miss stina

It's been a while since I blogged last. And there has been a reason for that- I felt like there hasn't been all that much to say; every mood I've been in hasn't lasted long enough to actually drive me to blog. Here's what is on my mind. Tonight I have been eating like a pig and I'm still craving one thing. Just one thing:

I'm Chinese, so I'm not really allowed to love Japanese people. Har har. Not until they officially admit that they were cold, heartless monsters back in the day anyway. I'd also have to agree that whaling is a pretty bad practise. But oh my gooooood, I love their food. They make some of the nicest food in the world. I live in Australia, a country where barbecues, roasts and fish&chips dominate. But I just wish that everyone here ate Japanese food, then it wouldn't be such a hassle to get to and it wouldn't be so expensive either! Then our Maccas would have the Mega Teriyaki burger too!!

Plus I really do think that we get 90% of our recipes from other countries. It's not cause we're uncreative, it's because our country hasn't really had the long and colorful history and culture of others. I'm not sure what we have that we can call our national food, apart from kangaroo meat, vegemite, lamingtons (?) and pavlovas (which New Zealand claim came from their country first anyway). And anzac biscuits. So I guess in conclusion, there should be ten thousand billion times more Japanese food in Australia than there is right now.

I also have one more thing to mention. I don't know why I'm writing this, but when I was babysitting with Waz tonight I watched him walk away from me, down the hallway. I actually stared at him walking down the hallway. And I sat there with a smile on my face. I know it sounds almost creepy, but it was just a happy smile. On a happy girl. I've never watched anyone like that before. This is getting deep.

Terrible. Terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible terrible. It is actually so terrible that I typed out every single "Terrible" instead of just copy pasting.

"How did you go on your psych exam today?"

"Terrible."

"But psych is so easy and the questions were multiple choice-"

"TERRIBLE."

I don't know what to make of myself. At times I feel so insanely happy, then at times I feel like there is nothing motivating me to move forward in my life and grow up. I failed a psych exam today. The Arts hippies were probably clucking their tongues in disapproval.

My result would turn the entire bell curve into a negatively skewed graph, my one shit result being at the complete end of the left tail, while everybody else's sits comfortably within the 'pass' region. I can picture the machine, trying to figure out what the hell I had completed my exam in (eyeliner, as a pathetic substitute for a pencil), then just concluding someone had basically taken that exam paper and wiped their ass with it, and had somehow managed to sneak it into the pile of other papers, papers which, unlike mine, are destined for a big fat pass.

I am almost in tears. Why didn't I remember to bring a pencil and eraser! The examiners had none left. I could change any of my answers, even when I realised that some were obviously wrong.

I don't like Melbourne University. I don't like the masses of geniuses who attend and I especially don't like being compared to them. I am competent in some areas. But proving myself whilst trying not to let other student's and their ridiculously high IQ's affect me is not one of them.

The saddest thing of all is, I would transfer to somewhere and do a course I actually like. For example, I would transfer to RMIT and embark on some freakin' sweet creative course (I watched Napoleon Dynamite last w/e). But I can't, because I can't leave Melbourne, because that would make me a failure. To my family, it would leave me stranded for future work options and to myself, it would strip me of the empty prestige I revel in when I think about the fact that I attend the best University in Australia. I seemed to have forgotten that along with the so-called 'best quality education' comes its genius students, spilling forth their clever brains onto the school courtyards, the lawns, the libraries. All I see are giant, walking brains. Glowing and full of knowledge. I know I sound a bit weird right now. I'm in that kind of mood.

Two other thoughts:

-I couldn't help smiling everytime I saw a guy with a moustache today. Even the ones who have obviously struggled to grow a few straggly strands on their upper lip; I find you all hilarious. Unfortunately, I still wax my upper lip this month and so I will not be joining you guys in all your moustache glory. Maybe next year.

-I love Waz. It kind of always amazes me that I could feel so certain about someone. When I turn into a senile old grandma I will still love you. And hopefully my senility will get rid of the sore memory that is Melbourne University along the way.

Oh no, wait. I have another thought.

So I know I've blogged about you before, only I've always kept your identity secret. Well tonight I'm still letting you stay anonymous. But I'm this close to saying your name out loud, just so I can let whoever reads this know that it's you, and you're the one person I despise. Since I can't make you face me so I can cram these words down your throat, because I'm too stubborn to act as though I'm aware you exist, I will just write what I feel here.

You are a fuckhead. You are, quite possibly, the shittest person alive. I fucking hate you with a passion. I just can't believe I've dedicated so much time and brainpower, towards fucking hating you. What a waste of my life. And you know what? I don't care. I'm hating because you're hating.

I knew it was there in you, waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to come out. I'm glad I gave you that excuse; because I got to see who you really were. Now, words cannot describe my opinion of you. They really can't. Because an adequate enough vocabulary has not yet been crafted to cater to my word selection when I think of you. Yes, this is one complicated hatred. Because you are one complicated, hateful, spiteful little shit. You're the mother of all messed up, hateful, spiteful little shits. And you're so goddamn petty. You were always like that. Old habits die hard, yours ain't gonna die at all. You stupid shit.

Things that are making me soo attractive today:

-Stale breath
-Scum feet covered in cuts
-Gross random rash on my calf
-Bloatedness
-Headache
-Eye bags the size of the universe
-'I am nauseous' facial expression
-Being a wanker to my boyfriend
-Just being an overall feral person......

I belong in the outback, in a mud shack. Living amongst the wilderness...catching and eating bugs and taking baths in swamps. And not ever socialising with anyone, ever.

rmI was up late last night again reading a book I hadn't touched in ages. Michael and I went to the author's book signing a few years back, and we thought we were so smart. We waited in line, he gave her work about a 8/10, I complained that she wrote in too much of a rambling fashion. It was so stupid. Who were we to criticise? Everything she wrote about rang true to me at some stage in my life. She was a solicitor, a teacher and a writer. She was nothing short of a genius. I was engrossed by the book but at the same time, I despised her because she had managed to write and publish almost everything I had ever thought about writing myself. Her childhood almost mirrored mine. Damn us Asians! All leading identical, sheltered lives growing up.

"I asked him whether I made him happy, which was something I had never doubted before, but now I was losing faith in my own capacities. He laughed, there was no doubt about it, he gave me his answer and I knew he meant it. He had laughed because it was a stupid question with one obvious answer, and he meant the answer.

"Do I make you happy?" he asked me in return, and I knew he expected the same honesty. But the only answer I could give him was a white lie, and then I started to cry. He probably thought that this confirmed what I had said, but actually I was crying becaue I was a liar, and the truth was that being with him made me miserable. No longer did I feel the urge to share my observations of the world with him. He could see my world for what it was- a set of rules and finely drawn lines and fraudulent erasures."

-From Alice Pung's Unpolished Gem

To all you high schoolers going through VCE exams:

Exams suck, I know. And I probably shouldn't be saying this, because I did them myself two years ago, so I know how painful they can be. BUT. Stop complaining about them!! To be honest, my (completely unbiased of course) view on VCE exams are that they HAVE NOTHING ON UNI EXAMS!! So suck it up, princesses!

You guys keep going on and on about how you 'failed' a certain exam when it's quite obvious that a majority of those who do the complaining are asian kids who have never seen an F in their life, and have spent the past semester or even year in complete lockdown at home, I'm talking hardcore hermit mode, memorising entire textbooks and cutting up cue cards and hanging posters on their walls so that they can be the last thing they see before they sleep. DON'T SAY YOU FAILED WHEN YOU KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO GET A BLOODY 99.95. You may think that you're being 'humble', but at the end of the day, you're just being rude!

Think about those kids who genuinely did fail! Do they ever ramble on and on about how they bombed out? You not only eventually prove to them that you're smarter, but you also rub it in their faces by complaining about how badly you thought you went, and how 'surprised' you are that you got A+ for every SAC and exam. Yeh right. It's sooooo surprising that you got a perfect ENTER because after all, you only managed to live, breathe and eat homework all year. You've probably missed every single 18th party to study at home. HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO WELL?! woooooow!

In Uni, we worry about failing because every time we do it costs us about $2000, and looks nasty to our future employers. In high school, you asian kids worry about failing because YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT GOING TO FAIL AND JUST WANT TO FEED YOUR HUGE ACADEMIC EGOS. SO GIVE IT A REST. KINDLY PLEASE.

Thank You,
Me (pissed off uni student ABOUT TO FAIL HER QM EXAM FOR THE LAST TIME)

It occured to me not long ago, that there are such simple pleasures to be derived from love. Love does not always have to play out the way it would in a movie. It needs no hero or heroine. It is not some overblown drama. It needs no complexity. Nor does it need any of the excess bullshit that we find ourselves swimming in for the sake of love. It does not have to screw with your head or tear you up inside.

You can fight with the person you love, cry over them, lose control and rage at them....but you can't forget them, and maybe all that bullshit will obstruct you from love, but you know that deep down it does not reflect the concept of love and what it means. When you are mesmerised by the color of someones eyes, when you feel a dull ache in your heart for no apparent reason...when you sit next to them and experience a cocktail of emotions...bliss, and fear, and hope, and a little voice reminding you that it's almost too good to be true....these are moments gratifying enough for me to be able to call love.

When you think about that person and suddenly there is a feeling there, so profound and so ingrained within yourself that you honestly believe you'll never be able to eradicate it....that is what I call love. It's something that confuses you, and you can't even describe how much they mean to you- because what they represent is immeasurable, it takes all the words out of your mouth, it frees you of all logic and reason, replacing them with the sudden awareness that you are alive, and living with a purpose...and that purpose is to love them as much as they love you.

So next time, go back to the lowest common denominator. Think about the way they talk, and smile and laugh- the way they look at you, the feel of their hands on your skin, how they say "I love you", that simple statement which makes you feel anything but...and cast aside the rest, because you need to savor what is created during these moments... because honestly, nothing else matters.