Here I am looking at job and internship openings.
I'm trying to psyche myself up in my head to apply for them. What could go wrong anyway? So many opportunities have come my way and I overlooked them because I have always successfully convinced myself that I don't fit the bill, I don't have the necessary skills, I don't have time. I've got too much on my hands, I found myself saying again this time.
Enough. I should stop this and just go for it, Carpe Diem! they say. It's my last year in Melbourne,I should make the most of it.
Life is short--I know that. From friends' relatives dying, to babies short-lived, to watching a video on abortion where the foetus' head gets dismembered, to listening to survivors of the Holocaust. From the doctor advising to abort me 22 years ago, to the 6-yr old me hitting her head on the monsoon drain, to me screaming "NO! God, No!!" in the car last year before it crashed, hands symbolically over my head defiantly telling God that my time has not yet come. And He knows it has not come. I'm here for a reason.
I could have died in many ways...and yet I'm here, living, breathing, able bodied, relatively unscarred.
Oh gosh, how did I come to this :p
I guess the point I'm getting at, is since I have a chance at life, why not make the most of it? Why do I keep worrying about not meeting people's expectations, about appearing stupid, about a 100 other things?
Today my enemy isn't my circumstance ,or demons, or people. My enemy is myself.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
What animal am I?
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My friend calls me a rabbit.
So far, I have been called a swan (understandably because of my name), a hamster (because I am small, ahem, petite) and a white tiger (whatever that means). Anyone cares to add to that list?
I think the next time we give our friends 'how well do you know me?' tests, we should include the question "What animal do you think I am, and why?"
You'll be surprised to see what they think of you. But if you're planning to say someone is a cow, you'd better give a damn good reason why you think so :p I nearly got away with that one.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Moomba: having fun together or 'up your ass'?
Moomba. It's the name of the 'water' festival in Melbourne that happens every year--ironically, its has no historical significance to do with water, and there is no particular reason to have this festival. It's just for fun, literally.
According to an official touristy website, moomba means 'to get together and have fun.'
I was supposed to 'cover' this festival yesterday for the international student mag and RAGE (hopefully that turns out well, at least they pay for articles!). So I dragged myself out of bed and from the moment I set foot outside, I could tell it was a pretty big thing 'cuz a television network vehicle with satellite dishes attached drove past me.
Reached the city, the main streets (yes, Melbourne can afford to do such things) of the city were blocked and the crowd was starting to build. I squeezed in till I nearly got to the front, camera ready in hand.
OK, so there were brass bands, clowns and people on stilts and in weird costumes, music, dancers, multicolored floats and stuff you will expect in a parade. Noise and laughter, children with their Mummies and Daddies asking lots of questions, Asian looking tourists with their bulky cameras, police and security personnel. There were floats with Hawaiian hippies playing guitars, some white swan, some walking trees and guys in gas suits to raise awareness of environmental issues, a playschool celebrating her 40th anniversary (I dunno why this particular float is so important, but it was mentioned in all the newspapers. I suspect money talks) and etc. A group of Hare Krishna followers walked past chanting, Chinese, Cambodians and Indonesians dressed in all sorts of cultural costumes twirled their arms gracefully, a gang of taekwondo fighters showed their moves. Schools (yes, educational institutions) of brightly colored fishes and jellyfish went past, so did big stuffed chickens. None of these things need to make sense in relation to the organisation they represent, I noticed.
Everyone was basically out to have fun. In the previous years, other major events would be held over 4 days- like waterskiing spectaculars, the Birdman rallies where ppl create plans that fly off ramps, a carnival with crazy rides, various other events to do with fun and water and it usually ends up with fireworks at night. It coincides with Labour Day, so why waste an opportunity to spend money on floats, send some fireworks off, stop the main traffic and tram lines, let the whole world spill unto the streets and let's Moomba!
I found something interesting though. Some people are speculating on how the name Moomba came about. Popular folklore has it that in 1955 when this started, the council approached an elderly Aboriginal and asked for his opinion on naming it. It seems that he decided to make the whites a laughing stock, by giving the name Moomba, 'moom' (mum) means 'buttocks' or 'anus' in various Victorian languages and 'ba' is a suffix that can mean 'at', 'in' or 'on'.
Well, the Aboriginal people sure must be laughing now.
As a side note, I wonder if any of this has to do with water. Try not to think dirty ok??
According to an official touristy website, moomba means 'to get together and have fun.'
I was supposed to 'cover' this festival yesterday for the international student mag and RAGE (hopefully that turns out well, at least they pay for articles!). So I dragged myself out of bed and from the moment I set foot outside, I could tell it was a pretty big thing 'cuz a television network vehicle with satellite dishes attached drove past me.
Reached the city, the main streets (yes, Melbourne can afford to do such things) of the city were blocked and the crowd was starting to build. I squeezed in till I nearly got to the front, camera ready in hand.
OK, so there were brass bands, clowns and people on stilts and in weird costumes, music, dancers, multicolored floats and stuff you will expect in a parade. Noise and laughter, children with their Mummies and Daddies asking lots of questions, Asian looking tourists with their bulky cameras, police and security personnel. There were floats with Hawaiian hippies playing guitars, some white swan, some walking trees and guys in gas suits to raise awareness of environmental issues, a playschool celebrating her 40th anniversary (I dunno why this particular float is so important, but it was mentioned in all the newspapers. I suspect money talks) and etc. A group of Hare Krishna followers walked past chanting, Chinese, Cambodians and Indonesians dressed in all sorts of cultural costumes twirled their arms gracefully, a gang of taekwondo fighters showed their moves. Schools (yes, educational institutions) of brightly colored fishes and jellyfish went past, so did big stuffed chickens. None of these things need to make sense in relation to the organisation they represent, I noticed.
Everyone was basically out to have fun. In the previous years, other major events would be held over 4 days- like waterskiing spectaculars, the Birdman rallies where ppl create plans that fly off ramps, a carnival with crazy rides, various other events to do with fun and water and it usually ends up with fireworks at night. It coincides with Labour Day, so why waste an opportunity to spend money on floats, send some fireworks off, stop the main traffic and tram lines, let the whole world spill unto the streets and let's Moomba!
I found something interesting though. Some people are speculating on how the name Moomba came about. Popular folklore has it that in 1955 when this started, the council approached an elderly Aboriginal and asked for his opinion on naming it. It seems that he decided to make the whites a laughing stock, by giving the name Moomba, 'moom' (mum) means 'buttocks' or 'anus' in various Victorian languages and 'ba' is a suffix that can mean 'at', 'in' or 'on'.
Well, the Aboriginal people sure must be laughing now.
As a side note, I wonder if any of this has to do with water. Try not to think dirty ok??
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Why Asians don’t write
Now. This entry is my rant (albeit a mild one after two edits), so if you’re reading this, don’t start getting personal—this isn’t a personal attack on anybody.
Farrago is Melbourne University’s official magazine. I was (yes, past tense, because I’m hoping it’ll change this year) the ONLY Asian/international student in the community of active writers, and the only one in the editorial team. I started thinking, why is this so? 10,000 internationals in this uni—95% of which are Asians, and Media and Communications (my course) is SWAMPED with Asians. So what is the matter?
Here are a few possibilities:
1) Asians are too shy, they feel intimidated
2) The Aussies are racist
3) There is a secret movement to deny equal rights to international students
4) Asians don’t know Farrago exist (uni is strictly about books and exams, they’re ignorant of everything else)
5) Asians don’t understand Farrago, it’s Greek to them
6) Asians are too busy—shopping, DVDs and DOTA takes up time
Most of the above are correct to some degree, except number 2 and 3 (I think!)
But guess what? I think I know another possibility. Asians just couldn’t be bothered. These are some reasons my friends always give me;
Friend: Oh! Farrago is just so good, I could never write that well.
Me : Did you try?
Friend: Erm, no…but I would really love to! I don’t know much about their culture and politics and all that, sigh….
Me : Huh, haven’t you been here, like, ages?
Friend: Yeah, but you know, I don’t read the papers (its so boring!), I don’t see the news on TV….etc etc…anyway, how do you start writing for them anyway…
Me : Well, don’t you see posters everywhere? Why don’t you just see the editors in the office?
Friend: Ha? Oh no, so scary!
Argh. And to think these are people who wanna be somebody in the media world.
Note: This scenario is perhaps more accurate in Melb Uni and universities in Western countries rather than Asian countries. If I may add; if you’re an international student, your fees are so damn high, make the most of it, you *@sponferluted goblok#*!
Farrago is Melbourne University’s official magazine. I was (yes, past tense, because I’m hoping it’ll change this year) the ONLY Asian/international student in the community of active writers, and the only one in the editorial team. I started thinking, why is this so? 10,000 internationals in this uni—95% of which are Asians, and Media and Communications (my course) is SWAMPED with Asians. So what is the matter?
Here are a few possibilities:
1) Asians are too shy, they feel intimidated
2) The Aussies are racist
3) There is a secret movement to deny equal rights to international students
4) Asians don’t know Farrago exist (uni is strictly about books and exams, they’re ignorant of everything else)
5) Asians don’t understand Farrago, it’s Greek to them
6) Asians are too busy—shopping, DVDs and DOTA takes up time
Most of the above are correct to some degree, except number 2 and 3 (I think!)
But guess what? I think I know another possibility. Asians just couldn’t be bothered. These are some reasons my friends always give me;
Friend: Oh! Farrago is just so good, I could never write that well.
Me : Did you try?
Friend: Erm, no…but I would really love to! I don’t know much about their culture and politics and all that, sigh….
Me : Huh, haven’t you been here, like, ages?
Friend: Yeah, but you know, I don’t read the papers (its so boring!), I don’t see the news on TV….etc etc…anyway, how do you start writing for them anyway…
Me : Well, don’t you see posters everywhere? Why don’t you just see the editors in the office?
Friend: Ha? Oh no, so scary!
Argh. And to think these are people who wanna be somebody in the media world.
Note: This scenario is perhaps more accurate in Melb Uni and universities in Western countries rather than Asian countries. If I may add; if you’re an international student, your fees are so damn high, make the most of it, you *@sponferluted goblok#*!
Friday, March 03, 2006
The Second Shock
Yesterday, it was news of a death. Today, it is news of an engagement.
MY HOUSEMATE IS ENGAGED!!!!!!!!
*cue...flowers! confetti! violins and doves, yadayadayada*
I went out for a late dinner at an Indian 'mamak' with some friends today (it's not a mamak by our standards because it closes 11.30pm, but that's Australia for you).
I got back at nearly midnight, the apartment was still empty. Which is pretty normal for a friday night as I'm usually hanging out with friends and my housemate would be galivanting somewhere with her boyfriend. The rubbish was piling up. Sigh. Thought I'd better clear it and do my bit for apartment cleanliness--these sort of things help in maintaining the harmony, ya know.
So anyway, with my hands clutching rubbish bags, I walked down the stairs just while my housemate and her darling were making their way up.
"Sarah!! Look!"
She thrusted her left fist into my face (not literally, more like...waving her fist) and lo and behold: a big beautiful diamond ring nestled snugly on her slender fingers.
I looked at my rubbish bags, then looked back at her beaming face.
"OH!...congrats!" My mouth was hanging open. Hands still clutching bags. "Wow! congrats congrats!" Looked at her fiance then looked back at her. "Wow, like, congrats!"
It's quite annoying that at times like these, even a communications student such as I are stumped for words. My brains just refused to think of more eloquent praises for the blissful couple.
After a few seconds of repeating 'congrats', I ran out to throw the rubbish while they patiently waited at the door so that I could photograph them together in the apartment.
After the phototaking session, I was busy interviewing them. How did he propose? Where did you go for dinner? Was it a surprise? It was a nice restaurant by the beach, they said, with the view of the sea as the sun set. Candles and wine and music, all the cliched things you can imagine. He wanted to propose over the intercom system, but the restaurant didnt have one. So he took her for a walk and went on his knees on the sand.
Then I asked her the golden question,
"How did you know he was 'the one'?"
And here is the profound answer, take note ladies and gentlemen *drumroll* "You just know."
Wow.
MY HOUSEMATE IS ENGAGED!!!!!!!!
*cue...flowers! confetti! violins and doves, yadayadayada*
I went out for a late dinner at an Indian 'mamak' with some friends today (it's not a mamak by our standards because it closes 11.30pm, but that's Australia for you).
I got back at nearly midnight, the apartment was still empty. Which is pretty normal for a friday night as I'm usually hanging out with friends and my housemate would be galivanting somewhere with her boyfriend. The rubbish was piling up. Sigh. Thought I'd better clear it and do my bit for apartment cleanliness--these sort of things help in maintaining the harmony, ya know.
.jpg)
So anyway, with my hands clutching rubbish bags, I walked down the stairs just while my housemate and her darling were making their way up.
"Sarah!! Look!"
She thrusted her left fist into my face (not literally, more like...waving her fist) and lo and behold: a big beautiful diamond ring nestled snugly on her slender fingers.
I looked at my rubbish bags, then looked back at her beaming face.
"OH!...congrats!" My mouth was hanging open. Hands still clutching bags. "Wow! congrats congrats!" Looked at her fiance then looked back at her. "Wow, like, congrats!"
It's quite annoying that at times like these, even a communications student such as I are stumped for words. My brains just refused to think of more eloquent praises for the blissful couple.
After a few seconds of repeating 'congrats', I ran out to throw the rubbish while they patiently waited at the door so that I could photograph them together in the apartment.
After the phototaking session, I was busy interviewing them. How did he propose? Where did you go for dinner? Was it a surprise? It was a nice restaurant by the beach, they said, with the view of the sea as the sun set. Candles and wine and music, all the cliched things you can imagine. He wanted to propose over the intercom system, but the restaurant didnt have one. So he took her for a walk and went on his knees on the sand.
Then I asked her the golden question,
"How did you know he was 'the one'?"
And here is the profound answer, take note ladies and gentlemen *drumroll* "You just know."
Wow.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The Valley of the Shadow of Death
My friend's mother died yesterday. Cancer.
I got the message on my mobile this morning from Liang. He is the same guy who told me, a few weeks ago, that the father of another mutual friend of ours had died.
I feel really bad for these, my friends. I really really do. Liang would have attended their parents' funerals, but I can't--for one reason or another. This time, it's because I'm overseas.
I'm so sorry.
HG, I just want to be there for you. I know perhaps nothing I say now really matters, it won't take away the grief, but at least you know that your mum is in a better place.
Take heart.
I got the message on my mobile this morning from Liang. He is the same guy who told me, a few weeks ago, that the father of another mutual friend of ours had died.
I feel really bad for these, my friends. I really really do. Liang would have attended their parents' funerals, but I can't--for one reason or another. This time, it's because I'm overseas.
I'm so sorry.
HG, I just want to be there for you. I know perhaps nothing I say now really matters, it won't take away the grief, but at least you know that your mum is in a better place.
Take heart.
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