|
a penguin of very little brain
|
|
|
| if i couldn't keep the carpets clean |
[Jun. 18th, 2008|09:15 pm] |
Settlement occured today, and so now we are the proud owners of a mortgage.
Sometimes I have these moments of doubt, that I'm getting older and there's no chance to do all the things I still want to do. I especially feel like this when ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) peace_bloom posts photos of some of my favourite people (herself included) having a blast on the other side of the country (this doesn't mean she should stop doing this, though. in fact she should do this more).
Before our eviction letter arrived, Davyd and I were talking about spending some time living in Melbourne, and vaguely considering living in Malaysia or Singapore for a bit. This would delight me, living close to (some others of) my loved ones. I love Perth, and no matter where we go we'll probably move back, but I don't intend for us to spend our whole lives living here.
In 2006 I was offered a position in Canberra, which I obviously turned down. I haven't regretted it, not for a second, because although there are some delightful people living in Canberra it is Canberra, and I don't think I would have enjoyed that job in the end, not really.
I worry though, sometimes, that of all these things I want to achieve, of all these things I want to do, I'm not going to do them. And I know that everyone feels this way, that everyone has these doubts, so they're nothing special and I should just ignore them, and just get on with it.
And whenever I start worrying about this, I think about my mum, who has done so many things since she was about the age I am now. She changed careers in her late forties and is now incredibly successful; she left her own country and her own family to move to Australia and start a new one; since moving to Australia she has learnt to speak Japanese fluently, and Indonesian (though as a Malaysian, this last one is a bit of a cheat, really); and she's really, really happy, and she has no regrets at all.
And when I start worrying about not achieving things, I think that my mum is really awesome, and when I grow up, I want to be awesome, too. And then I think about the things that I've achieved, planned or not (which this year: plan a Really Big Party; go to Melbourne; take Davyd to meet my family in Malaysia and Singapore; start learning German; change careers so I get paid doing stuff I enjoy; buy a property), and that I'm pretty awesome now, actually.
So that's my coping strategy.
I hope that whatever yours is, it works just as well. |
|
|
| and i am not a force to be reckoned with |
[Jun. 11th, 2008|10:05 pm] |
first step in the new world order
I've been feeling a little bit lost lately. I handed in my final assignments for this semester three weeks back, and yes I still have German classes but that's dead easy, and I still have Chinese classes but that's just once a week, so.
I got the results back for those assessments, and I'll probably scrape by with HDs which is better than just missing out, but it means my CWA will drop a couple of points and really, it's my own fault for getting married in the middle of semester because I forgot I was still a student.
Studying and learning is this huge part of my life, but I forget that it's supposed to define me. I do two units at uni and I'm studying two languages but I'm not a student, I can't tick that box. I work full time but at two different jobs and I feel like I can't define myself as either of those, either.
The thing about definitions and labels is that they're often mutually exclusive, and so often problematic.
I don't like using labels, but I am guilty of them all the same. I hate being required to pick a title, I don't want to be 'Mrs' and I never liked being 'Miss' and sometimes I think about getting my PhD just so I can be 'Dr.' I shouldn't tick 'Asian' but I can't tick 'Caucasian' so I have to tick 'Other.' Sometimes people write my occupation as 'admin,' sometimes it's 'local government' and often it's just left blank.
I dislike being defined by other people's words, by other people's views of the world, though I know that I define others by my interactions with them. And it is in this way that I know that I am guilty of labeling people. |
|
|
| it's going nowhere on the mantlepiece |
[May. 27th, 2008|10:09 pm] |
This is my "to read" pile, though it is not a pile and it is sort of a lie.
- Growing Up in Trengganu is so familiar and yet so not, Trengganu being a state of Malaysia and yet so distinct, so different from Penang. I picked this up in Penang when, on a whim, I visited a Borders there. The layout of Borders is exactly the same, but the books and things one finds are so different, for logistic and obvious reasons.
- What the Chinese Don't Eat is the book that makes my "to read" pile a lie: I have already finished it, but for the last two pages, which I wanted to write a blog post about. Food is such an important part of my life: it is how I show my love and how I calm myself down; it is how I reward myself and what I do to enjoy the world, and I want to talk about how the book reflects that. If you ever have a chance, read Xinran's novel The Good Women of China, a book whose last three pages never fail to make me cry with its documentation of the women of China.
- I have read The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon. I have read it over and over and over, and Penguin just released a new translation and I both covet and fear it.
- I was browsing in Elisabeth's Books one day, and picked Love and Vertigo up because it's about a Chinese-Singaporean/Malaysian who lives in Australia, who returns to Singapore for her mother's wake.
- Tris sent me The Flower Drum Song about a year ago, and I read the first two chapters and got waylaid by life, and despite my best intentions have yet to finish it.
- Blue Dragon is the third in a trilogy by Kylie Chan; I reviewed the first book here. Unfortunately I've been suffering from my usual trilogy malaise - I read the first two books, and run out of steam by the third. Many a trilogy has languished on my shelves in such a fashion.
- Dirty Looks, a series of media essays that I really should return to Stephen, but there's a chapter on Asian fetish in Western cinema that I keep meaning to read.
- Inherit the Earth is allegedly cyberpunk; it was shilled to me by hipikat's step-dad, so we'll see.
- Cinderella's Sisters is about the history of foot-binding: it's so beautiful and so interesting, and I really have no excuse.
- Food Politics. I am so interested in where my food comes from, and the who and the why, and you should be too, but that is another rant for another day.
And instead of reading these books, I bought a new one on the weekend, and have been reading that instead. Which is just me all over.
How is everyone else's to be read pile doing? |
|
|
| run your intentions past me |
[May. 22nd, 2008|08:22 pm] |
![mortar + pestle [+ steph]](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3230/2513756314_72d1797df7.jpg)
gigantic photo of me, how narcissistic
things i love on rainy days include but are not limited to:
一 mashed potato
二 sleeping in, the sound of the rain on the roof
三 splashing puddles in gumboots (i need a pair of these)
四 sitting on the floor of the kitchen, pounding spices for curries
五 hot chocolate
六 warm carbohydrates, rice and pastas and things
七 bright red coats
八 standing in the rain, big drops falling as i run for my quite close front door
九 the sunlight shining weak but clear
十 curries simmering on the stove, filling the house with rich smells and warmth from the kitchen
十一 baking
十二 umbrellas
十三 wrapping myself up in a blanket, reading a book
十四 cuddles
i would be interested to know how your lists differ from mine (and how, perhaps, they are the same) |
|
|
| the road i fear is here again |
[May. 20th, 2008|08:05 pm] |
Sometimes I get completely overwhelmed by the tasks that I have chosen to undertake, so overwhelmed that I want to sulk about the place and just hide away from the world. But then I remember that they're my tasks, and I chose them, and I can sulk all I want but I speak three languages and I enjoy my job and I've chosen to do this really awesome Masters that I enjoy writing essays for, and we're about to own a townhouse and we'll still be living comfortably, we won't be subsisting on $20 a week or whatever, and I am happy.
And in March, a 65 year old Bhutanese woman walked for fourteen days, across about 600 kilometres, just so that she could vote. And you can bet she was bitching about it the whole way, but she chose to do it and she did it, and at least my choices aren't things like do I vote or do I save myself a hundred blisters. I don't know if I could walk 600 kilometres just to vote, but I like to think that under all my sulking I have that strength inside of me.
Although I admire that woman, I hope that I never have to prove my fortitude to such an extent. |
|
|
| there's a whole floor before us |
[May. 12th, 2008|09:55 pm] |
davyd calls this photo 'dynamic' (photo by amanda)
My learning curve when I'm dancing with someone I know is quite different from that of when I'm dancing with someone new. It's not necessarily better or worse, but it's definitely different. I was feeling a little under the weather this evening, and until I got in the car I wasn't sure I was going to go at all, and when we got there I was everywhere, unable to Charleston and tripping over my feet. Four partners in I ended up dancing with Davyd again, and knowing that he didn't care if I fucked up meant I got over it and worked out why I'd forgotten everything I'd learnt, and remembered it all. This freed me up to learn all the new stuff, and left me feeling more comfortable by the end of the evening.
Of course, the otherside of this is that sometimes I don't notice how much I'm messing up until I'm dancing with someone new. Dancing with Davyd we've developed tricks, and I've learnt to read what he's doing so sometimes I'm halfway into the next thing before he's lead it, because I knew he was going to. This makes me a terrible follow, and I often don't notice it, and therefore can't correct it, until I'm dancing with someone I barely know.
Dancing is really awesome. It can feel very awkward, especially when you're not sure what you're doing - or worse, not sure what your partner is doing - but it's so relaxing and energetic and enjoyable all at the same time.
I wish more of my friends knew how to dance; and I will admit it, I look forward to weddings as a legitimate opportunity to dance some more. |
|
|
| like i've lived too much |
[May. 10th, 2008|11:09 pm] |
Thirteens and black cats have never meant much to me, though I have avoided ladders for safety reasons.
I remember in high school, a friend complained about some Chinese people who were interested in buying her parents' house, up until they got there and realised the street address had a four in it and so it all fell through. Of course, I think I said, it's like death, and thought, how could they not have realised? and then I didn't think about it again until today.
We went to view a townhouse, and I was looking out the window for number fourteen, and then we arrived and Davyd said it was number four, and then I realised what that meant. We looked inside anyway, but the damage was done: no matter how brilliant it was, I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to buy a house that was numbered four, let alone one that was numbered four twice.
But then, there is not-quite truth in that statement, too, for there are things that can be done, and all these unfortuitous things can be surmounted. That's what the mirrors and the bells are for.
And the 福, upside-down, that sits on our kitchen door.
 |
|
|
| tourist in a familiar land |
[Apr. 17th, 2008|06:58 pm] |
"Ah," said Auntie, when I told her of our plans. "Tourist things."
I have known the reclining buddha since I was young; I have climbed the steps of Kek Lok Si and removed my shoes for the buddhas a hundred times; yet visiting these figures is still tourist things.
The taxi driver took us through the winding streets of Air Itam, halfway across the island. We wove through the terraces, and Davyd lamented that we had worn sneakers, as he had to bow every five minutes to tie his laces again.
I love the bright colours of the temples, the stories that they tell and the information that they give. My father speaks, in a low voice, of the rebuilding of Kwan Yin at Kek Lok Si. Her statue, 120 feet of bronze, was allegedly rebuilt a little shorter, so she would not be taller than the tallest mosque on the island.
At the base of the temple, we encountered beggars, and I remembered why I fear the temple even as I love it.
We visited the reclining buddha at Wat Chaiya Mangkalaram. At 33 metres in length, it is the third largest reclining buddha, and Uncle described it to Davyd as the best buddha in town.
We ventured up Penang Hill, completely unrelated to my pilgrimage. A funicular railway runs from base to peak, and at over 800 metres above sea level it is fun to peer down the hill and into the haze.
I enjoy touristing around places I love, and it was fun to share some of my favourite places with Davyd. It was nerve-wracking, too, that fear that he'd not at least like them.
I've uploaded a handful of photos from Malaysia, including a selection of family portraits, and the food from the second wedding banquet, at my flickr account here. Full photos will hopefully go up soon. You can also find my review of our second wedding banquet here.
extended family portrait
ETA: You can now find all photos from our temple visits here and here. |
|
|
| on your shoulders |
[Mar. 9th, 2008|04:23 pm] |
I am excited; awash in a sea of joy and confusion. UMNO has been the ruling party in Malaysia since Merdeka fifty years ago, and its power has been pretty concrete. There are many reasons why I grew up in Australia and not Malaysia, and UMNO is one of the biggest of them. At yesterday's national election, it won with a simple majority. This sounds like nothing but the government no longer has power to make constitutional changes, and is a sign of dissatisfaction across the country with the loss of four state assemblies, including my beloved tiny island of Penang. I'm afraid and I'm concerned but most of all I'm excited, and I hope.
Links: BBC; ABC; Associated Press; Straits Times. |
|
|
| so lay your hands over me |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|08:23 pm] |
this life is made up of fragments of things, some of which:
the bright yellow light of the setting sun broken by the verticals on the east facing windows; the length of this bright red couch; old friends, and the joys and discontent they bring; the smell of rice cooking and curry, bubbling on the stove; the sharp crispness of yao chao guai against my tongue; davyd's laughter, loud and raucous; the words in languages i don't understand, spoken by my mother; half-crafted intentions and unfinished thoughts; courting luck; pounding spices in the mortar and the heady, gross smell of blachan; durian; old cars with no seatbelts driving five across the three lane malaysian roads; the lions; the water over my head; moving cross country and always feeling lost; sitting in the back of the car on the long drive home, singing with my sister; old wooden playground equipment; eating smarties with chopsticks, and the story my father tells when he's teaching people to use them. |
|
|
| the bells are ringing, joyful |
[Feb. 14th, 2008|05:59 pm] |
I am content with my body. I have really great hair and, after years of wishing I was shorter I find that I'm happy now to be tall, and I have reconciled myself to my distinctly un-Asian feet. I am not perfect, but then, perfection is nothing but a societal construct, and I am happy with who I am.
I am 172cm tall, and I weigh 61kg. The most I have ever weighed is 64kg, and that's with shoes on. Very few things delight me more than food, knowing how things taste together and what everything contains. And when speak of weight, and of fitness, and of eating habits, I find that my words are only welcome if they are negative, or a criticism. Words of encouragement, positive words about body image, are not acceptable from me. When I say, "You don't need to lose weight," my words are brushed aside, because obviously one cannot understand being fat when one has often been, technically, underweight.
Let me be clear, I will never say to someone you're not fat. Fat is a definition, and it's one that changes from theory to theory and group to group, and I am defined as borderline underweight but I am happy and I am healthy and sure, I could be a little fitter, but that's not a weight thing that's a health thing. There are so many people in my life who are trying to lose weight, who are unhappy with themselves because society has conditioned us to need to be thin, so they wave away food simply because it doesn't fit with what they're 'allowed' to eat, or because they haven't 'earned' it. Every morning the bus drives past a bus shelter with an ad for The Biggest Loser, and it tells me that you have to run four km in order to burn off two biscuits. But why should you have to? Why should you feel compelled to subject yourself to that, to force yourself to deserve things?
The way people view their bodies is often so negative: it's about control, and it's about society, and it's never about understanding what you have and enjoying it. I sometimes suspect that, in this situation at least, I am speaking from a position of priviledge. Thin is what we're told to aim for, and even if no one says it aloud (though they do: you see The Biggest Loser, but do we see So You Need To Put On Weight on our TVs?), even the words we use support this negativity. Bloated, or fat, are never used in good ways – except, tellingly, for 'fat and happy.'
If you want to change your diet (where I define diet by its traditional definition, the food and drink consumed by an organism, not its new definition, the act of restricting your food intake), ask yourself why you want to change your diet. Ask yourself why you want to do more exercise. Ask yourself why you're punishing yourself by saying no to delicious treats, and ask yourself why you're not enjoying yourself.
And so it goes like this: be happy in your body. |
|
|
| little chutney's, subiaco |
[Feb. 10th, 2008|07:36 pm] |
One of the things I lament about living in Australia is the lack of access to my favourite breakfasts in restaurants: noodles, curries and rice. In Malaysia and Singapore I eat curry every morning, and even when living with my parents it was the matter of minutes for my mother to whip up some maifun. Now, if there is some left over curry from the night before I will cook up some roti and it will be delicious, but I am a terrible dry noodle chef and I love going out for brunch and sometimes, I long to sit down at a restaurant and eat a good curry breakfast.
This morning we dined at Little Chutney's for the express purpose of curry. By chance last week I happened upon their breakfast menu, and noted the Dosa Masala. Little Chutney's breakfast Dosa Masala is a potato and onion dosa, served with a spicy chickpea curry and some sort of coconut-based condiment. It was a delicious dosa, and at $12.50 I will definitely be eating breakfast there again. To go with it I also had a freshly squeezed pear, watermelon and orange juice, which although tasty was a tad pricy at $6.00.
Little Chutney's is at 67 Rokeby Road in Subiaco, next to sister restaurant Chutney Mary's. |
|
|
| lions |
[Feb. 8th, 2008|08:44 pm] |
As we stepped off the bus I turned my head; I could hear the drum beats in the air, that familiar sound that means a lion is dancing, for heads of lettuce and for money. The lion dances to bring good fortune and luck, and dances to the beat of the drum and the echo of the gongs in order to scare away the bad spirits.
As we walked, the drums grew louder and faster until it was clear that they were finished, that the lion had done its exorcism and eaten its ang pao, and we saw finally the lion itself, a beautiful red one with white through it, and the dance never changes but equally it is never the same, and it never fails to thrill me, to hear that beat in the air. |
|
|
| i thought i heard you say |
[Jan. 22nd, 2008|09:02 pm] |
Kate Harding talks here (On Tortoises, Hares, and Ferdinands) about exercise and competition, and the idea that if your goal is to have fun then you'll reach it every day, but if your goal is to lose weight or get fit or to win, then it might be a long, neverending process.
I love sport. I love the satisfaction and the thrill, but somehow it has become something that I can't bring myself to do. Although in the article I linked to above, Kate says It has been said around these parts many a time in regards to this idea, it is one with which I am completely unfamiliar.
I try to remember when sport became something I was afraid of, and I realise it was when I started pushing myself, when I started going because I felt I had to, not because I wanted to. I felt that I needed to be faster, needed to be fitter, needed to be more accurate and hold myself more still. I felt that I needed to score better at archery, and swim faster. And I may be a ridiculously skinny (occasionally underweight) person, but it's easy to be paranoid about your body no matter your size, especially when people say, "you look so good," or "I wish I was like you," or similar, reinforcing that idea that you have to be something and you have to stay that way, no matter what.
It's a rookie mistake, this obsession with being harder, better, faster, stronger, but it's a mistake that anyone can make, too.
To counter this, I've been taking a couple of weeks off from all of it. And now that I can think about it and go, "gosh, I'd love to go do that," I know that it's okay to go again. Because there's no point doing something just because you think it's expected of you, or because you're trying to change yourself to fit someone else's image. |
|
|
| come taste the wine (come hear the band) |
[Jan. 3rd, 2008|06:34 pm] |
Today I said goodbye to a very old friend.
I spent the morning alternately crying and rageful, and when they carried his coffin down I burst into tears and I'm so sorry that I didn't spend more time with him, and I'm sorry that I didn't follow through on the promise I made when I was ten (I was going to become a doctor, and help him get better). His body was ruined by fighting in Vietnam, and he was often in pain but he helped me understand that it was worth it, every moment. He was so supportive and delightful and very cheeky, always encouraging me to do those things that made me happy but were a little bit naughty. I would not hesitate to say that he had a significant impact on who I am today.
He was always living his life as best he could and doing things, even when he was in pain, and it upsets me when I see people giving up or refusing to struggle through, refusing to strive and work through and be happy.
I value his impact on my life, and I will continue to live it to my fullest. |
|
|
| leave on a high note |
[Dec. 31st, 2007|02:34 pm] |
vegetus posted a list of things she is looking forward to in 2008, and asked others to do the same.
things i am looking forward to in 2008:
- going to melbourne again
- the year of the rat
- changing careers (to save the world)
- throwing a really big party (i will be wearing a red dress, and davyd will be wearing a suit)
- playing more mahjong
- seeing feist
- going to more concerts/more bands in general
- dancing on travelators to 'my moon my man' with pieces
- cooking a lot
- g publishing lots of things
- dancing with davyd a lot
- lots of bright colours
- taking a whole lot of photos
i'm totally not doing that meme everyone else is doing, but: the song that will probably always remind me of 2007:
harder, better, faster, stronger - daft punk
rtr is playing my favourite feist song right now! |
|
|
| i don't need reminding |
[Oct. 4th, 2007|08:25 pm] |
things that i love include but are not limited to: lion dances
 |
|
|
| it wasn't our song |
[Sep. 28th, 2007|07:10 am] |
It is when exercising early in the pre-dawn light that you meet the grumpiest, most unreasonable people. The unfortunate part of this is that often, they're perfectly lovely later in the day, but in the pool or in the gym they're grumpy, and impatient, and they always, always marr what is an otherwise excellent morning.
And I always wonder, why don't they just sleep the extra hour, and exercise after work? Maybe they'd be happier. |
|
|
| gently whispering a song |
[Sep. 19th, 2007|07:21 am] |
I went swimming this morning. I suppose I'm now one of those disgusting people who gets up early before work to go do sport, but I feel so good.
I love the endorphins, and the sun rising over the pool was awesometacular.
Flist, it is Wednesday, tell me one thing making you feel better about today. |
|
|
| as the stars that shall be bright when we are dust |
[Apr. 25th, 2007|06:47 pm] |
every year i think about this in advance, because i want my words to have meaning. i don't want you to just gloss over them, oh, that steph is such a military brat or something. i was going to talk about identity, the reflections of myself that i've seen, and perhaps i will, but something came up in conversation yesterday and i wanted to explain.
anzac day is not about glorifying war. it's not about praise or success or winning. it's not about waving our flag. it is about the futility of war, and how stupid humans can be.
once again i went to see the sunrise at the armadale memorial, and once again i couldn't settle: there were lights, and the concert band played, and the rsl president gave three speeches, and then there was the laying of the wreaths and it was so yay good on you, sun hill restaurant, for having a wreath to lay, and it was just.
anzac day is perhaps the closest i ever come to spirituality. in the darkness i listen to the birds as the sun rises, and i reflect on all sorts of things, the futility of war and my frustration. i hate war. i think it is pointless and dumb and one of the things i would love to do is prevent the requirement for it, but if i had to, if i were called up, i would fight and just.
that's all.
i guess the identity talk will have to come later. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|