Ten things I learnt from job interviews

1) Blend in as much as possible

The first interview I went to was in this place where my skin colour was extremely rare. It was quite a sight. All of them stopped and stared at me. I started regretting I didn't wear a fully covered loose fitting attire or baju kurung instead of my fashionable form-fitting (but decent, I assure you) blouse and slacks.

2) When in doubt, ladies should wear high heels and carry a handbag

One of the jobs I applied to was for the post of English language instructor. Now, thinking it was a post that didnt need too much dressing up, I wore a nice collared shirt, slacks, wore flat shoes and carried a sling bag. Flats were because I thought I had to do alot of walking to get to that interview place. The interviewer looked at me and asked "How old are you? you look like a school girl. I was shocked to see the shoes you were wearing." At the end of the interview, I shook his hands and he smiled. "And please la, get a handbag," he said.

3) Don't play with your tongue while being interviewed

So it was that I was subconsciously moving my tongue over my teeth in my mouth. And the interviewer said "you really shouldn't chew gum while being interviewed." I DEFIANTLY insisted I was NOT chewing gum but merely cleaning my teeth with my tongue. Heh.

The interviewer puckered up his face and frowned.

4) Be passionate. Enthusiastic. Even when you think it's the crappiest job in the world.

I remembered sitting in an interview and having the boss explained to me the intricacies of an editor's job in his company. Basically--editing corporate in house stuff, occasionally throwing in a few pictures and designs, proofreading, proofreading and more proofreading. And looking at the company's accounts to make sure the annual reports are all in order in THAT particular margin and template bla bla. Alright, I give the boss credit, he was really trying to make it interesting to me. But yet, he kept asking, "Is this what you wanna do? Do you like it?" to which I answered..."Uhm...yea...like...it's quite interesting...u know...uhm, I would love to see how it's done.." I've yet to get a call back haha. But seriously, I don't mind the job.

5) Bring a calculator when they say you have to sit for a 'test'. Regardless if the profession in mind will probably not require one at all.

I've had two tests for two different interviews so far. One was for an editing job and another was for a journalist position in an established newpaper company. The editing test was one and a half hours, it was alright. But the journalist's one was THREE and a HALF hours. And I had to use their calculator to interpret a pie chart. What the??!

6) Be mentally prepared for the worse.

First of all, I wasn't ready for the 3 and 1/2 hour journalist test. And I didn't expect them to make me read through a 20 page Prime Minister's speech given in a political General Assembly...in Malay (it was part of the test). I had to summarise the speech, heaven forbid. Then right after the test I skipped lunch and was interviewed by four people, from different departments in the company and the Human Resource people. Then I was told that my shoes were ugly and I needed a handbag in a different interview the next day.

7) Always be on the alert and say diplomatic things--you never know who you are talking to.

In between a test and an interview, I was waiting in a Human Resource office when this nice old chap sat next to me and asked me if I was there for the interview. He said he was an interviewee too. And he happily talked and asked me heaps of questions bout myself, my expectations and bla. When the editor turned up to interview me, she exclaimed "Oh look who is here to accompany you! The boss himself!"

8) Try to think before you speak.

The editor of a Sunday newspaper asked me if I was willing to work weekends occasionally. I said I don't mind Saturdays, but I do want to keep Sunday's free because I'm a Christian. "Do we have to work on Sundays?" I asked. She gave me a weird look. "Well, what do you think? Of course not, or we won't even have a Sunday paper to read!" she replied.

I quickly covered up my blunder by saying, "No, I meant wee hours of Sunday morning...."

9) Read. Sound intelligent even though you hardly know what you're truly saying.

I have been asked if I knew what corporate annual publications are. Whether I heard of the latest reality TV show. What are the latest developments in the nation's education scene. What sort of policies I could propose to the government on racial integration in schools. If I have ever heard of Etihad airlines.

Of course, the best question of them all was, "Can you dress well?"

10) Laugh at yourself.

And the whole world laughs with you. Even the interviewers.

Crapology: A psycholinguistic analysis of Crap

Chew, Sarah and Yuen, Justin (2006) Crapology: A psycholinguistic analysis of Crap. Melbourne: Lame Publishers Ltd.

JusTim邦 says:
why do we talk crap
JusTim邦 says:
is it genetic
sarah/suan mei says:
its cultural Crap differs across different sub-groups and cultures
sarah/suan mei says:
it is to create a sense of bonding and familiarity hence making it an in-group marker
sarah/suan mei says:
in order to fit in a social circle, one has to be competent in speaking the lingo of Crap in that group
sarah/suan mei says:
'Crap' occasionally has different terminology in youngsters today...sometimes called 'lame jokes' or it could be a generic term for many meanings, from 'alot of content' to 'non-useful bantering'
JusTim邦 says:
wow i guess yea cultural is one thing
JusTim邦 says:
but i think some people crap more than others
JusTim邦 says:
so i think there is still a genetic link
JusTim邦 says:
maybe there is a gene that makes a person more predisposed to crapping than say another person without it
JusTim邦 says:
and the predisposition to crapping can be affected by the cultural context in which the person grows up or lives a long time in
sarah/suan mei says:
the frequency of 'Crap' output also may differ according to variables such as mind alertness (inverse relationship), exposure to other Crappy people (linear relationship over time). The content of Crap, however, is greatly influenced by environmental factors such as exposure to film, books, family etc.
JusTim邦 says:
i think it might be exponential relationship over time in terms of the exposure to other Crappy people.
sarah/suan mei says:
ah true that
JusTim邦 says:
i think the cause of crap still lies in culture and genetics
JusTim邦 says:
both are valid factors
JusTim邦 says:
so the question now is
JusTim邦 says:
which one is more dominant factor
JusTim邦 says:
is it the cultural factors of exposure to like-minded people which cause so many people all over the world to succumb to this verbal nonsensical disorder
JusTim邦 says:
or is there something that is written in our code.
sarah/suan mei says:
well I believe the capacity for humour may be in some sense genetic...but 'Crap' is such a generic term and it means different things to different people--therefore already proving its cultural beginnings
JusTim邦 says:
you might be on to something there
JusTim邦 says:
cultural startpoint
JusTim邦 says:
without the culture of the group giving a pretext for Crapping, without it as a trigger to an otherwise dormant behaviour disorder, i guess it matters not whether a person is genetically predisposed to Crap or not
JusTim邦 says:
however, it stands to reason that for a person with a genetic predisposition, only a mild exposure to Crap culture can cause the person to burst out with Crap upon Crap in their spoken and written languages.
JusTim邦 says:
and for a person who is not predisposed, it may take longer, or there might not be any capability to Crap whatsoever
sarah/suan mei says:
hence from this intellectual discussion on the subject of 'Crapping'
sarah/suan mei says:
I now come to this one conclusion
sarah/suan mei says:
both of us are Crappy people

HOW DARE THEY...watever la.

You would think that in the 21st century, most affluent people living in cities should have some sort of western rationale. Or sensibility. Or idea of politeness.

Well. That's what YOU think, and what I would LIKE to think.

Just the other day, my uncle's GF's parents called my race 'backward'. We're Baba Nyonya, so what? We live in good suburbs, own a few cars, a fair education. But they think he's not good enough for their daughter...because he's not earning like, huge bucks in a month. They think we're stupid and below their class. And they want their daughter to get out of the relationship, nay, get out of the COUNTRY even.

They called the house and threatened my grandparents that they will do something to him if their daughter still refuses to leave.

No my friends. This is not Afghanistan or India or something. These are affluent chinese in Malaysia.

And they call us backward.

Cool video- animal cannibalism

Pelican Eats Pigeon - video powered by Metacafe

One of the comments said this:

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week,
But I’m damned if I see how the helican.

and they say they envy me

Just the other day, my friends and I were talking about our families.

They said they have problems relating to their parents, or their siblings--or just simply do not know what to talk to them about. It's kinda like this:

Dad/Mum : How are you?
my friend : Ok lor.
Dad/Mum : How are your studies?
my friend : Ok.
Dad/Mum : Are you sure you alright?
my friend : Uhm. Yeah. Oh, my bank account running low *ahem*.

Here is what a conversation with my parents are like:

Dad : I've been trying to call you. Why you never call me one? How come you can call other guys and not call me?

Me : I tried calling you yesterday la AIYO.

Dad : So you said you bought that jacket. Does it look good?...bla bla (half an hour later) Wait,your mum wants to speak to you.

Mum : Eh, how are you? Alot of assignments? Why don't you wanna come home and work next year?

Me: Erm, cuz I think its good to do Honours and bla bla ....

Mum : So you wanna stay there for another year? So, any potential guys? *laughs*

The above is usually the nice chirpy tone and everyone thinks, oh how lovely, my parents are my friends and why can't their parents be that way? And oh, I'm so close to all of them, we share information and hardly any secrets are kept. Well. I'm not complaining- usually. Just wait till you hear them scold me :p. Or see the sort of strict lifestyle I live. And people wonder why I have only seen like, maybe 20-30 movies in my lifetime, or have hardly much interest in anything vaguely 'worldly'. There are reasons for all that of course, but none of you would understand completely. But no, we don't follow a cult and my Christian life has been anything but boring, but that is a story for another time.

But at the end of the day, I won't give my family up for anything else. So here is to my family.

(there was a scandalous pic here of myself and my bro but it has been taken off because of the publicity it has attracted. And my mum is worried that potential suitors might think we are already taken. Which we aren't but nevermind)

Hmm. I know this last pic is quite *scandalous* but at least you know who the guy is :p

Last (and only) woman standing

From left to right (top): me, Sam Tai, Derek, Patrick, Sam Wong's friend, Pat's fren 1, Ji Xiang who thinks he's too cool

From left to right (bottom): Sam Wong, Ben Wong who is more concerned with shooting Pat than the camera, Pat's fren 2, Kim Seng (Pat's only fren whose name I can remember)

23 September- we donned army suits, wore weird hats with laser sensors, formed ranks while totterring guns and took to the bush. Yeah sounds like a guys' thing but I suppose as Derek says, I'm one of them...sometimes. Hey I like pink and making apple crumble ok, so I'm not tomboy or anything. Anyways, I ended up being the only female in the outdoor laser skirmish outing. The guys said they would *protect* me but HA, like I believed them. They ended up shooting me even *gives Pat and Kim Seng a knowing stare*.

And yes I know I look like a kid up there so stop laughing.

Each of us had to wear those ugly green suits, and two different kinds of hats which will determine which team we're on. The laser sensors were on the hats and our guns, therefore we had to either shoot the gun or ppl's heads. There were a few guns to choose from....from the smallest one which had 3-40 metres range to sniper guns which had grenade launchers that 'kills' anyone within 90 degrees radius, bout 90-100 metres range. I'm carrying one of those that has 70 metres range. The guns also indicated how many lives we had, depending on the game.

Well we weren't the only group there for the laser skirmish, there was a huge group of kids from maybe 6-10 yrs old all yelling and shooting away in the woods and we had to form two opposing groups with them. I suppose I could have fit in with them if they weren't so....u know, one of them shot me from the back, while I was crouching on the ground...my life went down from 9 lives to 4 lives. He just stood there grinning like he accomplished something but I WAS ON HIS TEAM arrrgh. Well you will find out later however, that I'm no better :p

We played a few rounds, sometimes with the kids, sometimes by ourselves. I quite enjoyed myself minus the terrain- I mean, there was bushes, holes and lalang and thorns everywhere. Natural forest, no cleared paths or anything. At one point where I 'captured' the flag and I was on my hands and belly crawling because of the crossfire, cut my hands on the thorns. Wasn't too funny trying to endure them while brushing teeth that night.

The last game was probably be the funniest laser game we had. It was called 'last man standing', where basically it's every person for himself/herself. Well, we still formed alliances among each other. I was in alliance with Sam Tai, Pat, Derek and Ji Xiang. We just hid behind trees and killed nearly everyone else until Derek (who got killed somewhere in between) told me "there are no others! Kill everyone!" So I shot Ji Xiang till he died, much to his dissappointment. I dont think he would trust me much now haha. And while Pat were finishing Sam and Ben Wong off, Sam T was trying to shoot me. Then me and Pat ended up shooting him. Then it was the two CG leaders against each other--we had killed all our CG members. And while all the CG members sat around watching, I was jumping from tree to tree trying to figure out where Pat was. Right.

So technically, I was the last woman standing.

That is, until Pat shot me bout 5 times and finished the game. So ok FINE, he's the last man standing. He wanted me to say on my blog about how he is so skilled and suave and yadayada. Oh well Pat, who are you trying to impress? Heh :p

Gals, you missed out.

Guys, you need to get back at Pat haha. You gonna let him take all the glory?

People actually CARE

I can't believe how self-centred and pessimistic I can be sometimes. Usually everyone thinks I'm the calm, never-get-angry, always-in-control kind. But recently I'm been more and more revealing of my emo side and I think I'm freaking some ppl out. Heh.

I had a great camp last weekend. The camp committee and I have been working like crazy for this (and some of us were treading the line between sanity and insanity haha) but well--it was worth it. People made new friendships, people were hungry for answers and were eager to learn, they had fun, etc etc. But towards the end I sat and thought to myself...I'm so tired. Does doing all this matter? Did people meet God? Why do I feel like I keep giving out when I have nothing left to give, I need some TLC myself.

But the last session answered that for me. If people didnt meet God, at least I did. And the camp didn't have the speaker doing all the laying of hands la and the charismatic acts and stuff. God met me there, while I was sitting listening to the speaker. I just started crying. Not the occasional sniff sniff kind, I was nearly crying my eyes out. And all the guys (yes, I noticed guys dont handle a gal's crying very well) starting freaking out. The gals were more accepting and offered a prayer.

Like, how self-centred can I be? Sure, I may be going thru tough emotional patches, but hey, as if no one else does. And the speaker--we didnt have anything much to give him. He agreed to speak at the last minute and yet, he made it almost his own responsibility to make sure camp was going great, he went out to buy toilet rolls for us when we forgot to bring our own, he bought presents for the camp commandents and the chefs(!!) when really, it was our job to do it. Then on the last day, he went on his knees and washed all of our feet. Literally.

And the chefs- 6 of them from church- came to cook for us all those 2 nights and 3 days. And we're not even paying them, the church is paying for their accomodation. Cook and clean for 40 people.

There are people out there who care so much when there is possibly nothing in it for them. Why? Do they love God so much that they'll keep giving anyway?

Is it possible I've become so hard and selfish that I find it hard to believe?

07.09.2006

I didn't know how painful dying to self felt. Until now.

The forgotten Sydney holiday

The Gap. Nice place...although some people suicide there. A pastor friend I was staying with after the conference took me to take a look after Hillsongs Conference.

Bottom: My friend John whom I kept in touch with since ...5 yrs ago I think.

A scary picture a friend took of me while taking the train back from the conference to Rachel's house, where we stayed.

Left: That's Sam, Rachel and Su Ann. Making funny faces, we all were...cuz we were bored in the train.
Right: Steamboat! Prepared by Rachel's parents, they made us dinner/supper every night. We felt really at home.

This is Charlene. She sleeps with a koala and talks to him every morning and night in a weird kiddy voice. Sometimes in the middle of the night she wakes up and rummages the bed to find her koala and wakes us all up in the process.

Ok, if you were wondering when on earth did all these happened, I was in Sydney 2-10 July this year. Mainly for Hillsongs Conference with some church friends. And also to visit a family friend' family. I didn't put up pics of the Sydney Opera House or the Darling Harbour and the incredible speakers at the conference, bla, too cliched. I just showed you some quirky stuff in Sydney, that probably noone will remember in time to come.

12.35am

Loneliness
some say, is a cruel thing
and while it has a mortal sting
the greater culprit is the absence of love.

One can feel lonely but be loved
If one is not loved, one will be lonely
truly alone.

You. You said 'I Am'
and You are
all I have now
I'm not alone for You are Love
so don't go. please.
Stay till I take the final bow.

questions questions

why do people like to

scratch their mosquito bites and draw crosses in them
dig their noses and smell/eat/roll the buggers
pinch their pimples
bite their nails or pull out bits of skin beside their nails
shake or swing or vibrate their legs subconsciously
make funny faces at babies
stick their tongue out when they make a mistake
comment about your weight if they haven't seen you in ages
wear black
eat food that are sweet, sour or salty over bitter

A weird dream

The jungle was like any Malaysian jungle, a little dense on the ground and muddy tracks fashioned by a few hikers before us. My friends and I were walking through it. Then for some absurd reason, I sensed danger...I told them we have to turn back. It's WWII, the soldiers will find us! So we dart through trees, and came upon a clearing, with some squatter houses.

Suddenly there were soldiers everywhere! A friend (I'm declining to mention names, cuz some of them are ppl reading this blog) and I slipped into one of the houses to hide...but we were finally caught anyway.

We were all thrown into prison. I couldn't really remember much of what happened to the whole lot of us, but our captors were pretty sadistic. Each of us had our own type of 'torture'. For me, it was to face a torturer one on one in a dimly lit room. Behind the torturer (which was a woman, with a face I shockingly recognised) was an array of weapons. Clubs, swords, knives, sickles, etc. I was given an axe. Here was the deal; if I could kill the torturer before she kills me, I could go free. If not, every few minutes- starting from the 'least harmful' weapon- she would switch to a worse weapon and start cutting me to death.

She started with a switch blade. I thought an axe was an advantage, but it was so heavy I could hardly swing it. Half the time I was just defending myself from her swift attacks. But fortune would have it, I actually manage to knock her out a little. At one point she looked dizzy, and I decided I was gonna run for it. I ran for my life,...past the guards and and doors. Then I came to a wooden platform and realised that the whole torture chamber was a wooden structure built on sea, surrounded by sea. The sea was choppy, and the wooden structure was close enough to land for me to escape. A friend was already on the other side, he must have been one of them who escaped too. "Jump," he told me, "quick!"

The phone rang. I staggered out of bed and answered it. "Is Dad awake?" my mum asked. I passed the phone to dad and wondered....did I escape?

God, this stinks.

It hurts. It really really does.

And yet I've run out of energy to ask You 'why', cuz it's so cliched and it's useless. And I know better than to blame You. Yet somehow more than ever, You are close. I can hear You whisper and I can hear You speak--they way You used to joke and banter with me when I was a child.

People ask me, how can I hear You, how can I know it is really You? I dunno, I just do. And when I do, I don't ask anymore questions.

But oh God, it still hurts.

view my website!

Just in case any of you are interested, I have created a website called 'Racism in Australia' for an assignment. I thought, since I stayed up all night to put it up...and not to mentioned my friend helped me for 5 hours...I'll let you all take a look. But do look before July.

http://webraft.its.unimelb.edu.au/100206/students-2006-1/smchew/pub/index.htm

Why I luuuurve academic essays/assignments

10) Because it allows me to make full use of the library resources. My room is crammed now. I paid nearly $400 for services and amenities fee, I should make damn good use of it.

9) Because it allows me to suck up to my lecturers and tutors when discussing essay topics and possible ideological arguments.

8) Because whatever you write in it is most probably useless in the future. So you don't have to retain the information in your brain.

7) I have the rare opportunity to indulge myself with coffee and lose sleep over it.

6) So I can get a new 'look'; I heard that pimples-enhanced-complexion is the current trend.

5) So I can let my nerdy side go crazy with delicious terms like 'post-structuralism', 'discourse' and 'hegemony'.

4) Because I have the right to tell people that I can't talk to them, go take your problems somewhere else, I'M LOVINGLY COMPOSING AN ESSAY, CAN'T YOU SEE?!?

3) It allows me to legitimately skip meals and lose weight. Without people complaining I'm too thin, bla bla bla...

2) I can sit in my heated room all the day (and night) long. No need to freeze in examination halls.

1) Ze feel of paper and ze smell of ink is...mmm. Ze best, my friend!

On Air. You're listening to SYN 9-0-7

Melbourne Uni's media collective have started a radio show called S.P.I.T. Don't ask me what it means, I forgot. After a few weeks of preparation on segments like news, comedy, arts and reviews, the show aired for the first time today on community radio station SYN, bandwith SYN fm, 90.7....so if you're in Victoria (Australia), tune in. It's on Tuesdays, 2-4pm.

Anyways. I popped by the SYN studios today to take some photos of the nervous presenters, Ben and Hagen, stressing out, I caught them fumbling with CDs on the desk, headphones dangling on their necks, pushing buttons and going..."ok, what's next? Are you gonna talk about that song? How bout this song?" Perhaps they weren't too pleased I showed up with a camera but they let me sit in anyway.

Two other segment presenters for pop culture and review was sitting outside, waiting for their turn to come in and talk. But inside, the announcers were screwing up certain bits and I just sat and laughed. We grimaced when some songs had the 'f' word in it, because they didn't give a language warning. We just broke one of the station rules.

Then once Hagen hit the 'off' button on the CD volume by accident and the song halted for 1-2 secs...on air. Ben switched it back on--"What the hell are you doing??!" We were laughing our faces red, to Hagen's exclamation "I can't BELIEVE I did that!!"

After they recovered from that mishap, they put on a comedy segment...only to have a girl come into the studio 3 minutes later. "Guys? What happened? You're off-air."

"WHAT?!"

"The back-up music is playing....you must have had dead air for 7 seconds or something."

So the guys scramble to cut the segment and play some music to get back on air. Just then, a call comes in.

"You....the managers are gonna be mad at your foul content!"

Hagen's eyes nearly pop out and he swings around to face Ben and I. His face was pale for a moment. This was probably the worst imaginable thing to happen, get your show ticked off even from its debut airing. We all read Hagen's panic on his face and held our breath-for a few secs. Because then Hagen broke out laughing. It was just one of our production editors playing a prank.

WELL. What a day.

CONSPIRACY

Welcome to the 8.34pm Lame News Network. The top story today;

Melbourne University's media and politics lecturer thinks that we're all DOOMED to be doped by the LIES perpetuated by the elite who flirt with the media as a means to an end. Beware people, be afraid. Is our government REALLY doing things in our interest?

Today, on Lame's exceedingly-self-centred news, I bring you Dr. Boring Wanker with a case study of war coverage pertaining to Iraq, another thorn in the side for the Bush and Blair administration.

In 2003, someone leaked a few photos of 'British troops' in Iraq wearing uniforms, abusing two Iraqi teenagers, to The Spam tabloid newspaper known for it's anti-Blair stance. The editor decided to run the pictures. However, investigations were later carried out to gage it's authenticity. It was a very thorough investigation headed by Spot-the-Difference experts as it boiled down to micro aspects such as the insignia on the jackets and the what kind of buttons were on the shirts. It was found that the insignia and buttons in the photos were not the same as those in the regiment posted there at that time. So the photos were faked.

Ms. Busy Body, who wrote about the pictures, resigned in disgrace and other authentic stories and photos of abuse never really made it into the media again. The media was effectively silenced by fear.

"It was a brilliant piece of manipulation," said Dr. Wanker. "The Government KNEW beforehand that there will be potential stories on troops abusing civillians and therefore leaked fake pictures to the media, knowing experts will pick on it later and prove them fake."

Prime Minister Tony Blair was unavailable for comment.

This is Sarah Chew, reporting from Physiology Building, Tute Room 116. Lame News Network.

My Brisbane trip

OK, since everyone is asking me what I did in Brisbane, here's a summary.

1) Beach (man made, just looking at it)
2) Sun
3) Movie World
4) Beach (real beach, just looking at it)
5) Sun

It was 28 degrees on most days. Good if compared to Melbourne, not good if you are walking up the hills. Brisbane is full of hills. Bad for driving a manual rented car too and we probably did a 100 three point turns and U-turns.

The city wasn't much, although it had a 'beach' and laidback feel to it. Heck, even the city had a man made beach. It's probably the sun and architecture. Gold Coast had more excitement. We went to Movie World and Surfers Paradise where the real beach is. Rented a car and drove around, which was kinda fun. Highlights were screaming on the Superman roller coaster, picnic by Surfers Paradise beach, meeting my bro who was there, and being around friends who graciously took us around the quaint shops and restaurants. Oh! And some woman in Surfers Paradise grabbed my arms and made me dance in the public square to the music of a busker who impersonates Elvis, while my dear friends stood close by and laughed. Look, they could at least have taken a photo if they didnt want to help me escape, but NO, they just stood and laughed.

We didn't go swimming or surfing or watch dolphins. Not even close. I didnt even touch seawater. What we did do was walk around, eat food, wave at Bugs Bunny and Batman, and watched planets in some space adventure thing. Oh well.

I am a racist

I was just thinking. If you are proud of your country and dedicate yourself to it's cause, you are a nationalist. If you are proud of your femininity and fight for women's rights, you are a feminist.

So what if I'm proud of my race and purpose to further its cause? Am I a racist?

No. It seems that you are a racist if you are prejudiced against other races. But aren't we all inherently racist in some sense? Ok, Malaysians and Singaporeans will *understand* me if I throw out some stereotypes like Chinese=cunning and $$$ minded, Malays= lazy, Indians=somewhere-out-there, marginalized (for Msia, at least). I don't mean to offend people, but look: nearly everyone, from our grandmothers' generation to our generation, think that way. Heck, even Mahathir thinks that way.

So ok, I might be kinda racist when I'm in Malaysia. But perhaps when I'm here in Melbourne, I might be either an Asianist or a White-ist, depending on context. I'm Asianist when some white person asks me "Oh! You can speak English?" (me: yes, perhaps even better than you) or when some guy yells "Go back to China, you #$@%!" but I can be White-ist when I hear a fellow Asian speaking such broken English/Manglish/Singlish/whatever in tutorials that I want to hide in embarassment.

Well, 'racism' is the in thing now for the Aussie media. Everyone is talking about what it means to be Australian and immigrants should get lost if they don't like the 'liberal' values. Here's an interesting website: http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,18362839-421,00.html

Face it. You're some '-ist' too.

My greatest enemy

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.