Simply Complicated

It's supposedly always a pleasant surprise when you get presented with something new and different on the dining table at dinner. I had been craving a nice small hot pot for some time now, and finally my wish has been satisfied, but it doesn't feel as satisfying as i had hoped.

Mum and Dad spent some hours shopping and preparing this new Korean flavoured hot pot for tonight. Despite good intentions, time, sweat and effort put into this dinner, it was probably the worst i'd ever recall having. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

If you had ever tried Korean hot pots before, you'd appreciate that it is really hot. Chilly hot. Aside from the fact that the slow cooker took forever to boil the broth, which was problem one, within the first couple of mouthfulls, my brothers and i began to cough and splutter. Never blame it on the food is an etiquette in this household. My younger brother, dave, decided to break this unspoken code of conduct, leading onto a series of problems.

Mum began to scold at us all for not appreciating her cooking, (which we do appreciate), and complained that she will never try new stuff ever again, (which is never going to happen anyway). Then silly dad complains the food is too bland, which a few minutes before that, mum was told off by dave for adding too much salt. Mums yells at Dad, Dave yells at dad, mum yells at dave.

Silence. Beautiful silence.

Mum tells younger brother to eat.
He refuses and asks that he has the meat well done.
Mum complains that nobody in the entire household listens to her and angrily suggests that dave doesn't eat the meat at all.
Dave frustratedly gets up and leaves the table.
Older brother gets up after his meal and goes back to bed.

Emotions pour. Mum cries and leaves the table for her room. Dad gets up and stacks the dishes.

I sat silently and nibbled at the food with a sore gum, which was occupied to my wisdom tooth a day ago.

Mum decides to come back out to the kitchen in tears and yells at me (simply because i was available and vulnerable, whilst my other siblings have escaped to their respective rooms).

Mum goes back into her room. Dad finishes off the dishes. Brothers continue to lock themselves up in their rooms. I pack and leave for the gym.

Perfect dinner.

Today marks a full month of me not bothering to update this blog, for which I am quietly ashamed of. But of course, as with everything, there are reasons for my absence or perhaps excuses more so.

As part of my university course, I had to complete a clinical placement out in a rural town for four weeks, from which I have just recently returned from.

Ballarat is a small town a good two hour drive away from the city centre, a place I have learned to embrace with all my heart. Here, I were to spend my next month on a hospital placement, living with people I had never lived with, taking on responsibilities I have never dreamt of.

The health status of people across Victoria is considerably different, particularly when comparing those living in the city to those in rural Victoria. Studies confirmed that rural Victorians are more likely to suffer more and die earlier. The lack of health professionals who willingly choose to work in rural areas has prompted rural institutions to make enormous efforts and expensive methods of attracting us, up and coming new graduates.

One of which is providing a self-contained four bedroom house, fully equipped with all white goods and comfortable beds and a not-so-attractive-looking persimmon tree in the back yard for medical and allied health students to stay during their clinical placements. An expensive investment from the rural health committee, not to mention students live in the house free of all costs, water and electricity bills and house-keeping responsibilities.







What more can we ask for?

Moving out is like a rite of passage, a giant step in life. It is not so much stepping into the unknown so to speak; you do know most things about living away from your parents and siblings and you have been told about the responsibilities once you’re out, but until you take this step, you can not appreciate how much is involved.

A house of boys calls upon inevitable trouble. A house of girls is no different. Living with mates for the very first time is a challenge, but not one that can not be quite easily solved with patience, time and love; similar to nurturing a relationship.

The usual daily things require much more thought. Grocery shopping for instance. Peanut butter versus jam versus honey. Beef versus chicken. Chicken leg versus chicken wing. To satisfy everyone’s preference is like finding the perfect pair of shoes in the first shop you visit; impossible.

And then there’s the dilemma with cooking chores, cleaning duties, sharing of communal areas and fights over remote controls.

Something I had never appreciated living at home is that cooking can take a great deal of time. Suddenly, without mum, preparing meals took out my precious television time, relaxation time and me time. I hadn’t the luxury of coming home dumping my bag down in a cleaned room that I had previously left in an absolute mess, and then throwing my legs up onto the couch or bed to enjoy whatever I enjoy doing. I had always believed in celebrating Mother’s Day more so than Father’s day to say the least.

Like travelling overseas with a partner, living together can make or break a relationship. Luckily, we travelled on smooth water. And here we are back in the city, in one piece.

This is my 200th post.

It is difficult to imagine what it would be like to have a child at the tender age of twenty-one. Many would cringe at that thought and the first solution that comes to mind would be to rid yourself and possibly your partner of any agony immediately, but some could not bear the thought to living with the guilt.

Guys find pictures and photos of child birth revolting and gross, but they probably don’t realise it freaks the girls out too. Plus the process of child bearing, the 36 weeks of pregnancy doesn’t seem all that easy, let alone all the body shape changes, stretch marks and incontinence that’s associated. And the lactation… eww.

It’s very unfair that guys don’t need to worry about all that. They don’t really give a shit ‘cause they still have their looks and nice bodies whilst their unwedded partner undergoes a horrific downhill appearance change, giving them all the more reasons to go out and find another. In fact, it’s far easier for guys to suggest keeping the baby but then turn around and offer no support. They can even choose to shy away from the issue and not let their parents in on it if they don’t want them to know. Girls can’t.

A sudden mood fluctuation, decrease in pads and tampons usage and the obvious beer belly that’s enlarging by the day probably gives it away. But how do they let their parents know? Juno doesn’t realise how lucky she is.

Facing an unplanned pregnancy with a guy she hardly knows well enough to call friend, Juno has the full support of her parents as she decides to give her child up to a couple longing to adopt. The scene where she reveals her positive pregnancy tests to her parents was outstanding. But the entire show down plays the whole issue and converts it into a somewhat laughable experience that every girl should go through. However, it also cleverly outlines and courageous step into adulthood from a child at the age of 16, bringing her into a world of problems where tough decisions need to be made.

Shed some light.

ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente

It’s hard when there’s a constant unforgiving reminder, day in, day out. You try to forget, wave it off as a horrible experience, release it from the memory well, but for some odd reason, the harder you try to get yourself out of the hole, the deeper it gets. Everything works against you. Everyone is unforgiving.

Why is it that some people pass judgements rather than opinions? Perhaps it’s their way of making themselves feel better, wiser, greater than the other, and perhaps it’s their own sense of insecurity that drives them to release their fear on some one else who is not living in the same fear. But what gives them the right to judge?

People make choices. Good, bad, stupid, clever. Who gives a shit? Some choices we make are somewhat silly and borders on being idiotic, but that is their choice, so be it. You cannot disapprove or judge that individual based on their dumb choice – maybe step into their shoes and you would realise that the choice they made is only dumb in your eyes, not theirs.

And even if you do have to make a judgement of a person purely based on what you see, it would be wise to keep it to yourself. Once spoken aloud, it’s like an uncontrolled fire blaze that will eventually end up at the doorstep of that particular person. And then the beautiful past is no longer there.

We live once. We are young once. We form our own opinions, make up our own minds and are under no influence of those who do not truly care about you. If they cared, they would recognise your inner wisdom and appreciate it. So forget them and live the life the way you want to – be it a good and happy ending or a horrible past – deal with the consequences when it’s there, at the very least you can say you’ve had fun with no regrets. You’ve lived the life.

Once I dreamt that I took my car on an adventure with a friend and ended up trashing it and then tossing it somewhere in the tip. I woke up from that dream and walked outside where I usually park my car and found that it had been moved, and freaked out.

Today, as I was about to set out for my usual tutoring lessons, I realised my car was missing. On the front yard parked my dad's car and bro's car and a truck. Mine was gone. And I knew exactly where it would be.

My younger brother just passed his P's.

Back in the days when I first got mine, I would plead and plead my brother to lend me his car seeing that that was the only functional car at that time. Nine out of ten times he would refuse, either because he was going to use it, and other times, simply 'cause. I couldn't argue with him, seeing that he is afterall a very big guy who could finish me with his fist alone. These days, things are different.

My younger brother can take my car without letting me know - even when I need it for work. I figure it's just not worth even bringing it up to him as an issue because in the end, he will still take it no matter. And because now that that's the case, I have every excuse to cruise around with my Dad's BMW. Sweet.

I'm half a year off getting my full license, and touch wood, I have had no accidents so far. Near misses, or near hits as some may say, but nothing major. As you become familiar with the wheel, I figure most of us also becoming increasingly dangerous and wreckless road users. In line with that thought, it seems that the law should keep an eye out for those just coming off their P plates, rather than those just getting on board. Or even target the elderly drivers who steer the wheel like it is their shopping jeeps at a whole 40km/h in 60km/h zones - slow doesn't mean they don't pose a risk to other road users, in fact, stats show that they are just as risky as P platers.

See the city lights dim. On March the 29th this year, Australia will work with seven other countries to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. 8pm onwards, lights of the sydney harbour will dim, the Melbourne arts centre tower will no longer flicker with its blue light, the suburbs will be darker than what it is already. Supposedly. Let's see what happens. I've got a 21st party on that night.