Amma and I at Floriade, the highlight of Canberra as Amma puts it
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Make Poverty History: Idealism or Reality?
I was sitting in the lobby of the Parliament House in Canberra, waiting for a certain politician's PA to escort me into the hidden recesses of the political world. My Singaporean passport was tucked gently in between scraps of paper with foreign aid figures on them. What the hell am I doing here? I keep asking myself. Here, in the nation's capital, not my nation, but some other that I am a guest in, attempting to persuade them into increasing aid and cancelling debt to the poorest countries in the world.
The last three days in Canberra have been simply amazing. I learned more about politics than any uni class could teach me. I was part of the Micah Challenge, a sister campaign of the Make Poverty History Campaign, to go to Canberra and lobby for debt cancellation to be on the G20 summit agenda, and for Australia to increase foreign aid to 0.7% by 2015.
The last few days have been a crazy jam packed schedule of morning worship and seminars on aid and political issues, afternoon appointment with politicians and attending question time and parliamentary debates, and more evening sessions on aid and economic issues. We had speakers from AusAid, and various economic advisors to ministers to inundate us with facts, figures and policy material. As we walk, as we eat, it is bam bam bam...information flying from every direction at us..."his party just released a white paper discussing the various policy initiatives on increasing aid but have not committed to actual figures, you have to remember to talk to him about XYZ...." ......" he is connected to so-and-so, and is part of the so-and -s0 party...."...."this is the opposition whip for blah blah blah..and is a key target to the microeconomic reforms that we have been talking about.."
So my brain is in a state of overheat right now on information and problems that seem so beyond me. I was taught to think deeper, beyond short term, into the bigger picture, the connections and the complications. Aid isn't just about the money. It is about corruption, governance and long term interlinking benefits. Yes, we can provide a million dollars to train teachers in developing countries. Then what? They get great well-paid jobs in the urban areas, and the poor rural areas still have no education. Ok, so they go back to the rural villages to teach. There is no money for books, no money for a school house, no money for materials. The children in the village are hungry and sick. They have to help their parents and thus have no time for school. Just like the lady at the AIDS forum said, you can't just throw drugs at people in third world countries who are suffering from HIV. They don't have the food or portable water to take it with. You can't just immunise a bunch of kids and leave it there. So they no longer have TB, but what about HIV, other forms of illnesses or just pure starvation. And children will keep coming. Batch after batch. Is there a kind of long term government engagement to keep ALL the children immunised?
The more I learned, the more the hole got bigger and bigger. 11 million children die every year from totally preventable diseases. These are not statistics, but people with the same emotions as us. It needs a combination of both money from the top, and credible manpower at the bottom to ensure the money goes to the root of the problem.
But there was some positive outcome in it all. We heard both liberal and labour members talk about the Micah challenge and mentioned the option of increasing aid during question time, and we got valuable cooperation into the policy making process. All this time I was thinking, this is amazing. With all the selfishness and image-conscious corruption in a democracy, this is one of its beauties. That the people can go up to their government and tell them what they want done. It is no guarantee that the government will hear, but it is still a step in a particular direction. While trying to hide my identity as a non-Australian at least for the meetings so the ministers will hear me out for a bit, I thought about Australians and the possibility of voting for your values, and having your views heard. And I thought about Singapore, and the possibility of raising the issue of Singapore's contribution to the Millennium development goals for world poverty. While I am part fighting for it on another turf, I want my country to do their fair share too. It would be interesting to see what happens when I put that in question to the MP when I go back to Singapore at the end of the year.
The last three days in Canberra have been simply amazing. I learned more about politics than any uni class could teach me. I was part of the Micah Challenge, a sister campaign of the Make Poverty History Campaign, to go to Canberra and lobby for debt cancellation to be on the G20 summit agenda, and for Australia to increase foreign aid to 0.7% by 2015.
The last few days have been a crazy jam packed schedule of morning worship and seminars on aid and political issues, afternoon appointment with politicians and attending question time and parliamentary debates, and more evening sessions on aid and economic issues. We had speakers from AusAid, and various economic advisors to ministers to inundate us with facts, figures and policy material. As we walk, as we eat, it is bam bam bam...information flying from every direction at us..."his party just released a white paper discussing the various policy initiatives on increasing aid but have not committed to actual figures, you have to remember to talk to him about XYZ...." ......" he is connected to so-and-so, and is part of the so-and -s0 party...."...."this is the opposition whip for blah blah blah..and is a key target to the microeconomic reforms that we have been talking about.."
So my brain is in a state of overheat right now on information and problems that seem so beyond me. I was taught to think deeper, beyond short term, into the bigger picture, the connections and the complications. Aid isn't just about the money. It is about corruption, governance and long term interlinking benefits. Yes, we can provide a million dollars to train teachers in developing countries. Then what? They get great well-paid jobs in the urban areas, and the poor rural areas still have no education. Ok, so they go back to the rural villages to teach. There is no money for books, no money for a school house, no money for materials. The children in the village are hungry and sick. They have to help their parents and thus have no time for school. Just like the lady at the AIDS forum said, you can't just throw drugs at people in third world countries who are suffering from HIV. They don't have the food or portable water to take it with. You can't just immunise a bunch of kids and leave it there. So they no longer have TB, but what about HIV, other forms of illnesses or just pure starvation. And children will keep coming. Batch after batch. Is there a kind of long term government engagement to keep ALL the children immunised?
The more I learned, the more the hole got bigger and bigger. 11 million children die every year from totally preventable diseases. These are not statistics, but people with the same emotions as us. It needs a combination of both money from the top, and credible manpower at the bottom to ensure the money goes to the root of the problem.
But there was some positive outcome in it all. We heard both liberal and labour members talk about the Micah challenge and mentioned the option of increasing aid during question time, and we got valuable cooperation into the policy making process. All this time I was thinking, this is amazing. With all the selfishness and image-conscious corruption in a democracy, this is one of its beauties. That the people can go up to their government and tell them what they want done. It is no guarantee that the government will hear, but it is still a step in a particular direction. While trying to hide my identity as a non-Australian at least for the meetings so the ministers will hear me out for a bit, I thought about Australians and the possibility of voting for your values, and having your views heard. And I thought about Singapore, and the possibility of raising the issue of Singapore's contribution to the Millennium development goals for world poverty. While I am part fighting for it on another turf, I want my country to do their fair share too. It would be interesting to see what happens when I put that in question to the MP when I go back to Singapore at the end of the year.
Friday, October 13, 2006
My Own Farewell Speech
My experience in IH is like a really dramatic and bittersweet TV serial, that I keep watching over and over and over again to find out what's next. Last night was Valedictory dinner, and I came/crash/was invited to see my fellow batch, the ones I step foot into IH with and went crazy during oweek with, valedict. This was the batch that I should be valedicting with. But sitting at lower high, wasn't me, but them. And in my heart, I felt a sense of longing to be there. To say my aspirations, and get a goblet, and just complete my entrance into IH with an exit.
I had a crazy time. No there was no drunkenness involved (considering I only had 3 glasses of alcoholic substance), but just high on hope, aspirations, laughter, applause and memories.
Sitting there, facing high table, eating the dried out chicken, looking at photos, hearing the gossip, I still feel exactly the same way I felt about myself 2 years ago whenever I am there. Insecure. Needy. Ashamed. Painful. Hopeless. Pathetic. Fake. Afraid. Angry. Desperate. Stupid. It is hard to sit among people, some who you know are your real friends, and some who you thought were your friends. And not being able to shift the flour.
IH brought many great and beautiful people into my life. But it didn't bring the best out of me. It brought out my insecurity and my ugliness. And no matter when I am there, it will still bring that part of me out. It wasn't people that cause that. Just dynamics of any communal place which favours gossip and drama over truth and acceptance. But that could be anywhere in the world.
And I think I need to start accepting, that IH is a chapter in my life that I cannot resolve. There are so so so many things I want to say to so many people. Both good things and bad things. Both rebukes and apologies. But it is all unnecessary, but only for my own self-fulfilment. I want to unwind the clock and start again. But I think things will still turn out the same way. Life isn't perfect, and I need to stop blaming the institution and others for my own imperfection.
I had a crazy time. No there was no drunkenness involved (considering I only had 3 glasses of alcoholic substance), but just high on hope, aspirations, laughter, applause and memories.
Sitting there, facing high table, eating the dried out chicken, looking at photos, hearing the gossip, I still feel exactly the same way I felt about myself 2 years ago whenever I am there. Insecure. Needy. Ashamed. Painful. Hopeless. Pathetic. Fake. Afraid. Angry. Desperate. Stupid. It is hard to sit among people, some who you know are your real friends, and some who you thought were your friends. And not being able to shift the flour.
IH brought many great and beautiful people into my life. But it didn't bring the best out of me. It brought out my insecurity and my ugliness. And no matter when I am there, it will still bring that part of me out. It wasn't people that cause that. Just dynamics of any communal place which favours gossip and drama over truth and acceptance. But that could be anywhere in the world.
And I think I need to start accepting, that IH is a chapter in my life that I cannot resolve. There are so so so many things I want to say to so many people. Both good things and bad things. Both rebukes and apologies. But it is all unnecessary, but only for my own self-fulfilment. I want to unwind the clock and start again. But I think things will still turn out the same way. Life isn't perfect, and I need to stop blaming the institution and others for my own imperfection.
To Canberra With Love
After a week of putting up posters, scuttling around uni, distributing flyers, chalking, hanging up banners, spilling wax over the table cloth and desperate prayer, the Melbourne Uni Club United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF) film screening and public forum on HIV/AIDS is finally over!
Both the film and forum were profoundly touching for me. Everyone go watch the film Yesterday. It was only the second time I watched it that it hit me, the desperation, the stigma of Aids, the helplessness. So beautiful. Just basic things like, she can't get to the clinic and see a doctor, was beyond me. It was touching to put a humanising face to an entire generation in Africa wiping out at a exponential rate, and another generation of orphans the world doesn't remember.
Today the forum was a huge success. A mother who was living with Aids talked about her experience, and her optimism and matter-of-factness touched me.
She said, "When you tell people about a crisis that happened to you, you end up looking after them. I have to come to grips with my illness before they can."
I shivered when she said "I am keeping a diary for my daughter, just in case I don't make it to tell her."
Now that the hustle of the Aids Awareness week is over, I will be leaving for Canberra tomorrow for the Voices for Justice Micah Challenge National Gathering. Micah Challenge is a global Christian organisation working for and with poor communities around the world, alongside the Make Poverty History Campaign. We will be visiting politicians to discuss, in particular, the G20 meeting, debt, trade and aid. There will also be seminars on faith, politics and justice, and the political processes in Australia. I am really excited, and it would be a good opportunity to see Chris and Amma from my Upenn life. I also need a break and get out of Melby for a bit before I start the crazy essay writing spree of 4 essays in 3 weeks.
Will be back with pictures soon!
Both the film and forum were profoundly touching for me. Everyone go watch the film Yesterday. It was only the second time I watched it that it hit me, the desperation, the stigma of Aids, the helplessness. So beautiful. Just basic things like, she can't get to the clinic and see a doctor, was beyond me. It was touching to put a humanising face to an entire generation in Africa wiping out at a exponential rate, and another generation of orphans the world doesn't remember.
Today the forum was a huge success. A mother who was living with Aids talked about her experience, and her optimism and matter-of-factness touched me.
She said, "When you tell people about a crisis that happened to you, you end up looking after them. I have to come to grips with my illness before they can."
I shivered when she said "I am keeping a diary for my daughter, just in case I don't make it to tell her."
Now that the hustle of the Aids Awareness week is over, I will be leaving for Canberra tomorrow for the Voices for Justice Micah Challenge National Gathering. Micah Challenge is a global Christian organisation working for and with poor communities around the world, alongside the Make Poverty History Campaign. We will be visiting politicians to discuss, in particular, the G20 meeting, debt, trade and aid. There will also be seminars on faith, politics and justice, and the political processes in Australia. I am really excited, and it would be a good opportunity to see Chris and Amma from my Upenn life. I also need a break and get out of Melby for a bit before I start the crazy essay writing spree of 4 essays in 3 weeks.
Will be back with pictures soon!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I Want to Sue Cindy Crawford For My Lack of Self Esteem, and the Internet, for Making Me Less Productive
Before this, people sued Macdonalds for making them fat. Because their clever ads and 'delicious' food tempted people beyond reasonable control to upsize their meal and have it three times a day.
Now, someone is suing iPod for hearing problems. He alleges "the sound produced by an iPod can exceed 115 decibels, a volume which is dangerous to be exposed to for more than 28 seconds."
So turn the damm thing lower! Would you knowingly and eagerly run to a job site and put your ear next to the drill just to see how long it takes before your eardrums explode? iPod didn't force you to turn the dial until you hit the loudest volume. Any decent coherent human being knows that excessive loud noise over a period of time results in hearing damage. Not rocket science.
This made me think about the whole "blame others" society we now live in. Low self esteem? Blame your harsh back-beating parents. Spoiled brat? Blame your stifling moddle-coddling parents. Don't know the multiplication table at age 21? Blame your school. Have no creative spark? Blame the Singapore education system. Fat, poor and broke? Blame your credit card company. Don't like to walk on grass and drink from an outdoor water cooler? Blame my government. Or that is me at least.
Is this the result of the new eternal adolescent society? Where 18 year olds still let their mum wash their socks, 22 year olds are still in school on parental support, 26 year olds still live with their parents, 35 year olds are still wondering what they want to do in life and 40 year olds are still picking up at bars. Play stations, simple to read chick lit that has the vocab of sweet valley high, and toys for adults that we call vintage collectables. This has replaced being drafted for war at 17, getting married at 16 and child labour at 12. At least in the developed world.
Without responsibility, we find no need to be responsible. And part of being responsible and an adult, is realising you can't run up to your friend's parents and complain that they bullied you in school. The day I realised that I freaked out.
So we continue to assign blame, so that we can assign responsibility on others for our lives. People assign fast food companies responsibility for our health. People assign TV stations responsibility for baby sitting their children. People assign the government responsibility for keeping the roads safe. And when something wrong happens, we blame our city councils. In the past, people grab pitch forks and fire and hunt the bloody thing down. Of course nowadays, that is illegal.
Maybe it is all in the evolution of society. In olden times, people trusted the Church. Then they trusted their government. And now with the possibility of suing every Tom, Dick and Harry that made us overweight and deaf, we have put our trust in corporations and companies to handle our lives for us.
Now, someone is suing iPod for hearing problems. He alleges "the sound produced by an iPod can exceed 115 decibels, a volume which is dangerous to be exposed to for more than 28 seconds."
So turn the damm thing lower! Would you knowingly and eagerly run to a job site and put your ear next to the drill just to see how long it takes before your eardrums explode? iPod didn't force you to turn the dial until you hit the loudest volume. Any decent coherent human being knows that excessive loud noise over a period of time results in hearing damage. Not rocket science.
This made me think about the whole "blame others" society we now live in. Low self esteem? Blame your harsh back-beating parents. Spoiled brat? Blame your stifling moddle-coddling parents. Don't know the multiplication table at age 21? Blame your school. Have no creative spark? Blame the Singapore education system. Fat, poor and broke? Blame your credit card company. Don't like to walk on grass and drink from an outdoor water cooler? Blame my government. Or that is me at least.
Is this the result of the new eternal adolescent society? Where 18 year olds still let their mum wash their socks, 22 year olds are still in school on parental support, 26 year olds still live with their parents, 35 year olds are still wondering what they want to do in life and 40 year olds are still picking up at bars. Play stations, simple to read chick lit that has the vocab of sweet valley high, and toys for adults that we call vintage collectables. This has replaced being drafted for war at 17, getting married at 16 and child labour at 12. At least in the developed world.
Without responsibility, we find no need to be responsible. And part of being responsible and an adult, is realising you can't run up to your friend's parents and complain that they bullied you in school. The day I realised that I freaked out.
So we continue to assign blame, so that we can assign responsibility on others for our lives. People assign fast food companies responsibility for our health. People assign TV stations responsibility for baby sitting their children. People assign the government responsibility for keeping the roads safe. And when something wrong happens, we blame our city councils. In the past, people grab pitch forks and fire and hunt the bloody thing down. Of course nowadays, that is illegal.
Maybe it is all in the evolution of society. In olden times, people trusted the Church. Then they trusted their government. And now with the possibility of suing every Tom, Dick and Harry that made us overweight and deaf, we have put our trust in corporations and companies to handle our lives for us.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
If you don't hear from me for a long time, remember to help collect my drycleaning
So it is official. I went up in front of my entire class and embarrassed Singapore with my presentation on Romancing Singapore. I am waiting for men dressed in black suits to knock on my door and cover my head with a sack and drag me away to some remote political jail somewhere under the desert. Well I'm not the one that came up with a Baby Making Competition for prime time TV ok!
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
My Tupperware Fetish
The last 11 days of my holidays have been juggling a full time internship at the Ethnics Council, racing against time to write a 6000 word policy paper with a million sources and interviews (I have eight days to do the paper, normally it takes 9 weeks), planning publicity for the Christmas concert, planning publicity for the Unicef screening, fighting over copyright issues with a film company, writing a policy proposal for my internship with the police, writing for the SSAV newsletter, preparing for my term two assignments and trying to ensure I have a healthy social life. It has been enjoyable and exciting, and honestly quite exhausting. Cooking is my reprieve and I have developed an unhealthy obsession with Tupperware. I was this close to buying a Hello Kitty Tupperware yesterday. Then Bob told me that if I buy my Hello Kitty Tupperware, it is grounds to break up. And Regine told me it is grounds to evict me. Tupperware, or my boyfriend and house? Tough choices abound everyday.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
It's Either Too Much Law or Too Little
I haven’t felt so good and energized about work for a long time. I am currently interning at the Ethnic Community Council Victoria drafting a policy proposal for this coming state election on multicultural policing strategies. And I am just in awe at the amount of things I learn everyday. While here I was feeling all good about myself for going to to Philadelphia alone, many refugees arrive in Australia with no social network, no job, no school, no friends, no community, no money and no comprehension of English. Many have no idea what the police does, or who to contact for help because they do not come from societies with operates by the rule of law. Being so Singaporean that I sweat when I break copyright laws, I cannot imagine being in a country without a police force, or with a corrupt (we are not talking about asking for coffee money kind of corrupt, we are talking will kill or rape you kind of corrupt) police. A place with no law, no rules, no system, no right from wrong and no justice. A system that can’t stop your neighbour from raiding your house, raping your children or killing you. And there is nothing you can do about it except suck it up or do the same back to him. I take my legal system and my police force for granted because I assume that they are as necessary and obviously available as oxygen. And I am humbled by my ignorance. Everyday I am learning, and everyday I am thankful and everyday I feel like I am making some kind of difference. Thank God.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Almost Like An Ailen
Today a government official asked me if I was naturalized. I don’t know why but I felt irrationally upset and offended by that statement. I checked the exact definition of naturalized and it said “naturalization is the act whereby a person voluntarily and actively acquires a nationality which is not his or her nationality at birth.” Somehow, I can’t shake off the image of someone holding me down on an electric chair, and brainwashing me into the propaganda of my adopted country. Then he or she, dressed in the KBG uniform, will force me to say the pledge of allegiance of my new country and burn the flag of my home country. They will never let me return home again, and my adopted country will forever treat me like a second class citizen because they think that my home country wasn’t able to provide for me and that’s why I am crawling to another country so I can get some semblance of basic rights.
I think I have been reading off too many government websites. I just spend 5 hours reading government and police reports for my internship. The scary part was, I found it so fun I almost forgot to have lunch.
I think I have been reading off too many government websites. I just spend 5 hours reading government and police reports for my internship. The scary part was, I found it so fun I almost forgot to have lunch.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
How About You?
The first time I stopped feeling like a kid was: at the Philly train station, during my first ten minutes in philly. I was completely alone with two big suitcases and no clue where to go.
The first time I stopped feeling like a teenager was: when instead of being mad at someone for doing something really immature, I caught myself thinking, she is only behaving like that because she is still young.
I will feel like an adult when I: learn how to pick fresh vegetables from the unfresh ones, and pass my driving test.
The first time I stopped feeling like a teenager was: when instead of being mad at someone for doing something really immature, I caught myself thinking, she is only behaving like that because she is still young.
I will feel like an adult when I: learn how to pick fresh vegetables from the unfresh ones, and pass my driving test.
Do I Really Want to Know What my Doctor Does at Night?
Medical Ball was much better than I expected. Seriously, I couldn't believe that everyone at the ball were going to be future doctors. I know medical students have fun and drink like fishes, but I wouldn't want to know that my family doctor dressed up like a dominatrix hooker in black patent and was jigging with it while sloshed in her university days. I don't want to be at the operating theatre, look up at the face of my surgeon and go, "hey you puked on my shoe and walked straight into the hotel's kitchen completely smashed five years ago," before blacking out from anaesthesia. Ok so I'm stereotyping, people can get a good job done and still have a fabulous party life. I just don't want to know about their fabulous party life. Would you want to know your doctor was chugging 100 shots of beer and rubbing against someone's ass the night before he does a heart bypass on you? It's double standards. But then again, I wouldn't want to know what my dentist, accountant, lecturer, chiropractor and child's Sunday school teacher do in their spare time either.
So it was all fun and good. Bob's medical friends are really friendly and nice, and I spend quite a bit of time with my IH med friends standing in line for alcohol.
By the end of the night, I was nowhere near high, but quite ready to go home. I went from "cherry- the- I- want- to- go- clubbing- every- night-till-I-spew-blood" to "cherry-the-I-just-want-to-sit-at-home-and-check-my-email" person. If I already feel too old to party at 22, I'm going to be playing bingo and coquette at the nursing home when I'm 26.
So it was all fun and good. Bob's medical friends are really friendly and nice, and I spend quite a bit of time with my IH med friends standing in line for alcohol.
By the end of the night, I was nowhere near high, but quite ready to go home. I went from "cherry- the- I- want- to- go- clubbing- every- night-till-I-spew-blood" to "cherry-the-I-just-want-to-sit-at-home-and-check-my-email" person. If I already feel too old to party at 22, I'm going to be playing bingo and coquette at the nursing home when I'm 26.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
The Secret to Happiness: Mooning at Tourists and Scratching Your Ass
Today on my way home. I saw space man doing his thing on the corner of lonsdale and swanston. I saw drummer guy with his newly acquired snare drum and bottles. I saw a bearded man in tattered clothes calling out for change. And I saw two homeless guys talking to Big Issue Man at the dodgy KFC on swanston.
The shallow-pathetic-selfish-materialistic part of me thinks, how can they be happy? Growing up in a very materialistic asian country, I have came to associate happiness with a comfortable life. As much as my politically-correct answer to happiness is, love joy peace and harmony, and I would always tick the "happy and poor" box than the "rich but sad" box, I have a shallow conception of happiness. If everyone likes me, I am happy. If I am constantly doing something useful, I am happy. If I feel wanted and needed, I am happy. If I have something to do on Fridays, I am happy. If I am surrounded by people, I am happy. When I am with Bob, I am very happy. If I watch "The Devil Wears Prada" in the next week, I will be happy. If I get into honours next year, I will be happy. If the weather is warm and sunny, I am happy. When I eat something nice, I feel happy. If I wear something beautiful, I feel happy. When I find a pair of jeans that fit, I am happy. When I find pretty and comfortable shoes, I am happy. When I find a strapless bra that stays on while I jump up and down like a mad rocker, I am very happy. And trust me, my housemate and I were doing exactly that in Myers. In the fitting room of course.
But when I saw the three men laughing outside KFC, it hit me. That if I'm bankrupt.homeless.penniless.disfigured.limbless.status-less.pointless.meaningless. Will I still be happy?If happiness is what I have and what I do, then the yardstick for my happiness comes from how much society values what I have and what I do.
People always say they rather be happy and poor than rich and sad. But by poor, they always mean being where they are right now in the economic strata, and not moving up from it. Poor comes to mean comfortably poor. If poor meant being a limbless beggar, will we still choose the happy option?
I came to the conclusion that being happy meant being thankful. Because that is one of the things, besides your faith, that society can't take from you. If they take away your money, you have your family. If they take away your family, you have yourself. If they take away your limbs, you have your torso. If they take away your senses, you have your life. And if they take away your life, then we wouldn't even be having this conversation.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Survivor Wilsons Prom
There I was lying. In a shrimp like position. Knees to my chest. Hands in between by knees. Clutching desperately to my hotpack. I would twist myself into any contorted position to get warm. The storm was going crazy outside the tent. The tent was shaking violently and threatening to collapse on me.
Yes, that's what happens when you chose to go camping in Wilson's Prom on an exceptionally cold weekend, and not figure out before hand how to get the sleeping bag zipper to work. Smart.
Still it was a pretty good trip. The highlight has to be the sunrise walk up Mt Oberon. It was 5:30am. Blue-grey darkness. The forest was still, and I was kicking myself for being there. The whole climb up I was so tired I was thinking morbid thoughts. What if I saw a dead body now? Would I a) sit next to it and rest? b) run down in the pretext of getting help? Then I thought about juice. And how nice it would be if there was boost juice at the top. And why i should open a boost juice stall at the top. And then I thought about bob. And then juice. And the dead body. And bob. And juice. Yeah you get the general idea.
But as I kept climbing, the forest slowly roused. The blue-greyness was tinged with warm yellow, and tress started rustling. The birds started chirping, one song at a time. There was a certain unexplainable energy about the forest, like a million soft alarm bells going off at the same time. There was such a sense of anticipation about it. And I felt like I was part of that tableau of morning ness.
The moment I stepped on the last rock at the summit, the sun exploded above the dense clouds, creating a harsh silhouette against the twisted landscape of trees. The misty sky was the exact same colour as the grey-blue sea, so no horizon could be seen. The waves, beach, sea, sky, rocks were a continuation of each other, making this just a small part of the larger earth.
Being up there, looking at this God-perfected image, was absolutely amazing. Every photo I took was only cheapening its beauty. The only thing that would make it better was Bob and a cup of juice.
Yes, that's what happens when you chose to go camping in Wilson's Prom on an exceptionally cold weekend, and not figure out before hand how to get the sleeping bag zipper to work. Smart.
Still it was a pretty good trip. The highlight has to be the sunrise walk up Mt Oberon. It was 5:30am. Blue-grey darkness. The forest was still, and I was kicking myself for being there. The whole climb up I was so tired I was thinking morbid thoughts. What if I saw a dead body now? Would I a) sit next to it and rest? b) run down in the pretext of getting help? Then I thought about juice. And how nice it would be if there was boost juice at the top. And why i should open a boost juice stall at the top. And then I thought about bob. And then juice. And the dead body. And bob. And juice. Yeah you get the general idea.
But as I kept climbing, the forest slowly roused. The blue-greyness was tinged with warm yellow, and tress started rustling. The birds started chirping, one song at a time. There was a certain unexplainable energy about the forest, like a million soft alarm bells going off at the same time. There was such a sense of anticipation about it. And I felt like I was part of that tableau of morning ness.
The moment I stepped on the last rock at the summit, the sun exploded above the dense clouds, creating a harsh silhouette against the twisted landscape of trees. The misty sky was the exact same colour as the grey-blue sea, so no horizon could be seen. The waves, beach, sea, sky, rocks were a continuation of each other, making this just a small part of the larger earth.
Being up there, looking at this God-perfected image, was absolutely amazing. Every photo I took was only cheapening its beauty. The only thing that would make it better was Bob and a cup of juice.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Is There Any Difference Between Dating an Asian Guy from Dating a White Guy?
My recent conversation with a close girlfriend was about the differences between dating an Asian man and a Caucasian guy, ironic since I am doing an essay on the differences between the Asian and western press. Considering I have never seriously dated anyone non-Asian before or have any close white male friends, I have absolutely no expertise in that area. To me, I have never felt the impulse to date someone based on race. I absolutely adore my international friends but I also wouldn't mind if my life partner is so local that he can understand what I am saying when I'm muttering singlish in my sleep, and consider having Nasi Briyani and Assam Laksa for my wedding reception. And I am very much in love and happy with my Malaysian Chinese better half.
But that got me thinking, is there really a blinking difference between an Asian guy and a non-Asian guy? Considering about half my friends are dating people from another races:
Singaporean Chinese/White Aussie 3x,Chinese Singaporean/White French, Taiwanese/Brazilian, Chinese Singaporean/English, White English/Sri Lankan, Chinese Singaporean/White American, Chinese Singaporean/White Canadian, Japanese/White American, Vietnamese/White American, White Aussie/Chinese are just some examples
does race really matter when you are dating someone? Or are we just bounded by the stereotypes of people we see around us? The typical ones I have heard, which I think are all gross generalisations include: white guys are better in bed. White guys just want to get you in bed and then leave. Asian guys are all mummies’ boys. Asian guys are gentler and make better husbands. Asian men are weak. White men are violent and will get drunk and beat the shit out of you. White men who are dating Asian girls all have Asian fetish. Asian girls who date white guys are all SPGs (Sarong party girls: a Singaporean term for Asian girls who dig white men for their money and their supposed expertise in bed)
Well I have seen big strapping Asian men as much as I have seen white men that are geeky and total pansies. So are we just demonising the "other"? Or just thinking that the grass is greener on the other side? Is it just an exotic factor? I mean, it is kinda novel for a while to say, hi I'm dating a Persian-Swedish-Russian-Latino mixed blooded dude rather than I'm dating a fellow Singaporean who I met in school and we are going to apply for a HDB flat together? Do people consciously pick people of a certain race to prove a point? Like, if you are an Asian girl, pick an Asian dude to prove you are not an SPG. Or pick a white dude just to prove you are not the “Fobby/Cheena-chinese” sort?
The Gum Syndicate
Today I was a total Singaporean.
I went to Norsiah's kitchen again, for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Then I went to 7-11 and thought...hmm...let's get a pack of gum. Seriously, I thought that was the coolest thing I could be doing for the moment. I don't know why I did it, but I looked around, and then gingerly took a pack of gum and paid, with adrenalin rushing through me.
The minute I stepped out of the shop, a police car stopped right in front of me. And for a moment there, my heart stopped. I was about to turn and run with my pack of gum when I remembered, bloody hell, I'm in Australia. Not at the Malaysian causeway trying to smuggle in packets of gum.
I went to Norsiah's kitchen again, for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Then I went to 7-11 and thought...hmm...let's get a pack of gum. Seriously, I thought that was the coolest thing I could be doing for the moment. I don't know why I did it, but I looked around, and then gingerly took a pack of gum and paid, with adrenalin rushing through me.
The minute I stepped out of the shop, a police car stopped right in front of me. And for a moment there, my heart stopped. I was about to turn and run with my pack of gum when I remembered, bloody hell, I'm in Australia. Not at the Malaysian causeway trying to smuggle in packets of gum.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Knock knock knock. Sir, today you attempted procreation how many times?
" Having babies is a duty. Make that a duty to self, society and country. MPs like Dr Ong Seh Hong (Aljunied GRC) want to pump up the social pressure on such people whom he described as 'irresponsible'. Yesterday, even as their counterparts continued pushing for carrots such as a five-day work week and cash incentives, Dr Ong and several MPs suggested it was also time to use the stick. Indeed, the MPs argued passionately that procreation was a responsibility that people should fulfil regardless of sweeteners. Adopting the most hardline stance among them all, Dr Ong emphasised traditional Asian values as he dismissed the common refrain that family planning is a personal decision. Declared the father of three: 'Procreation is not only the duty of everyone, but also the responsibility of every citizen towards his family, parents, society and country.' Those 'irresponsible' people who shun the stork, he said, should realise they would become a liability to the society in future. " quoted from The Straits Times
So exactly which part of my life does the government not control? Procreation is an individual choice, and never a duty. Maybe if they took a bit of human geography they will realise that an aging population is a problem ALL developing countries are facing. Modernisation is the best contraception. And it is not going to change. How about tackling it sensibly like creating a more viable pension scheme, increasing the retirement age, helping middle-aged retrenched people get a job, improving our age-care scheme etc.? Or start changing the working culture in Singapore into one that promotes family life, a.k.a children can see their parents before 6pm everyday, and couples don't work till 10pm, come home and pass out on the bed. What is not sensible: TV dramas 'highlighting the sorry plight of a childless old couple and the great problems faced by an ageing society'.
Soon they will increase the price of condoms, tell me how many times a year I should have sex and ask me to fill in the times I attempt procreation in a little brown book with the Singapore core values printed on the front page.
So exactly which part of my life does the government not control? Procreation is an individual choice, and never a duty. Maybe if they took a bit of human geography they will realise that an aging population is a problem ALL developing countries are facing. Modernisation is the best contraception. And it is not going to change. How about tackling it sensibly like creating a more viable pension scheme, increasing the retirement age, helping middle-aged retrenched people get a job, improving our age-care scheme etc.? Or start changing the working culture in Singapore into one that promotes family life, a.k.a children can see their parents before 6pm everyday, and couples don't work till 10pm, come home and pass out on the bed. What is not sensible: TV dramas 'highlighting the sorry plight of a childless old couple and the great problems faced by an ageing society'.
Soon they will increase the price of condoms, tell me how many times a year I should have sex and ask me to fill in the times I attempt procreation in a little brown book with the Singapore core values printed on the front page.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
For the Collective Good of Society?
From Demystifying Asian Values in Journalism,
"the destination Singapore wants to reach has been the progress and prosperity of the nation - a goal ingrained in the mind of every citizen from the moment he goes to school, when he has to recite the national pledge. The mass media as ally in the lofty aim of national upliftment: who can quarrel with that?"
Do all Singaporeans have the lofty aim of wanting Singapore to prosper as a Nation? Or do we want Singapore to prosper only so that we can prosper? What if Singapore wasn't a prosperous nation? Is that what happens when you have a nation build upon the ideals of prosperity and economic progress?
Singapore ranks 147th in the press freedom index. That's way below Arfganistan, Iraq and Palestine. In our category, we are the only developed country there. But no worries, at least the word freedom is not in our pledge. The U.S was founded on freedom, and with all the emphasis on the First Ammendment, they rank 44th.
I am taking a subject now that looks at Singapore from an outside point of view, and everyday I learn things that blow me away. Go read the Newspaper Printing and Presse Act, the Sedition Act and the Official Secrets Act. It says that if the newspaper doesn't cooperate with the government, its license will be revoked. Considering we only have ONE broadsheet newspaper in Singapore, then revoke how? We got no newspaper to read.
"the destination Singapore wants to reach has been the progress and prosperity of the nation - a goal ingrained in the mind of every citizen from the moment he goes to school, when he has to recite the national pledge. The mass media as ally in the lofty aim of national upliftment: who can quarrel with that?"
Do all Singaporeans have the lofty aim of wanting Singapore to prosper as a Nation? Or do we want Singapore to prosper only so that we can prosper? What if Singapore wasn't a prosperous nation? Is that what happens when you have a nation build upon the ideals of prosperity and economic progress?
Singapore ranks 147th in the press freedom index. That's way below Arfganistan, Iraq and Palestine. In our category, we are the only developed country there. But no worries, at least the word freedom is not in our pledge. The U.S was founded on freedom, and with all the emphasis on the First Ammendment, they rank 44th.
I am taking a subject now that looks at Singapore from an outside point of view, and everyday I learn things that blow me away. Go read the Newspaper Printing and Presse Act, the Sedition Act and the Official Secrets Act. It says that if the newspaper doesn't cooperate with the government, its license will be revoked. Considering we only have ONE broadsheet newspaper in Singapore, then revoke how? We got no newspaper to read.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
The Epitome of High Culture - The Diarrhea Song
There are four types of people in the world.
Those that get drunk, all the time.
Those that look after people who get drunk, all the time.
Those that do an equal amount of both.
And those that don't drink.
And now, a drinking song, from the US.
When you're slidin' into first
and your pants are 'bout to burst
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slidin' into second
And you need a disinfectant
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slindin' into third
And you drop a wet turd
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slidin' into home
And your pants are filled with foam
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
It's easy to tell what's on my mind these days eh.
Those that get drunk, all the time.
Those that look after people who get drunk, all the time.
Those that do an equal amount of both.
And those that don't drink.
And now, a drinking song, from the US.
When you're slidin' into first
and your pants are 'bout to burst
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slidin' into second
And you need a disinfectant
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slindin' into third
And you drop a wet turd
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
When you're slidin' into home
And your pants are filled with foam
Diarrhea, (Pfff. Pfff)
Diarrhea
It's easy to tell what's on my mind these days eh.
Can you tell an Aussie-Asian from an Asian-Asian?
After reading the a blog post about Australian Born Chinese (ABC), I sat in the tram today and tried to pick out who was an ABC, and who was an asian international student, just by looks. And somehow, it is possible to tell an Aussie-Asian from an Asian-Asian. What puzzled me was that I wasn't able to pinpoint what that differentiating factor is. And so I am forced to make some grossly generalising assumptions.
Perhaps it's the dressing? Perhaps Asian-Asians wear stuff that I know they can only get from Asia, while Aussie-Asians dress like your regular aussie. Something along the lines of skinny jeans in boots, with many light layers on top. Coupled with chunky necklace and heaps of mascara. Asian-asians on the other hand are more fond of just one thick jacket, and a light tee inside. I mean, if you are just going to spent four years in a cold country, why buy many light sweaters (which are still too warm to wear in the tropics) when you can just buy one massive jumper, and dump it once your graduate. And of course in some obvious cases like hello kitty handphone accessories that blink, it has to be bought and made in Asia. Or sold in chinatown, which doesn't seem to be the hangout place for Aussie-Asians.
Maybe it's the way they carry themselves? Aussie-Asians have the "this is my country and I'm very comfortable here", and have a more open body language while Asian-Asians look slightly more defensive and have a "shit don't deport me" look.
Or is it facial features? Do Aussie-Asians have a particular look? In such a multi-cultural society like Melbourne, can we judge a person's nationality just by the way they look? Could an Asian-Asian fool you into thinking they are Aussie-Asian and vice versa?
Nonetheless, I was quite pleased that a guy I spotted as definitely Aussie-Asian picked up the phone and answered it in the most natural aussie accent ever. Definitely Australian.
Perhaps it's the dressing? Perhaps Asian-Asians wear stuff that I know they can only get from Asia, while Aussie-Asians dress like your regular aussie. Something along the lines of skinny jeans in boots, with many light layers on top. Coupled with chunky necklace and heaps of mascara. Asian-asians on the other hand are more fond of just one thick jacket, and a light tee inside. I mean, if you are just going to spent four years in a cold country, why buy many light sweaters (which are still too warm to wear in the tropics) when you can just buy one massive jumper, and dump it once your graduate. And of course in some obvious cases like hello kitty handphone accessories that blink, it has to be bought and made in Asia. Or sold in chinatown, which doesn't seem to be the hangout place for Aussie-Asians.
Maybe it's the way they carry themselves? Aussie-Asians have the "this is my country and I'm very comfortable here", and have a more open body language while Asian-Asians look slightly more defensive and have a "shit don't deport me" look.
Or is it facial features? Do Aussie-Asians have a particular look? In such a multi-cultural society like Melbourne, can we judge a person's nationality just by the way they look? Could an Asian-Asian fool you into thinking they are Aussie-Asian and vice versa?
Nonetheless, I was quite pleased that a guy I spotted as definitely Aussie-Asian picked up the phone and answered it in the most natural aussie accent ever. Definitely Australian.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
My Slice of the American Pie
Back to the topic of weird dreams, last night I dreamt that I took a flight back to Penn. I had only 2 days there and was desperately trying to look up old friends. Whao I wonder what that means?
But it got me thinking. Besides a very small handful of people, I have virtually lost contact with everyone else. I blamed it on my lack of the american version of MSN, my sudden departure, my sudden dive into my internship which gave me no time to do much except work and salsa, and my new salsa friends, which filled the void I had very quickly.
I made some great friends. Had hours of great dinners and good conversations. But after one year of that, it seems sad that many have disappeared from my life completely. And yet I know that this is the way it is. It's hard to be friends with people you don't see a future with.
Are some people in our lives meant to be just memories in photographs? While others run, direct and are in the videos of our lives?
But it got me thinking. Besides a very small handful of people, I have virtually lost contact with everyone else. I blamed it on my lack of the american version of MSN, my sudden departure, my sudden dive into my internship which gave me no time to do much except work and salsa, and my new salsa friends, which filled the void I had very quickly.
I made some great friends. Had hours of great dinners and good conversations. But after one year of that, it seems sad that many have disappeared from my life completely. And yet I know that this is the way it is. It's hard to be friends with people you don't see a future with.
Are some people in our lives meant to be just memories in photographs? While others run, direct and are in the videos of our lives?
Monday, August 28, 2006
The Malaysians Are Out to Kill Us
My brain must be on a row or something, but it has been vomiting bad dreams one after the other every night.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that i was on the game show " LET'S KILL THE SINGAPOREAN"
Basically it was a game with Malaysians, Indonesians and Singaporeans in it, and no one knows who is from where. The hosts will have to guess who is Singaporean from the way they talk/dress/run for free food/talk about the army. Then they will be killed off. That was the scariest shit I've ever faced. I was the last one standing and kept saying "I'm not Singaporean, really!! I'm Malaysian. i just can't speak malay. really. not singaporean. look my boyfriend is malaysian. arghhhhhhhh!!!!" Charlene analysed that maybe it's my repressed urge to be Malaysian. I just blame the government.
Last night I dreamt that Bob and another random guy were english knights and the one that wins the duel will be my husband. However the duel involved kicking pigeons. Whoever kicked the pigeon wins. Regine thinks its stems from my conversation with her about puking penguins. I think its my repressed tendencies towards pigeon cruelty.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that i was on the game show " LET'S KILL THE SINGAPOREAN"
Basically it was a game with Malaysians, Indonesians and Singaporeans in it, and no one knows who is from where. The hosts will have to guess who is Singaporean from the way they talk/dress/run for free food/talk about the army. Then they will be killed off. That was the scariest shit I've ever faced. I was the last one standing and kept saying "I'm not Singaporean, really!! I'm Malaysian. i just can't speak malay. really. not singaporean. look my boyfriend is malaysian. arghhhhhhhh!!!!" Charlene analysed that maybe it's my repressed urge to be Malaysian. I just blame the government.
Last night I dreamt that Bob and another random guy were english knights and the one that wins the duel will be my husband. However the duel involved kicking pigeons. Whoever kicked the pigeon wins. Regine thinks its stems from my conversation with her about puking penguins. I think its my repressed tendencies towards pigeon cruelty.
The Reunion Part Five
Met Vietnamese girl while going for my internship interview.
Invited her for dinner at Paul's place.
Turned out, she knows Paul's brother, because she was trying to take a photo of St Paul's and his brother kept interrupting the photo.
What are the chances that you bring a friend to another friend's dinner party (and they have never met before, one is malaysian the other is vietnamese), and they apparently have some next of kin connection.
Melbourne is way too small.
Invited her for dinner at Paul's place.
Turned out, she knows Paul's brother, because she was trying to take a photo of St Paul's and his brother kept interrupting the photo.
What are the chances that you bring a friend to another friend's dinner party (and they have never met before, one is malaysian the other is vietnamese), and they apparently have some next of kin connection.
Melbourne is way too small.
Friday, August 25, 2006
The Reunion Part Two: Only Available in Theatres
I sit at Norsiah's Kitchen with my new friend I just met from tute.
I tell her about my life, my ex relationship, my year abroad.
She tells me about her current French boyfriend, her life and her family.
My ex-boyfriend walks past. Says hi. Both of them seem to have seen each other from somewhere.
Ex-boyfriend exits.
I tells her that he is my ex.
Ex-boyfriend walks by again.
Turns out, they do know each other.
He is her boyfriend's friend.
Ex-boyfriend leaves.
Girl who told my ex-boyfriend and the whole world about my relationship with my current boyfriend walks out.
Tell me this isn't a script from a movie.
I tell her about my life, my ex relationship, my year abroad.
She tells me about her current French boyfriend, her life and her family.
My ex-boyfriend walks past. Says hi. Both of them seem to have seen each other from somewhere.
Ex-boyfriend exits.
I tells her that he is my ex.
Ex-boyfriend walks by again.
Turns out, they do know each other.
He is her boyfriend's friend.
Ex-boyfriend leaves.
Girl who told my ex-boyfriend and the whole world about my relationship with my current boyfriend walks out.
Tell me this isn't a script from a movie.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I Have Ralph Perfume Up My Nose
I must have been so distracted for the last couple of days. Two days before, I left half my bag in the state library locker, went all the way home, reached my front door and realised that my key was still in the locker. And of all times, the tram at a major intersection chose to break down, leaving me dragging a laptop in the rain, through the city.
Today I left my phone in my driving instructor's car. Best part is, I don't even remember my own number. I ran into the nearest convenience shop, looked a bit like I was planning to rob the poor guy at the counter, and ask to borrow his handphone. Bob's phone no reception. Dammit. I dragged myself through uni hoping I'll bump into someone who knows my number. No such luck. So I went to Rowden White library, told them the situation, and they very kindly searched up my number for me. Called my cell. No one picked up. Dammit dammit dammit. Ran in to Houston and Kai yau in Union House, called Bob for Regine's number, called Regine, got my driving instructor's number, and finally got my handphone back.
It's times like these when you realised how intimately woven your network of friends are. You know someone that definitely knows someone. And also how dependent my life is on my cell phone. I have only committed four numbers to memory. And three of them are in Singapore.
And today I tried to spray on some perfume. I misfired and now I have perfume all over my face. Why why why??!!
Today I left my phone in my driving instructor's car. Best part is, I don't even remember my own number. I ran into the nearest convenience shop, looked a bit like I was planning to rob the poor guy at the counter, and ask to borrow his handphone. Bob's phone no reception. Dammit. I dragged myself through uni hoping I'll bump into someone who knows my number. No such luck. So I went to Rowden White library, told them the situation, and they very kindly searched up my number for me. Called my cell. No one picked up. Dammit dammit dammit. Ran in to Houston and Kai yau in Union House, called Bob for Regine's number, called Regine, got my driving instructor's number, and finally got my handphone back.
It's times like these when you realised how intimately woven your network of friends are. You know someone that definitely knows someone. And also how dependent my life is on my cell phone. I have only committed four numbers to memory. And three of them are in Singapore.
And today I tried to spray on some perfume. I misfired and now I have perfume all over my face. Why why why??!!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tip toeing to the Edge and Peering over
Everyday I am fighting to overcome my fears and experience things I have suppressed interest for over a decade. I'm learning to drive and realising I can, despite what others have said. I'm learning to salsa and dance, despite how often I was told I couldn't coordinate. I'm learning to take up positions and say yes to responsibility, despite my fear of failure. I signed up for an outdoor program alone, just to give it a go. I went on a short road trip with a bunch of church friends, even though I have acute phobia of spending more than half a day with people I know from church. I'm in a cell, and fighting back my reflex instinct to run, not because I want to, but because I always felt I had to. And I will, soon enough, learn to play a musical instrument and a sport, and maybe stroke a dog. I think, finally, I am ready to explore how much I can push my personal boundaries, and fight real hard against my omnipresent sense of fear, of failure. I might not do all these well, but at least I gave it a go. All I wish is that I had this epiphany much earlier than when I'm 22 and in my second last year of uni.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The Final Closure
After a year of anticipating the "bump into" of a particular ivy league uni, I finally did. Of course it had to come at the time when I'm sweaty from dance, wearing three-days old clothes I threw together in a hurry, had no make up on and was carrying a massive tumour looking back pack stuffed with 2 weeks worth of clothes. ALL girls want to look good in front of their ex. It's a " Look I'm still doing well without you" kind of thing. ALL girls. Trust me.
It turned out pretty well. Before the meeting I was trying very hard not to throw up out of sheer apprehension. I was bracing myself for five snipers, poisoned hot chocolate and a verbal onslaught that I've screwed up. Well, because I have.
But we made alot of small talk, and other more heartfelt ones. We gave our reasons. We said our sorries. We ended on a pretty positive note. We don't have to be friends. But all we want is to be able to walk on the street, bump into each other, say hi, make small talk, and move on, unaffected by the meeting.
It was quite a beautiful moment that has finally released a huge weight from me. I said things that I had kept in for a year. I can finally stop imagining what the response is, because I have heard it for real. And I can finally stop whimping around swanston street paranoid that il bump into the ex.
It turned out pretty well. Before the meeting I was trying very hard not to throw up out of sheer apprehension. I was bracing myself for five snipers, poisoned hot chocolate and a verbal onslaught that I've screwed up. Well, because I have.
But we made alot of small talk, and other more heartfelt ones. We gave our reasons. We said our sorries. We ended on a pretty positive note. We don't have to be friends. But all we want is to be able to walk on the street, bump into each other, say hi, make small talk, and move on, unaffected by the meeting.
It was quite a beautiful moment that has finally released a huge weight from me. I said things that I had kept in for a year. I can finally stop imagining what the response is, because I have heard it for real. And I can finally stop whimping around swanston street paranoid that il bump into the ex.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Second Week Back and Six Bottles of Wine
I spent most of the week trying to find a closure to my exchange. The exchange student debriefing. The meet-the-new-exchange-students party at Puggs. And finally, the housewarming/we-are-back party last night. Lots of knock-out strong Sangria (red wine, white wine, vodka, rum, orange juice, lime juice, apples and oranges...almost every substance we can find in our kitchen), chips, dip and bread. Met up with old friends, people that I haven't seen for a year. Talked, laughed, scoured and shared my past one year with them through a scrapbook show and tell session.
The night culminated to drinking and dancing at Croft Institute, a neat little club that looked like a science lab, and a bathroom like a sickbay in school. Oh and grass for a bar top, that was special. So down the dodgy philly ghetto like alleyway, and party away we did. Just like one year ago.
The night culminated to drinking and dancing at Croft Institute, a neat little club that looked like a science lab, and a bathroom like a sickbay in school. Oh and grass for a bar top, that was special. So down the dodgy philly ghetto like alleyway, and party away we did. Just like one year ago.
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