excited!
i am applying for permanently residency right now. the amount of paperwork to prepare is scary, but i am wadding through it still. surprises me though: to get my “police records” from singapore, it’s not just that readily available. i have to have reasons behind asking for it.
but, in 2 years, i will be Australian. The sound of that statement sounds so weird right now, i am going to lick around it
yeah, fuck you too
so, i have been spammed alot lately. i really don’t mind deleting them, but some days, it gets tedious. one day, i was away and forgot to checked it, and came home to 150 different spams - with the same 2 ips.
i got mad. hey, i know it’s their job, but so what? i don’t rally myself up and write something 150 times on someone’s page.
so, added money to my skype (for additional anonymity) and called up Russia. no answer. the second one was in latvia…. and someone picked up.
“allo?”
“HI”
“russian gibberish”
“listen, i own a website. if i fucking see your ip address again, will call you as many times you’ve spammed me EVERY SINGLE FUCKING 3-5 AM! do you hear me?!?!”
“i speak russian, no english”
“ok, 3 a.m it is!”
“NO! NO!!! WHAT’S YOUR URL! I WON’T SPAM AGAIN!!”
“good, glad we understand each other”
yeah. don’t annoy me. and let’s be clear on this, Arturs, I have your address too. i believe cat poop smells.
11th of September 2001
I was doing my studies at King Albert Park’s MacDonald’s. I had rung my dad to pick me up after that and together we went for some of my usual favourites (Plaster prata and then Fried Carrot Cake), before we eventually reached home and sat down to watch our usual mind-numbing television series. It was after all, just a few days before my A’ Levels examinations.
In the middle of me wandering around the apartment, grabbing my stuff for a shower, there was a sudden news flash. It was in chinese: “News flash! a plane has crashed into one of the twin towers in the World Trade Center of New York!” videos of the plane flying into the tower was broadcast, again and again.
I was stumped. This was America. At that point in time, i was wondering which poor sod ran the plane into the building, and why. What about the people, are they safe, is it lunch time?
but as the story goes on, and as the second building got knocked around as well, it became surreal. It’s midnight outside, this is not happening here. I am safe. Barely.
the next few days was a blur. My friends decided that there were “good” things to look forward to, if we get attacked. As we found out, Al Qaeda claimed responsibility for the attacks, and we are one of America’s allies. worse yet, we were snuggled between 2 pretty Muslim countries, and we ourselves have plenty of muslims amidst us.
young as we are though, we were oblivious to the need to fear. we still went about our ways, we were still friends with everyone. After all, being a muslim doesn’t mean you WILL attack everyone around you. it just meant you’re unlucky to be placed into the same category as murderers, right?
at the back of my head though, i did worry, but about other stuff. What’s going to happen now? will we be attacked? what should i do, in my last days on earth? Will everything affect our economy, will i not get a job… will i fail my a’levels?
inconsequential questions as they may seem, they were large as life to me.
And today, i revisit that day 7 years ago with a bigger clarity on how it would’ve affected me. or already has:
The world is alot more suspicious and unwelcoming.
Firing teachers over under performance? Hell yeah..!
I’ve been through what I will call a good primary and secondary education. Bar a few teachers, I’ve had great teachers and definitely one excellent and loving principal (Mrs Tan!! <3). When I entered College though, I was utterly appalled. Don’t get me wrong, there were still a mix of good and bad teachers, but it was more bad than good.
There were the obviously racist ones, the ones who can’t speak english (and actually have to use them to teach classes and explain difficult terms), the obviously elitist ones - including the principal herself - and only a handful that truly cares for the students both in and out of school. What trully amazed me was also the fact that all the ones that were horrible were also the ones in position of power: Principal being elitist, a racist one being the one to choose student council representatives etc…
Whatever they think they were doing to improve the school’s performance though? was not working. we were fluctuating every year. that’s not to say they had an advantageous position when it came to picking students, and equally the students ourselves were perhaps not very motivated nor cared as much especially towards the end.
Eventually though, it was recognised that the school wasn’t performing nor really helping the performance. Some teachers were demoted, others had their efforts recognised and promoted, still others were chucked into “dead-end” corners of the department and the school was eventually merged with another.
What I want to say to all that is this:
There were some teachers in my life, and in my friends’ lives, that motivated us to do better than what we were. One of the worst way to motivate me though, were the constant verbal and emotional abuse, the insistence that I was going to become “nothing”. They had my parents called in and told to prepare myself to be a useless person to the society, and then consistently bashed me up during classes.
I stopped going to their classes and actually performed better.
That, to me, felt like we don’t need bad teachers and their ways to improve. We need good ones to get better, good ones to motivate and go beyond just “better”.
So yes, if after the funds are being injected, some of undergone training/re-training and the schools are still under-performing, the teachers should leave.
soreDear God
I went to church for lunch time mass today, and I left just a little surprised but almost in tears from laughing.
We’ve had problems with the press prior to World Youth Day. There were simply too many naysayers, people who concentrated too much on the negative side of the religion (oh come on, tell me one religion without their own controversies), too many idiots concerned with how a “racecourse would be ruined” - and - I will leave this in the words of my priest now
” Everything went well, it’s like a big *middle finger in the air* to them from God”
LOLOLOL
p.s thanks for the kind comments. I get a stupid emo moment every now and then 
blahimagination
I never liked to talk about some of my more… “major” problems here. It’s not like I want to hide them, as you can see from my various firey, raging posts about staffs. It’s perhaps more… because I am afraid of reading them one day from the future and start berating myself for being stupid.
There were many times, when I sit at the edge of my bed, or am staring at the ceiling of my room, wondering how my 16 years old self would judge me as I am now. I was a firey, “MUST DO IT NOW”, stubborn-as-a-mule type of person, thinking I can do anything and everything as long as I set myself to it and rid myself of distractions.
I used to travel all the way to the airport, out of reach from everything convenient and comfortable so I could study for my exams. I had aspirations, of being everything that was “big money” and yet also “helpful to others” so I could always be wanted, needed, and not be rejected.
Tonight, as I am still sitting here at half past 4 in the morning, I am sitting here depressed. I don’t think my 16 year old self would like me. I have come so far, and faltered and fallen away so far from my intended path, I can’t seem to see the end of it even though it is, but so near.
I know too, that the end of education is not the end, but the beginning of something else. I have never trusted myself to lead, and sometimes, sitting at the current position I am in, I feel my predictions were right. And yet, if I am to graduate, whilst I am not quite leading, there will always be someone ranked “under” me.
What makes me better than them because I filled my arse with papers?
I am sitting here, panicking, because I can’t find the answer. To convince people that, not that I am better, that I can do my job. That I deserve to be here, be there, do stuff, get paid… I do deserve it, or do I? I can’t seem to find the answer at all.
I am worried about making mistakes. not the small ones, but the big ones that might affect people’s lives. As it is, I make enough mistakes just managing a restaurant… some days, I think if J wasn’t around, I don’t think I can manage any of those 16 years old by myself. So, if I can’t even do that, where do I stand in the public service?
Public… Service. To serve the general public. If I fuck up, I fuck them over.
My heart breaks. I am scared, over so many things. Worst of all…
I am scared of not doing a thing to help anyone by the time I die.
inspired!
The last couple of weeks, because I have so little time for anything else entertaining, I have started poring through my “new” cookbooks and attempting recipes out of them. That’s not to say my cooking has improved, by the way, it just means that I am learning new things and new ways of ruining food.
Of the lot, I would say, the Shepherd’s pie was the most successful. nevermind the fact that I spent 2 hours on it rather than the recommended 40 mins or something hah! It looked NOTHING like the book above though.
In my decision to “attempt” to come as close to Gordon Ramsay’s televised version of the pie as possible, I neglected to realise that control of the piping bag comes with constant use. Thus, those phallic-looking mash potatos were formed - not to mention that i ran out of mash so it was bald in the middle AND it looked very suspiciously like a pile of dung.
BUT, it tasted awesome. a little bit dry, but definitely awesome. So, I will do it again, soon if i can. 
on a side note, I upgraded this version of wordpress all by myself. I am pretty proud of that fact, not to mention that I actually delivered “patience” this time. ^_^ still some stuff to be kinked out but otherwise it’s good to go
and, just to add to the happiness that’s not WP 2.0…. which was what i was on…
not proud of, proud of
I am sorry for the lack of updates. I have been so caught up with school and work (both of which are going into the overdrive this semester), that i am either sleeping 16 hours at a go when i can now, or i am just too fluffed out to be able to think.
School’s fine, other than obviously being hard. Techies drove me nuts, because they insisted that IT subjects are not “definitely” online. Pray, tell, then is it right to teach kids about computers with paper and pen? That one bit stressed me out for about a week and a half as most of my online assessment was about to be “late”, without me even having a look at it.
Work though, provided the worst stress factor. Don’t get me wrong, I am not so immature and disillusioned to think that work, no matter what type it is, will provide zero stress or zero form of work politics. I have worked long enough to know that even if I pose no form of threat (aka this will never be my career) whatsoever, and even if i am a casual worker, everyone and anyone can possibly have their knives out for me.
I think, on a very personal level, I have got comfortable with working where I am right now. I have often, albeit sometimes in the worst possible way, tried to provide the best help I can to people working there. I do get irritated, and I do make alot of mistakes and have about as much tact as a rock most times. I am, after all, a fallible human. In all that I have ever done though, I have never thought that people would choose to deliberately make me look bad - mostly because I have let my guard down?
We all sat down to have a chat - or rather, i should call it a pep talk by the big boy. One of the few things he’s brought up, was the fact that all 3 people that were “new” to the current management team, previously left under undesirable conditions. And I stuck by them, through all the good and bad times. Of course, then I felt both like an idiot and being all exhilarated.
I mean, all the times I have mentioned I am quitting here, and eventually did quit and then returned, I felt like I haven’t grown or done much about my professional life - such as attempting to acquire new skills, look for internship and so on. Yet, the knowledge that I have loyalty to a business, I felt like I have stepped in my father’s shoes and learnt how to live and fight in a place that I enjoy working in.
Obviously, I am far from fulfilling my dad’s shoes eh, he was in HDB for 35 years.
That, I felt, was something to be proud of, especially in times like these where corporate loyalty is a scarcity, especially amongst casual workers like me.
With regards to the talk though, I highly doubt anyone of those present really took it to heart. It was barely 10 minutes later when they decided to subtly suggest someone’s been backstabbing me too - and someone with whom I have worked for ages with. Considering the situation though, I had highly disregard what they say. I honestly do not have the time nor energy to invest in stupid immaturity. One’s 21, and the other’s 23. They still have a long way to go before they have worked as long as I had and experience as much.
meanwhile, meet the new addition:
Oh, and the highly anticipated meeting:
I know, I said i wasn’t ready for a new bunny, what with how Fudge died and all. But really, can you resist it when a bunny kisses your hands?
I couldn’t.
Irate
I have been doing those comp courses for 2 weeks now, but because of some confusion (courses being offered had less than desirable students and was thereby cancelled and as such I had to change my course), It looked like I dropped courses and never picked them up.
However, I made a point to the Techies that I was enrolled in some tech courses, and my lecturers and I both concurred on the fact that I WAS indeed enrolled in those classes. The funny thing was, they didn’t show up on WebCT. The first thing I did was, obviously,”Hi, there was a mistake, please put my courses up on my WebCT”.
Emailed response was, “your course might not be online.”
Obviously, the techies couldn’t be fucked even reading my email to start with. my courses are on INFORMATION TECHNOLOGY. aka COMPUTERS RELATED. They are even related to THE INTERNET. why the hell would courses like that NOT BE ON THE INT3RW3B!?!?!
2nd emailed response, after I have pointed it out was, “YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE PAID SCHOOL FEES.” granted, at the time of emailing, I haven’t paid the school fees only because I had enrolment issues. but every other class had shown up on the WebCT. so, WHY WOULDN’T SOMETHING ELSE HAVE? omg, selective enrolments?
Third email response stated something along the lines of “it shows on the record that you have unenrolled out of A, and never enrolled for b, unenrolled out of b and C” BUT THEY ARE NOT RELATED TO THE COURSES I WAS MENTIONING! and if, ok, IF, i was trully unenrolled/not enrolled in that many courses, why are they on my webct and not the other courses that I HAVE MENTIONED and have not even moved? (I know, sounds like a lot of courses right now, they are just mini parts/parcels of 2 courses).
then, instead of at least realising, HEY! the courses she has mentioned isn’t on webct, let’s just do it now and get her out of our hair”, they just IGNORED MY EMAIL!
My quizzes’ deadlines are up in 4 days. 2 of which are weekends. and they count towards assessment!
THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!
Learning again
binary and programming, with pseudocode or perl, drove me mindless yesterday. I don’t know if it was because suddenly i am not learning about people chasing after people, or exterminating the human race out, but i sat there utterly befuddled when he started talking about “10 to the power of nth” as an example.
because apparently that was similar to binaries except it’s “2 to the power of nth”.
And, to my utter disgust, within 2 mins of him saying that, my lecturer decidedly told us to start converting numbers in this worksheet into binaries. It’s not because i hated the questions (albeit i do at that time), but because he’s mentioned time and time again how much he hates his job because he’s underpaid and over worked. so he’s gone out of his way to do as little as possible (2 mins teaching, 2 hours hands-on/do homework in class bullshit).
A nice guy tried to explain to me what’s going on mathematically but it took me a few examples and the calculator (aka cheating and working out patterns) to figure out what binary really is. In a very graphical way, i finally learnt it. It’s basically turning lights on for certain numbers and turning lights off for unused ones.
if you line up numbers back to front:
64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2, 1
that’s part of the base 2 system ( so 2 to the power of 6 for 64). for me, i just view them with a switch underneath which makes them easier when writing the binary codes for them.
So, if i want a number that’s, say, 84 - and since it’s a combination of 63 + 16 + 4 - it’s
on, off, on, off, on, off, off
using the number one for on’s and 0 for off’s,
1010100
which, while being utterly simplistic and omg, first couple of lesson’s worth, but it somehow excited me that i figured that out, albeit sooo slowly i was starting to feel stupid. so fun, right?!?!
ok i am behaving like a kid, time to go out. BYES
binary, algorithms, perl….
if anyone say anything that’s got to do with the multiplication of ANY number, my brain will implode and create a nice BLACK HOLE of doom.
kkthxbye
Phew! Vs 2.0
so, i signed up for a specific course. It was cancelled due to lack of interest, which means i was running around like a headless chook signing up for alternate courses. This also resulted in me being the last few people in class to sign up for tutorials and therefore have terribly undesirable classes for tutorials: ones that ends at 8 or 9 pm at night. Looking at my time table now, my timings are something like:
9a.m to 2 p.m, and then 6-8 p.m
for most days!
Last week was the greatest testament to my endurance. I am extremely sore all over now, and just want to flip the finger at everyone and anyone in particular.
Work wise, I kind of went stupid and got too worried about labour costs and people’s opinions. In reality, I think my care factor was a huge 0, at the same time I have seen some of the emails being sent off in the heat of the moment from my boss to others. I felt like he feels everything’s being shitty because no one cares about him. So, I bite my tongue about others in management and just do everything myself.
Last week, with the combination of classes, I have been going home from work at 3a.m.
Albert, one of my boss’s mates, decided to pull me aside to have a chat. He thought it was for some “glory” or something. In all honesty, if not for the fact that I lost the key within the restaurant, or because an asshole decided to be an asshole, I wouldn’t have mentioned anything about me staying on late. So, it wasn’t about glory because cleaning toilets is a sure path to shit-dom. I was just trying to cut down on colleague friction, infighting, inbitching - whatever you want to name it.
oh, and not to mention labor costs.
Let me explain. The week after World Youth Day, in, what I thought was a very fair decision, I was made to close every single night I worked for the week. At one stage though, Albert did mentioned he was going to close it instead of me, but for some odd reason made me stay on and clean on. So, an anticipated 10p.m finish ended up being a midnight finish.
On the friday night of that week, we had a massive crowd: an office party was held that booked out the entire 6 tops section and had a bar tab of 1500 minimum running. We had a shitty lunch that day, so I decided to leave the tab on for a little longer and then close it at 1600. It is not in my work ethic to ask a customer to “please leave now that you have paid your bills” and blah. I think it’s fairly rude, and for a group that’s pretty much forked out 3k in meals and drinks by the end of the night, I wasn’t about to raise their ire by chasing them out (even though they were probably too drunk to even know).
But, I didn’t want to keep more staffs on than I need, to cut on costs. So I sent them home at 11, and stayed till 2.45 a.m cleaning up after them, the toilets, resetting the tables, not to mention all the wonderful delightful vomits they performed. It wasn’t till someone called me, and notify me that If i don’t leave in 15mins, the security WILL CALL MY BOSS, that I ran for my life, leaving about half a section unmopped and the bar with 3 trays of dirty glasses.
Obviously, I overslept. Dan, a manager who is one of those people who comes and goes from the business depending on his personal life and job offers, decided to throw a tantrum. Partly because I was late, partly because I left shit un-done for him in the morning. I apologized when I arrived (even though I highly didn’t need to and didn’t care to), but he just hrmphed at me, and sent everyone off. leaving me without being properly handed over and half a restaurant worth of customers to “fly solo”.
And it’s not that I can’t manage flying solo, because that’s what I am used to in the afternoons.
It was the bitching thereafter that, through the grapevine, that I overheard. Oh, the bitchiness and vindictiveness.
Albert reckons we should stop being children and start working as a team, and stop bitching about each other. I find it just a little bit hard after all these. Aside from the lack of professionalism (which I suffer from time to time anyways, so let’s not pot call the kettle black k?), I absolutely adored how he flies down and tells me how stupid I am in the middle of service, between staffs and customers. He’s been here a grand total of what, a year. Flusters at the slightest crowd or lack of staff, refuses to get his hands dirty, is constantly late if the bosses aren’t around and take smoke breaks the equivalent of lunch breaks.
Meanwhile, when I do occasionally turn up late, there’s a massive witch hunt, finger pointing and bitching. I pay half of my “staff meals”, cleans up whenever I have to, fly solo or run 3 sections by myself because the business needs it and since I don’t smoke, I don’t get smoke breaks. I make mistakes, but so does he. I make mistakes that I can fix myself, but he flies into a rage when he makes mistakes or just apologize and runs away into a corner.
So tell me, how much patience do I need, and how do I work as a team with someone who’s not consistent with his work ethics?
I should start making this the “Panda work bitchings” blog, because it’s turned into that lol… in the interim, I shall refrain from trying to stab everyone i see :p
Scary-tat
Final Semester.
whoa.
I might actually graduate this time!
Truth be told, I am just a little scared. after being in a coddled state for the last, what, 5 years, I am absolutely astounded at how far I have come since that faithful day that I was excluded from ANU. My thoughts back then were awfully jumbled. I didn’t want to make it feel like my friend’s death caused anything to me, and at the same time I knew I was just a little fucked in the head.
The biggest thing that ran through my head was how I should kill myself. It ranged from sleeping out in the cold on Black Mountain, to setting myself on fire, to just drowning in Lake Burley - as long as I don’t cause too much problems to anyone else.
Despite how much I wanted to die back then, and every time I felt like I couldn’t carry on no more, WYD was… an amazing revelation. The thought that I could now finally die and shrug off everything else startled the fuck out of me. Gasping for air, I prayed. “Dear Lord, not now. I’ve still got tonnes of things I haven’t done yet.” over and over and over again.
In this last semester, I have the option of doing 2 totally non-related electives since I can’t do my remaining courses part-time (or so they say. I am pretty sure I have seen at least 3 students did only 1-2 courses). So I picked up general computing and… It’s fun! well, at the moment anyways.
First class of the week: “Hi, This, IS, a MOUSE!” woaahhhh revelations :p It is, however, more enjoyable with these courses since… it’s not a very important component to my degree, so perhaps that’s why I am having fun.
So… because I really want to get something done in the next 3 years, in case I do die in Madrid, WYD2011, I am not quite sure yet what I want to achieve. There are a few things I do hope to get done, and hope to see before I go:
- visit Myanmar and see the School that I helped built (and whether, omg, the toilet walls have caved in from me falling asleep while laying them)
- Visit Boston and Chicago
- Skydive, AGAIN!
- Learn to cycle, drive, swim, surfboard, snowboard and poledance
- Get my freakin degree ALREADY, and then finally break the news to my family how I fucked up my first degree.
- Go to Calcutta and visit Missionaries of Charity
- Visit Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico
- Take Good Photographs!
And perhaps, I am dreaming. Everything requires money, no? but it’s great to dream big. Of the last list I did, I managed to:
- read 2 books that aren’t prescribed texts (ok so now I am into tear-jerking Chick Lits, whatever)
- buy THE cookbook
- Levelled my character
- Went to the gym
- Etc
Thing is, they aren’t anything real substantial. So… before I die, please let me see the tilma in Mexico.
Woosh!
Sorry for the outage. Seems like nothing technological wants to work with me for the past couple of weeks. I want to finish telling you my “pilgrimage” experience, but I have come to realise there’s only so much i can “describe”. I can’t tell you the extent of my exhilaration, nor how mundane life’s suddenly become now that I am back.
The few things I have learnt from WYD08 was that our God loves us, and despite the fact that I have been a major disappointment time and again, He will still forgive me as long as I repent, I acknowledge him and acknowledge my mistakes and not do them again.
The most beautiful thing that I felt was the unity of the church, the people near me, the diversity of the people that follows God, the different ways they worship God and I was pretty amazed all in all. I knew i am a pretty self-centered person, but watching these people care for each other and their communities…. I wanted to belong with them and just contribute to them.
I fell desperately ill on Friday morning. I already had a cold prior to going up to Sydney, and then the living conditions (which really wasn’t bad) that we were in excarbated my condition into a full on flu which pretty much exhausted my lungs. By the time Friday morning rolled along, mucous was dripping down my throat and into my lungs voluntarily. at about 10a.m, I visited a doctor in Lurnea Medical center (or something along those lines) with an incredibly sore throat, almost on the verge of losing my voice. I felt breathless and wanted to just roll over and lose my neck (if that was possible). The doctor pretty much looked at me, listened to my right lung and told me i just needed antibiotics and I would be good to go.
And then I left for the Stations of the Cross….
At the 8th station, I was panting, wanting to roll over dead, and shivering from the cold. For someone who’s been in Canberra for this long, and who loves the cold, this is quite an unusual state. I just thought perhaps it’s the wind, and proceeded to the First Aid station to “borrow” the warmth.
I never quite came out properly. Even with a blanket and heater on me, I was trembling like a mad dog, registering a temperature that fluctuated around 35 to 40 and my heart rate swung to 129. I felt tired, my eyelids were heavy, so I just “relaxed”, only to find that i would stop breathing whenever I did that. I got scared each time and started gasping for Air….
the Doctor and nurses were worried to death. They put me on oxygen tanks and 2 nebulisers before i was some what stabilised enough. and then i was pretty much advised to go home. I couldn’t stay in the cold, I couldn’t do any real physical stuff (i,e the walk to randwick).
But you know, I felt like I did what I came here for. I had my cake, and I ate it. Had I seen the Pope, it would be the best icing on the cake - but I did have my cake.
The night before my body delivered me into what felt like near death, I met a man on the train. Since the week was full of both crazy, ignorant people and really nice, warm loving people, when he first started requesting an audience (it was the way he asked, it felt like he was asking to meet us lol), i thought he was about to bash us and question our “blind” faith.
This man proceeded to tell us his life story. He was a vet: been to Phillipines, Vietnam, East Timor - you name it. He was also about 40. He’s grown up in a Catholic family, gone to Catholic schooling but has pretty much fallen off the path because, as he puts it, “Religion was something to be ashamed about in Australia”. He’s killed men while on duty, and didn’t think twice about it.
And then… he asked, “Would the Church and God still want me back?” and he burst into tears.
we spent about 2 hours standing in the cold after the train stopped, explaining to him what little we knew about the church doctrines on penance and redemption - and how much God loves. He just bawled like a baby, and thanked us profusely in between tears, because, according to him, he was scared we would have turned him away or told him no, he wasn’t welcomed.
I offered him my Catechism book that we all got with our WYD package, a hug, a prayer and the offer to come to church with us tomorrow. Whilst he never made it to the church, I hope he read through the book, forgive himself and find the forgiveness and love he so seek from the church and God. Because, the love is there, the forgiveness is also already there - he just needs to find his way into forgiving himself before he would be able to realise all he’s seeking for has been there all this time, waiting for him.
Here, I want to thank my priest Fr Laurie for letting me into the pilgrimage to Sydney, for all the support he’s provided. To the ANU Pilgrims, thanks for all the care and concern that I knew i spurned while i was at Sydney. I do appreciate it, albeit I am terribly bad at showing it. To the Vet, I thank you for your questions and your tears, because you made me realise that there’s alot of people out there that were like me: at times uncertain of God’s love and yet still seeking for it constantly.
And to God…Â I still love you. I suck at attending church, and praying often enough, not to mention keeping to my promises. I am not perfect, and I am lazy as, I will change though <3
Being a Pilgrim
To be honest, I really dislike Sydney. It’s too large a city, too busy, too noisy, too smelly, too crowded and definitely, in my original opinion, too soul-less. So, knowing that my pilgrimage would be in Sydney, definitely struck me as being utterly ironic.
My first night there was ordinary. There was nothing special beyond planning the activities of the next day as quickly as I could. Our group has decided on the “free & easy” method, whereby everyone is not bound to each other’s plans. the only drawback to that plan is that the location of our accomodation necessitates that we all need to move in groups. That in itself isn’t too big a drawback, except for me.
I really didn’t want to have to hang around others while I had “ssoo many things planned”. Ah, the “grumpy old lady” in me was rising its ugly head again. Above all, I was desperately trying to get myself stuff that’s more material than God-related, and I didn’t want to be found out. To my selfish self, i didn’t think of the fact that people might worry about my whereabouts.
the thing is, God always has his own plans. I could lose myself from my own group, but I cannot escape from my own pilgrimage and my own path of self discovery, no matter how lonesome i intended it to be, or however far away i may choose to fly.
My little side trip away from my group showed me many things. From my ignorance of world affairs (There are Lebanese Catholics too! And their flag looks like a Christmas Flag), to the feeling of being so much a part of something big whether i like it or not. I may not have a “group” but I definitely “belonged”.
There were a thousand people inside of St. Mary’s, with yet another few hundreds more in queue to go in, and a few more hundreds just milling along in Hyde Park. There were many national flags, many singing, exchanges of pleasantries and introductions, there was so much love in the air: there was just pure ecstatic electricity there.
Most importantly, there was, as an old man would later insist to me, plenty of “blind faith”.
I grinned at it all, and started walking towards Barangaroo for the opening mass. Yet, i was surprised again by the sheer amount of ecstasy running through everyone.
“AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!” “OI, OI, OI!!!”
“AUSSIEE!!!!”
Cries rang out against buildings as roads were closed to traffic. Pilgrims walked from Pitt Street down towards Circular Quay and up towards the Rocks. Paths weren’t big enough for us, and so we all filled up the roads, flags awaving, chants rolling off the walls of high-end Business District buildings while their inhabitants, seemingly on their lunch breaks, stood at the entrance of their buildings just watching us wave past them all.
some people were discussing about all these festivities behind me. “Why would people come do this? I mean, i am a Catholic too, but i don’t even go church!”
“oh, you know, some people like to have a nice, free holiday here in Sydney.”
I am sorry, this was actually a paid trip for many people. Furthermore, the tickets for WYD doesn’t include actual TRANSPORT TO SYDNEY. The ignorant comments irked me quite abit. a pilgrimage is NOTHING like a holiday. Some of the pilgrims slept in the olympic park -.- we shower out in the cold fields, in a little makeshift plywood cabin. between 9am to 7pm, our accomodations are actually closed to us, so we can not rest even if we intend to unless we purchase local motel rooms or sit in a restaurant for a long time.
Many others though, were warm and welcoming. There were people who come and gave us high-fives. Others who came and pat us on our backs and wished us well. There were those who understood the pilgrimage and refused to let us pay taxi fares - but instead insisted we walk where we wanted to go (even though traffic were allowed to some points).
Crowds came to a bottleneck after the Rocks. at times we were all hip to hip, and at times there were people who just chose to sat down and sang praises in their own languages. Yet more people chose to dance as well, instead of worry about their lunches (which were provided at Barangaroo) or if they would be in time for the mass.
there were even Maori people doing the Ke Mate Haka! how awesome is that?!?! And everyone looked SO happy.
And then i walked into Barangaroo, and i inhaled.
There were people EVERYWHERE. Flags pronouncing their nationalities, their schools. The noise in the air wasn’t just people breathing, there were many languages floating around. From Vietnamese, to Thai, to Spanish, French, Italian, German and even Korean. I was absolutely floored.
And then suddenly, i felt this urgency to find my group. “they must be worried about me.” no shit, stupid. I ran towards our planned meeting place (planned just in case idiots get lost) and then i saw… a flood of relief and joy entering the faces of people i have only just met the day before. they WERE worried. I felt like a fool. “the prodigal chick returns!!! yay!!” Inwardly, i lol-ed but i also felt bad. Why am i running away from them?
sheesh.
and we went in and gathered together for the opening mass, where again and again, i was floored by the unity of the church infront of me. People reciting prayers together, kneeling together, attempting to sing songs together even if they speak no english.
and taking communion together.
That was so beautiful.
Better yet? Residents around Barangaroo stood there on their balconies through out the whole mass. One couple, in particular, hugged each other when the “peace be with you” came around. I think, and i hope, we gave them something memorable and beautiful for ages to come.
Prelude to the Pilgrimage
The week before the Pilgrimage to Sydney, I was heavily contemplating everything. Work was going not so awesome, and I have started cracking under pressure - was this really something i should be attending considering how stressed out both the company and i were? Surely, another hand on deck right here, right now, is better than me leaving.
Besides that, I was running around with a slight cold. It was starting to amass into a runny nose, but a pilgrimage isn’t your typical holiday - or it’s not meant to be - and i might return worse off and unable to work.
On top of all that, I held alot of guilt in me. As a Catholic for the past… 6 years now (wooo!) I have gone for barely enough confessions (i can count them all on one hand) and have definitely slacked in going to Church for the past 4 years at least. So, wouldn’t it be really hypocritical to turn up and hope that I can find solace in this pilgrimage?
Yet, the part of me that loves God knew that I have to go. This is a once in a life time opportunity, firstly because it’s in Sydney, secondly it’s because really…. I might truly be unable to go to the next one (considering the rising rate of freak accidents lol). The priest at Church was hinting, then decided to forego the hint that I should not let anything stop me from going… because it is after all a journey.
More doubt crept in my head though. Most people would be 17-20 years old, i thought. I am just a little over the hill from that demographic now. I probably wouldn’t be able to relate well to anyone. Hell, I might not even relate with the group i was going with either. Years of cooping myself up at home, at work and at school because i was “tired” of interacting might have numbed whatever social skills i have. Why torture myself?
My leave was, despite the shortness of staff, approved. The restaurant was closed for a day and a half, so that most staffs could rest up (some had been working 6 days straight by then). At 12 noon, I had not even packed… There i was, still wondering if it was a good idea. Waife broke his ankle the Friday night before, so the house, while moved into was still in a state of boxy disarray.
But i packed, and then i went. Without unpacking the boxes or a working set of washing machine/dryer, I went with newly bought underwear, t-shirts (hah, target-bought WYD commemorative T-shirts) and even my pair of jeans were new. The only thing that wasn’t new, were my facial toiletries, socks and jacket. I was still missing a towel and toothbrush/toothpaste.
When I arrived at the coaches pick up point, i was just a little disappointed. For something that was meant to be this important and of this scale, the level of organization was… sketchy at best. Some Pilgrims had already waited 8 hours by then, some even more than that. When a bus driver did arrive, everyone rushed to chuck their baggage at him, but he was only instructed to bring 30 of us.
And there was no passenger list since they didn’t see a need to.
My head was already wiring up all kinds of complaints…. “wth, such an important event… blah blah blah have to be KIASU again and run and get a bus… have to sit with kids…” I have, as we can all see, digress to some sort of disgruntled grandmother over the past year and it exhibited itself, thankfully only in my mind, in the ugliest way possible on the bus TO A HOLY PILGRIMAGE.
That will always sound so wrong for years to come I know haha.
after 3 hours, some bumming about, and suddenly really SEEING the scale of people who are on the pilgrimage with me, I suddenly felt humbled. I could see nuns, as young as possibly 16, leading their fellow classmates into the train station at Campbelltown. People who didn’t understand English trying to understand directions from a train station staff. The most amusing of all was… the bag that i felt was just a little too bright, was worn by all young AND OLD (hoho, there’s a 80+ granny there, aight?) that united us all with the bright words of SydWYD08.
Suddenly, it was like, WHAT AM I COMPLAINING ABOUT?
I trudged to the campsite with everyone and was led to a nice, somewhat bogan suburban area of NSW - Lurnea. We were going to stay at a primary school there, in their classrooms. That brought back some nostalgia… Days in Yangon YMCA, sleeping in the assembly hall. I smiled at the church, and grinned at the classroom.
I think i can do this.
The Pilgrimage
If the Mark of finishing my pilgrimage was the Final Mass, I have definitely failed it. On Friday night, I finally gave in to my lungs and just passed out in the first aid tent, my breath almost stopped a few times.
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I should be angry, and initially i will admit i was. The doctor that i saw that morning told me i was just having a normal flu, when in actuality, i was having an asthma attack right infront of him. So, i walked around with a wonderful little asthma rubbing my lungs and throat raw.
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But you know, this pilgrimage has been wonderful… and in one word, i can only say “WOW”. I believe, had i went for the last mass, it would have been like an icing on the cake - But i did already have my cake and ate it. I experienced the wonderful combined love that people have for God, I experienced catechism with the masses, I even saw people whom i know from Singapore!!!! - and I also experience God and His Mercy.
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I should be getting the net back tomorrow evening, and i will upload pictures and discuss my whole pilgrimage further from there.
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<3
moved!
we’ve moved. we have also dropped AAPT as an internet/phone provider because they suck balls. Switching to optus, on adsl2 bundled with home phone. 30gigs cap, but it will all only start on the 16th so i am kinda uncontactable web wise Albeit, this all comes with a free wi-fi modem too! so i am looking forward to playing wii online ^________^
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aside from that, on the 14th, i am heading up to sydney for World Youth Day with ANU’s Pilgrims (i know, i know, i have never left the church there though). This ends on the 20th, so in effect, really, i won’t be online until the 21st. I am really looking forward to this pilgrimage though, even though i had be sleeping on the floors/grass and Randwick Race course in the cold. but hey, isn’t that what pilgrimage is about?
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see you at the end of the tunnel!
the rental market here is fucked
so, after we secured a place which neither of us liked, guess what happens?
the properties that we did like are now calling us to tell us applications are approved.
way to go canberra, your rental market is fucked so bad. first by rental auctioneering, next by irresponsible landlords.
Moving!
Over the weekend, we found a place. for the price it was advertised for and the location it is in, it was a steal. i decided to have a quick look and honest to God, if we weren’t so desperate, probably not the place i had move into for the price. but we are desperate, and so we are now moving to Braddon, into “half a house”. It was, basically, a 3 bedroom house, shoddily converted into a 5 bedroom, and then split into half. This time, i am staying in the back half.
To describe it as it is now, quickly, it’s a 2 bedroom bedsit kinda place. the bedrooms themselves are almost the same size, if not larger than, the living room and the kitchen combine. The kitchen itself is really a part of the living room area, and everything is carpeted except for the double ensuites. There’s a small verandah, a GIGANORMOUS shared yard and garage. really, they are so big, and considering how the house was converted, i was surprised he didn’t convert the garage into a living area either.
The thing is, the previous tenants kinda trashed the place real bad. The sliding glass doors leading to the verandah were broken, the carpeted area next to the kitchen sink was brown from a rusting fridge. walls were obviously not cleaned and stained with moulded food and grease. There were pockmarks all across the walls as well as actual marks everywhere. showers were obviously not cleaned either, and neither were the carpet. not to mention the overwhelming smell of spices running through the house.
The landlord is obviously trying to please us though, so he’s been trying to re-paint everything, get everything done today for us so that it’s liveable by FRIDAY.
and on my part, i am going to start vanilla candles burning there for nights on an end until there’s no more spice smell. i love spices, just not living in it. it’s not an unliveable place as it is, just needs lots of work to make it homely and the way i had like it.
and there you go! we found a place, photographs will follow once we have done it up so that it doesn’t look half as trashy!
a very tired being
you see, i really love mushrooms in its cooked form. grilled, fried, even burnt, and definitely mushroom sauce. i have noticed, in my 2 years and 9 months of working in this wonderful *ahem* job, that perhaps all asians are united in that one love (seems like most other people would go for diane) - not that loving mushrooms is a racial thing.
a few months ago, as i have mentioned, i dumped a whole pot of mushroom sauce on my head. it wasn’t out of sheer joy. i was doing my readings after work, i was looking at the monitor, i wanted music with my readings. i reached out for a black thing from the corner of my eye, assuming it was my headset, and bam - mushroom sauce dripping off the left corner of my head.
the amount of swearing that went off after that….
tonight, i just proved to myself i am wonderfully more absent-minded than i thought - or perhaps i am turning senile prematuredly. while at work, i threw forks and bowls into the bins, while leaving the MUSHROOMS out to be washed… not to mention, how i ran from table to table, wondering why i haven’t ordered their food yet, when i did.
and then… and then… wait for it…
i just topped myself with mushroom sauce again.
i should probably consider stress therapy.
oh. and meow… is meow. she just went through her first heat, which was incredibly EXHAUSTING. so we are definitely de-sexing her. howling for 3 days in a row, 24 7 left me almost DEAD! and worst thing was:
she slept IN THAT POSITION!! 2 HOURS! LIKE THAT! wah lau eh, can you find a less lady like cat? $#$&*$*@ and seriously, trying to pack a house with a nutter like her, was a freaking nightmare. every box is a FKIN playground. she pops into everyone of them, then looks up at me like “whaaaaa…? i am just helping ya”. she even ended up in the DRYER (first pict) for some /wrist time.
even my luggage wasn’t spared. took it out, in she hopped. i didn’t even noticed her, till i dumped the hangers in and then she jumped out, yowling like some justice was being undone right there.
cats. i never knew how my life was great until i own one. now i am stuck with her, rofl. i am so cooking her on monday night
i love thee…!
it’s been a flurry of action around this house lately. what with the serve of notice, we tried to get our gears in action and started hunting down houses. with our combined annual pay, we are somewhere up in the 100k mark per annum (which btw, honestly, is slightly less than average far as i can poll in this damn city).
With that bunch of papers in my armpits, consisting of my payslips and referrals, i could easily rent a place in town for up to 450 per week, hands down. hell, considering how i am earning 3 times as much as i did 2 years ago, i can probably rent for more and still survive and scrape past.
The problem is, the rental market won’t agree. and obviously, if i was also them, i probably had disagree too. Jobs like mine aren’t permanent and have fickle players. Considering the week past, i am dead certain of that even more. So with that in mind, i faced my first denial of application today.
i was just a little bit stumped, to be honest. despite the “great” view and location, the area in question ISN’T worth 450 (what the person counter offered the landlord, versus the intended 370p/wk on the papers) a week - it’s about 15 mins away from town, and approximately 30 minutes in the morning jam. the other places though, are pretty worth it. so hopefully something calls back in the next 2 days, because i am starting to panic. and a panicky Panda bodes no good. not that i will stop viewing houses, but there are less and less properties within budget and areas we can afford, and more and more inflated rental rates for the most absurd reasons.
the house has gone from some what neat in 3 months ago, to spewed out 2 months ago, to getting into boxes. unfortunately, i am one of those stupid anal arse people who likes to mess things up so “i can see what i am doing” and this is the case right now. The other unfortunate effect is, i now no longer feel like being friends with a particular person.
the thing wasn’t about her complaining to people about how shitty my home was, it was her point being “so glad i only have 5 days left here!” and that pretty much i wasn’t giving her time alone. considering how most conversations started with her proclaiming one problem or another, and how i sat down and try and offer suggestions and solutions, i am pretty bummed by it all. So, honest to God, i really don’t see how i became so terrible to live with (which seems to be the aura emitting from those paragraphs). if we were to talk about cleanliness though, she lived with me in my previous home too - which was neat while she was there. so, it baffles me that she can’t see that she came at an extremely trying time (in terms of packing yet trying to make the place look liveable).
The day that i found that out though, i decidedly let myself zoomed into nothingness. Things got to me twice as much, and i got pretty sensitive and reading too much between lines. I finally snapped when my boss’s best friend told me that i could walk out the door if i didn’t like him being rude to me, which was twice in a space of 7 days, and so i “kindly” reminded him that he was about as respectful as a rock, and walked it.
and then i bawled like the nut that i am and called up dad.
Oh dad. my pillar of strength. It’s funny. I was walking out of work, about to tear but willing myself not to. It was a shitty day in all, and i can kind of understand why J snapped at me, “if you demand respect, you should give respect”. unfortunately, of the whole restaurant, there’s no one else i respected more than J, boss, head chef and Gracie so pardon me if i believe i have already handed out respect on a platter. In my head, all i could think of was, “geez, am i not wanted or what?” and infront of me loomed H’s work place - where i would used to go to when i need to bitch about work.
Suddenly, i felt like i couldn’t tell her anything anymore, since i might be “not giving her the down time that she needs”. I can’t “go home”, because it’s not mine. I can’t talk with my “best friend”, because she really isn’t. And since i walked out of my job, i don’t even have that income - i felt so alone. So, of the only 2 people i had in mind to talk to, neither of them were HERE for me to grab and hug.
And then i cried all the way home on a cab, because i felt so alone. the poor cabbie, i think he was totally not prepared for that.
and i called dad. and i bawled like a baby, trying to understand wtf is going on. and for all his wisdom and age, he still sound sad that i was bawling like a baby over the same thing i bawled over exactly 10 years ago - my job, my useless friends and having to move out of our then home. Ah, sometimes, time just don’t change anything.
and as for the other person i wanted to call? bless his soul, he was fast asleep way out in the U.S.A. and didn’t have to listen to my wailing rambling.
i hate…
a long time ago, my washing machine at home broke down. instead of replacing it, or even consider replacing it, my mum switched to hand washing everything - “because all of those clothes leaks colours anyways”. That same washing machine has since been moved around from home to home, whilst we move, and is now… basically a bookshelf (that is circular, metal, and opens from the front lol)
Today, in an effort to cancel out the “wet floors” and possible “water damage” blah blah blahs, we have removed the washing machine from the laundry area and letting it air dry to death. this of course also meant that we can’t do any washing. it’s back to the usual stomp-on-wet-clothes hand washing methods. considering what cat has done in the past couple of months, that’s a mountain load of washing to be done all at the same time. Most have already been done immediately, some just retained the smell however, so it’s going through a re-washing as well.
This is beginning to be a nightmare, and i just want to move right now to be out of it.
the light at the end of the tunnel: boss just bought washing machine and dryers for work and said i could use it :p
giving a place
In the past… what, 2 months, we have been shifting furniture around to move. we have been busy at work, and when it comes to off days, all we want to do was to flop down and just sleep for the whole day and do nothing. Furthermore, meow went on an auto-see&piss mode, so i had a hard time catching up AND still be working.
Amidst all that, i had a friend who came in and asked for help as she has no place to stay after a year and so in canada - gap year if you have it. So first i did was “yeah sure”. The problem was, i haven’t seen her in as many months, and it felt awkward to have a guest AND not say anything to them. and i didn’t even charge her rent or anything
so when she came in, the house smelt from the cat’s piss, and i had boxes and furniture everywhere and things were just piling up. On top of that, i was trying to be the interested friend and ask her how her things were, holidays and all were…
and now, i found out how she’s been bitching about how smelly and messy the house is, how she’s glad to be out of here, and how i wasn’t giving her any down time.
am i supposed to feel embarassed, or sad, or just stabbed?
