heads down bottoms up

post holiday depression

2009-02-05T21:11:00.003+11:00

i swear this is a real syndrome and if it hasn't been closely studied or analysed, someone ought to make it their PhD study. i can be your single case subject.

i've just had a terrific three-month long holiday, one taken between finishing university and commencing full time work. with the only exception of my holiday in nepal, those three months that have just past would easily have been the best holidays of my life. no worries, care-free, sleep ins, shopping, camping, very little casual work and spending a heap of time with that special somebody.

but now, that's all over.

i get home from an 8am-5pm shift, knackered and ready for bed. my neck hurts and jaw's stiff. the last thing on my mind is to get up the next day at 6am for another working day. i hate routine.

but i should learn to stop complaining. i have complained and rant to much these few days, i'm sure those ears that were listening are either getting tired or simply blocking out my voice. i don't mean to rant, and i will make an effort to control myself. talking about work bores me let alone you.

but at least let me finish this once,:

there are times this week that i feel like curling up in my bed and just sulking. sulking over the fact that holidays are over and that i can't see an end to this new venture in life referred to as adulthood and becoming a full time worker/slave to the government. sulking over the fact that i have hardly any time let alone energy to watch tv after work. sulking over the fact that i can't just pick up my bag and go shopping on impulse.

for a moment, i feel as if this is it. the responsibilities of adulthood will stick with me forever. which is why i feel like i should break out of this dreadful routine. which is why i want to leave the country, work and travel and see the world while i am young and full of energy.

on my way home, something serious could have happened to me. i have to thank god nothing did, otherwise i could've left behind quite a few unresolved issues.

i'm not upset at anything in particular, that's what's bugging me. work isn't treating me too badly, and yes, it could be exhausting at times, it's all manageable. maybe because i'm just getting used to something new and things have changed from the way they used to be, and i'm simply struggling to adapt. usually i adapt to things really quickly, but this time i guess it's a little different 'cause i feel like i have to take it on all alone - the changes, the decisions, the responsibilities. i'm not talking about work specifically, but life in general.

is it weird to be feeling upset as i venture through my next stage in life?

thank you, santa rudd

2008-12-25T22:38:00.002+11:00

On the 14th October, the Government announced a $10.4 billion Economic Security Strategy to help boost the Australian economy and provide support for households. All Australians under the Youth Allowance scheme was given a lump sum payment of $1000. I am one of those who now carry the burden of stimulating the Australian economy (not that I’m complaining of course).

It is like a dream come true. A handful of cash dumped into my hands, screaming at me to go on a shopping spree, no strings attached. This Christmas is by far the best Christmas so far.

Let me see…

Things I would love to do with the $1000…
1. Spend two nights at a bed & breakfast get away, with a package offer including a private mineral bath, mud face mask and an hour long remedial massage.
2. Dine at The Press Club on New Year’s Eve.
3. Buy an SLR for somebody.
4. Buy a new wardrobe.
5. A skincare set from shiseido.
6. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes.

Things I should buy with the $1000…
1. One pair of Crocs.
2. Two watches.
3. Three tops for going out.
4. Four pairs of pants.
5. Chanel number Five Allure fragrance.
6. Six casual tops for work.
7. Seventy photos to be developed.

And the remainder goes to a nice expensive dinner to be had with a special someone. And a teapot.

no entiendo

2008-12-25T21:41:00.002+11:00

Since the age of 10, I have stopped purchasing picture books, actually, stopped being given picture books by my parents, rather. Sort of sad, but I guess it’s just one of the many things we grow out of as we age. Big picture books with few scattered words, gradually transformed into ones with more words and fewer illustrations, and eventually being replaced by words printed finely in size 10 font with no pictures.

Now, hitting the benchmark of becoming an adult, I have returned to my old habits of reading a picture book. This was given to me as a gift for Christmas,

Usually picture books are designed in such a way that children can follow the story by purely looking at the illustrations. This one is different. Not only do the pictures tell you nothing about the story itself, but the fact that the whole book is written in Spanish only adds to the frustration - the frustration of not being able to read the slim book in a matter of minutes, and the need to look every single word up in the dictionary.

It is a complete tease to receive this as a gift. But nonetheless, you have succeeded in motivating me to learn and to persevere. Thank you.

get the ball rolling...

2008-12-19T23:55:00.000+11:00

This new skin brings about a fresh new beginning, a change, reminding us the importance of looking at things from another perspective so that we may learn to understand and accept all that we see for not what they appear to be, but what they truly are.

Excuses relating to a lack of time and importance of sleep have me inadvertently leaving this blog page untouched for months. It would be unwise of me to pick up from where I had left off , as that might take a few months worth of catch up posts, so I’ve decided not to. You’ll just all have to miss out *shame*

Life after graduation is quite a big change. No study, no books, no uni. Some people can’t live with the fact that life can be at a standstill phase temporarily, where it is completely acceptable to be doing nothing. I can. I enjoy the fact that there’s nothing to do, no where to be, no exams to study for, no supervisors watching my back.

The only thing that stops me from remaining in this phase of life is the rapid depletion of saved funds. Previously, I had taken tuition money for granted; living months in a row without needing to even access my savings account to the stage that I had almost forgotten my PIN. Now, my savings account has transformed into a spending account, where a dollar spent is a dollar gone. I sign the dockets as if I’m spending monopoly money. But in the back of my mind, a little devil speaks, “in a couple of months, you will be working full-time.”

Though, I have taken a little initiative today, or more so, couldn’t resist the temptation of double hourly pay, and accepted a catering shift on Boxing Day. I have quite a bit to live up to with this shift, considering that my employee record with this catering company hasn’t been so great. In fact, I am surprised that I am still on the employee list even after rejecting over 20 shifts in the past months. I have this bad feeling that the rostering lady is going to pull me up and tell me off when I arrive up for my shift.

2008-09-10T20:41:00.002+10:00

"A person who strikes, touches or moves, or otherwise applies force of any kind to, the person of another, either directly or indirectly, without his [sic] consent, or with his [sic] consent if the consent is obtained by fraud, or who by any bodily act or gesture attempts or threatens to apply force of any kind to the person of another without his [sic] consent, under such circumstances that the person making the attempt or threat has actually or apparently a present ability to effect his [sic] purpose, is said to assault that other person, and the act is called an assault." (Howard at 122)

Was it just me who tuned out after the seventh comma in that sentence? Imagine studying law...

In essence, this is what that sentence meant:

Assault is when someone contacts you without you letting them.

the last bits

2008-08-09T18:44:00.000+10:00

I write this as I sit at the departure terminal of Sydney airport, tipsy. These are the last hours of this city, and god I am glad. Sydney is indeed a beautiful city albeit too busy and rowdy for my liking. From the dodgy bitumen roads, to the drunken idiots and sleaze-bags roaming the districts and taking night life out of all others who value their lives, and train stations with no rubbish bins…there is nothing I will miss here.

I don’t understand why Melbournians would consider flying all that way into this city for shopping, as one of my friends had done last year. The shops are spread out, your feet needs to cover more distance between shops, clothes are more expensive and essentially, shops are identical to that of Melbourne. Though, with time on our side, shopping has been a haven, managing to stock up on a couple of shoes, tops and a painting or two.

The four weeks have gone by in a flash, mostly taken up by clinical placement, cooking and grocery shopping. We were lucky to have been offered shelter with a mate of a mate’s mate’s place to stay for the month at a relatively low cost. This guy has moved up from Melbourne eight months ago, empty and alone. Admirable that he is a highly ambitious freak with plenty of potential, despite his verbal diarrhoea. He is a knowledgeable guy who wouldn’t shut up, even when clearly we had loads of homework to do. Arrogant is he, but with reason.

Hot pot has been the favourite dish of the month. Seafood, thinly sliced beef, taro fish balls dumped in a preservative-filled chicken broth, enough to feed a family, but cleared by three.

Clinical placement at the navy base has been rewarding beyond words, and is the sole reason why my time here has not gone to waste. It’s not all about treating polite guys in uniform with good build, though quietly, that did add the cherry to the cake. After these two years in clinical hospitals around Melbourne, my faith in good supervisors has dwindled. I didn’t believe that any supervisors can get the correct balance between expectations, independence and guidance. This placement in Sydney has changed my mind. Topped off with a grand exiting present consisting of electrodes, latex gloves, lip balm, bandaids, knee brace and condoms thrown into an innocent looking brown paper bag. Talk about random. Some of the best and most creative presents need not be expensive. In return, we bought them a cactus in a pot. Whatever happened to chocolates and flowers…

Aside from knowledge and skills we stole from the force, we scored two awesome discounted tickets to the grand Billy Elliot musical. First musical I’d been to in twenty-one years, and it has undoubtedly set the bar high for pleasing me in the future musicals. Stemmed from an inspiring movie set in the mid 1900s, it is a story of will-power, individuality, success and courage. Feelings of anger, happiness, grief, tears of joy and laughter, tears of sadness flowed through with the cast and crew showcased the amazingly talented young ballet dancer, Billy. The spiral staircase on which Billy’s bunk bed laid rose through the hole in the ground, sets came to life with aptly selected lighting, meticulously practiced British accent and the truly laughable moment as a cubby young lad accepted his unique sexuality, and danced away in female clothing, amongst gigantic headless dolls; it was worth every dollar I paid.

Still alive

2008-07-21T21:39:00.003+10:00

They say the best breakfast you can ever have in your lifetime is the one where you realise you could’ve been dead the night before. I was meaning to go see the Pope on World Youth Day, but came surprisingly close to seeing Jesus instead. To have walked through Redfern on a Saturday night, I was apparently unbelievably lucky to even live to tell the tale.

Put simply, Redfern is a small suburb tucked away just outside of the central business district in Sydney, well-known for housing mostly the aboriginal community and some of the most notorious killers/murderers/rapers etc. Several streets in Redfern are out-of-bounds for police patrolling due to recent incidences of violence against the police force, and even Dominos Pizza has a bank teller-like counter with screens. These people will do anything to get pizza.

Anyway, I survived – not only the walk through Redfern, but the freezing cold night under a tarp in the middle of a racecourse.

Clinical elective placement here has been a blast so far, and will no doubt only continue to get better. I had never thought I’d come close to seeing a chopper (aka squirrels) and huge warships in my life, let alone during a physiotherapy placement. Not only that, but learning from a guru in Clinical Pilates and other senior physiotherapists has been an absolute privilege and an eye-opener.

Clients here are mostly fit young men, and women, suffering musculoskeletal injuries and require the best of the best treatment to get them safely back into a physically demanding workplace within the shortest amount of time. Similar to a private practice, except better. Clients do not pay for the service, all equipment such as splints, orthotics are supplied immediately, and radiological procedures are done without questions and at no cost to the client. This is the most optimal care that I have seen provided by any medical or allied health team, superior to that of any public or private hospitals. Being in this environment has obvious benefits as a student. As opposed to being on a private practice placement, I do not need to care about how much the client is paying for their session, I can get them to re-book as many times a week as I wish, and all the necessary rehabilitation equipment and procedures are readily available. This is what I call student haven.

Though, there are down sides to this placement. Firstly, my day starts at 5:30am which means I am completely stuffed by early afternoon, and secondly, I am expected to chew through journal articles like I do bread. Though, most importantly, I have had to leave Melbourne for a whole month, which means, I need to do housework, wash my own clothes, buy grocery, cook and pay rent. And then, of course, there’s the boyfriend I have had to leave behind in Melbourne, whom I miss so dearly.

So far I have had the chance to hike through the blue mountains which was spectacular, and walk through two dodgy areas of Sydney – kings cross, the equivalent of Melbourne’s St.Kilda district, and Redfern, the suburb that is so dangerous even Footscray, Frankston and Springvale cannot match.

Many more sightseeing yet to be done.

dinner nightmare

2008-05-21T00:12:00.003+10:00

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.

In the b'rat

2008-05-05T22:45:00.003+10:00

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.

Because I Am The Mom

2008-04-05T18:38:00.001+11:00

but what about dad?

unplanned

2008-03-09T16:29:00.001+11:00

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.

untitled

2008-03-09T15:47:00.001+11:00

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.

transport issues

2008-03-02T22:54:00.000+11:00

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.

Earth hour

2008-03-01T22:33:00.002+11:00

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.

burnt out

2008-02-29T17:09:00.002+11:00

With the completion of my first clinical rotation, I feel that I should be happy. But I am finding it difficult to bring myself to feel this way. It's not because my score isn't as spectacular as previous years nor that I didn't get anything out of this clinical. I think my mood can be completely attributed to my present state: burnt out, and maybe among other things better unsaid.

I am constantly looking forward to a full day's rest and a satisfying sleep in, but flicking through my calendar and my to-do-list, it seems that chances a very slim and close to impossible in the next month. And I frown at such misfortune.

So here I am, instead of getting ready for work tonight, I am sitting in front of my asus typing away, comtemplating whether I should get ready or not. I have just awaken from an hour's nap, so tiredness is no longer an excuse for me not turning up, nor are any other excuses excusable.

I find that it's becoming a bit of a bad habit. I accept shifts that I get called up to work out of politeness and I guess, impulse to replenish some of the money in my savings account that had been used on my trip overseas. But on the actual day of the shift, I chicken out and rethink my decision and decide to call in sick. This habit of mine should be condemned.

Okay, I should go to work tonight I guess. Perhaps to let them know I won't be returning.

An orchestra alive

2008-02-16T23:40:00.006+11:00

Some music can make your hair stand on its ends. A live orchestra multiplies that by ten. The synchronised strumming of string instruments and simultaneous timing of page turning, the exaggerated display of emotions by the conductor and the silence of the thousands of people whom have travelled distances to join in and share the beauty of music is nothing short of amazing.

The real beauty of this type of music is that all is up for your own interpretation, so no matter what emotions it renders in the listener, the musicians and conductor can still be considered successful.

The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra performed tonight at the Sydney Myer Music Bowl, attracting hundreds, if not thousands of music lovers. Normally it would cost anything up to $100 to see MSO perform live for a couple of hours in an auditorium, but tonight, it was free. No wonder so many attended. The event was held outside under the stars in front of an enormous lawn where families gathered equipped with picnic rugs, gourmet food and bottles of classy red wine.

The adults lounge back in their custom made picnic chairs with a glass of red as the fortunate kids of the 21st century busy themselves with their ipods, the mumbles became chatter and soon full-volumed conversations enveloped the entire vicinity. But silence struck the moment the conductor strolled on stage taking his position on the stand. Kids were instructed firmly by their parents to sit still and any chatter or attempt of standing up were scold at. It was obvious the youngsters had only made an appearance at this event ‘cause they were made to.

Completely obivious to the sounds of real music (take note of that ipod)...

And again

Soon, the parents got comfy too...

I was utterly amazed at the fact that i spotted no smokers at all through the entire night. It was certainly not a smoke-free event, nor an alcohol-free event, but it seems that australians have finally come to the realisation that smoking is indeed bad for health. Apparently there is a 20% decline in smokers over these few years. Through statistical correlation, let's hope there will also be a decline in lung cancer admissions.

it's not that time of the month.

2008-02-08T23:12:00.000+11:00

i've been particularly narky these few days. you know those times when everything just seems misplaced, when things aren't the way they're supposed to be and there doesn't seem to be a reason why? or maybe there is a very justifiable magical reason that unties all the knots, but you choose not to tell. or maybe you do, but who to?

narky. i blame it on clinics. easiest thing to blame; dead, deaf and insensitive, unlike humans who can feel, hear and be hurt. first week back into the swing of things working in a hospital, and god save me, i'm so over it. i'm over the early mornings, late nights; the need to constantly be on a watch out for questions flying your way from critical supervisors; of talking to patients who don't respond or respond inappropriately, which is of course by no means their fault; of being all alone and not having a shoulder to lean on or be heard. all in all, i'm well and truly over it and i want to scream.

the lid is closed as the liquid boils,
pressure rises, higher and higher,
it needs to be let out, soon,
a gush of steam escapes from an opening,
letting out an ear-piercing whistle,
stillness.

maybe it's just a matter of letting it all out whenever an ear is on offer. but so far, none awaits.

monty python fan, anyone?

2008-02-06T19:37:00.000+11:00

Check it out. Hilarious quick snapshots of this not-so-original muscial out now.

http://www.montypythonsspamalot.com/

Interested, anyone?

suddenly rich

2008-02-05T22:35:00.000+11:00

You sit quietly in a cafe, sipping your coffee, reading the mags.
A stranger comes up to you and ask you a couple of questions.
You answer them honestly.
He passes you a blank cheaque and tells you to write whatever amount you want in the spaces.
You make a joke and write $100,000.
The stranger signed it and left.
The next day, the cheaque did not bounce.
You become $100,000 richer.

True story, happened not long ago.

just a fix

2008-02-03T00:26:00.000+11:00

Have you ever realised what you think about in the process of cutting your nails? I love cutting my nails. I think of nothing but cutting them off one by one, knowing that you can repeat the process in a month’s time. Satisfying, indeed. Same goes for painting my nails.

Anyway…

I felt like a complete idiot today walking to the park, and losing my way down my local backstreets to my local park wasn’t one of them. I ran into (literally) one of my old workmates from maccas, whom I had always assumed was Vietnamese. I learn today, four years down the track, that he is actually Cambodian. What an idiot I must’ve been during those shifts when I blurted out the few random Viet words that I know to him, and he would respond with a polite nod and smile, sometimes even a laugh. Lesson learnt; never assume someone’s nationality no matter how much resemblance they bear.

It seems like a timely moment to boost my ego after reading his post. I finished off last year with a few of my maths students, thinking that that could potentially be the end of my tutoring career. But within the last week, a student of mine from last year contacted me and asked for a lesson. Then within two more days, I landed myself another two new students, apparently referred to me from external sources. It feels so good to have the upper hand and be able to decide whether to accept or refuse these needy students. *twiddles fingers* And more importantly, decide on the rate at which I would like to be paid at *more twiddling of fingers*

Next.

I wonder if I would return to my weekly swing dancing fix this year. I spent a great deal of money on weekly or even twice weekly dancing sessions last year and have only just recently realised how much that amount accumulates to over the months. But back then, it was a passion and I couldn’t do without. Now, I’m not so sure.

I haven’t danced for almost three months, and yes I miss it and I think about it every now and then, but it seems the burning passion has come to a premature end. I will certainly pay a couple of visits soon to the good old RSL dancing venue, though to make it a religious commitment is questionable. But it seems a waste to give up now. Perhaps after these few visits, the fire will burn again…

Next.

I have a love-hate relationship going on with onions. I love the taste of them on the barbie, love them grilled, fried with meat, love them in tarts, but I can't bear cutting them before hand. They are the most evil vegetables. It's like they mock everyone who wants to eat them - cut me and cry before you can eat me - style. But alleluia! Scientists have finally found a way of removing this tear-inducing enzymatic gene in the onion, but sadly, it'll be another 10-15 years before its can become a common household grocery item. But then I think, onions aren't onions anymore without the tears.

Massage?

2008-02-01T22:29:00.000+11:00

Many would agree that it is often too difficult to dig out the fifty bucks of hard earned money for a half an hour worth of massage in Australia. I have a high expectation for my money’s worth. If I’m willing to fork out that yellow note, I expect a full body massage, going deep into the calves and back, ease all my neck stiffness and pain and to walk out after half an hour feeling like a complete new person. Not possible, I know.

Different story altogether in countries like India and Thailand. Massage parlours are so abundant there that competition makes the prices plummet and highly affordable for us youngsters. It is hard to pass by without doing a double take. Sometimes triple.

So it happens that I ended up paying 500 rupees (AU$15) for a full hour worth of skin care Ayurvedic massage, and that was no doubt fifteen dollars well spent. Claims that it purifies the body, restores the doshas (bodily humours) and equilibrium in the body, Ayurvedic medicine is both a well-accepted and an ethically-challenged practice today.

I specifically requested a masseuse rather than a masseur for my session, hoping to eliminate all awkwardness if there was going to be any. Being a physiotherapy student myself, it is no big deal stripping down to our under garments in the presence of strangers, but this time, even under garments weren’t allowed. I hurriedly slip them off covering all unsightly,or perhaps sightly bits and pieces, whilst the masseuse stares at you as if you are not bothered by her presence. Akwardness to the max. As I stood there bare, she approaches me and wraps a flimsy rope around my waist and tucks a fraying white see-through cloth in places the sun doesn’t shine. It’s probably an attempt to help protect what modesty their customers have left after the ordeal, but I don’t see why they even bother.

Smeared with oil from head to toe, she then begins rubbing – perhaps I should stick with the word “massaging” – my feet, legs, thighs, working her way upwards in the most synchronous and relaxing fashion. It felt like two people were touching me. A dream better off dismissed early. I closed my eyes trying desperately to zone out of my naked body being rubbed by another female, but at times, you can not resist but secretively open and squint through the slit between your eyelids, seeing if she was looking at the parts that she was rubbing. To my relief, she wasn’t. Instead she was staring at the clock hanging on the wall, probably wishing that she could turn that minute hand forwards solely with the power of her eyes. Perhaps I would feel better if she looked at me, however dangerous and uninviting eye contact may be.

The herbal oils smeared on the body are meant to help moisturise and repair damaged skin, and apparently and mysteriously enter the joints in the body and reduce its stiffness. And it did just that. Hardly wanting to move after such a wonderful rub by a fellow female, I waddled out of the parlour like some oily meat waiting to be put on the barbie.

Highly recommended ayurvedic massage, for those who are game, or just in for some naked fun. *tsk tsk*

recollections of a magnificent journey abroad

2008-01-28T02:46:00.000+11:00

“Oh my god, you’re back! So what did you get up to?”

Pause.

I never know where to start.

Often, trips consist of several magnificent highlights, moments that you can rattle off the top of your head and that is it. But god bless me, I feel like my entire two months have been an absolute highlight in itself.

Stuck in between two prosperous and ever-advancing countries of India and China lies a quiet and beautiful country not many visit. Nepal, the second poorest country in the world is home to people with hearts of gold. Aside from the magical scenery along the countryside, the most striking feature of this small country is the small people. Nepalese, in stark contrast to North Indians, are friendly, caring and loving, truly living out the country’s acronym – Never Ending Peace And Love. Modest people whom expect nothing but kindness in return.

Though a small country, it probably encompasses most of the highlights of my entire trip. The two week clinical experience at the hospital added minimally to my physiotherapy knowledge bank, it served as a constant reminder for me not to take things for granted back home. The close-to-notorious conditions of the hospital and countless under-treated and untreated patients make me realise how lucky every single one of us are here in Australia. Patients with broken hips lie in bed for up to 8 weeks with a string and water bottle traction before being surgically repaired. Sometimes I feel like a rope tightens around my heart as I watch on by; changing this system is well beyond my power.

Weekends were never wasted. Mountain-biking to several villages outside Kathmandu offered a vast array of picturesque scenery and a whole lot of sweat and painful buttocks. The early morning hike to Nargarkot for sunrise was nothing short of spectacular, as is sitting on top of a bus for a two hour down hill ride.

Biking it

Chobar Gorge

Cute Nepalese girl smiling at the right moment

Trekking up the Annapurna was no doubt the unbeatable experience. Probably not the most gruesome and torturous trek possible, but enough to say that a bit of training beforehand helps a great deal *Thank you Chobar and Kali Temple.* We were lucky and most thankful to have a wonderful guide and porter accompany us through the trek, serving us food, ensuring our safety and more importantly, carrying our load, for which we could not have done it ourselves. I have learnt my lesson at the price of my porter’s sweat – pack minimally for treks. The mountains offer extraordinary views from the world above and nothing can rid my vivid memory of that early morning hike for sunrise from Poonhill above the clouds. Breathtaking.

Paragliding view

Poonhill (3210m) sunrise

Trekking photos

The home stay, the lovely family and fellow backpackers we met along the way, in short, made our unforgettable experience in Nepal, complete. As did the Dhal Bhat and momos.

India is a whole new story. Whilst the country is somewhat cleaner and less polluted as Nepal, it is a pity that its beauty is masked by unfriendly and pushy North Indians. Of course, I am generalising here, so take no offence. But from my brief experience of North India, I cannot bare to ever think that I will return, despite the wealth of awe-inspiring historical monuments. The Taj Mahal, Humayun’s tomb, Jama Masjid, Lotus temple and Swaminarayan Akshardam; a possible candidate for the 8th world wonder, are only a few to name. But believe me, the joys of sightseeing is temporary and after being bombarded with monuments and forts and temples in Delhi, all I need was the retail therapy in busy bazzars, street food and a rest in cheap hotels – much that our driver in Rajasthan could not understand.

Sleeper trains to Amritsar - Panjabi, North India

New Year's Eve dinner at Golden Temple

Panjabi sweets

Wagah Border - India and Pakistan

Lotus temple

Taj Mahal

Lassiwala, badam milk and cheese omelettes off the street add to my list of my fondest memories of Rajasthan, and of course, the one night we slept in the desert.

"the best fucking omelette i have ever fucken had"

Luck would have it that the only day we had rain through the entire trip had to happen that very night we decide to sleep on the sand dunes equip with only a sleeping bag, wood, two camels, and an experienced camel driver who mainly communicated with words like, “don’t complain”, “you happy, I happy”. Nontheless, a brilliant safari.

Camel Safari
On the camel back for 5 hours

Lunch, brilliant lunch

The big sand dunes - look up and we knew it was obviously going to rain...

The exact spot we got drenched overnight...

Moving down south to Mumbai and Goa offered us an escape from the northerners, which god, I was more than thankful for. Sharing the same motherland, South Indians are friendlier, happier and less money focussed. Done with the sightseeing and monument hunting, the south was the only rest time we had through India. Cruising along the coast, splurging on fresh seafood, ayurvedic massage, beach party and long night walks gave it a nice wrap up to the tiring but most amazing two month journey.

Thailand. Shopping and Islands would be what I would ever go back for, nothing else. Spending only a comparably short amount of time in Bangkok, Phuket and Phi Phi Island, I don’t have much to say but that my experience of Thailand would not have been the same without snorkelling, rock climbing and more importantly cliff jumping. That adrenaline rush would never leave me, but probably something I would choose not to do again.

Cliff jumping - yes that miniscule object midair is indeed me

Once you catch the travel bug, it never leaves you. I’ve caught it. I have my options laid out for my next big trip; Backpacking through South America, or through Japan, Korea, China and Lao. The latter is probably the safer option at this stage, but researching and lonely planet reading *ugh* is on its way, along with the will to work on my savings account.

back

2008-01-27T23:24:00.000+11:00

Once you catch the travel bug, it never leaves you. I’ve been away from home for the last two months, backpacking through Nepal, India and Thailand, and as much as I miss Melbourne, my family and friends, laptop, my bed and hot showers, be nothing beats travelling so far. I’m already looking forward to my next trip. Be it not long from now.

It was the best feeling coming home to my family, but sometimes, it sucks to be back. Badly. The day after I got home, enormous loads of laundry were waiting to be done, cargo documents to be organised, and our university timetable is already out. The list goes on. The beaut of travelling is that none of the above need be mentioned. No study, no washing, no organising. Pure freedom.

Needless to mention the beauty of spending in rupees and baht. I don’t ever want to revert back to the Australian dollar. Everything in the supermarkets seems ridiculously overpriced back home. The amount I spent on filling up my tank of petrol yesterday could’ve lasted me an entire month in Nepal. *ugh*

Anyway, in many other ways, it's good to be back.

a long night

2007-11-09T12:00:00.000+11:00

I open up a blank word document ready for type up a speech for a clinical case presentation on my patient that was due the next day. Given the enormous amount of free time and "self-reflection" time during my clinical days that often turn out to be 3 hour long breaks resting my eyes on a bed, I really should have had this presentation down pat way before the due date, but yeah. I ended up spending an hour running through the speech and was ready to roll right on over into my bed at midnight.

But no, it wasn't as easy as I had thought.

A relatively BIG moth rests in the corner of my high ceiling room. Usually, if this happens, my brother would be on call and the creature would be gladly out of my room in no time. But that night, I was too exhausted and my brother was already fast asleep. Bravely, I tossed over a tried to sleep on the opposite side of my bed with pillows over my head. THen, its wings started to flap rather vigorously at my blinds, making a noise the is twice the decibel in the quiet of the night.

I pulled out my newly bought sleeping bag, zipped myself up, pulled the hood over my head and curled into the corner of my bed. Fine, I thought, I need sleep.

I think I dozed off a few times, but as the alarm went off at 6:30am, I realise how little I had actually slept, and this new tiredness was piled on top of the already tired long nights with plenty of alcohol.

*ugh* Stupid moths.

But thankfully, I'm not a cranky one when I lose sleep - at least i think i'm not - so I trotted happily off to clinics, scored myself a 90% for case presentation and crashed into bed for an early night, without the company of moths.

the excitement bubbles

2007-11-06T01:17:00.000+11:00

In less than one month’s time, or more accurately, in another 19 sleeps, I will be setting foot in an unknown and foreign country, Nepal. At the end of 3rd year of our Physiotherapy degree, we are required to undertake a global elective placement, aiming to broaden our horizons and develop an insight into how physiotherapy works in other countries. I’ve chosen Nepal. Don’t ask me why.

Given the high degree of alert and caution advised by the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in Australia, along with recent reports of bombings and riots in the lead up to Maoist elections, I can completely understand why my parents are worried to the extent that it seems like they are losing sleep. Every conversation involving my travel arrangements, Mum will bombard me with constant reminders regarding safety issues, what not to do, not to eat, not to drink. Perhaps she expects me to sit in a five-star hotel room for the entire month. But what some of us fail to realise is the simple fact that when you are given constant reminders, we subconsciously desensitize ourselves to the so-called reminders so that in effect, it loses its intended purpose to remind the person.

I have been trying really hard these days to contain my excitement, but it somehow slips from time to time. My travelling partner has probably witnessed these moments a few too many times, and now it seems like I have greedily taken over his share of excitement, that he is no longer excited. Sometimes I wonder whether or not he is the slightest bit excited – or maybe boys are just ten times better than girls at controlling their excitement. To which many would disagree.

Sometimes, when the excitement fades, usually after spending a lengthy time staring blindly into a laptop searching for maps and navigating through websites for cheaper flight and accomodation deals, but doing so in vain, a niggle of fear sets upon me. The prospect of being away from home for a long two months is rather unnerving, but it is this combination of nervousness and anticipation and excitement that turns this experience into a thrilling brew. And it is the most comforting feeling to have a travelling partner whom you are sure you can rely on – to carry your luggage – and most importantly share this lifetime experience with. Worked shared is halved; joy shared is doubled.

Spending the first three weeks completing my volunteer placement at a couple of different hospitals in Kathmandu, I will then ascend to over 4.5km above sea level at the Annapurna ranges of the Himalayas. Every time I mention that I will be trekking in Nepal, I suddenly feel like I’m the fitness person ever however self-deceiving that may be. I have never trekked before, and didn’t quite plan to before planning to travel to Nepal, but what the hell, why not? A bit of nice scenery and Poon Hill flowers along with a tad of DOMS, nausea and altitude sickness – I mean, what more can you ask for? But more than anything, I am looking forward to sitting on a plain field on the mountain top above the hustling, polluted city and quietly watch the sunrise whilst rugged up in my sleeping bag. Strangely, I feel somewhat foolish to think I can muster up the energy to get up so early after a day or two of trekking – but if I do manage, I know who will have to suffer with me.

I have been eating vigorously recently to put on some subcutaneous tissue before I subject myself to the freezing cold ranges when I arrive in Nepal. I am banking on losing all that subcutaneous moosh over the two months of travelling – and if I don’t, uh oh.

On completion of the trek, another three weeks is spent backpacking through India. Our flight arrives in Delhi on the 29th December, and leaves Bangalore on the 17th January. That gives us a total of 19 days to travel from Northern India to Southern India, and boy, that’s a hell of the distance to cover. Ambitious travellers we are indeed. Anything is possible; but nothing is easy.

Then, a relaxing holiday on Phi Phi Island off the coast of Thailand to wrap up my trip.

Unfortunately, I am yet to pass 3 theory exams and 1 clinical exam, complete a case presentation and my final clinical block before any of that can happen. So close, yet so far.

2007-10-25T22:18:00.000+10:00

sometimes, it isn't about our own happiness. happiness is contagious. being around a happy person should make the oneself happy. but what if happiness of one person impinges on the happiness of the other?

it is always possible to make others happy. sometimes, a smile, a hug, or a chocolate is all it takes. but sometimes, even the biggest effort seems to go unappreciated, unseen, worthless. how many times will we go out of our way to make another happy when left unappreciated?

it not easy being happy for a person when happiness for that person is to indirectly or directly hurt you and cause pain. but no matter how difficult, happy you should be, as we all only have two choices; to live life happy or to live life sad. it is obvious which is preferrable.

but why is it so easy to shed tears for someone who is sad, but that sadness means nothing to you...

I, the pencil

2007-10-06T23:52:00.000+10:00

The pencil thinks.

I use the pencil. I sharpen it and I take good care of it. The pencil likes me. The pencil likes being used.

The sharpened makes its last swirl around the pencil. The pencil jumps. The pencil realised it is not fun being used. The pencil hates me.

Is it my fault for using the pencil?

I argue that the pencil willingly came into my hands.
The fault lies within the lead.

just talking shit.

2007-09-25T01:59:00.000+10:00

I had once upon a time rested my belief on Nutri-grain cereal packets, trusting that you only get out what you put it. Perhaps that belief should still stand. But it stands quietly, and almost invisibly. Unknown. Foreign.

How pleased we are with life is not merely determined by what happens to us, it is also determined by what we expect to happen to us. To put in but not expect. To sacrifice but have no reciprocation.

A freshly sharpened knife cuts deeply into a healing wound. The seeping of blood returns, but it will mend. An ugly scar it will be to carry. Hidden, covered, masked, but never shown. An embrassment? A constant reminder?

Every scar carries with it a tale. A tale that may never be fully revealed in the short course of our lifetime, but carried to the grave nonetheless. With the scar comes strength, comes wisdom, comes knowledge, memories and thoughts.

The traps and snares of modern life have made the pleasures that are right there in front of us so much harder to recognise. We only need to take a step back and open our eyes. Easier said than done.

If you want to be happy for an hour, take a nap.
If you want to be happy for a day, go fishing.
If you want to be happy for a month, get married.
If you want to be happy for a year, inherit a fortune.
If you want to be happy for a lifetime, help someone else.

I'm going to take a long nap.

workplace assessment

2007-09-02T01:17:00.000+10:00

This week marks my first month anniversary as a food and beverage attendant. To be honest, I thought hospitality was beyond my league and never to be associated with ever again since my resignation at McDonald’s restaurant two years ago. I can’t say I completely regret commencing yet another journey in this field, but it certainly hasn’t provided me with the satisfaction at I had wished for in starting a new job.

Like a tiny grain of sand in the beach, I can not help but feel insignificant and unappreciated in this huge and impersonal field of hospitality where the business interest is solely placed on the bucks profited and not on employee satisfaction. I had always believed that the success of a business depended highly upon their greatest asset – good employees – that looking after them will in effect, look after their customers and draw in profit. But in such a well recognised and established company with an enormously high turnover rate of employees on a week-to-week basis, retaining employees through incentives are no longer of any importance. Perhaps the only incentive, and quite an important one, is the high rate of pay for such little work. I had learnt recently that what I get paid now is roughly equivalent to what I will be getting upon graduation as a qualified physiotherapist after four years of training. Frankly, this prospect is as alarming as it is frightening.

I am a mingler. I love mingling and I mingle because I can and whenever I can. And being a mingler, I usually don’t have much problems at making new friends in unknown territories. It is different here at work and people seem slightly less sociable and talkative, and it has definitely taken me much longer to feel like I indeed belong.

I hate breaks. Never would I have imagined myself saying that, but at work, the worst thing that could happen is to have a break relief worker come into your suite and tell you to go on a break. Majority of these break relief workers have no clue as to what they should be doing in your suite and is destined to stuff things up, only to reflect badly on you on the feedback card completed by your host. On a forced break, I sit in the common room glancing at the paper half-mindedly, whilst the other half is occupied with dreadful thoughts of what might the break reliever stuff up this time. These days, I walk back into my suite expecting a dishwasher full of unwashed dishes, food unprepared, bar fridge half empty, and an unhappy host. Sometimes I wonder what these break relievers actually get up to in the suite when obviously, they haven’t been doing their job.

The company is accountable for the break relievers lack of skill and common sense. With a short investment of time and effort in holding a 3 hour training session, every employee will know the differences between all the wines, beers and spirits, the procedures involved and expected, making our lives as employees easier and that of the supervisors, and also happier guests. My lack of training as a food and beverage attendant and a bar operator unveiled during the most inappropriate times of serving customers, when on several occasions, I had to embarrassingly ask my host to make his own basic spirit whilst I watched on and learnt. *sigh*

In stark contrast to the lack of training delivered by my current employer, my new workplace has offered to train me up equip with true skills required as an F & B attendant. I attended a three hour paid training session where I sat there like a sponge and absorbed all the spoon-fed knowledge on offer. I walked out feeling wet. I am excited to make a start in this new workplace, but had just found out that I did a no-show on my first shift today, that I apparrently accepted - according to a computer system. I have never been able to say this convincingly at all my previous jobs, but this one was truly an accident.

P.S> Torquer, I'm sure you're finally happy that I have managed to use correct punctuation this time.

terrible end to a good day

2007-08-25T20:39:00.000+10:00

i had planned to visit my old workplace just before to do an assessment for my project that is due on monday, which i am yet to make a start on. my car wouldn't start up. bad things happen, so what. with no assistance that can be offered by my family members who all seem to have disappeared enjoying their saturday night life, i called upon the help of whom i thought was a stranger. i approached the car and to my relief, i knew one of the girls in the car. she was my manager once upon a time and my good friend's sister. we did have a great relationship back at work and had always looked out for one another. for a moment, i completely assumed that they could spare 2 minutes to quickly jump start my car for me.

running back to my old magna, resting in the mist of the dark reluctant to fire up, i quickly set up the jumper leads - yes, i now know how to - and approached my "friend" for assistance. To my complete disappointment, she put on an innocent i-really-want-to-but-i-can't facial expression, and coldly refused, reason being that they were in a hurry to get to a party. i backed away from their car and they did a 3-point-turn and cruised the other way.

i have no right to be angry, but i am. perhaps a better word to describe my feelings is utter disappointment. disappointment that someone can't spare a moment to help out. disappointment that that somebody was once a good friend. no longer.

maybe i'm reading into it too much...

2007-08-13T22:02:00.000+10:00

a new email rests in my university email inbox today. a topic titled swedish massage lured me into unleashing the content within. here's what it roughly said:

SWEDISH MASSAGE
Presented by Dr *****
Monday 1-2pm

This hands-on session will focus on demonstrating massage applied in two
ways:
1. Non-therapeutic massage for the development of therapist-patient rapport.
2. Therapeutic massage applied for effects which cannot be achieved as
well by any other treatment procedure.

Throughout the class, attention will be given to related practices: limb
handling, use of powder vs oil, conversation during massage, etc.
To get the most out of the class please bring shorts or appropriate
underwear.

if you still don't quite understand why this email content is worth troubling me into publishing it on my blog, read again.

i always knew us physios can do more than just massage.

reporting from the line

2007-08-12T22:43:00.000+10:00

it's worth having a positive outlook on life. a few weeks ago, i could never have said this, but now, i actually feel a tinge of excitement as i await for my 6 week undeserved break i am due to have soon.

i am one of the four unlucky souls within my physiotherapy course who have been forcibly striped of our right to be treated as equally and fairly as the other hundred students in the same course. given the current severity of undergraduate funding for physio students, hospitals are reluctant to accept students and provide for essential training and experience. consequently, as a young, vibrant, and motivated potential physiotherapist who unfortunately bares the surname beginning with "t", i have no other option but to take a 6 week break from uni when no one else is on holidays, and then stay back after the year is completed to do my clinical placement.

i blame the government. i blame the university. i can continuing focusing on the negatives, for this issue really stirs me up even to this very day, but i won't.

i have spent hours surfing through websites with an attempt to build a semi-thought-about plan for the 6 weeks i have off. so far, i have come up with a handful of options, all involving money. i will take up some sort of pilates course, a few weeks worth of gym membership, building up on my current lack of knowledge by hanging out at blockbusters and borders, return to my beloved piano, volunteer my wealth of time to red cross, and possibly fit in some sort of revision. lots to do, but so far two people have doubted my potential in achieving my goals. they should know better. i am stubborn and i have attitude. their doubt fuels my ego, assisting me in my drive to succeed.

maybe i will also spend some of that time sorting out my love life, or there lackof. i don't doubt the laws of gravitational attraction between two planets, mars and venus, but for now, martians drive me nuts. to be just, i probably drive them nuts too. comfort and security can co-exist with fun and excitement, but it seems like i can only choose one or the other.

i love to think that the decision is not on me, but what a fool i'd be, to leave the issue unresolved - again.

the world is full of misplaced worries

2007-08-12T01:43:00.000+10:00

if i add another ounce of my own worries onto the exhaustive list of misplaced worries in the existing world, it will tip over on its axes. and for that sole reason, i don't worry too much. at least i try not to. that in itself is worrisome.

a person with a constant display of a care-free attitude to life can be reflected as a care-less person in another's eye. i think i, unfortunately or unfortunately, tend to subconciously make people to see me in that light. but i do worry and i do fear. fuck i do. but what would worrying achieve?

it is when you realise the answer to that question that you will see that there is no real point in worrying. thus, i think instead. my mind ticks away quietly for solutions.

a new beginning as an F&A attendant

2007-07-22T23:51:00.000+10:00

I make my way into the enormous stadium, feeling sluggish and drained after a long day with little sleep the night before. The adrenaline rush and my perfect sense of direction led me to the muster room where we had been told to meet on our first shift. After our induction evening where we were told that Delaware hires thousands of staff each year, I had anticipated the muster room to be relatively large with couches and coffee machines for employees to relish in during their breaks. I had been fooled.

The room was tiny with a round table and miniature lockers to put our belongings – I almost had to use two lockers, one for my bag and the other for my jacket – but ended up tossing my things on top of the lockers instead. I had brought with me a combination lock which I had forgotten the combination code for. The only splash of colour - and life - in the room, came from the girly magazines resting in the centre of the table. I introduced myself to two other girls also waiting for their shift to begin. With no chance of “get-to-know one another” small talk, they returned to burying their heads back into whatever they were reading. I did the same.

After the first shift, I understood why they hadn’t bothered trying to make friends. We each worked individually, allocated to a single room where the kitchen is just big enough to squeeze two people in and a mini bar set out in the dining room. The sole hallway leading to the suites is so goddamn long that getting to and from the suites is in itself a gym workout. Team leaders and supervisors stroll up and down the hallway with special gadgets hung around their necks, peering into the suites every now and again, as if they are waiting to catch us red handed nibbling on left over gourmet food or sneakily chatting on our mobile phones, so that they actually have something to do.

I was lucky enough to have been allocated with another lady – Brooke – for my first shift. She’s middle aged and had been working there for years. She knows the tricks of the trade. Several times, I caught her drinking soft drinks from the fridge and nibbling on plates of left over food and desserts. She would quickly scoff down the food and drink as I walk into the kitchen, and then throw whatever else that didn’t quite make it into her mouth out into the wastes bin.

I’m not sure whether it’s the smart thing to do, but I pretended not to notice each time. We were all specifically told that eating on the job is considered stealing and may result in instant dismissal. Brooke offered me platefuls of untouched left over food a couple of times, but I politely rejected. It’s certainly tempting, I admit, but didn’t see why I should risk being embarrassed on my first shift being caught red handed. She must’ve thought I was a goody-goody and was afraid that I would report to our head supervisor. Several times she apologised to me out of the blue for apparently being rude and for not teaching me enough. I thought she did her job fine.

That is the thing with starting a new job. Do you want to belong to the rest of the clan and cross over to the dark side? Or be seen as a studious type going by the rule book, who no one wants to work with ‘cause they can’t be sneaky with you around? I guess I need a couple of more shifts to figure out which side to take. Any suggestions?

This is embarrassing, but I might as well tell you it. I was left on my own in the suite of 20 corporate business men and women for almost an hour. I didn’t think it would be a challenge at all, but apparently, it’s not that simple. A customer requested for a glass of red wine and I had just finished pouring out the opened bottle. I had to open one myself. Scary stuff, I know. I had never opened a red with a wine opener before. I know the theory behind using the wine opener; poke, twist, push, lever and pull, but when it comes to doing it, it’s an absolute disaster.

I cunningly removed the bottle from the bar into the kitchen out of my customers’ sight and began poking and prodding at the cork, but with each successive try, the cork just seemed to go deeper into the bottle, rather than out. One more poke and the cork would’ve fallen into the red. I paused and stared at it. My customers were waiting and Brooke wasn’t due back for another half an hour. Perfect. Red and flustered, I put on a brave smile and walked back to my customer. Instead of admitting to the simple fact that I can’t bloody open a wine bottle, I let them know that the bottle opener had broke and I’m waiting for Brooke to bring back a new one. phew.

I really need to learn to use my friend before my next shift, but I freakin’ left him sitting on the bench and forgot to take him home with me. Grrr.

a bag of emotions sitting and waiting to be poured out

2007-07-09T22:55:00.000+10:00

the grim news hit me hard yet it seemed so distant a year ago. such bleak possibilities seemed impossible at that time, but it is now slowly closing in on me day by day. reality takes its time to settle in. as news and discussions of those who are unaffected surround me, even those who i consider close seem not to realise that it only makes my day even harder to bear. i forgive them for they are currently uninfluenced. i remain silent as it seems unreasonable to pour out feelings to those who fail to feel the same.

isolated and alone. affected yet powerless to change.

As the old man walked the beach at dawn,
he noticed a young man ahead of him picking up starfish and flinging them into the sea.
finally, catching up to the youth, he asked why he was doing this. the answer was that the stranded starfish would die if left in the morning sun.
"but the beach goes on for miles and there are millions of starfish" countered the other. "how can your efforts make any difference?"
the young man looked at the starfish in his hand and then threw him safely into the waves. "it makes a difference to this one," he said.

standing alone, even one can make a huge difference. but to stand up against the odds and be that person seem unthinkable. i am trying hard but with no true guidance, understanding, and support from those around, i find myself marching on the spot and getting no where.

but be not afraid of going slowly, fear only of standing still.

---even turtles move---

ramblings

2007-07-06T23:09:00.000+10:00

Inundated with complicated thoughts and questions that i can't even figure out myself, these days i have been finding comfort in reading and cooking. When you truly find the time to immerse yourself in the therapeutic act of reading and cooking, you gradually lose yourself into the novel you're reading or the dough you're kneading, and trains of meaningless but delightful thoughts awash the complicated mind.

I work swell on the reward system, and all i want from that reward system is simple happiness. As with most other people in this world, when something makes you happy, you do it more often. Simple. I've been staying out late for the past two nights and been thoroughly enjoying myself. But guilty feelings for not staying home more often made me sacrifice parts of my social life to please my parents. Sacrifice is necessary, i agree, but not always recognised by others. I decided not to go swing dancing and left early from a friend's 21st tonight, 'cause my mum had asked my to come home for dinner. Fair enough. But arriving at my door step with an empty stomach ready to smoosh my face with some nice warm home-made meal, i was utterly disappointed to find the house also virtually empty. My younger brother was in his room surfing the net, my older brother was out clubbing and my parents had gone night shopping. Resting on the stove was some cold curry laska awaiting my presence.

Well, at least there's nice food.

Another hour passed and mum and dad returned home. I thought we could all sit back and enjoy a bit of friday night footy. But for some reason, what i want is not what i get, mum decided to freakin' lecture us kids over the most minutest of problems, yelling and making a racket outside my room as i lay silently in bed with my laptop. *sigh*

These days, it seems that they just want me home for the sake of having me at home, even if they decide to go out. I just don't get it. And then when i'm home, i get yelled at. I dream that i someday will earn enough money to buy out a nearby house to reside in when i don't want to be home.

Anypoop, the real complication i have right this moment are my health and uni matters. My health is at a questionable phase for the next weeks, and my level of nervousness can only rise with each passing day. I feel like a blob for eating so goddamn much and not being able to run as a consequence of my butt fracture.

Uni however, is also another obstacle in my life i certainly do not need right now. Unallocated for my last clinical block due to poor federal government's management of the university education system for physiotherapy students, i am facing the possibility of taking a forced 6-week break whilst my mates are completing their clinicals, then make up for that time during my summer holidays when my friends are heading for an overseas trip. My plan for global elective is on the line and chances are looking grim for there are only 6 weeks to resolve this problem. I cannot help but feel quite unlucky to be one of the very few unallocated from our whole year level simply 'cause i am towards the bottom of the role call due to my last name. True, feeling sorry for myself is no solution to this issue, but i simply consider it a normal human emotional response. I am being optimistic at the moment, the least the i can do to pull myself through, but i wonder if this optimism is in fact a false self-comforting act, that if i follow through for too long, will foolishly bring my hopes up just to plummet back down. The higher you climb, the harder you fall.

But alas, as Brian once put it, "always look on the bright side of life...whistles"

Swing dancing was totally mind-blowing last night despite the bum pain. There are adequate amounts of good tv shows recently. And have just been successful in a job interview and now am employed as a functions caterer. Life is not always bad i guess.

I have cravings. Korean food for dinner and an over dressed beef burger from grill'd. Topped off with a belgian hot chocolate from Cacao at St kilda or spanish hot choc from fitzroy. Then proceed along to the toff in town for some non-raucous music with a light drink for the completeness of the day. Whose up for it? my shout!

If you have a moment to spare, check out this website http://www.chocolatebuddha.com.au/ Just click and enter the site, and you would realise why i like the design so much.

And...torquer, if you haven't noticed, i've managed to exert the extra effort and press that shift key for capitals *wipes sweat off forehead*

back with a crack

2007-07-01T02:17:00.000+10:00

i could really just simply link this post to gneake's post on his recall of our 2-day experience up in the alpines, but i think if i did, he would crack the shits and give me the greasy which he had no doubt practiced numerous times in front of a mirror, as it is actually one hell of a scary greasy.

so here's my version, (but still feel free to read gneake's):

it's been four years since my last contact with snow, a pure white substance that strangely resembles coffee froth for those of you who have never seen snow before. i've been wanting to re-visit the alps a while back but the laziness in organisation and financial limitations always seem to be an excuse not to get off our backsides. this time, i thought i'd try to organise it, which in hindsight, i quite prefer taking the back seat. leadership, i believe, was once a quality i attained in my past life, but no more is it a part of me. leaders are people who we can turn to for mishaps and someone to blame when things go wrong, but they in return receive no appreciation for the time and effort they had put in to make things work, and no credit for when things go to plan. i pity and admire them, but i can no longer be one of them.

anywho, back to where i was. i returned from my ski trip four years ago on crutches due to the poorly designed chair lifts at the beginner runs of mt hotham, which actually required a great deal of ski to dismount. i vowed to myself that i am going to come back in one piece this time.

the quality of the room at the motor inn far exceeded what i had in mind. a cosy room with an ensuite enclosing two single beds and a double bed, all equip with electric blankets, a miniture kitchenette and cable tv, whose company we all incontestably enjoyed very much. staying below the alpines meant that we had endure an hour bus ride to and from the mountain for the two days we were there.

the first bus trip up to the mountains was no doubt exciting. despite being surrounded with the eerie darkness of the early morning, we were buzzing with delight and anticipation - at least i was. the weather was oddly beautiful from what i had in mind from my previous experience.

being the only person in our small group to have actually skiied before, i was left with the option of venturing out into the snow by myself for over two hours, or to pay an extra $30 for a discovery lesson which i felt i did not need. in fear of being alone in an unknown and new surrounding and the possibility of my skiing skills to have completely deterioated since my last trip, i decided to pay the extra. never had i been such a lucky girl, but the lady behind the counter unknowingly upgraded my ticket to include a discovery lesson with no extra charge, to which i genuinely thanked her for as i shuffled my way out of her sight praying that she would not come running after me - as i had no chance of escaping given the awkward design of those heavy ski boots.

after a basic introduction to skiing, i was keen to hit the real big slopes. confident in gneake's ability after his exceptional performance during the lesson, i urged him to ski down a massive slope with me. i went down first, but not without a flip, tumble and half a somersault which landed myself in an awkward position with both skis detached from my boots. gneake followed suit.

i am quite fearless when adrenaline levels escalate. i don't tend to think too much of consequences. who cares if i fall? who cares if i break a leg? after patiently following gneake down the slopes a few times, on which he had countless falls at tremendously slow speeds, i decided to speed ahead. i was under control for a few good seconds, until i think i hit a bump, and i think i tumbled, and i think i spent microseconds in mid-air, my sunnies few off, and then i hit the ground hard. very hard. the intense pain rushed in immediately despite the fact that my buttock was resting in icy snow which theoretically should provide analgesic effects. my both legs felt numb with intermittent pins and needles. i lay silently in the snow. i did not want to move. shit i thought, i think i've lost both my legs. i was so afraid i wanted to block out the world, until some random yelled out to me to raise my arm. i did as i was told despite the agonizing pain.

and then i heard a familiar voice. i made myself sit up and glanced around. and he made me laugh - fallen down the slope next to a wooden pole, gneake was resting on the snow looking in my direction to see if i was alright. for a moment, it seemed like he was in more trouble than me. i got myself together, gathered my skis and sunnies and plouged my way to gneake, who was still sitting on the snow. it was immensely painful to laugh, but i did anyway.

i had never ever required the assistance of paracetamol for musculoskeletal pain relief, but after struggling to get off a toilet seat, undo my boots and sneeze, i knew i couldn't do without. the drug was bliss. for the two hours of which it provided me with relief, i hit the slopes without a care, until it was time for another two tablets.

i gave up the opportunity to learn snowboarding on our second day because of my buttock pain, and i am still kicking myself for it. i had no other option but to ski in the blizzard, where hailstones were constantly aiming for the bare parts of my face, and fog which restricted our view to a 5m radius. i had never been in such horrid weather before.

it's like a battlefield out on the slopes. you need to watch out for both the inexperienced and experienced skiers. the inexperienced one would ski towards you in your direction and you see them frantically trying to maneuver themselves around you to no avail, and will inevitably become another obstacle on the course amongst the poles and ropes you need to get around. the experienced ones are not much safer to be around. any moment, they would swoop around you, spin and do fancy moves that diverts your attention to them and not the obstacles in front of you. very dangerous.

nonetheless, for those who can endure pain and are in for some thrilling and adrenaline pumping experience, i highly recommend skiing. but luckily, it is only a seasonal sport, as i can't imagine doing it for more than once a year: time for recovery, anatomically and financially.

to fill you in on how hard i landed, i paid a visit to a local doctor the day i came back and had some x-rays done. traumatic sacral hairline fracture. only small, but enough to cause a great deal of discomfort and inconvenience. i need to avoid prolonged standing and sitting, stop running and can't bend over. coincidently, i am about to return to uni and clinics which will require prolonged sitting and standing, i have been eating like crazy which means i need to go for a run sooner rather than later, and strangely, i seem to be dropping things more than usual these days but can't bend over to pick it up. murphy's law. heh.

posting for the sake of posting

2007-06-22T12:33:00.001+10:00

for the past three weeks, i had broken my weekly swing dancing ritual owing to chilly Melbourne nights. last night, i picked it back up, but the swing scene wasn't the same this time round. the club was a lot quieter, tamed and for the first time, the dance floor accommodated every dancer there so that there were no head/boob/ankle bashing.

i watched the dancers strut their moves on the roomy dance floor. every move seemed foreign to me, despite the fact that i have been a swing dancer for over 12 months. i felt like a beginner all over again, too afraid to get up, too afraid to hit the dance floor. but how could one refuse a dance when offered? first dance, i lost count, no rhythm, bad coordination and essentially, a being a terrible follow. my high spirits were further dampened by the very fact that i had only just recently spent $95 on a day of swing workshops. i need practice.

i sat back in the passenger seat of the car on my way home, pondering over the cause of the pain in my arms and shoulders. my body is used to swing moves and shouldn't cause me pain, particularly after a relatively light night. it took me a while until i finally worked out the culprit: Wii. i had been playing nintendo Wii till two o'clock in the morning the night before.

whilst the imaginative mind that invented the Wii deserves my full admiration, i would not consider myself a strong advocate of it, nonetheless, it does make it onto my list of past time activities. there are 5 different sporting games to choose from: golf, baseball, boxing, tennis and bowling. i rotated through all five in two hours, and pulled up the next morning with a painful right shoulder and left elbow, and i was merely simulating boxing moves. with video/computer games, i believe it's a successful game only if it stimulates the dopaminergic pathway in human brains. that is, if it gets me hooked on it. Wii fails in this respect.

onto the contrary, The Sims never fails to excite me. suited to those of creative minds and those who get kicks out of controlling someone else's life, it is a pc game where you design, build a house and a family, then take them through life. you get them a job, make money, go on vacations, buy pets and make love and eventually pop out a kid. and when you get sick of controlling a particular character, building a four walled brick compartment in which to enclose a sim is a simple solution to rid them. i am excited just talking about it. but i shouldn't get myself too hyped over it 'cause for some reason i can't bloody find the original cd rom, which means, i need to resort to the lengthy wait of ares download. *grunts*

either way, i'm dead

2007-06-20T00:04:00.000+10:00

As uni students, we have no doubt been through the gruelling phases of sleep deprivation. We too often complain of not getting enough sleep 'cause of excessive workload, and once we get that rare chance to sleep in, like the phase that i am in right now, we get maximal use out of it. But apparently, not only is insomnia harmful, hyperinsomnia can be just as dangerous.

An article i recently chanced upon suggests an increased risk of parkinson's disease in people who over sleep.

uh oh.

I am not lacking in energy, nor am i sleepy, but when i get the chance, i just use sleep as one of my many past time leisure. A freakin' cold and muggy morning with minimal sunlight despite blinds being pulled wide open certainly provides another reason for me to snuggle back into my doona and snooze.

Motivation, i lack nowadays. I need commitments to get me up and going.

life at a stand-still

2007-06-14T01:11:00.000+10:00

Today is Wednesday. I am officially three days into my three long weeks worth of holidays, and i am bored. It's not that i don't have things to do, but…well, yeah, it's that i have nothing to do.

Waking up to the afternoon sun, or there lack of, my mind was laden with thoughts of missions needing to be accomplished for that day. Zilch. I tossed over in bed and consciously attempted to chase my half-finished dream. If you gave me the chance to sleep in like a pig two weeks ago, i swear i could've kissed you, but right now, it seems as if the more i sleep, the more brain cells i lose - not that there were many to begin with.

I'm too efficient. Aside from homework and other important tasks, i get nonsense out of the way too quickly. I cleaned my room, washed all my clothes, changed new bed sheets, and even snuck in a full length movie all in a matter of hours. In hindsight, if only i had just paced myself and worked through it slowly, i might actually have something to waste my time on right now. But blogging is bliss.

Meanwhile, resting on my desk is a pile of un-read urgent mail from three different superannuation companies, all of whom i apparantly belong to. I've laboured in numerous jobs in the past five years, and only recently realised that each employer have signed me up to a different super funding, without my permission - at least, none that i was completely informed of. I should really read before i sign that dotted line, for maybe one day i'd unknowingly end up signing my life away to the small dungy restaurant known as maccas.

Despite enormous free time on my hands waiting to be wasted, i have yet to muster up the mind power to drag my arse out of the front door for a true run. I blame it on El Nino. This is where the treadmill comes in handy. With a switch of a button, you have a narrow piece of moving ground under your feet, whilst you simulate a running motion that will eventually tire you out. I used to worship this piece of invention, but after spending an hour of lifeless running on the spot yesterday, i cannot bare to use it again. I have recently developed the need for a mission when i run; to get somewhere for some reason, even if the reason is simply to feel as if i've accomplished a mission. If the meterologist is correct, tomorrow i shall run to my friend's house, purely for the sake of running.

After a brief however painful argument with mum this morning, i decided to go for a casual drive. For the records, driving with no particular destination or purpose in mind is in fact, a very dangerous idea and shall never be attempted, ever again. You lose yourself in a sea of meaningless thoughts that returning focus on the road is almost infeasible. Put simply, don't try it.

I am proud to say that i consider myself to be a patient driver. I can deal with red lights, slow-ish drivers, trams, and pedestrians. But today tested my bloody patience. Driving behind a car of elderly citizens at 30km/h in a 60 zone is simply unjustifiable. Slow drivers are just as dangerous as those who speed. Perhaps VicRoads should consider the cause of the many road rages/incidents before targeting young drivers and implementing unreasonably strict laws in their desperate attempt to reduce road toll. But i am in no way bounded by these newly set laws, therefore, nothing for me to really complain about.

Simple things make me smile. Sitting at Borders with a coffee and a book in hand makes me smile. Spending a day at a friend's house for the sake of spending a day at a friend's house makes me happy. Watching the petrol prices surge an extra 10 cents/Litre straight after i filled up my tank makes me grin.

A wiser return

2007-06-12T01:22:00.000+10:00

It has never occurred to me that I had the hidden ability to refrain from blogging for such a long period of time. But here I am, I survived – just.

I had always believed in treating others the way you would like to be treated. I am an idealist. The world seen through my eyes is one filled with colours, love and compassion. I fail to see the other side – perhaps; it’s more that I refuse to look into it too deeply. I know perfectly well that bad things happen to people; unprovoked attacks, torture, murders, rapes, assaults, robberies, you name it; but at the age of 20, I still struggle to comprehend how people can treat others in such a way, and how such things can happen so close to home.

Wake me up. I am too naïve for the real world. Being too naïve, too trusting, too friendly, is a perfect recipe for being hurt in this dangerous world. I have learnt my lesson, and I am grateful for this lesson did not cost me too much. Nothing would’ve awakened me otherwise – and for that I am strangely happy.

Man’s mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

times like these i hate

2007-05-16T23:25:00.000+10:00

i wish i could update this blog of mine more often, but i am so buggered from clinics each day to the point where pushing the shift key for capital letters is in itself an effortful process.

i am not going to complain. no, i'm not. not because i can't complain, but because i am too tired to complain. was i just complaining?

my mind is laden with thoughts of possibilities, thoughts of 'what ifs', thoughts of past, present and future. we fear what we do not know, yet we are excited by spontaneity. why fear when you can choose to thrive in the unknown and let excitment overrule that fear? but keep in mind that excitment often ends prematurely and fear reigns. what do you choose - to thrive in a short lasting moment of excitment or to live a life fearful of the unknown?

i will be returning, with more sense, as soon as my assignments are out of the way. i promise.

You see what you want to see

2007-04-29T15:08:00.000+10:00

For those of you who have watched the movie The Number 23, i am certain that you understand the meaning of my title; You see what you want to see. This is the first time i walked away from a psychological thriller feeling rather enlightened, as oppose to long miserable nightmares.

I'll give you a brief rundown trying not to spoil the film.

Living a supposedly stable and ordinary life with loving wife and teenage son, walter sparrow (Jim Carey) was a man with no worries, until one unlucky day, he was given a book the number 23 by his wife, when his life flipped and the past returns to haunt him. Over the course of a few days, walter becomes obsessed with the events in the book in which the main character seemingly followed a life identical to his. The number 23 brings upon unpleasant thoughts and memories for walter, driving him insane and soon his life spirals in on him. The simple number 23 brought with it a life full of love, hate, sex and suicide.

The number 23 engima derives from the Discordian belief that all events are connected to the number 23, given enough ingenuity on the part of the interpreter. Just like The Law of Fives states simply that: all things happen in fives, or are divisible by or are multiples of five, or are somehow directly or indirectly appropriate to 5. The Laws of Fives is a symbol, just like the number 23, for the observation of reality changing that which is being observed in the observer's mind. Just like when you set out shopping for a yellow shirt, suddenly every shop you pass you notice all the yellow items, when one looks for fives in reality, one finds them. So will one find conspiracies when one decides to look for them. One cannot be wrong as the mind has the power to perceive truth in anything and everything, when you want it to, thus it comes as no surprise that one can find a numerological significance to anything, provided sufficient cleverness.

The principle of life is that life responds by corresponding; your life becomes the thing you have decided it shall be.

For Carey, he subconciously becomes obsessed in the number 23 that he would managed to relate all things in life to that very number. Whether it's through division, addition, multiplication or subtraction, and even through the manipulation of irrelevant numerals such as 5 (2+3) and 32 (23 flipped), Carey strives to obtain his target. It is no wonder how this drove him to the brink of sanity.

Seeing what you want to see can be regarded as narrow mindedness, stubbornness and even ignorance. This type of selective sighting can bring you happinness and sadness, and even madness.

strong believer of retail therapy

2007-04-23T12:11:00.000+10:00

I would believe that most females out there would understand the significance of calming one self through the therapeutic use of what we like to refer to as retail therapy. I am no doubt a strong believer in such remedy, but like ice, such benefits are often costly and are accompanied by post-therapeutic adverse reactions.

I resigned at the clinic on Friday, which means i will need to start saving for my overseas trip by cleverly tucking away every penny i now earn from sports training alone. Which also essentially means that i need to learn to stop finding ridiculous excuses for spontaneous shopping sprees. But similar to breaking up, where you have one last kiss, or when you indulge yourself in a one last drink at a pub before you leave, i figure it will be no harm pampering myself one last time before embarking on my penurious journey.

It would be balantly obvious that i am lying if i told you i simply wanted to enjoy the shopping experience and had no mission in mind. Oh, i had a mission all right. I wanted to find some black boots suitable for clinics. Like a strong women on a mission, i thought i could march my way pass all other retail outlets and reach Sandlers Shoe Shop without being distracted. But my ego got the better of me, and i surrendered to the ever-so-tempting clothes outlets, that i could swear were whispering come in, come in to me. I ended up using my "savings" card twice that day, and all the cash i had on me, which accumulated to an unspeakable amount.

As overwhelmingly exciting that experience was, reality smacked me in the face when i got home. I realised i had to put in for mum's 50th birthday present, which was a three digit number. Then to pay for a damned police check for clinics, birthday presents, meanwhile, realising my petrol tank was running low. Sometimes i wished i thought more of consequences before diving into the deep end. But alas, what's done 'tis done. I wonder if it is ever worth paying such a hefty fee for a mere three hours of therapy, only to suffer enormous adverse effects afterwards. Just like a foot massage, where you indulge in an over-priced 15 minutes worth plantar fascia release, only to walk out with the recently pampered feet, hike to the train station and stand for the whole ride back home, only to find that your feet are aching again. Nonetheless, i am in desperate need of one - really.

Onto another point, we went out to celebrate mum's 50th tonight, with a rather expensive and scrumptous dinner. Only took photos of some dishes 'cause i think the chef thought i was stealing his recipe ideas...

Most interesting dish of the night was by far, this deep-fried taro-wrapped duck with mushroom sauce. oh yummy.

suggestions, please!

2007-04-18T19:48:00.000+10:00

I'm not normally someone who struggles to put a pen to paper, aside from during university lectures and exams, but tonight it just doesn't seem to do it for me. I've spent the last 20 minutes scrounging around for ideas on how to write a damn resignation letter to my reception job. So far i've come up with this;

Dear M/J,

I am writing to inform you of my resignation.

Yours truly,

What else should i put in the letter? I mean, i've known my managers and supervisors too well and for too long to be writing something over-the-top formal, but i don't want to make it so casual that the letter is just some fluff.

Suggestions as to how i should approach this seemingly easy yet overly difficult task, would be kindly appreciated.

this, is when you know there are boys in the house

2007-04-17T19:30:00.000+10:00

*sighs*

You would think that a 18 year old and a 23 year old males would know how to change the toliet roll...

in an attempt to spread happiness

2007-04-09T13:25:00.000+10:00

Easter Saturday

I had to muster up so much internal motivation to get myself out of the house for a run around the park. It's not because i'm lazy - or maybe it is - but i could hardly imagine walking around the park without my pup anymore. Yes, it's sad and the feeling of loneliness freaks me out a little. I know i should be over it by now, and i am, but it's moments like these that if she was by my side, i wouldn't have had to try so hard in motivating myself. Nonetheless, i ended up running around the park for my good fix of endorphins. It sure did me good.

I noticed a lot of unfamiliar cars parked along the side of my street. Every festive season, young families and relatives from interstate would come down to Clayton to visit their grandparents, given that Clayton is invested with old grannies and grandpas. As i made my way to the park, a little old lady who was walking her little puppy around the block, stood at an intersection and stared at me as i approached. I was cruising along the path with such a steady pace that i didn't want to stop, but i accidently made eye contact. Normally an eye contact with a nod of the head is sufficient politeness to strangers, but it didn't seem adequate given that it is easter.

I stopped and pulled out my earphones, then commented on her beautiful puppy. I smiled and knelt down to pet him, and you know the elderly, they start to talk. So i started to talk. And before you know it, a massive conversation evolved. As general courtesy, i asked how her easter's going. I don't know whether it's me being over sensitive, but the old lady hesitated, paused and look down at the puppy. She dodged the question and told me that she lives alone and "patchy" is great company. I felt bad for asking the question, for it seemed to stir up some long lost emotions within her. And then, soon after we departed, i felt an overwhelming desire to spread happiness.

Easter Sunday

So, i drove out to safeway and coles with the purpose of purchasing some chocies for the old lady, but unfortunately, my trip was simply a waste of petrol as none of them were open. Silly me.

Easter Monday

As it is unlike me to give up, i decided to venture out again today to buy the easter eggs. And i did.

Holding onto a box of Rose easter eggs, i walked over to the old lady's house this afternoon and knocked on her door, hoping she remembered me from two days ago. She did. She was by herself at home with patchy, and was clearly overwhelmed and grateful for my random visit. I hope she didn't think i was a stalker of some sort. I handed the chocolates over, talked to her for a good ten minutes, and left.

As i strolled home, i asked myself a question: Why did i just do that? I have no explanation for putting in that effort, time and money, to make a stranger whom i've only randomly met happy, except that i just wanted to. It made me happy and made her happy. And knowing that that favour cannot be returned for she does not know my address or name for that sake, made me even happier. You may call me strange if you wish.

Work shared is halved.
Joy shared is doubled.

false reality - a frame of mind

2007-04-04T23:24:00.000+10:00

When you say you're okay, do you really mean it? Is it just your own method of coping with it for the meantime, until you realise that you're really not okay? Or you say it when you are truly okay?

Okay is such a funny word.

Sometimes we can get caught up with what's real and what's simply a figament of imagination. We've all had the odd times when you wake up in the morning from a scarily realistic dream, only to find that we had been sleeping the whole time. But have you ever thought that maybe we are still in a dream right this moment. Everything's fake, everything will sort itself out, everything is gonna be okay when you finally decide to wake up? Or maybe that thought is simply an attempt through which one is fooling onself, and just wishing that reality is not reality. And when will you decide to wake up? In fact, is that decision really in your hands and under your control? Often, it's not.

For the strong, perhaps they are able to bend the so called fourth dimension, and decide to with their enormous will power, to wake up whenever they wish. But for the weak, it's not that simple. It requires hard work, constant fighting, enormous effort, and thus, it is no wonder why so many give up fighting the war. In forfeiting, they have put a halt to their lives, and resort to the far-from-ideal solution of going with the wind, wherever it may take them. But that is dangerous.

Maybe the one with the magnificent power of bringing us back to reality is Herself evil, and takes joy in seeing you asleep admist the dangers. Watching you stumble through, struggling to get by, yet not lending you a hand and helping you dodge the bullets that may come your way. But alas, you are still lost in a false reality. The longer She makes you stay in this frame of mind, the more enjoyment she experiences, and the chances of Her waking you up to reality gradually diminish. But remember, the longer you spend there, the harder it is to come out of it. But what can you do when you consider yourself to be weak? The answer is nothing. You will lose the fight.

To overcome this evil force that is slowly dragging you down into forever darkness, you must learn to be strong. It is easier said than done. You attempt once and you fail. Then you attempt again, and again, and continue thriving until you see the light at the end of the tunnel. Who knows how long that tunnel may be? Perhaps the light is just a corner away in which case, it will be silly for one to give up now. But perhaps it's still a marathon away. The tunnel is filled with silent, deadly darkness and cleverly placed obstacles, and the only way to survive is to keep persisting. You may trip and you may stumble. But so long as you find your ground, get up and keep going in the right direction, the opening is awaiting you.

Knowing trees, i understand patience.
Knowing grass, i understand persistence.

You may have both the patience and persistence to get there. But all you need is encouragement and assistance. Someone to simply put out their hand once in a while to help you when you stumble, to guide you when you lose your way, to yell at you when you shrivel up and feel the urge to turn around and go back to the beginning. Sometimes, an encouraging word is all that is necessary. But without it doesn't always mean failure. It just means that it will take longer to get back up after a stumble, take more positive self talk and will power to guide yourself through. Stand alone yet not be afraid. But that is not for the weak to try, for they will fail.

note: i'm not proof reading this post 'cause i can't be bothered. in fact, 'cause i think it's so much crap compiled into one write up that crap entangles onto more crap and the whole thing suddenly becomes even more crapier than the crap it started off with. do not be worried if you struggle to understand me, for i am still trying to understand myself.

Just curious...

2007-04-04T19:44:00.000+10:00

A question brought up at the dinner table:

Why is Jesus born on the same date every year, but ascends heaven on different date every year?

mind over matter

2007-04-04T18:48:00.000+10:00

I think i'm beginning to understand and partially believe in the psychological model of health. When you really put your mind to something, no matter how difficult or overwhelming it may seem, you will achieve it. That is something i proved to myself this weekend.

I don't know what came over me when i decided to embark on the 15.2km run over bridges, under tunnels and on freeways, instead of the comfortable 3.4km scenic route around a shady park. I think it's your fault, but for that i guess i need to thank you.

Having never ever trying to run so far in my life, i was nervous, anxious, dreading yet excited as Sunday approached. Three years ago, i barely made it to the finish line of a 1.6km run, which for me, was a half jog-half walk exercise in high school phys ed classes. I told myself that i'd be happy if i made it to the 10km mark, then walked the rest, but alas, when you start you don't want to stop. With 26,000 other runners beside you, an enormous wave of motivation and encouragement flow right through you, and with it, you feel no pain and no fatigue. As you can probably tell, i was estatic with my result, not because of how i placed or how quickly i ran, but simply the overwhelming satisfaction knowing that i completed the race. It was more of a self-rewarding experience.

Time: 1:32.00
Placing: 2925 of 14,123 females

Here's some pictures to illustrate the magnificent event i was once a part of:

Runners starting their watches

The other 26,000 await the green light

A kilometre out of this tunnel, a row of men emptied their bladders against the citylink tollway wall. If only i had a camera on me!

A long unhill climb onto Bolte Bridge

Not long to the finish line

A kids stroll in the park; a mother's lengthy run

A minor contribution of $34 each, but a major effort. We raised AU$536,369 for the Good Friday Appeal for Royal Children's Hospital!

Just how much can a sketch mean...

2007-03-28T22:51:00.000+10:00

Just like horoscopes, no matter how much i reckon it's a load of poo, i still pick up the paper each day and read it. Then a minute later, i forget what it said about my luck that day. Some people reckon that horoscopes are for those who are indecisive, lonely, and those you seek comfort. I don't doubt that, but i think i read it more for a bit of self-amusement and for giggles sake.

Adding to my growing list of strategies to avoid doing homework, i decided to take the challenge, gneake.

Resolution isn't great, but i figure i'll just post it up anywho.

Based on your drawing and the 10 answers you gave this is a summary of your personality:
You are sensitive and indecisive at times. You are a freedom lover and a strong person. You are shy and reserved. If you've drawn a cross on each of windows, you always want to live alone. You are very tidy person. There's nothing wrong with that because you're pretty popular among friends. Your life is always full of changes.

When it comes to love, you shut yourself off. It's difficult to win your heart because you have decided to keep your feelings deep inside. You see the world as it is, not as you believe it should be.

You added a flower into your drawing. The flower signifies that you long for love. We also see that you are sensuous, sexual, and privately passionate. You don't think much about yourself.

rainbows

2007-03-28T20:37:00.000+10:00

I have a dilemma. Maybe even a trilemma, or quadrilemma.

I've worked at City Baths Clinic for almost 2 years now, as a physio receptionist; the pay is good, in fact i just got a pay rise, and to describe the job as easy is an exaggeration. I like the workmates there and we all get along too well. There is potentially a future for me there in terms of employment as a physiotherapist and i will have a lot of connections provided i continue until i graduate. I took the job in the first place to gain an insight into a private practice, but two years into the job, i have learnt all that they have to offer me there.

I started working at a Sports trainer club a month ago. I get paid shit-all but i have and will continue to gain knowledge and experience related to my future profession. However, it is a seasonal job and thus, at the end of the season, i will be unemployed.

I am trying to save for global elective. I am trying to satisfy all my hobbies which most, like coffee and food and swing/blues dance classes, require a substantial amount of cash to fully enjoy. I pay my parents for food and rent on a monthly basis. I pay the water bills quarterly. I have phone bills and petrol to pay for. I receive some allowances from the government.

The dilemma?

With tangled up thoughts running through my mind after sports training last night, i walked into Mum's room wanting to discuss with her my options: whether or not i should quit my well-paid, easy receptionist job, and take on sports training experience whose pay merely covers for petrol and travel expenses. It seems my dilemma is simply basedon a financial view, but i figure this is justified as i am planning to travel overseas at the end of the year. I hardly fitted a few sentences into the conversation with mum before she butted in and told me to stick with city baths. She was fully against me trying to change jobs when it appears that everything seem so stable right now. I tried to explain to her that i have nothing left to learn at city baths, but in vain.

Mum has never been a good listener and i hate it. Despite my attempts to discuss issues with her, she never tends to put in that effort to listen before coming to her conclusion on the topic and from there onwards, will be stubborn in listening to other perspectives. I hate it. Though i was in a relatively good mood, and culture expects us to always respect our parents no matter what, i stopped the conversation short and walked out with a small, subtle, tired sigh. I didn't mean to give attitude to mum, and i don't think i did, but poor listeners really do frustrate me these times where i'm trying to seek logical and rational advice and comfort.

I figure mum spoke to dad about it afterwards, 'cause just before, dad came into my room and offered a massage. Normally i need to ask for one, but tonight, he offered. Although i am to blame for not informing or letting my parents keep up to date with my current life, i was initially very frustrated at how clueless dad was and angry at how little he understood of me. I am to blame, i know. I never tend to let them into my life these days, sometimes it's because i find that they just don't understand what i tell them, but most of the times, i like to think that i am protecting them from worrying too much over my rather hectic and misplaced life, and i refuse to shed a tear when they're around. I prefer to cry to a friend, or if necesary, in bed at night. That's not to say i don't love them. I do and i love my family from the deepest of my heart, and i guess, tonight seemed to prove that our love is mutual; not that i ever doubted it.

After letting out all the frustration, i quietened down and explained my situation to dad. Dad listened. And he understood. He asked questions to clarify and took the time and patience to understand. Complete opposite to mum.

He put my teary face against his chest; something i have never done in my life, and he offered me solution. He offered to support me and give me a weekly allowance so that i may continue enjoying my dancing and coffee, so that i won't feel financially restricted. He told me to do what i like; to quit city baths if i felt that they have nothing else to offer me and move onto sports training. He emphasised to me that money should not be a deciding factor. I know he loves me and he will do anything for me, but that also frustrated me. Dad doesn't make a living easily or anything, and i don't want him to feel obliged to support his twenty year old daughter. I refused to accept his offer and i cried at even imagining me needing to resort to living off him at this age. Yes, i cried. It's been years since i've shed a tear in front of dad. I've managed to hold it back all these years, but tonight, i let it out. I've bottled enough tears up and i guess, it's time for it to come out.

Me: "dad, don't you understand, i don't want to take money off you. I have not needed money from home since year 9 and now you're telling me to suddenly revert back to high school days. I'll feel restricted in what i do. I just don't want that. You don't understand."
Dad: "i'm your dad, if i don't help you through these times, who will? it's my responsibility to you. I will just give you money every week and you can do whatever you want with it. We'll keep that a secret between you and me. I won't ask you anything. You just have to let me know if you don't have enough. Okay?"

I am hating the thought of taking money from home. I don't know whether it's just pride (which i would highly doubt) or stubbornness. Or maybe i just don't feel right in doing so. Or maybe the tears are simply a result of me being overwhelmed with appreciation for my dad.

I'm just stubborn.

I gave dad a hug, and a very rare kiss on the cheek as he left my room. The decision's made, at least dad thinks so, and it is now up to me to type that resignation letter and hand it in. But when should i do it? And should i?

woodling on...

2007-03-25T20:10:00.000+10:00

Although subconsciously, i was aware of the daylight saving procedure that was to take place today, i decided to give it a miss - not that i really had that choice. Dreading the early Sunday morning wake yet again, i rushed off to tutoring without breakfast, only to arrive, park and suddenly realise i was an hour early.

Annoyed at my forgetfulness, yet satisfied with gaining the extra hour, i finished tutoring early and returned home, feeling the tremendous relief of that extra sixty minutes i have just gained. And then i was hit with the dilemma of what to do with that extra hour. Most colleagues would suggest to use it productively to study, but that didn't quite cross my mind. This hour was worth more than stupid study. So, i took out my sparkling new Woodles Penguin Waffle maker. With limited milk and butter in the fridge, i managed to whack this up:

With more time to waste, i decided to snug in a blogging session and a jog around the park. Satisfied, i am.

a territory beyond those who are stupid

2007-03-25T12:16:00.000+10:00

Once is accident. Twice is stupidity. Thrice?

I have lost count of the number of times i got myself repeatedly into situations where i'm drawn into never-ending negative thoughts and procrastination, which i know are detrimental to both my physical and mental health. Each time when the same thing is about to happen, i stop and tell myself not to think, not to act; but it's as if this overwhelmingly powerful mysterious force makes me end up thinking and doing. Yes, not once, not twice - i think i'm beyond pure stupidity, perhaps i've reached "the point of no return" and now, i'm simply awaiting failure. Failure of myself, of studies, of people around me. I know if i don't get myself out of this, it will sadly eventuate. Maybe it's time for me to be more rational.

But what does it mean to be rational, i ask. To me, nothing from my heart is rational. If i act purely from what my heart guides me to do, to say and to feel, i will be wrong and stupid. So for me to be slightly more rational, i need to disregard my inner desires and feelings, and follow the logical guidance of my brain. But when i reach that stage of isolation between myself and my other self, i am no longer human.

This is normally my mood - a rhythmical up/down fluctuation through the course of the day with smooth transitions between moods and a relatively small amplitude.

This has been my mood for the past few days:

Please excuse my mathematical nerdiness, but i seem not to be able to find something that will describe my behaviour as clearly and concisely as sine graphs. Perhaps the sudden increase in oscillations these days have something to do with my hormonal state but i prefer not to see it that way. With more and more thoughts, the graph drops with a negative gradient until i eventually manage to get myself to sleep, with which my mood gradually escalate, preceding a dramatic drop in mood as i wake up to my alarm clock.

I should get myself out of this messed up little world of mine. I'm silly to get into such mess, stupid in continuing in this mess, and stubborn in not letting myself get out of it. I'm sick of my current self, and i reckon the best way to resolution, and probably the fastest way, is to ignore and pretend - both of which is so much easier than to forget.

On further thoughts, i attribute my recently depressed mood to the lack of sunlight. Medical literature like to call this type of clinical depression the fancy name of: seasonal affective disorder. Apparently another symptom of this kind of depression is the constant craving for sugary foods: i have been nibbling on fruit tingles since starting this post. Uh oh.

demanding people

2007-03-18T23:20:00.000+11:00

I hate serving demanding people. I hated them back when i was working at Maccas, when i was working in a grocery shop and at Big W. Those who demand too much are to be shot down harshly.

I got a call early this morning notifying me that i apparently suck at my job. Not put as harshly as that, but the underlying message of the call was not-so-subtle. It is one thing to demand something you pay for, but it is a completely different story when you demand from a volunteer. I make sure i call you everyday at least once to ensure that everything is running smoothly. Since your arrival, we have not seen one another for one day. I can't possibly comprehend how much you miss my presence.

Taking the responsibility on board, i am more than happy to spend hours on end assiting you if you need me. I have spent 3 hours literally chasing after my team around the city, rectifying their mistakes. I am fine in doing so despite enduring stomach pains, physical exhaustion, and arriving late to a 21st birthday party, because at least i felt the appreciation for my efforts. I can travel to your hotel purely for your convenience to explain to you the competition manual, organise your transport and training, and ensure that you are comfortable with the competition procedures. That is my job and i am happy to complete my role to the best of my ability. I have taken a day off uni and a day of paid work, but i don't complain.

But let me tell you this. I am not here to be your slave and purchase phone cards and offer you coffee. I am thrilled to be part of such a magnificent event, but you have to understand that a uni student has a life. If you want me to come in for a few hours just to hang around and watch you train, i'd rather be sleeping. I offer to look after all your paper work and offer to discuss any issues of concern, yet each time you rudely and bluntly wave me off, assuring me that everything is under control. I am fine with your bluntness; perhaps that is just part of your culture or simply a manifestation of stress. I understand. But if you are going to reject me each time i offer to help out, then don't fucking turn around can ask my supervisor to ask me to come in and stand beside you and act busy whilst feeling completely and utterly useless by wasting precious time that can be spent on something more worthwhile.

memories and thoughts

2007-03-18T02:20:00.000+11:00

Thoughts and memories each one of us carry with us and build upon through life shape the way we are. Nobody will ever have the same thought or memory, even if you had been through an experience together, recollections will always be unique. Scientists believe that without memory, we die. But i believe, for some of us, without memories, our lives would in fact, be better. I know it sounds so-god-damn bleak, but if i get a choice, i would selectively erase a lot of crap from my long term storage, even if i had to give-up a good memory with every bad memory i choose to delete. That may mean that i have so many good memories i can afford to live just as well without some; but it may also mean i am desperate in ridding the bad ones. Maybe the next major science breakthrough can be the invention of selective brainwashing.

Memories can bring you joy and happiness, but similarly, it can eat you up inside, making you feel small and insignificant. For every great moment you spend with someone, you seem to be able to link it to a bad memory. Just like waves in the ocean, seemingly never-ending memories continue to flood in, one after one. When you think of one thing, another thing comes to mind, then another, and soon, you realise you're tossing and turning in bed in the early hours of the morning struggling to switch off the mind and allow your tiresome body replenishing time with precious sleep. That describes the situation i am in now. And i hate every moment of it.

I can type more of my thoughts up, but i wonder how much of myself i am willing to reveal online. Perhaps some other time when my neck's not hurting and when i'm slightly more awake. Thanks for listening.

It only gets worse

2007-03-17T12:32:00.000+11:00

Being falsely misled into believing that the role of Team Liaison Assistant only entails providing assistance to my international teams whilst empowering them to take responsibility of their own competition, I was not ready to spend a great deal of time in this position.

Taking a day off uni to attend a team leader meeting at the Melbourne Town Hall was already itself a massive effort. I haven’t been a very active person as of late, and if I had a choice between sitting on my bum in a daunting lecture or walking around the city, I would choose to sit – unless of course, if walking was integrated with shopping. Arriving at the hotel to pick up the Chinese synchro team, I realised I made a big blooper. Without utilising my specs which I should’ve, I glanced tentatively around the lightly lit hotel lobby overflowing with international athletes and assistances, wondering where my Chinese team was. It is rather unlikely that anyone would have difficulty identifying an Asian team, but I struggled. Not because I couldn’t see a bunch of girls with black hair, small eyes, dressed in red and yellow uniform, but because I didn’t recognised their international code name. CHI, which I have assumed the Chinese Team to be coded under all along, stood for Chile. How stupid I felt. I felt even more stupid after spending hours organising and compiling transport and training schedules for the wrong team.

Anyhow, not to be caught up with my silliness, I introduced myself to the CHN team (otherwise also known as PRC), and to my dismay, none of them spoke English. Nonetheless, with such an extensive history of studying at Chinese school, I managed to pull off with enormous effort an awkwardly strung together load of Chinese words. With a sigh of relief, they understood.

Finally arriving at the MTH, I acted host and guided and seated my team before venturing off once again, frantically search for my Macau and Korean teams who were no where to be seen five minutes before the commencement of the meeting. Shit.

Fingers crossed that they were somewhere in the room, there was still hope. A person with a strong European accent rose from his chair and announced a role call. Oh shit. For a moment, I thought I could get away without being identified as a bad team liaison assistant, but I was simply fooling myself. All the teams announced, including my Macau team, reported being present once their names were called, but silence proceeded Korea. I sunk into my chair.

That wasn’t the worst of it yet.

Yesterday was the last training day for all synchro teams before competition and I was yet to make contact with the Korean Team despite numerous attempts with leaving messages and voice mails at the hotel. After finishing my organisation of the other two teams, I made my way to the beautifully dull Sports Information Desk and asked if Korea had come by to collect paperwork. The French lady behind the desk jolted up with a smile, grabbed a pile of untouched paperwork from Korea’s pigeon hole and plopped it on the desk in front of me.

“They are the only team who have not come by at all,” said the lady with a strong accent, smiling, “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Neither do I,” I replied disappointingly.
“Well, I hope they’ve handed in their routine summary forms today,” she said.
“Umm…routine summary forms?”
“Yeah, deadline’s 4pm today, that’s umm…in an hours time.”
“Oh no, crap. Excuse my French. Thanks for that.”

I dashed off into the city with only a vague idea of where the hotel is located. I really wouldn’t be surprised if I were to lose my way in the midst of the frantic rush. Russell street, Russell street, my mind was rattling away, where the hell is Russell street. I’ve been there billions of times. Shit, where is it??
I tram came to a halt at a familiar intersection. I looked around at road signs. Ohh, Russell Street . I hopped off with enormous relief and walked what seemed like miles up a hill until I reach Saville Hotel. I glanced at my watch 3:20pm. Awesome job! Okay, now where’s the team?

Huffing and puffing, I approached the old receptionist from FINA and asked to speak with the Korean Team Manager immediately. She understood my urgency, but was of no help. “Well, they left for the Crown Promenade about 10 minutes ago.”

Flustered I was and frustrated at this chasing game, I was in no mood for slow old people. I asked the lady when the next bus is due depart here to Crown. In the slowest slow-mo ever, she flicked through the manual as if she was analysing each page and struggled to read the twenty-four hour clock system. She eventually blurted out, “oh, you’re in for a wait dear, the next one won’t be till an hour later.”

Exhausted from watching the little old lady churn through those almighty pages of the transport timetable, I reminded myself not to ask another question or else I’ll be held back for another 10 minutes. I dialled Crown Promenade’s number and on the receiving on was another old lady volunteer. OMG. I have absolutely nothing against old people, but when you need to meet a deadline, they just seem to purposefully get in your way of everything. I tried to ask as little questions as possible, as that would demand too much of the old lady, so I simply and nicely asked her to keep the Korean Team there until I arrive.

Off onto another tram and another hike across a few streets and a bridge, my clock read 3:40pm, and the Crown Promenade was still beyond my sight – and that had nothing to do with whether or not I had my specs on. I could’ve burst out into tears of frustration and anger at my team’s disorganisation, which I do not take any of the blame for. But after some calming self talk, I let out a long sigh, shook my head and continued on my mission.

To cut a long story short, i eventually made it to my Korean team only to realise they didn't speak english, and our conversations comprised of slow, single english words, compounded with exaggerated gesturing. Not surprisingly, they didn't know about the routine summary forms, so i spent another two hours trying to sort it through with them, missing the deadline - but i cleverly contacted my supervisor and ensured that they were able to compete.

After what was already a very long day, i was starving and run-down, ready for some scrumptious free volunteer dinner. I was in anger and shock horror to find myself walking away from the counter with one single cold chicken wrap in my hand. They assumed that all volunteers wear sizes L, XL, and XXL, yet get by the day with a single wrap.

there's a first time for everything

2007-03-15T12:06:00.000+11:00

I have laughed at people getting kicked out of lecture all too often, and what goes around comes around, karma, or whatever you wish to call it, certainly came back and slapped me in the face.

Today, i came into uni for one lecture before needing to head off and meet my FINA team. I wouldn't usually make this kind of effort, but i thought it was half justifiable and necessary this time 'cause we have an assignment next week. But silly enough, after having a few words with the lecturer in front of the class, i decided to hold my stupid head up and walk out, but surprisingly or not so, it was a rather exhilirating experience. In hindsight, i think i would've gotten more thrill out of it if i did it with more attitude instead of taking my time to consider whether or not i should walk out.

For classmates who didn't realise i had to leave in 10 minutes anyhow would've thought i was a complete idiot, but for me, it was pure fun.

I shouldn't laugh at "the guy in the red top" ever again...

Fédération Internationale de Natation

2007-03-13T23:29:00.000+11:00

I rocked up late to all three FINA world championship training sessions.
I had to make last minute rescheduling of two training sessions.
I am a young, naive university student.

You would think that FINA supervisors would recognise the last point essentially translates into: inexperienced, unreliable, and with very limited availability, that they would have placed more responsibility on other more mature, middle-aged, determined adult volunteers. But, no; they picked me. Me out of the 16 other highly capable Team Liaison Assistants volunteers. A few days ago, i received an email:

Dear Leanne,

Yesterday I was informed that one of our Team Liaison Assistant has had to withdraw because she got a job (she has been looking for something in her field for 2 years). You came across to me as being a very organised and friendly person, so I thought you would be the best candidate to assume the responsibility of the team that is now Team Liaison Assistant-less.....namely, Korea. I have went ahead and assigned Korea to you. I hope you don't mind. I know you are up to the challenge. (What makes her think i'm up for the challenge is still a mystery)

Korea is arriving on 15 March at 11.30 and is staying at Saville on Russell. One of the challenges is making sure Korea, with such a late arrival, gets to the Team Leader Meeting. I don't know how it will happen, but don't stress over it.

As i read this email, i smiled blankly at the flashing monitor on the sunday afternoon, allowing myself the time to register what that meant. I already have two teams to look after, i don't need a third. Whilst i am very humbled by the fact that i apparantly appear to be very organised and friendly, i highly doubt the genuinity of such compliment from a stranger who had only seen me twice, both times which i turned up late to the meeting with mini-skirt, thongs and messed-up hair. For FINA supervisors, they tend not to hold back with their fake compliments if it means the job gets done.

Re-reading the last sentence, "i don't know what will happen, but don't stress over it." What the heck is that supposed to mean? Am i really supposed to not stress over it and let it slide pass, stuffing up and sabotaging the Korean synchro team?

Oh well. More time off uni for volunteering; what more can i ask for when i'm already falling behind with school work...

Anywho, after witnessing too much unimpressive lack of organisation already from FINA, i realise that nothing will be done until i get off my bum. I have spent a good hour or so yesterday and today calling up hotels and confirming team meetings and protocols.

Sometimes i wonder why i always take so damn much on my plate...

I really should give myself a break. I need a holiday.

the mall never fails to excite me

2007-03-08T20:09:00.000+11:00

Today was supposed to be my study day. Key word: was. But unfortunately i tend always to be highly excitable and easily persuaded, and my study took place in the myer instead - how tiring study can be!

I am a strong believer in retail therapy, however, as with all other remedies, there are certain criteria that must be met before it becomes of therapeutic use.

1) Be accompanied by a good friend.
2) Have a relatively heavy wallet, or
3) A loaded credit card
4) Time

Meeting two of the four criteria listed above is the minimum threshold upon where you get therapeutic benefits. Tonight is night shopping night in the city, so finishing uni at 3:30pm gave me plenty of shopping time, however, unfortunate as this may sound, time is no luxury when you are in a course like physiotherapy. So criteria 4 - out.

Needless to say criteria 2 and 3 are simply for rich people unlike myself.

So, i failed to reach threshold. In fact, even the tinniest excitement of being in the mall was harshly dampened when i tried on so many dresses, only to find that the one i like had to be the most expensive one. Prices ranged from AU$35 to AU$160. I liked the $160 one. It's no good having expensive taste these days when you have such a limited budget.

I always envy those who win $2000 cash for a shopping spree on radio broadcasts. Just sit back and imagine. *sighs* if only.

Just thought you boys would be interested to know...

2007-03-08T19:57:00.000+11:00

According to British MATE research on 10,000 people:

Women form deep and lasting friendships while men make fickle friends over a beer. Friendships between women is much deeper and more moral: it's about the relationship itself rather than what they can get out of it. They tend to keep friends through thick and thin across geography and social mobility. Men on the other hand, are more fickle and "calculating" with their relationships and seem more interested in "what's in it for me."

me in a thinking mode

2007-03-03T19:00:00.000+11:00

It seems that the ability we are so fond of calling talent, or even genius, arises not from innate gifts, but from an interplay of natural ability, quality instruction and a whole mountain of hard work. It happens because some critical things line up so that good intelligence transforms into achieving extraordinary mastery. Geniuses don't necessarily have an exceptionally high IQ or ability, but they almost always have an incredible investment of effort. Thus, geniuses are made, not born.

Knowledge is highly regarded in today's society. Knowledge, along with experience, are critical components in the determination of your success, status and perhaps even satisfication of work and life in general. As one of my friends would say:

"With knowledge comes power; With power comes corruption."

strange habits

2007-03-03T18:47:00.000+11:00

Recently i have become more attuned to my strange little habits, some of which i find rather interesting:

1. I love looking into the mirror when i eat, particularly when using chopsticks or spoons, 'cause it makes me look left-handed.

2. I find enormous satisfaction when i manage to get a seat on the train that's on the window side, so that i may snuggle in and enjoy a short nap.

3. I crack my toes before sleeping and i crack my back prior to getting out of bed.

4. I twiddle my two little toes when i eat something nice; especially when lying down.

5. My pupils dilate and i stare into space when i'm thinking very hard or when procrastinating.

More to add to the list as i learn more about myself...

first aid

2007-02-27T22:39:00.000+11:00

It is 7:30am on a tuesday morning. My eyelids are as heavy as lead as i broad the heated and packed connex train, reluctantly making my way into town for an 8am start to a long uni day ahead. Thoughts of coffee and caffeine and chocolate swivelled round and round in my mind as i rested my sleepy eyes, whilst standing. After a few stations, i very very unwillingly opened my eyes, turn to the right and noticed a women glaring at me. OMG whatthehell?!?! i thought, then something in me tweeked and i sensed trouble. I cringed and politely diverted my gaze out the window.

Then it happened and i caught the action with the corner of my eye.

The young lady fell backwards and collapsed amongst a sea of business-attired men and women, each too busy and wrapped up in their thoughts to realise what had fallen onto them. The collapsed but concious lady lay there on the floor, straining her neck muscles to hold her head up against gravity, glaring down her line of sight; which was directly at me. I felt uneasy. Amongst the crowd, i heard a middle-aged man's voice blurt out "Is there a doctor here?" No response. No one moved.

I stood there for a glimpse of a second, thinking that someone more experienced than myself would pop out of nowhere and help this lady, that i probably wasn't capable of dealing with an emergency. But whatthefuck, no one moved - not even to make room for the sick lady. I dashed passed a few seats, crouched down and made sure she was breathing.

Me: "Are you okay?"
No response.
Me: "Can you talk to me?"
Lady: small trembling nod.
Me: "Can you tell me your name?"
Lady: "Natasha."
Me: "Natasha, have you got any medications on you?"
Natasha: "No.."
Me: "Do you know what happened?"
Natasha: disorientated
Me: "Are you still feeling light headed or dizzy?"
Natasha: "A little"
Me: "Here, (making a little cushion with her trench coat), lie down are rest your head. Bend your knees, that'll help a little." Have you eaten this morning?
Natasha: "Yeah"
Me: "It's probably because of the heat in here, make sure you get plenty of water and don't get up too quickly."
Natasha: "Thanks."

All of a sudden i felt like i had a pair of wings on my back. (hehe..no, not really, but i just really wanted to say that) As much as i was disappointed and almost to the stage that i was annoyed at the reactions of other passengers, and in awe at the fact that no-one attempted to help out, i was quietly proud at how i managed the situation so calmly and steadily. All those CPR dreams must've helped out.

As i made my way to the exit at my station, a young man caught my sight. "Good work back there," he complimented. I thanked him with a smile and left.

a harsh job underlying a beautiful title

2007-02-18T14:10:00.000+11:00

Since i have nothing better to do with what little time i have left since recommencing uni and work *cough cough*, i decided to take on an important volunteer position with the FINA World Championships which starts in three weeks time. I am appointed as the Team Liasion Assistant for the Chinese and Macau synchronised swimming teams. I should feel privileged, honoured, and proud to hold such an important position, acting as an embassador for my birth country, but oddly, i'm actually a little afraid that i might not be able to do a good job at it and live up to the expectations.

I attended two training sessions this week, a volunteer induction session and a role specific training, both of which overwhelmed me - in particular, the role specific training gave me a small freight, after which my definition of "assistant" changed dramatically.

I am appointed as the team leader/liasion assistant for China and Macau, despite my inadequate and relatively poor ability to speak mandarin. Initially, i thought this position only required me to assist, as the title would falsely suggest, but i unfortunately underestimated my own significance. On arrival to the training session, i was greeted with a folder thick of information regarding my role and responsibilities - a folder that i must revise and memorise completely before the commencement of the World Championships, on top of my ridiculous uni workload.

To put it harshly, a team liasion assistant is equivalent of a slave; in my case, i'm a slave for the chinese and macau synchronised swimming team for 2 weeks. I need to organise my contacts with them, phone them on arrival, meet with their team coach and manager, ensure their full knowledge with all championship procedures, direct them to training sessions, take them on a venue tour, and even do their paper work and make sure everything is on time - to the second.

I have been in leadership positions before, but always with someone overlooking me, ensuring everything runs smoothly and to protocols. This time, i am alone. I need to make contacts myself, organise times myself, and ensure everything runs smoothly, myself. As you may be able to tell from the tone of this post, i am freaking out as much as i am looking forward to it. But no doubt, this will be a wonderful opportunity.

vista magic

2007-02-18T13:34:00.000+11:00

Normally i'm a really stubborn person and when i decide on something, no one can change my mind. But recently, my indecisiveness in a major investment that will draw a huge crater in my savings account have frustrated me, and pushed me to my limits. Two months ago i said i'll buy a laptop. Within those two months, i switched from wanting to purchase a PC instead, back to laptop, then to PC, and then, last week i told myself i'll put the thought on hold.

Impulsive as i am, yesterday i woke up and drove out to Elsternwick to buy myself the Asus F3JP laptop. I have no idea what came over me and i still do not know, but either way, the purchase is made and my account savings have dropped so dramatically that it's depressing to even think about it. I better get good use out of this little expensive gadget.

Suffice for uni purposes, this 15.4" LCD wide screen comes with the currently unbeatable Intel Core2Duo, 1GB RAM, 80GB HDD, ATIX1700 graphics, bluetooth and all the other fancy features, plus a pre-installed version of the new and latest overly-excited and overly-advertised Windows accomplishment - Windows Vista Home Premium. Being haplessly incompetent with even the most basic of basic computer knowledge, i had to spend two months researching before even understanding what RAM was for, let alone understanding the purpose of Windows making yet another huge memory-comsuming upgrade. Now i understand.

With this new upgrade, you get a fancy windows media centre for high-class theatre style viewing of recorded tv programs, DVD, music downloads, radio systems and gaming devices. Along with which is vibrant outstanding colour and graphics quality, fade in-and-out screen changes, analogue clock on display and a high-speed easy-to-use search engine. It offers parental feautres such as set curfews and restricted R access to certain websites - which obviously doesn't affect me - and an upgraded version of virus protection for the notebook.

Is it worth the upgrade? i hear you mutter. My verdict through research and first-hand experience, don't bother if you are getting the normal vista home basic - aptly named as it literally is so basic to the point that there is no point. If you are considering, get Home premium but make sure memory on your system is suffice, and if you are purchasing a new PC, why not get vista with it...

Two months ago, i had no idea what RAM was... and my advice in the previous paragraph only goes to show how much crap can be published on websites and reviews from those who know so little...

P.S. i must extend my thanks to ROE for making my purchase possible

reasons to vent

2007-02-16T17:24:00.000+11:00

I am immensely saddened by my failure to blog as much as I had hoped to recently. I blame it on uni. There is no point in complaining, but, what the heck, I’m going to anyway. Uni is expecting us to pre-read and post-read chunk-load of journal articles and lengthy chapters in textbooks on a weekly basis. By chunk-load, I mean, if we read two articles per night, roughly two hours on each, seven nights a week, I will fall behind – which is exactly the situation I am in right now.

I purchased two textbooks a few hours ago, adding up to approximately $AU200. Why I need to buy them when there’s a library, you may ask… well, unfortunately there’s plenty of selfish dickheads roaming around the biomedical library, cleverly looking well ahead of lecture dates and getting the books before us, and cunningly hiding textbooks on obscure shelves on a different storey. And ‘cause I haven’t been able to get to the books or even find them in the first place amongst other self-inflicted excuses, I am almost seven chapters behind. Mind you, it’s only the second week back.

Okay, enough of complaining.

Actually, give me couple more paragraphs.

Full of energy and enthusiasm to catch up with school work, I very diligently gave myself a good sleep last night, visit the GP and then go into uni early to study for a few hours before work. As luck would have it, my train was delayed by 10mins. That was fine. But when it eventually arrived and we hopped on, the ‘express’ train slowly crawled its way into town along the railways at an estimated 20km/h. Think of a car running so low on fuel that it can only manage another kilometer: that was how slow the train was. I could’ve cycled faster than it. First, I thought that must be just for this station, but NO, it crawled for another few more k’s, then an announcement came through:

“Folks, I usually don’t cruise around at this speed, but there is a malfunctioning axial thing on the front of this train and it is not safe to go any faster than this. In fact, it is not safe even at this speed. Bear with it for the mean time and we will be terminating at Caufield.”

What the Hell?! I’m not surprised that there’s yet another malfunctioning of a connex train, but I am deeply shocked that I didn’t get to hear, “Connex apologises for any inconvenience caused.” They apologise so often that the apology has become meaningless – in fact, it’s almost a joke now:

Last year, I walk into PBL late:
Other group members: “oooh…late are we?”
Me: “Connex apologises.”

So, after an hour and ten minutes trip into town (that should’ve taken 25mins), I rocked up 45mins late to my appointment and 2 hours late for my pre-planned study time. I wonder if I can possibly sue connex for interruption of my studies…

love-hearts?

2007-02-15T00:38:00.000+11:00

It seems that every article I pick up close to or on the very special day of Valentine are either published out of hatred or are completely underestimating the significance of the occasion. Me? As with every other girl, Valentine’s Day is probably one that’s marked on my calendar if I had a date, but this year, I chose to erase it with a thick black texa.

Firstly, how many of you actually know how Valentine’s Day came about? In short, it’s a legend about Saint Valentine conducted marriages for couples during the period of time the Roman Empire set the law that all young men should remain single. Saint Valentine refused to obey and was sentenced to death. Before he died, he wrote a note and signed it off with “From Your Valentine” to a girl who visited him regularly whilst he was imprisoned. He died on February 14.

It’s strange how we would even think of celebrating his death, and even more weird if you ask me how roses and chocolates came about. Today, Valentine’s is simply a day where Cabury, Lindt and florists are entitled to escalate their RRP ten times, guys aren’t laughed at for carrying flowers, public smooching is cool, gifts are exchanged and restaurants make big bucks. But for those without a date, it’s an uneasy day on public transport, particularly during dinner time when everyone is paired up, a day where you feel lonely and depressed.

So what’s so good about such an occasion? Guys seem to get all caught up and frustrated with the organisation for the day, to impress their lady, to buy the right gift, and to the right things. As for girls, I must say we’ve got the easy part of sitting and mentally preparing ourselves for the big surprise. Well, as for comfort to the boys out there, you really don’t need to bog down on the nitty gritty stuff; a simple morning kiss, surprise her with some flowers and/or chocolates, take her for a picnic and perhaps a stroll along the coastline and drive her home. It’s the time together that counts – or perhaps I’m just too simple: It’s the simple things in life we forget – Usher.

Allow me to ask this silly question, why a heart?

Who the heck chose an ugly bodily organ, all gooey, mooshed up and covered with yellow fatty clogged up atherosclerotic vessels to be a symbol of such great significance? Further more, there is no resemblance whatsoever between the symbol and our real organ. For argument sake, what’s wrong with the pancreas or liver; also essential parts of our body, it’s function is as complex and mysterious as love itself.

it hurt me more than her

2007-02-12T20:53:00.000+11:00

I knew it would've been silly for us to hang on and make her hang in there; i knew it was time to let go, but however much i tried to mentally prepare myself for it, it was still not enough to stop the tears from flowing this morning.

My heart beat quicker than usual waking up to the alarm. It must've been some sort of biological system kicking in, attempting to calm my nerves or something. I rushed to get ready, hoping to spend as much time with her before leaving. I thought i was fine. I rehearsed it all mentally last night, and the night before; wake up, wash face, eat breakfast, put her into the car, drive off, fill in the forms, walk out and go to uni. But i came to pieces as i walked out into the backyard and called for her. She waddled, slowly, but happily to me, lightly panting after bathing in the early morning sun on the dirt. She looked fine; she's not ready to leave us, i thought.

I gave her a nice big cuddle, and guided her out into my car. She straddled very slowly behind me, and couldn't managed jumping into the car. Her tail continued to wag though. I think her experience would have been similar to that of the prisoner off the green mile - at least for the prisoner, he knew what was awaitng him. For lucki, she didn't even know this morning was her last day at home, with her family, and in this world - for all she knew, she could've been anticipating a nice morning stroll in the park.

I told myself to be strong. I convinced myself that this is the best thing i can offer lucky - to relieve her of the pain and agony she was going through. But i broke down when the Vet asked me a rhetorical question; "so you decided to put her down?" To that i replied with a muffled hum, burying my forehead into lucki, who was resting comfortably on the metal plinth. The vet kindly left the room for lucki and i to have out last moment together, during which lucki was as lively as ever. She twitched and turned, rested in my arms and licked my hand. If only we could all be so clueless.

The vet returned with a syringe filled with a green general anesthetic. She shaved a portion of lucki's fur on her leg for a clear view of the injection point. Lucki hated it, and i was so glad i was there to comfort her. I held her close to me , resting against my chest and in my arms as the deadly green liquid pumped in and around her body, paralysing her muscles, and soon her hind legs weakened and i caught her weight with my hands. She rested nicely on the metal table, panting. Unexpectedly, the vet yanked out another syringe, another one filled with the same green poison. The panting progressively slowed to a halt as the second dose flowed through her veins, and her nose stopped wiggling. No longer did she need to endure the pain of the massive cancerous lump that was munching away her flesh. She rested, in peace.

As hard as it was to be present during the euthansia, i think that was the last thing lucki could have asked me to do for her. It probably hurt me more than the injection hurt her, but i can't imagine leaving her in the hands of a stranger during her last moment and facing death alone - just like what my family did to me, i am made to endure this pain alone. Though i was a peaceful death, i believe she needed me there by her side to cuddle her and to comfort her - and i didn't let her down.

More than a friend.It is so hard letting you go.
6th November 1998 - 12th February 2007

the tough decision coming to a close

2007-02-06T17:24:00.000+11:00

Recalling my post a few months ago about my dog's condition, today, i have made the decision. However much i hate to decide on such issues, i knew that i'm the only one in the family who's willing to say anything about it.

After a few deep breaths, i picked up the phone and dialed my Vet's number. A lady picked up on the other line and i jumped straight to the question, trying hard to sound brave (yes, sometimes i hate being seen as weak), "I've taken my dog in to see the vet a few times. She's got cancer, and it's progressing really quickly. She's in pain, and isn't coping well anymore. I'm considering euthanasia and i want to enquire about the options."

The kind receptionist over the phone gave me a calm spiel, assuring me that the procedure is incredibly painless, i quote, and simply an overdose of general anaesthetic with which Lucki will literally fall asleep. She informed me on the packages they offered, the costs and the opportunity for me to be present at the time of euthanasia. I didn't reply to that one - I'm considering being by her side as she leaves me, but i don't know whether i can handle the pain, considering that tears are welling up as i'm typing this out.

I don't know what i'm supposed to be feeling nor what i'm supposed to do. Please enlighten me.

the open experience

2007-02-06T15:49:00.000+11:00

As a program seller, my position required me to stand and yell for 4.5 hours every shift with a mere 15 min break in between, just enough to queue up for relieving the bladder then return back to my stand and work. Daunting it may sound, but fortunately with my intelligence and highly trained bumming abilities, that only applied for my first shift, there after, i quickly learnt ways to escape work whilst appearing to be working. Let me explain.

Selling program is potentially a dreadful task when you don't know the tricks of the trade, as i put it. It's not all laughs and fun when you spend almost 5 hours standing on a red stand with a program book held up high in the air, while you scream out, "Official programs for $15, players profiles, feature articles, honour's roles, food discounts, everything you need to know, here for $15!" Then 30 seconds later, you yell out the same content in a different order.

Often tennis fans either
1. Grease you off as if you are an idiot
2. completely ignore you even when you go up to them and greet them personally
3. subtly formulate a semicircle around your stand away from your ear-piercing attempts at selling, or worse,
4. stare at you for a little while then laugh in your face

After a few hours, you quickly learn that selling programs is about tactics and the amount of books you sell that day is certainly not proportional to how much effort you put into yelling. And then you pick up the idea that there are ways to make a daunting day fun:

1. When fans grease you off, you laugh in their face.

2. To the fans who deliberately and rudely ignore you, you laugh in their face, or chase after them and annoy them even more until you get a response, good or bad.

3. When yelling into the crowd gets boring, yell at your selling buddy and start a fight - simliar to the "penis" game where you try to out-yell one another.

4.Those who embrass you by laughing in your face, you laugh louder and stronger at them until their laughter cease.

5. When sales go down, yell out, "They're going like hot cakes, this is your only chance to get one now. Only $15!" even when it is blindly obvious how many unopened boxes are piled up behind you.

6. Cease yelling and working to chat when supervisors disappear around the corner. Keep an eye out for when they return.

7. Make conversations with supervisors. Smile and nod at them even when the conversation goes in one ear and out the other, and try hard to laugh at their attempts to be funny.

8. Instead of wasting 10 minutes queuing up in the bathroom, pay a visit to your bar friends and score free pizza and coffee during your break, return to your stand and eat and drink in front of buddied up supervisors, then ask for a toilet break later that shift - trust me, they won't refuse if you act desperate enough.

9. Amuse yourself by craving into cardboard boxes with stanley knives.

10. Drink lots of water in front of the supervisors and act tired at the end of your shift, pretending that you have worked oh so hard, even if you have the energy to line up 2 hours at the garnier line as soon as you sign out.

Following my own ten commandments, the 10 shifts i worked at the Aus Open actually turned out really well, despite the sweltering heat and chilling cold weather conditions. At the same time i worked at the aus open, i managed to juggle my usual reception job at the clinic simultaneously. I'd jump from one job to the other, some days working a total of 14 hours, waking to the early morning sun and returning home well after sunset. But entangled in all the mess and physical exhaustion, i have come to realise the significance of the existence of coffee in this busy little world of mine. I literally thrived on hot caffeinated drinks even when purchasing one and waiting in line meant i'd arrive late to work.

The two weeks came to a perfect ending when i found out that i was one of the top 12 sellers, scoring a movie ticket pass and further possibly job opportunities along with the almost $400 worth of clothing, which come to prove my mastery in subtle and useful bludging techniques.

yes, i'm tired

2007-02-05T21:06:00.000+11:00

I landed back onto dry melbourne soil after a week in brisbane yesterday morning, only to find myself dashing around clumsily and sleepily, trying to prepare myself for uni today.

warning: you will laugh at this one

I came home from uni today and hit the sacks at 5:30pm. I rolled over, twitched and jolted up when the big red digital clock in my face read 7:02. Crap, uni today. Do i start at 8am or 9am. Shit, i'm late. I forced myself to roll off the bed; which was the only way that i'd actually get up, and stood there in the midst of my chaotic room staring out my window, as you do when you're late. Strangely, there was no hint of a glaring summer's sunrise, instead the sunbeams resembled what i have learnt to be sunset. It took me a good few seconds to realise, after which of course, i flopped back into bed and rested my eyes.

I thought i needed an alarm clock that would release a hammer and hit my head when the alarm goes off; now, i need a twenty-four hour clock with a hammer.

P.S. thanks for the pressie nelly, you know me better than i know myself!

Still yet to come are posts about my work at aus open and brissy trip. Stay tuned, and i must extend a warm apology to those who have been visiting my boring unchanged blog these couple of weeks!

if only i was a bear

2007-01-21T20:04:00.000+11:00

I had such an interesting day today:

Woke up at 9am. Got out of bed at 9:30am.
Ate.
Drove to my students' house for two hours of tutoring, which lasted 2.5 hrs instead.
Came home at 12:45pm.
Ate.
Napped for 5 hrs.
Woke up.
Ate.
Blog.
Ready for bed.

I'm physically exhausted after such a busy week; i even called shopping off! Crazy, i know. If only i was a bear, then all the accumulated hours of over-sleeping last week could possibly been put to use this week.

a few glorious seconds of my life

2007-01-20T22:40:00.000+11:00

He is so cute. I can't believe i spent so long waiting to just get a glimpse of him, just to stroll past him with a 1m desk separating the two of us. Omg, he smiled at me. I yanked out my camera phone. Forever saved in my phone, Roger Federa. *smiles*

it's not always as good as it sounds...

2007-01-17T08:24:00.000+11:00

I'm not quite sure how i'm managing to muster up any energy to write this post after a long day at work yesterday; perhaps it's the mocha-burst i'm getting at the moment or maybe like a heroin addict, no matter how lifeless i am, i still need my fix of blogging to feel complete.

Yesterday was my first day working as a program seller at the open, and trust me, it's hardly as fun as it sounds. Firstly, i haven't worn a uniform for two years since graduating from high school and secondly, after quitting maccas, i have never had to listen or follow anyone's instructions at work. Yesterday, i had to do both.

Small talk

Work began under the nice morning sun, stacking and organising program booklets with a nice girl i was paired up with. She was the most conversable person there and we laughed and joke with one another as though we had know eachother for years. For a glimpse of a second with her, i was actually excited about spending the day there yelling enthusiastically selling programs. But my luck ran out an hour into my shift when i was told that i'm actually supposed to be at the stand inside the vodafone arena with another guy, Ryan. Great, i thought for a second - out of the sun into an airconditioned arena.

I met Ryan and the two of us sat down inside, again stacking booklets as the way-too-excited tennis fans start accumulating outside the gates that were due to open in an hour's time. I tried to make conversation with this young lad still completing his VCE, but all i got were hardly one sentence answers. I stopped talking for a few minutes and he made no attempt. Being my friendly self and realising i will be spending another four hours with this guy, i figure i'll try again.

Me: "So what subjects are you taking this year?"
Ryan: "Umm..ecomonics, p.e, methods, english, biology..."
Me: "cool, keeping your options open. You know what you wanna get into?"
Ryan: "Hoping to do physio"

Massive wave of relief swept through me, realising that we have a common interest to build our conversation over. Physio saved the day, i tell you. Conversation unravelled and he actually started talking.

Sales

I think i would make quite an excellent sales person if i really wanted to - if. I strolled slowly around the arena holding the programs high up in the air - sort of yelling - at least for the first two hours. With plenty of practice back in high school, i can project my voice quite loudly. Though not shouting at the top of my voice - simply because of the lack of enthusiasm - i realised i grasped the attention of many tennis fans, and before i know it, i was surrounded with customers, whilst lazy Ryan shouted occasionally, waiting for customers to come to him. That was until he realised i was making a lot more sales than him, and it was then that he decided to swap places with me so that he walks around selling while i straddle around our stand waiting. As the fans died down, we did too. A couple of hours into selling, however much enthusiasm we had to begin with dropped to nil. We both decided to wait for customers to come to us behind the stand rather than making the effort of walking around and yelling. We chatted and laughed and couldn't care less if we sold any programs - if people wanted to purchase a program booklet, they will come to us, i thought.

At one stage, our supervisor came around and told me off for leaning on the stand, looking unprofessional. We waited for her to go before Ryan and i bursted out laughing. Each time we spotted the event managers around the corner, we would somehow muster up the energy again to yell, walk, smile and actually do what we were supposed to do, but only until the managers disappeared around the other corner. With a sigh of relief, Ryan and i would return to our stand and wait again. By the end of the shift, i experienced dejavu, a compelling sense of familiarity smiliar to what i felt after my first shift working at Big W - i don't want to come back tomorrow. Fortunately, this time i don't need to type up a resignation letter after two weeks, 'cause it'll be over by then.

Thank goodness.

annoying creatures of this earth

2007-01-16T20:42:00.000+11:00

If you are a fly, then fly properly damn it! Don't hover around peoples' noses in slow motion as if you trust us so much that we won't dirty our hands in killing you. We will. You have made me so paranoid now that every strand of hair that blows into my face, i shake my head and wave my hands about as if i'm a crazy women on the streets suffering from spontaneously impulsive cervical cramps.

If you want to die, then die quietly somewhere else. *grunts*

Oz Open

2007-01-15T19:58:00.000+11:00

Slipping on my Australian Open uniform, i stared absent-mindedly into the mirror at myself. I looked like a kid in my bright orange top, basketball shorts and sunnies. A complex mixture of enthusiasm, excitment and uneasiness flowed through me. I wasn't sure exactly how i'm supposed to be feeling; if there is ever a correct feeling. I was certainly excited a few hours ago, but now, i think i'm somewhat dreading tomorrow's first morning shift.

A few months ago whilst trying my luck looking for new students to tutor, i chanced upon a website that was recruiting australian open program sellers. I have never been to the AusOpen let alone know what the such a prestigious position of program seller meant. I applied anyway; just to experience the thrill of the interviewing process. Luckily, i was one of the many who were selected to attend a group interview.

Under the influence of peer pressure, i almost fell into the temptation of watching Grey's Anatomy at College and let my only chance of getting the job inadvertently slip away. But somehow i resisted. I rushed to the group interview, arriving at the Herald Weekly Towers a few minutes late, sweating from dashing around in the 35 degree celcius heat outside. Nonetheless, i made it there. Unaware of what to expect, a group of 25 of us prospective employees were ushered into a large broadroom. We sat around making small talk with those around us, trying to ease the rather tense and competitive atmosphere. Being one of the 'elders' of the pack, i felt slightly out of place in a room full of Year 11 and Year 12 students in their blazers.

After a few long minutes of more subtle desperate attempts at making conversation with our neighbouring strangers who may well be our future workmates, a strict looking middle-aged lady walked up on stage, whose voice projected like standing waves sweeping through the room. Who needs a microphone? After a short introduction and low down on what the role of a program seller incorporated, we were instructed to flip our name tags over and look at the words behind it. Mine said Singer - like or dislike.

Kathy: "Okay, now guess what? (excitedly) Everyone's going to make a 1 minute speech on the topic on the back of your name tags. On stage."
Me: thinking, crap crap crap, what did i get myself into...
Kathy: "We'll be taking notes. Now this is your chance to show what a good program seller you will be. If you don't think you can do this, then you shouldn't consider this job. Those of you can leave now if you wish, but if you stay, you'll have to be enthusiastic."
Me: scanning around the room, praying that someone would walk out, whom i would gratefully follow with relief.
Kathy: "Okay, let's start from this side of the room."
Me: crap.

Like all my other previous public speaking encounters, i spoke, though loudly, my voice was obliviously shaking against my will, i was trembling with nervousness and my palms were sweating profusely. I spoke about nothing; just hopelessly stringing together a whole bunch of words, forming what is know as broken sentences. I've had so many chances of improving my public speaking skills at high school as captain, but never have i taken it seriously. Nor did i have the ability to improve.

Miraculously, my appalling attempt at talking in front of a small class won me the job. I am an official australian open program seller. And tomorrow is my first shift. Apparently we are awarded with something (fingers crossed that they are free passes) if our sales exceed last years'. I think the incentives of being a part of the aussie open is what i actually look forward to; free passes, icy poles, free everything - not the actual job itself.

I am nervous, excited, anxious, and longing...for a sleep in.

Wish me luck.

smash the penguin

2007-01-10T21:13:00.000+11:00

If you wish to cure holiday boredom, or simply looking for something to fill in time, check this game out. Juvenille, i know, but addictive and com'on, you get to smash the penguins!

Go to google >> type in "optus turbocharge games" >>get addicted

photos. gone.

2007-01-09T15:27:00.000+11:00

Photos are memories. Memories that one refuse to forget for a lifetime, until alzheimers strike. I look back at the photos i have and recall each moment so vividly that i often let out some kind of smile or muffled self giggling, or they occasionally throw me into a melancholy mood where unintended tears are shed over some long lost happy times. But out of the hundreds i took last year, less than a quarter remain embedded in my memory collection, the rest disappeared along with a failure of the hard drive, never to be looked upon again.

Little Miss n Mr

2007-01-09T14:39:00.000+11:00

Sciurine: Little Miss Giggles

Gneake: Mr Forgetful (If only there was a Mr Mumble!)

RoE: Little Miss Whoops

PoO (hehe): Mr Happy

Man: Little Miss Wise

San: Little Miss Naughty

Compliments of http://www.mrmen.com/site/flash/

offsetting our carbon to save the world?

2007-01-08T22:13:00.000+11:00

I have recently chanced upon an article that strongly endorses the idea of carbon offsetting by the Climate Friendly company. The proposal is simple. Climate Friendly will be offering services to calculate the amount of carbon an individual or business emits, then offsets this by investing in a renewable energy project to prevent the equivalent amount from being released into the atmosphere. Sounds like a clever idea, doesn't it?

Well, it essentially comes down to the penny. For every international and domestic flight we aboard, each individual will need to pay a surcharge to cover for the cost of an offset. Same applies to driving cars, taking public transport, cooking et cetera et cetera. Apparently this proposal empowers each one of us polluters of the world to take responsibilty for our own emissions. How realistic is this solution to climate change? I have my doubts. Surely this is some sort of solution, but simply a solution to allow customers to rid their guilt of poluting the world, without truly attempting to change their environmentally destructive behaviours. It is likened to "giving money to the RSPCA so you can keep kicking your dog."

Be a judge for yourself.

i never do the right thing, do i?

2007-01-05T17:21:00.000+11:00

There was a very uncomfortable, awkward, and unwelcoming silence around the house today. Dad and my two brothers were at work, so that left Mum and i at home. Normally, it's a nice girl's time together where mum just long-windedly blab on and complain about my older brother, how he never contributes to the family and how she can't wait till he moves out, but today was different; she woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It's strange/funny that when one thing goes wrong, a million others follow. Is it one of those murphy's laws again? I had a terrible start to the day with a phone call and everything from there onwards went down hill.

Typical conversations today with mum went like this:

Me: cheerily, "mum, i'm going out for a run. Be back soon."
Mum: silence.
I leave.

Come back. Take out some socks i bought the other day.
Me: "Look, i brought new socks."
Mum: crankily, "well then throw out your old socks, or else you just keep buying and keep piling it up. you're a girl you know, you need to keep your room clean. You always go out when you have free time, why don't you...la la la.."
I couldn't make out the rest of the lecture 'cause i decided to do my routine walk away from the noise source move. I wonder how the socks triggered such cranky talk.

Desperately attempting to be a good girl, i decided to hand wash all my worn clothes, after which i went up to mum, again.
Me: nicely, "i'm gonna change my bed sheets, anything you need to put in the washing machine?"
Mum: grunts.
Me: *sighs*
Mum: "don't you sigh at me. i raised you up and looked after you and blah blah blah."

Still awaiting an answer. No answer. Fine. Walks away from crime scene.

A moment later

Mum: yells from the kitchen, "why don't u take your doona out in the sun for a while as well. you know you should do all these things yourself. I'm not going to care about it anymore. you're old enough..la la la.."
Me: wtf?

A few moments later

Me: "how about i make lunch for us today?"
Mum: rather angrily, "what?"
Me: "i saw some vegies and stuff in the fridge, i'll just put today a tuna pasta salad. You want some too?"
Mum: "do whatever you want."
Me: *darts eyes*

Silence.

I honestly have no idea what to make of our conversations today, if they can even be classified as conversations as such. It's not like i've been particularly rebellious these few days. I admit, sometimes i do have attitude but i never talk back. Never. I obey them. I wake up at 6:50am a few days a week to drive my younger brother to work, i drive mum and dad to the station and pick them up, i let them take my car whenever they need it, i do my chores, i pay my monthly contribution to the family even when i have hardly any income, i pay the water bills. I seriously don't know what to do anymore. Should i be doing more? Have i done the wrong thing and if so, what exactly is the right thing to do?

I just don't understand. It tears me up to bits on the inside. Don't get me wrong, i know they love me and all, but it's just moments like today that i feel shredded to pieces.

I never seem to do the right things these days. Never. Everything is wrong in one way or another, no matter how hard i try. When bad things happen between friends, you can find escape in the comfort of your own home, but when bad things happen at home, where do you escape to?

I am full of hatred at the moment. And tears are welling up inside of me. Luckily, my Blue Day Book offers me some consolation at times like these. I'm going to spend the next two hours out in some unknown park immersing myself into a novel of some kind. My way of escape and freedom. Just wished i had some company, someone to just sit in silence with me.

Oh well.

rethinking the definition of privacy

2007-01-03T21:54:00.000+11:00

Have you ever paused half way through a deep and meaningful and have a good look at who you are actually speaking to? Until today, i haven't. I've realised how strange it is that i feel so free in expressing the deepest of my thoughts to friends, workmates, and even strangers, but not to my parents. It's not 'cause we're not close or anything. They're loving, caring and understanding, but i simply refuse to sit down and let them know what really goes through my mind. In fact, it has come to the extent where i can confidently claim that my friends probably know me better than my family in some respect. Sad, but i assume it's one of those phases a teenager goes through. Now is a perfect example. As i hit the publish button on the post, i am sharing my thoughts to potentially millions of people out there, millions of strangers, but i do not hesitate for a second.

We are currently in an era of advancing technology, and as we become more and more tolerant of online openness, we witness a shift in attitudes and a rethinking of what we consider private. Facebook, MySpace, YouTube, Blogger et cetera are interconnecting millions and millions of people around the globe, converting what is a big world into a small one. We meet friends of friends of friends over instant messenging, read and leave comments on stranger's blog.

As newspapers report more stories about students being kicked out of their courses and bloggers being sacked because of their online revelations, users like us, might well feel compelled to tighten up on our online privacy and reconsider the issues we blog about. However, what we witness is the complete opposite. Blog posts are becoming more and more personal, with random people openly revealing their work, family, school and sex life, sexual orientations, photos of their bodies, drugs, and alcohol usage. It may even be wise if detectives consider investing in a blogosphere unit, where they examine suspects' blogs and read about how they grow their weeds, what drugs they use and how they traffic it. If only such personal information can be presented as reliable evidence in the face of the judge in court.

Obviously, we are not as naive to believe everything we read. Some are true and others are a load bullshit, but that doesn't matter anymore in today's society. With such rapidly advancing technology, the line separating what is real and what is virtual is gradually fading. Who cares whether or not the blog we are reading is true or a figment of someone's imagination, it's simply another form of entertainment.

just another plain old day

2007-01-01T21:21:00.000+11:00

In comparison to last year's new years, this year sucked. In fact, more precisely, this year's festive season seemed a little dull to me. Nothing interesting, nothing exciting.

They say you don't need alcohol to have a good time, but yesterday, i think i could've done with just a tad in my system to stop the squirrel in my attic from rattling. To be honest, i'm just glad i didn't spend it by myself at home slouched on the couch, watching the count down and listening to the popping of champagne bottles in my neighbouring households.

A few months ago, i had grand plans for what was supposed to be a very special day today at the back of my mind. Sometimes, it's bad to make plans for the future, or sometimes, it's silly to even think too far ahead, for who knows what lies just around the corner, and the more excited you get over your plans, the more painful it is to see it fail. Today, i woke up at noon, lying in bed watching the ceiling in silence, feeling, hmm..i guess a little depressed. Time by yourself means time to think; and time to think is bad. So i picked up a Time magazine and immersed myself in some intellectual discussion about politics and the media. Rather boring i must admit, but it did help me past time. What a glorious start to the new year, but i'm certain it's uphill from here.

Most exciting thing this new year?

One, driving home at night without prescription glasses, straining my eyes so much that they ended up watering by the end of my fifteen minute trip. Two, receiving an overseas phone call from a friend i miss very much.

Chin up soldiers =)

gigabytes

2006-12-31T17:37:00.000+11:00

Technology has undeniably inbred itself cleverly into so many aspects of our lives today that it is hardly imaginable for us to survive a day without it. Consider the internet, a world wide publicly accessible network of networks that essentially allows the world to be interconnected. Twenty years ago, families who had this access to the net were considered lucky. Today, our mouths would drop if someone doesn't.

Over the last couple of decades, we have subconciously allowed the internet to become such an integral part of our lives. We rely on it for file exchange, production, sale and distribution of goods and services, ebay, media, chat rooms and low cost instantaneous messaging, collaboration of information, files, knowledge and ideas, research and even plagarism. The internet can even be in-built into mobiles, ipods, even fridges, so that an electronic device registers any missing grocery in the fridge and automatically orders it online from the supermarket, and without you even being aware of it, the items will be delivered to your doorstep. It is no wonder why us humans have become so lazy nowadays.

But perhaps such service is actually necessary in today's fast-paced world. People are constantly rushing around, racing against time to earn money and make a living, that they hardly have time to sit down and catch their breath back. Time is no longer a luxury people can afford. People don't have the time to go shopping, so why not rely on online ebay and supermarkets? People don't have the time to attend their local library and perform research projects, so why not just google it or use Dr wikipedia?

Now, imagine removing such luxury from our lives, forever. Companies will close down or resort to the ancient almost-forgotten paper and pen procedures, students will have to start using books for compilation of information for assignments in place of the much easier and lazy googling and copy-paste technique. Majority of communication overseas will come to a halt and world matters and news will seem more distant than ever.

What prompted me to write this? My computer broke down five days ago. In other words, i struggled to survive these five whole days without internet access. No reading the news, research, blogging and worst of all, i couldn't access my bank account for funds transfer, which means i was financially bound these few days during stocktake sale. For an impulse shopper like myself, this is likened to taking my soul *ugh*.

But thank goodness, my soul was returned to me today *smiles*

Moving on.

I stood by my words of my last post, and i took the stupid risk i said i was going to take. I must confess, it crossed my mind a few times that i'll just be a damn coward, zip the lip and refuse to allow the words to slip out. Chances come and chances go, and i remained silent, but in the end, i braved it. The result? Hardly what i wanted, but not beyond what i should have expected. Unfortunately. Sadly. The higher you climb with your expectations, the further you'll have to fall to the ground, and the harder and more painful it will be.

Failing at my attempt, i guess, is better than failing to attempt.

After a while
you learn the subtle differences
between hold a hand
and chaining a soul

And you learn
that love doesn't mean leaning and
company doesn't mean security,
and you begin to learn that
kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises.

And you begin to accept you defeats with you head up
and your eyes open,
with the grace of an adult,
not the grief of a child,

And you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is uncertain for plans.

After a while
you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.

So plant you own garden
and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong...
And you really do have worth.

I don't think i'm going to make a new year's resolution this year, simply because i've never been diligent with it in the past years. Why make one when your not going to follow through with it? I'll just do what i do every year. Live it and love it. Respect the freak in me, laugh, giggle and smile. Live the three hundred and sixty five days, and when the end approaches, know no regrets.

Fresh start.

A step into the unknown,
Into adventure,
Into surprising new worlds...

Happy New Year and best wishes to all of you.

xmas day

2006-12-25T21:30:00.000+11:00

I thought this year's christmas day will be yet another boring repeat of last year's, and the year before that, and so on, but i was wronged.

Waken by the mum's voice, asking me whether i wanted to go to auntie's house for a chat. I don't want to seem antisocial or indifferent to the family get togethers, but i decided not to make an appearance. I could've easily dragged my way out of the bed, but honestly, i really didn't mind a day spent in the house by myself. Every year we see this auntie once, and everytime, david and i end up sitting on the couch with dad whilst mum talks to auntie in the kitchen. We merely even speak to her. The whole idea of the kids going is literaly to let auntie see us, and that's it. Then we spend the rest of the day sitting there drinking apparantly delicious vegetable blended juice auntie insists on making for us.

Normally when we go to auntie's, we spend the WHOLE day there. But surprisingly, mum, dad and david returned early, planning to go out for dinner. A plan i was only made aware of five minutes before the booking time; in other words, i had less than five minutes to change and drive there. Anywho, we went to this prestigious chinese restaurant in Springvale - asian territory.

Family dinners for us happen very rarely - particularly ones where my older bro decides to join in. Today, i was hoping that it would be a nice, quiet catch up on eachother's lives over dinner and our plans and all else for the coming year, but that was not the case. We spent almost two hours there, three-quarters of which was spent talking with relatives who just happened to be in the same restaurant, at the same time. Due to being in a rather secluded family, we hardly ever visit our relatives - long story - hence today, we were bombarded with questions about what we have been doing with ourselves over the last ten/fifteen years. We sat there watching the food grow cold, feeling the urge to eat but felt rude in doing so.

All up it was a good dinner. The best part of it was that, for a change, mum and dad didn't pay, John did.

Oh, and onto a completely different note, i cooked today! Lemon pudding. Regretfully, this is my first dessert that i've made that actually looks like the photo in the cook book, and tastes delicious. The first dessert that took less than a day to finish off. *proud smile*

Today's newpaper headline:

2006-12-25T21:28:00.000+11:00

"Two bushfire-affected states experience a white Christmas, Queenslanders swelter in hot conditions, storms hit suburban Melbourne while drought-breaking rain falls in NSW." - ninemsn news

Sounds bizzare? Or is it just me?

risk, we must

2006-12-24T22:03:00.000+11:00

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool; To weep is to risk appearing sentimental;
To reach out for another is to risk involvement; To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas, your dreams before a crowd is to risk loss;
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying;
To hope is to risk despair;
To try at all is to risk failure.
But risk we must,
for the greatest hazard to life is to risk nothing.

I will be taking a risk. I've been patient and now my mind is as clear as crystal. Though i know it's a silly risk, a stupid risk, and possibly a disheartening risk, i will take it. Of course i fear. I fear failure, i fear loss, i fear rejection; but i'm terrified of regret.

"I have often regretted my speech, never my silence" - But i think i will regret my silence more than my speech - i hope.

cruel fate

2006-12-24T20:17:00.000+11:00

Under the influence of a certain someone, i ended up staring at a 8cm X 8cm tiny screen for three continuous hours, watching a jap show. I've watched quite a few foreign language movies before, but this one is by far the most emotional and moving one i've seen. Yes, in other words, i shed a tear - or maybe a little bit more than that.

Based on a true story, the movie follows the journey of a brave young teenager, Aya, who is unfortunately affected by a rare illness; spinocerebellar atrophy. A recessive genetic incurable disease that causes the neurons in the cerebellum to die, disrupting the signalling to the body that allows smooth voluntary movement, ability to learn, speak, swallow and walk. Initially presenting without any noticiable symptoms, Aya experiences an occasional stumble, unsteadiness and falls. Attributing her clumsiness to tiredness and lack of sleep, she gets on with normal daily life. She performs exceptionally well at basketball at her new school and attracts the attention of the boy she likes. But the disease continues to take over her life, without her realising...

Fortunately for her, her mum, a health consultant, notices Aya's increased clumsiness, odd movement patterns, and takes her to a neurologist for an examination which reveals cerebellum atrophy. Gradually, her symptoms become more significant and her falls result in worse injuries where she can't voluntarily use her hands in a protecting reflex when she stumbles. At this stage, her mum kept Aya's disease as a secret, telling Aya that she is just going through a peculiar adolescent curable illness.

Aya eventually realises the implication and seriousness of her illness, that will eventually leave her bedridden without voluntary control over her body and partially dumb. Although appearing brave to her family, she struggles to accept the truth. The illness strips her of the crucial elements of a happy teenage life, leaving her hospitalised and longing for a bright future that she knows will never come. The guy she likes cancels their first date, unable to face the burden that Aya will become. Aya's left with no hope of recovery, no relationship, and waking up to each day only to find that there is one less thing she can manage on her own. Future looking as bleak as ever. She had nothing to look forward to. She's only 15.

"When I imagine into the future, tears start to drop."

My tears dropped also.

work as a receptionist

2006-12-22T21:12:00.000+11:00

Today at work, everyone seemed a lot happier; patients, physio and receptionists. Perhaps the festive season not only brings forth food and pressies, but it magically brightens up everyone's mood. Patients were more pleasant to deal with, physios were slightly more talkative, as for me, i'm generally a happy one anywho.

I walked in today with a bottle of white shiraz and a bottle of browns brothers wine. However much i would have loved to keep them for myself, i decided to give them as a gift to my manager, Michael, and supervisor, Jacinta. With my current lack of income and over-expenditure, i couldn't quite afford purchasing everyone else a present. As i walked into the clinic, i was silently hoping that Richard would be in the treating rooms and Jacinta and Michael out at front desk. Simply to avoid awkwardness that may arise if i gave them two a present but not him. But again, Murphy's Law; Richard was sitting at his desk showing Jacinta his christmas presents. Great.

I guess there wasn't much to be afraid of; except if Richard decides to give me someting and i don't have anything for him. He's such a nice character that he wouldn't careless if he didn't receive anything. At the end of our shift, with a kind hug and kiss on the cheek, we departed the clinic. Speaking of which, i rejected one a couple of days ago - long, slightly frightening story.

Anywho, so far i've lasted a year and two months at the same workplace, with the same people. Somehow i find that really scary, seeing that i landed myself this job was an accident in the first place...

Over a year ago, still a young first year physio student only eighteen years of age, i ventured out into the CBD desperately searching for jobs that would free me of McDonald's. I was at the stage where i could no longer handle the Maccas' employees and managers, but needed to sustain myself financially at university. So i picked up tutoring year 12 maths and another medical centre receptionist job. City Baths had advertised for a receptionist willing to commit to 15-20hours of casual work; and time was not a luxury i had back then - nor now. But fortunately, curiosity befell and my inner desire to find out whether i could get that job made to drop off my resume to Jacinta. At that stage, i had already found a receptionist job at another medical clinic, thus i took this one more like a test for myself; hardly putting any effort into the interview, but destiny had it, they offered me a job and fewer hours to suit my uni workload. A year and a bit on, i'm still here - sitting, greeting patients, filing, answer phone calls, billing, talking and surfing the net. The most strenuous task i have ever had to do was probably pulling a heat pack out of a hydroculator with tongs, or maybe filling up small bottles with ultrasound gel. How can i not be happy with such a simple well paid casual job?

christmas dinner

2006-12-17T20:21:00.000+11:00

I went to my first work christmas dinner a couple of nights ago. I've worked at this clinic as a receptionist for over a year now, and i've missed pretty much every formal occasion. Last year's xmas dinner because i was down at Phillip Island tanning, a couple of farewell drinks throughout the year, and the most recent gathering in which i decided to miss for dinner and karaoke with a few friends. This time, i had to make an appearence despite having a fever and cold.

Initially i was semi nervous with the thought of dining with all mature-aged health professionals; i wouldn't know what to talk to them about, anxious if i landed myself in a seat next to physios from other clinics whom i didn't know, and slightly afraid of sitting next to my managers.

Walking into the semiformal occasion half drenched, i stood in front of my work colleagues for a few good moments scanning. I couldn't recognise them in the dim lighting without my glasses. Rather embrassed after a few seconds, i realised jacinta was staring at me ,confused as to why i just stood there. Wet and flustered, i waddled to a vacant seat next to her, amongst many unfamiliar faces. After a casual and effortless attempt at introducing me to the others, she received a phone call from our manager saying that he'll be late. Really late. Out of politeness, the table of 20 waited for his 2 hour fashionably-late arrival, thus starting dinner at 9:30pm instead of 7:30pm.

The dinner was amazing. Entree being a marinated chicken breast salad, a smoked salmon with semi-dried tomatoes with chips and greens as the main, finished off with a beautiful mouth watering raspberry white chocolate cheese cake. *ugh* so good, so good.

The small talk turned out okay, but i felt slightly restricted when i realised i was stucked in between my manager and my supervisor. The conversations soon ran wild after a little bit of alcohol influence, mainly revolving around the topic of children, sex and rooting - whatever that is. I'm certainly not as innocent as most people think i am, but on the table of mature drunk health professionals who use big words like perineum, i felt clueless. Apparently the gift jacinta received looked like some kind of sex toy, but all i did was stare at it blankly whilst the others giggled. Had no idea.

I'm glad i went.

purple tongue

2006-12-17T19:54:00.000+11:00

Today, i think my tongue turned purple. No, not 'cause of the hubba bubba chewing gums, but because of anger. Last week at an information seminar at the Australian College of Natural Medicine, i learnt that you can tell whether a person is angry or not by the colour of their tongue. Mine was red; but today it changed within a matter of minutes.

After my usual tutoring on Sunday morning, i decided to finish off some more christmas shopping on my own. I had essentially 2 hours at Southland Westfield Shopping Centre before i had to go pick up my brother at work. For those of you who know me well; it takes me two hours of shopping just to warm up.

Anywho, i arrived at the carpark, desperately searching for a space, trying to maximise my shopping time. After a good five minutes, i found one! I did the usual routine; allowed the car to take its time coming out, i sat there and indicated patiently and reversed when necessary to give them more room. Meanwhile, another car was waiting on the opposite lane a few meters down, for another car that was leaving. As the car i was waiting for left, i slowly drove forward, being very cautious due to the tight lane and was about to turn in; until the fucken stupid dickhead who was waiting for the other car decided to butt in and take my space. Fine, i thought at first, as i made my way to the space they were waiting for initially; but another car decided to take that one too. With fumes rising from my head and my precious shopping time dwindling, i reversed quickly and beeped at the family who took my spot. I sat there glaring at this indian wife and mouthed to her that it was my spot. She shook her head and mouthed back a no, it isn't. I swear i was almost about to get out and start something. I sat back again, waiting for her to get back in the car and tell her husband to reverse. Thirty seconds passed. Ignoring me, she opened the back door to let her kids out. I knew there was no point in arguing, so instead, i beeped the horn, yelled out something rude and dashed off. F*ck heads. Then i had to resort to driving to 3 other carparks for anothe 15 mins before i found a spot; which meant i only had 1 hour left to shop. Arrggh.

Funnily, i recognised the wife as i walked through Big W and gave her a good old greasy.

Feel the need to complain

2006-12-13T21:41:00.000+11:00

My shoulders and traps are so soooore. My calves are tight as and so are my quads. I am sitting on a cushion typing this out coz my groin feel bruised. My sore throat is also adding to my agony. Swallowing hurts.

*sigh of relief* now that all my complaining is out of my system, i can immerse myself into my second book of the holidays, and look forward to a long awaited full body professional massage tommorow. What's even more to rejoice about it that it's for free! I knew travelling out into the city last sunday on a smokey, hot day and sitting there for 2 and a half hours was worth it.

I shall recall my 40km bike ride to and from the city, and to and from the city again, some other time - when i can actually sit properly and comfortably.

"Everything that deceives may be said to enchant"

2006-12-13T21:33:00.000+11:00

A rush of excitement flowed through me as i purchased my ticket into the Eyes, Lies and Illusions exhibition yesterday, at Federation Square. The exhibition essentially explored the art and science of visual perception through time, constantly tricking our eyes, deceiving and enhancing our minds. It took us on a journey where nothing seen is what it seems.
Here are some of the many highlights:

Rotoreliefs: Optical discs placed on a turntable of a phonograph, producing the illusion of motion and depth. To make the illusion work, stare at the centre of the discs. (The one with the fish being my favourite)

Anamorphosis: A deformed drawing on a piece of paper that appears in proportion when viewed from a particular angle through some sort of prism.

Thaumatropes: A thaumatrope is a small disc, held on opposite sides of its circumference by pieces of string. An image is drawn on each side of the disc, and is selected in such a way that when the disc is spun, the two images appear to become superimposed. This illusion relies on the persistence of vision principle, where the eye has the ability to retain an image for roughly 1/20th of a second after the image is gone, thus, the faster the disc is spun, the greater the clarity of the illusion.

Anthropomorphic images:

After subjected to the series of bombardment by real images that are in fact fake and fake images that are in fact real, by the end of the hour i almost forgot what was real and what was only an illusion. By the 10th station of contemporary works, we arrived at a room full of haze, entitled "Line describing a Cone." Very cautiously, i walked into the enclosed room where the haze highlighted a beam of light projected from a distance. In the mist of the hazy lighting were two girls facing us, standing there and talking and gesturing to one another in slow motion - or so it seemed. I stared at them for a good minute, wondering how this mysterious beam of light could possibly create the outline of two girls in motion. Suddenly, they sat down with their bags and told us to go over to where they were standing and look into the beam of light. I was stunned. I paused for a moment before i dragged myself towards them, still wondering whether it was all part of the trick. It was then that i realised they were in fact real. Oops.

swing to the music

2006-12-08T17:50:00.000+11:00

My return to swing dancing after two full weeks of deconditioning proved that practice makes perfect. Ditching the only lead in our swing dancing group (who didn’t want to make an appearance ‘cause he couldn’t be bothered), my friend and i bravely travelled into the city to the usual swing club, risking a night of sitting and observing. Walking clumsily up the flight of stairs into a familiar room dully lit, we glanced around in hope of bumping into friends we knew from uni. My heart sunk after the first five minutes when we realised we were the young ones amongst a whole bunch of mature-aged dancers. Great. Fortunately, after another few minutes of small talk, people we knew started appearing.

Slightly disappointed at my own feeling of inadequacy due to my little attempt to revise the swing moves recently, i allowed myself to slump onto a vintage couch for the first half an hour, observing the experts prance around confidently on the dance floors, strutting their moves.

After the long thirty minutes, a guy asked me to dance. Delighted to get off my bum, i smiled and took off my jacket and he took my hand. i’ve danced with him couple of weeks ago, and that time, he led me slowly and beautifully, understanding that i was only a beginner. But this time he was a little rough; starting with an 8-beat basic which i struggled to keep count of half the time. Whilst i love being spun around, he was simply too rough for me. Thanking one another courteously after the rather horribly followed-dance on my behalf, i returned to my crater for a few quiet minutes of observations with the feeling of inadequacy weighing heavily over my head.

Several more songs went by without much action, until a friend came up to me. He had promised to teach me the 8-beat basic before and he lived up to it. Escaping the conversation smothering room of loud speakers, he took me outside into the lane way. We laughed loudly at my semi-unco initial attempt at duplicating the moves, at his struggle with coming up with the follow’s moves and the sausage in a hotdog analogy – where the girl walks on the sausage and the boy circulates on the bun. After mastering the follow’s move, i asked him to teach me the lead’s part – so that i could attempt to teach the boys who didn’t come. Struggling very badly with even obtaining the starting position and with his height as he went under my arm, i gave up. But I can say quite confidently that i am equipped with the knowledge of both parts; at least for the next 72 hours without any practice. We returned to the packed dance floor and practiced the basics with music. A very well-led dance i must admit, with plenty of turns and spins, and i was complimented on my ability to follow.

Overall, a slow-to-kick-off night which ended happily with laughter and achievement. I must practice the two Charlestons, 6-beat and 8-beat before my next appearance! But that won’t be next week anymore, due to an unforeseen Christmas dinner for work; one that i cannot possibly miss again.

red cross

2006-12-06T16:49:00.000+11:00

Every time we walk pass a Red Cross sign, we immediately relate it to medical aid, help and blood donation. But there is so much more behind this sign, and i am only made aware of this yesterday when i attended a Australian Red Cross volunteer seminar in Parkville. For those interested, here's a brief run down of the history of this organisation.

The red cross organisation was founded, ironically, in the mist of the Battle of Solferino in 1859, otherwise more well-known as The Second Italian War of Independence. Given my sudden interest in history, i'll explain what prompted this war. Back in the late 1800s, the Sardinian army wanted to conquer Northern Italy, then under Austrian rule. A year before the war, emperor of France, Napolean 3, and the PM of Sardinia, Cavour, signed a secret treaty of alliance against Austria; that France would help Sardinia if Austria attacked, and Sardinia would give two of its countries to France in return. Cavour, unable to attain help from the French unless the Austrians attacked first, provoked Vienna with military manoeuvers in their desperate attempt to conquer northern italy. Consequently, in April 29, 1859, Austria declared war, thus drawing France into the conflict.

After a series of battles, the french and austrian forces met at Solferino in June 1859. Coincidentally, a Swiss banker Henry Dunant who happened to be travelling through northern italy on business, stumbled into the battle field, witnessing the horrifying aftermath of the bloody conflict. Overwhelmed and moved by the sight of the injuries suffered by young men who lay there bleeding and tormented by hunger, thirst and heat, Dunant rallied villagers to assist and tend the wounded, regardless of age, gender and race. Despite the knowledge that they may in fact be saving a solider who have killed their son or husband, these villagers were to become the first volunteers of the red cross. Fyi, under the rule of Napolean, the french army defeated the austrians in what proved to be a tactiful, but costly battle.

Under the leadership of Henry Dunant, the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) was established in 1863, their emblem being a red cross on a white background, the inverse of the swiss flag. Today, due to clashes with religious symbols, the official Red Cross icon includes a red crescent, a red diamond and the cross (only established dec 05). The cross is an international protective emblem, carrying with it a symbol of hope and assistance, and interestingly, it means "don't shoot" in every language in the world. Unfortunately, this symbol has been constantly commerically misused by pharmacies and medical clinics.

Anywho, that was how the Red Cross was established. As for Henry, the remainder of his life is a bitter story to tell. Being a banker, he was once healthy and wealthy, but due to his overwhelming compassion, he focussed on the red cross, giving everything he earnt to the organisation, rendering him bankrupt. What was more tragic, was that he, unbelieveably, was expelled from the red cross once he was bankrupt. In the late 1800s, the poor was looked down upon, and Henry spent the next 18 years in a small hospital, living in horrible health and appalling conditions. It was not until a young journalist traced him down was he awarded the first ever Nobel Peace Prize in 1901. Semi happy ending, i guess.

Today, the ICRC exists in almost every country, with over 97 million members and volunteers. Guided by the 7 fundamental principles; Humanity, Impartiality, Neutrality, Independence, Voluntary service, Unity and Universality, the mission of the red cross is to improve the lives of vulnerable people, promoting humanitarian laws and values, and to alleviate human suffering wherever it may be found, with no discrimination based on sex, culture, political stance, and religious beliefs. Given that it must remain impartial and neutral under all circumstances, the red cross does not approach the media for support and receives only 3% of its fund from the government, the rest from donations.

Yesterday, i became a red cross volunteer. Why have i decided to forfeit some of my time i could be lying in bed or out with my friends for something i will not be recognised for? Why?

Let me tell you why.

To help.

Silly, some people may think; how can one person alone make any significant difference? Have you not read the story of the stranded starfish? It may be small what each volunteer does, but at the very least, it is making a difference to the life of that one person you are helping. I urge you all to give it a go if possible, coz you not only come out with a smile on your face, but your heart smiles with you.

back in civilisation

2006-12-04T14:17:00.000+11:00

Speeding is like a drug. The more you do it; the more you need to do it. It has taken me mere 5 days of driving in ever changing speed limits on the strip of the great ocean road to develop a tolerance to speeding. Despite the sharp bends and curves along the coastline, speed limits often reached 100km/h, and cars would suddenly appear in your back mirror within a glimpse of the second. There is no wonder why driving at 70km/h feels like walking pace to me nowadays. In fact, i am finding it rather difficult to keep to a speed limit of 60km/h these days.

A couple of days ago, i farewelled a good friend as he returns to the sunshine coast for a month or so. I drove out to southern cross station with all his luggage and parked illegally, luckily escaping a parking ticket as i returned 20mins later to retrieve Olley (Yes, i have decided to give my beloved sedan an identity). Confident that my navigation skills have improved after our road trip and probably better than most, ahem, i decided to rely on my newly gained skill and intuition to direct me back onto dandenong road, instead of using the wiser melways. Not that this is a surprise to anyone anymore, i lost my way, again. I normally don't panic in these familiar situtations, but this time, i think i almost did. I ended up driving behind the Vodafone Arena; the opposite side of the city i was supposed to be, doing random three-point-turns thinking the road belonged to me, getting caught up in a 'no through road' and being beeped at by 2 taxi drivers. How strange it feels to be sharing the road with other cars again. Despite all the drama and calm chaos, i eventually found my way out by following road signs. I glanced at the time as i arrived home, and realised it's taken me so long to find my way home that my friend was already on the plane.

Given my recent lethargic and can't-be-bothered-with-anything attitude, i am going to take the easy way out and ask that you all follow this link to find out more about our great ocean road trip.

There are, however, a few experiences that i would like to recap on in slightly more detail. Apart from the first night staying at the magnificent Wye River camping site, that has been essentially reduced to a small trickle of water, the other 4 days were rather spontaneous and didn't quite go as planned.

Prepared for some gourmet cooking and scrumptious dinner, followed by a warm shower after a long day of driving, we arrived at our second campsite at Stevenson's Falls only to find ourselves greeted with two dirty compost toilets, soggy bug-and-leech invested grass area and a campfire. No power, no light; nothing. It was quite an adventure just to find our way to the campsite. Driving around and around in circles in what seemed a deserted and secluded camping ground, we decided that our feet were slightly more reliable. Stepping foot into the forest setting, following the one and only road sigh which was supposed to direct us to the camping site, we ventured into the unknown. About 1km in, the dirt track narrowed just enough to fit one person through at a time, and another road appeared beside us, apparently out of nowhere. Overwhelmed with excitment and laughter, we hurried along the track in hope of arriving at the site soon. But to our disbelief, after walking 1.5km, we realised we were walking along the track we were just driving on a few minutes ago. Battered and exhausted and in hysterics over our stupidity, we dragged our heavy legs back to the car to share the good news. In desperation, as the sun was closing in on us, we ended up plopping ouselves down on the patch of grass back towards the beginning. Not satisfied with dining on simple fruits and beans for the night, we believed that nothing should stand in our way of feeding our tummies with gourmet food, even without any electricity. Using what's left in the flask of hot water, a pot and a rice cooker barely supported with three large logs around a camp fire, we managed to whip up a delicious beef minced pasta, ash-covered potatoes with a fruit salad by 10:30pm. Satisfied with our efforts, we dined with bugs and dampened air, under a single torch, the moon and the stars.

The next day was no less of an adventure. After a bad night of sleep, i silently dozed off in the car as we made our journey down to cape otway for our third day, under the well trusted navigational skills of a travel-mate. But perhaps, we shouldn't have put too much trust on one person.

Me: As i opened my eyes to the coastline, the only words i could utter out was 'wow, it's so beautiful.' After a moment of silence, i continued, 'it looks strangely like the...'
Person A: "omg it is the 12 apostles..."
Person B: Angrily, "Keegan..."

We were rougly 100km out from where we were planning to stay for that night. Too tired from the journey and immersed into the magnificent scenery, the navigator managed to escape an ear full. No stress, as we eventually managed to find a camping ground at Port Campbell nearby to settle in for the night. Barging into the kitchen with our burnt pots and pans from the campfire the night before, and our esky stashed with gourmet hoikien noodles and vegetable soup, we were ready for some dinner. Feeling rather uneasy and self-absorbed, we dispersed the scent of beautiful cooked gourmet dinner to the seats nearby where other campers were dining with their BBQ sausages and 2 minute fantastic noodles. Gosh it felt good.

The not quite water proof tent was almost falling apart under the gushing wind that night at Port Campbell, and although an adventurous sleep, ahem, it wasn't particulary pleasant. Nonetheless, it was another memorable experience, especially when the person beside you wakes up an says, "I had a dream. I dreamt of opening up the tent and finding a prawn inside," then forgetting the whole story the day after.

Our fourth day was one full of walking and hiking. Due to the unforeseen diuretic effect of tea the night before, my bladder was filling up rapidly as we approached moonlight head. It was going to be a good 40min hike down to the bay, so i decided to pull over at a luxurious moonlight head resort to empty before proceeding. I walked into the resort with all politeness and caution and found myself greeted by two middle-aged couple.

Me: "Hi, how you going?"
Woman: "Good, how can i help you?"
Me, smiling, : "I was hoping to borrow your bathroom if that's okay." At this point, the woman was about to lift her arm and direct me through, but...
Man: "No."
Me, in disbelief, but still smiling, thinking it was a joke: "Umm.."
Man: "No you can't, we're in a drought and we don't have enough water."
Me, blank-faced: "Are you being serious?"
Bastard: "Yes, we don't have enough water as it is, we can't afford the water."
Me, standing in shock, wondering whether he was still playing with me, or whether i should crack it, but instead uttered, "oh, ok."
Bastard. So much for luxurious resort. Dickhead.

So, refusing to pee in the bush, i clung onto the full bladder with tonic contraction of my sphincter muscles for the whole hike, which led us nowhere. We later found out that we went down the wrong path but followed the correct signage.
On the same day, a few hours later, we went for another 3hour hike down to station beach and rainbow falls. Enduring all the scratches and aching muscle pain from unforgiving eccentric muscle activity, we made it there and back before getting trapped by high tide. Damn those steep sandunes.

Our last day lash night was probably the most memorable. Memorable not because of the glory, but because of its stupidity. Throughout the whole trip, the boys kept saying, we need to spend a day at the beach, and well, you asked for it. We stayed here or 14 hours. The same place for 14 hours.
After a good four hours of belly surfing (yes, that is surfing with your belly, nothing else) and scoffing down succulent chicken and tuna pasta salad with a dash of balsamic and lemon dressing before the sand gets to it, we return to the car exhausted and battered with wet sand down our pants and tops. We were all more than ready to drive home to melbourne, picking up a chilled coke and ice cream on our way back.

If something can go wrong; it will go wrong

The car wouldn't start. Shit.

The engine was fine. The batteries were fine. The starter motor was fine. The key wasn't. Five phones, one with reception, one with battery.

The RACV arrived lengthy wait whilst we munched on dry just right cereal and hydrated ourselves with what's left in the wate flask. After a brief examination of the car, no more than 15 minutes, we were hit by the verdict that the key, not the car, was the problem. The key had been soaked in saltwater. Sometimes, security can be a nuisance.

By 9:30pm, the sole taxi driver of the entire Apollo Bay arrived to pick us up from Johanna Beach. Three of us jumped in while the other two were left behind in the dark, lonely beach carpark. The over-friendly and cheerful driver, alan, carried a sense of eeriness to me. He reminded me strangely of the movie Wolf Creek. The ride was essentially fine until suddenly he took a turn into a dark side street, without informing us, then turned off the lights and engine. My friends probably couldn't tell right there and then, but i absolutely freaked out. A friendly stranger offering a lift to three stranded young teenagers in the depths of the night, turning into unfamiliar places. Doesn't that seem like wolf creek all over again. For who knows what could've happened. Apparantly he wanted us to look out for glow worms. My goodness.

We ended up crashing at his place for a few hours whilst waiting for the key to be brought down to Apollo Bay from Melbourne. Spliting his cold dinner comprising of chips and calamari rings and warm lasagna, he offered to feed us. In return, i helped him with his dishes. Alan left us, strangers, in his house for a good 20 minutes while he went off to pick others up. Although i was companied by a couple of friends, i have to say, i freaked out again. But luckily, we survived to tell the story, and Alan was probably the best stranger we met on our trip. Saved our day.

I shall upload some photos when i get to them.

just a note to say i'm back

2006-12-02T20:27:00.000+11:00

I'm back. Stay tuned for more.

a long anticipated trip

2006-11-25T10:07:00.000+11:00

I have always wanted to go for a long road trip with mates since graduating from high school a couple of years back. Discussions and planning of these trips always seem to end half way, like a ski trip i was supposed to go to last year never happened, and the conversations regarding a hiking trip at cradle mountain and the grampians were also left in the mist. But this time, it's really going to happen. We're off to the Great Ocean Road for 5 days! Although there won't be much hiking, i'm sure the beautiful scenery, beaches and waterfalls will most definitely leave me breathless nonetheless. Farewell Melbourne for a few days. Farewell to technology for a few days.

greek coconut cake

2006-11-23T22:22:00.000+11:00

After my horrible failure last few times with my chocolate truffles that never made it into the truffle circular shape, lemon cake that didn't taste like lemon, my profiteroles that deformed after leaving it in the fridge and mocha rumballs that tasted slightly bitter, i was up for another challenge. Today, i decided on a greek coconut cake.

Success! It turned out like the shape of a normal cake, it's crispy on the top and bottom, it's cooked properly, and it tastes coconuty. But improve i must.