and boy bands.
I'm still that kid and I refuse to grow up. Hope Dad doesn't read this. I'll get a job I swear Pa!
Peace to you and to you and to you. Now go finish your own essay and quit procrastinating. That's my job. Toodles.
Didn't realize that until I read my last few posts. Don't even want to read back further than that, I want to cringe a little bit when I think about it.
Why is it so hard to read back on what you write? I'm having that problem as I'm writing for my huge creative writing project due in 3weeks. I have about 1,000 words. I need 4,000 more. And please don't look at me like that I'm taking 4 units this semester. Because I'm an idiot that's why. Oh, and also I'm racing to graduate by this year, I don't care what it takes!
By the way, I'm allowed to be dramatic now because I'm taking a unit called Children's Theatre and I get to play a duck. Yep, I'm not a tree but I'm supposed to be a cute, waddling, yellow, fluffy duck. I don't even know how to wiggle my ass (without some alcohol in my system). I am not going on that stage sober! But uhm, yea it's for children. I can't have tequila on my breath. Oh screw it, they're probably drinking more than I am right now. So, I am a Von Duck Family Singer and I get to sing a song (about ducks naturally, we don't actually have it yet so keep yer' fingers crossed!) and dance around in a showgirl kind of way. Get the feeling that this shouldn't be for kids? Yea. You should see our costumes too. I tried it on and looked like a really naughty french maid. Oh well, don't worry. I'm not going on stage without protection.
Right now I'm finishing an essay that's due tomorrow. I have 800 words left which really doesn't sound that bad. I was tempted to skip work but if you skip work you can't pay rent so that was outta the question. I now have enough for rent plus 10bucks to spend. Three cheers for my bank account! This is what happens when you work in a crappy Asian food cafe place with kiasu bosses who are really nice but are too damn cheap for their own good. I was cutting up onions and threw out a bit that looked dodgy and my lady-boss took it out of the trash and put it back on my chopping board. Lady, buy another bag, it costs like, I don't know, 2dollars? Geez.
What else - I have to workshop a creative writing piece and let my peers give me constructive criticism (rip it to shreds and kill my self-esteem). I have to submit a journal that is supposed to encompass records of my thoughts about 13 weeks of drama class. I've only done 1week. Oh well. I have to workshop a literary journalism piece that I've interviewed so many people for but I haven't found the perfect subject yet. Students can be really boring. I mean honestly. All we do is study, eat, sleep, binge-drink and wake up in the hospital. Where is the excitement?
My parents came to visit two weeks ago. Yea, time flies. It was so cool but I miss them already. I've been here for three years but this friggin homesickness refuses to go away. It's like a disease, I swear. I mean I like Perth as much as the next Asian despite having things thrown at me, but eh. Home is home I say.
I Dream...
Of nostalgia and Enid Blyton,
of mischief and twinkling eyes,
Of water balloons and sleepovers,
of Spice Girls and boy bands.
I'm still that kid and I refuse to grow up. Hope Dad doesn't read this. I'll get a job I swear Pa!
Peace to you and to you and to you. Now go finish your own essay and quit procrastinating. That's my job. Toodles.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
One down!
The summary is done, now one to bigger and better things :)
I am going to eat now, before I do anything else!
I am going to eat now, before I do anything else!
Monday, October 05, 2009
Infestigative
To anybody out there:
Hello to you, yes I'm talking to you. After all, I want to represent you someday. Mwahaha.
Yea so where do I begin as usual? I'm listening to some Bjork and doing an overdue assignment...hmm what else is new? This time though, I swear I have a legitimate reason but due to legal issues, I cannot disclose exactly what I have been up to. Nothing concerning me however, do not fret. I have been pursuing something which will hopefully lead to some change *wiggles eyebrows*. In all seriousness, I hope something good comes out of it, for the good of young, green and broke international students. Sigh, there are too many of us here. I still wonder sometimes how Australia managed to make cash cows out of all of us. Was it just good advertising? Connections? Bribery perhaps? Think about it, while I move on to the next point.
Magazine, as in student publications. You know the kind, I'm sure. Underfunded, underappreciated and reaches a circulation of a possible 3,000 people, most of them the broke students mentioned above. Not to mention runs on voluntary service, as opposed to the paid elite. I ain't complainin' however, it's been good experience being a contributor. Then somebody said..."hey Mil, why don't you apply to be the editor for the Women's Issue?" Of course, that went straight to my head, much like cheap rum. I didn't think I could do it. I knew I was going to be heavily involved but didn't see myself being the wise and sage editor. But I applied, and I got it (not due to my talent unfortunately, but simply because nobody else applied- or I'm assuming that no one else did for this year). Oh well. The editor gets paid. Not to sound heartless or anything but I could use the money. Plus there's the bonus of experience (a crazy rollercoaster one because it's not easy, but hey nothing worth it will ever be easy!).
Enough about that. There's more though and it's got nothing to do with women's issues, do not fret. Then, somebody else said..."Hey Mil, aren't you going to run for anything? Nominations close in three days!" So I decided to run for something. I shall not say anything much until the results are out but is anybody else getting the feeling that it's really easy to get me to do something? Just give me nudge and apparently I run, scrambling for the red button. I guess all it takes is one push. I'd like to think that these people had nothing to do with it, but in hindsight, what they said has everything to do with it. I don't think very highly of my capabilities so if you tell me I can do something and that I can do it well, I will always be surprised. But I don't even think I'm too hard on myself. It's really wierd. I suppose this means that I'm some sort of compliment-hungry person which is not very attractive but who doesn't like a compliment ei?
Annnnnd of course, this sums it all up- why two of my assignments are late. They're not major major ones though, so I'm not feeling too panicky. I'm feeling slightly guilty obviously (perhaps the guilt is some wierd motivation to me...who knows?) because both the lecturers of these units are really awesome and I don't want them to think that I'm insulting their intelligence. I suppose I should direct them to this post, just so they can get the general idea. One of them is a drama lecturer though, so I don't think he cares all that much (no offense meant, it was said in good humour!). Dramatists are dramatists after all. Plus he must be having fun reading over all the interesting and psychotic student plays everyone submitted. I don't want to take that away from him obviously.
So, in one breath, this is what I have to do: Finish that damn synopsis, finish that darn summary of my oral presentation and then focus on layout and images and editing. And writing of course. Something I've completely lost touch with. I was reading some poetry of a good friend of mine and felt that sharp pang you feel when you miss doing something you love. Kind of like the pangs I get when I think of mutton rendang from Sri Melaka back home. The adoration is intense but it's that good I swear.
Oh, and I've got to prepare for two more oral presentations coming up next week plus start research for two essays. And study for a test. And prepare for a 'moved reading'. And the first draft of my play.
Hmm. That cheap vodka doesn't sound so bad now.
Hello to you, yes I'm talking to you. After all, I want to represent you someday. Mwahaha.
Yea so where do I begin as usual? I'm listening to some Bjork and doing an overdue assignment...hmm what else is new? This time though, I swear I have a legitimate reason but due to legal issues, I cannot disclose exactly what I have been up to. Nothing concerning me however, do not fret. I have been pursuing something which will hopefully lead to some change *wiggles eyebrows*. In all seriousness, I hope something good comes out of it, for the good of young, green and broke international students. Sigh, there are too many of us here. I still wonder sometimes how Australia managed to make cash cows out of all of us. Was it just good advertising? Connections? Bribery perhaps? Think about it, while I move on to the next point.
Magazine, as in student publications. You know the kind, I'm sure. Underfunded, underappreciated and reaches a circulation of a possible 3,000 people, most of them the broke students mentioned above. Not to mention runs on voluntary service, as opposed to the paid elite. I ain't complainin' however, it's been good experience being a contributor. Then somebody said..."hey Mil, why don't you apply to be the editor for the Women's Issue?" Of course, that went straight to my head, much like cheap rum. I didn't think I could do it. I knew I was going to be heavily involved but didn't see myself being the wise and sage editor. But I applied, and I got it (not due to my talent unfortunately, but simply because nobody else applied- or I'm assuming that no one else did for this year). Oh well. The editor gets paid. Not to sound heartless or anything but I could use the money. Plus there's the bonus of experience (a crazy rollercoaster one because it's not easy, but hey nothing worth it will ever be easy!).
Enough about that. There's more though and it's got nothing to do with women's issues, do not fret. Then, somebody else said..."Hey Mil, aren't you going to run for anything? Nominations close in three days!" So I decided to run for something. I shall not say anything much until the results are out but is anybody else getting the feeling that it's really easy to get me to do something? Just give me nudge and apparently I run, scrambling for the red button. I guess all it takes is one push. I'd like to think that these people had nothing to do with it, but in hindsight, what they said has everything to do with it. I don't think very highly of my capabilities so if you tell me I can do something and that I can do it well, I will always be surprised. But I don't even think I'm too hard on myself. It's really wierd. I suppose this means that I'm some sort of compliment-hungry person which is not very attractive but who doesn't like a compliment ei?
Annnnnd of course, this sums it all up- why two of my assignments are late. They're not major major ones though, so I'm not feeling too panicky. I'm feeling slightly guilty obviously (perhaps the guilt is some wierd motivation to me...who knows?) because both the lecturers of these units are really awesome and I don't want them to think that I'm insulting their intelligence. I suppose I should direct them to this post, just so they can get the general idea. One of them is a drama lecturer though, so I don't think he cares all that much (no offense meant, it was said in good humour!). Dramatists are dramatists after all. Plus he must be having fun reading over all the interesting and psychotic student plays everyone submitted. I don't want to take that away from him obviously.
So, in one breath, this is what I have to do: Finish that damn synopsis, finish that darn summary of my oral presentation and then focus on layout and images and editing. And writing of course. Something I've completely lost touch with. I was reading some poetry of a good friend of mine and felt that sharp pang you feel when you miss doing something you love. Kind of like the pangs I get when I think of mutton rendang from Sri Melaka back home. The adoration is intense but it's that good I swear.
Oh, and I've got to prepare for two more oral presentations coming up next week plus start research for two essays. And study for a test. And prepare for a 'moved reading'. And the first draft of my play.
Hmm. That cheap vodka doesn't sound so bad now.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
No Fear
The beauty of Sanskrit, of native languages and aboriginality- torn down by the English sacrilege. They built it up to perfection and you scrapped it off with one single manouvre. But you know what? You can tick tock and Hobson-Jobson all you want-our language remains ours.
We may not understand privacy, or comprehend you when you say things like 'breach of privacy' and 'disrespect for grief' but at least we are not afraid of butting in and running interference. Sometimes that can save a life.
At least we are not nations of binge-drinking, which is not something that alot of Western countries can say. We have our problems, but they're mostly not as sad as consuming too many drinks at the age of 12.
At least we don't stand four feet away from each other when standing in a queue. Sure there's the BO problem but I'd rather feel humane then feel like a leper in a public space.
At least we are not afraid. Because you know what? You, as rich and as clean and as powerful as you are, you live in a nation of constant fear.
And I'd rather be poor, dirty and powerless instead of afraid.
We may not understand privacy, or comprehend you when you say things like 'breach of privacy' and 'disrespect for grief' but at least we are not afraid of butting in and running interference. Sometimes that can save a life.
At least we are not nations of binge-drinking, which is not something that alot of Western countries can say. We have our problems, but they're mostly not as sad as consuming too many drinks at the age of 12.
At least we don't stand four feet away from each other when standing in a queue. Sure there's the BO problem but I'd rather feel humane then feel like a leper in a public space.
At least we are not afraid. Because you know what? You, as rich and as clean and as powerful as you are, you live in a nation of constant fear.
And I'd rather be poor, dirty and powerless instead of afraid.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
- 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.
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*
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.
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).
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.
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
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.
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.
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