leaving home
i want to complete the story of my life if i could, but it’s too long, and too many different violent episodes. so i will take a break till i actually can think of ways to write it without getting too pissed.
yes memories… they do rake up emotions don’t they?
by chance, i came upon a blog (no i wasn’t blog trolling, it appeared on a school’s link or something) that showed a girl doing a “year abroad” thing from NUS. and she’s right here, in canberra.
i don’t know what to say when i read the blog, because i actually felt… odd. jealous? a little. bitter? maybe a little. the fact remains, they all could go home after 6 months, or a year and every single time, when i think about it since i first arrived, i can’t just simply “go home”.
First off, i do want a degree. Secondly, ever since i first started going home, i felt even more uncomfortable “home” than i ever did. i mean, i knew i was having issues back in Singapore. Just standing at the MRT during normal days, to school, to work, to play, it makes me pissed with some of the people, the places and so on.
i am not denying being a Singaporean, i just don’t feel like i fit in at times. well most times. for example, i am a slacker, i honestly wear terrible clothes at times that no one in their right mind should go out in. and then you see one pretty feet checking me out like i made some disaster when i was just going to the food court nearby. and then another auntie giving me odd looks.
that’s the least of my problems though as i got over it.
i feel so at home here now, i actually fear going back. 
and somehow, that’s just sad. because in all it’s technicality, i don’t belong here. hell, because i don’t know how to drive, i haven’t even seen much of canberra either, much less australia.
oh wells.
at times i look around my room, and i despair. i fear, living with another male in the house, might just somehow turn me male. it’s garbage land in here, how scary is that?
*shudders*
My camera though, i don’t know what to do with it. it’s demise upset me more than i thought it would. i mean, yer, so i kinda fucked up in an entry to something significant, at least to me. As i sat there scrolling through my flickr stream though, i kinda got even more upset. nooo… no more nice picts, i must take them all within a certain “view” since the camera hole in the phone is damn small..
and oh wait, they will all turn out blurry or something.
and i can’t run off to far far away, without being contacts while i am taking pictures. *snort*
so i started whining to Holy Tony and Travis, and they were all giving me faces. i went to nap it off, and when i woke…
gmail said “Holy Tony has given u money!”
it was from my paypal donations button to the right.
i was like, shit, what the hell, this dude doesn’t even know me. i could be lying ffs. he just gave me 20 aussie bux, but omg, that’s silly. someone will one day go to him “oh holy tony…. please give me a car…” then disappear from his life. -.-”
then he said ” T_T i was trying to buy a healer in a dangerous party… everyone died so it’s too late now..”
….
it’s just a game dude… just a game.
but if that give me 20 dollars at each go, from everyone in game o.o new camera might be sooner than i thought. hell, judging from the 35 hits or so per day, if everyone puts in a dollar or so, in about 10 days, voila, new camera. wait, that means 10 bux from each person.
too lazy to count. whatever, i will get a new camera when i am earning my own money, and after this shit mulls over.
at this point, i don’t even know what camera to go for. i want a canon, but i have a sony memory stick, and memory sticks are so expensive, i don’t want to go through all that again. besides, i have rent to take care off, and a stomach to feed which seems a little hard to care for at the moment.
yer. i need a damn job, but i need to stop worrying about the damn visa.
The Sudden Morning
well! today is the 60th Anniversary of the Hiroshima bombing. As part of the memorial process, someone set up a gallery viewing, like an exhibition, inviting people from all walks of life to contribute to this pictorial event. Details are here.
along the way, someone sent an invite to me, or rather just to pull my notice there, so i thought why not. after ensuring that my stupid camera had work though, i decided to sign up like 2 days ago. and i did checked it last night too.
but this morning. oh goddamn. i walked out, and switched it on. the thing HUNG on me. it wont receive pictures into the camera. no matter what i click, it wont MOVE. the thing is stuck perpetually on my folder look out thing, u know where u look at pictures already taken. when i move it into video mode though, it goes into blackness. when i move it to setup mode, it stays on the first tab.
suffice to say, my dear camera DIED.
i know i mentioned it was dying, and that i might get a new one. but circumstances have changed, i can’t afford to spend stupid money. and unless i suddenly have a fairy godmother, i won’t suddenly have excess money to spend on it. there’s a donation button somewhere to the right of this site, but obviously no one would donate to a nobody 
thus, yer, i am still broke! 
initially i wanted to withdraw from the event, but i couldn’t find any button that says withdraw. then i decided, wth, i am just going to try and take some pictures anyways with my phone. however, you know how the results always are with my phone. and i suck at photo shop.
but here they are. just for u too.
now this pict, i can’t tell u how much it DID not came out as i expected.
but for some odd reason, i fell in love with it anyways, regardless of how retarded it look. i mean, look at those mini rainbows! how awesome!
this final one i took, was a just in case situation. since you know, the rest might turn out kooky. but guess what, since it’s black and white, it might mask the blur, and i was right!
and now, i sit through looking at the other morning picts, suddenly realising, no one cared about the quality of the picts, they just wanted to show their side of the story, today, 60 years on.
and my side of the story is, its nice, cool, quiet where i am.
just how i love it.
end of innocence part 3
my dad called last night, for the 2nd time in about 3 days. and for the 2nd time in 3 days, i have cried again to him on the phone, something that seems to be occurring the entire last week. the sad part is, i have no balls to tell him the truth behind my weepings, other than being homesick and being under stress.
the sadder side to it is, he is trying to comfort me and console me as best he could. if only he knew, he might get so fucking angry that he might have a heart attack and pass out. i don’t think i can risk that now because as it is, i am still recovering from the last death. my brain might split open if anything happens to my own family.
in my family back then, there was a lot of ambiguity with regards to money. my mum had leech money off the pockets of my dad’s because he had leave his pants around the house with all the money inside it. How my mum puts it to the family is often very clear though. “his money is mine, my money is mine.” that was how she had go around telling everyone.
the 50 dollars that i found though, and back in those days it was quite a huge sum, not just because we were poor, but 50 dollars for a 6 years old is a HUGE thing, and i decided that it was mine since i found it.
i brought it to school the next day and started showing it off. Like i said, it was a HUGE thing to have a 50 dollar note in hand for a 6 years old, and no one has really seen a 50 dollar note in my class before, so i started showing it off. Being theft upon was never an issue for me, because i have never really thought that people would bother to steal from me any ways, it just wasn’t… like something i knew well.
thieves only occurs in story books and tv, or so i thought.
so, i started splurging on my new found “friends” because everyone crowded around me. i bought lotsa silly stuff, like pretty erasers, scented erasers, mechanical pencils (they were rare back then, everyone sharpen their lame wooden pencils), flutes and shit. some were for me, but i reckon i spent more on my friends than anything else.
back home, my mum obviously discovered she lost 50 dollars because when i went home, she started searching frantically for her missing 50 dollars and started chanting about it. i started getting scared because i realised what i just did:
i blew her 50 dollars on stupid stuff like giving shit to my friends and buying stupid stuff for myself.
in my fright, i did not dare to tell her what i did. i kept quiet and sat in my corner.
The next morning though, she came into my classroom, to pass me a book that i left at home. suddenly peoplpe start going up to her, asking her when is she giving me another 50 dollar allowance again.
i paled in mid stand.
then, suddenly, a whole bunch of people started lining up, claiming that i owed them money. 5 dollars, one dollar, stupid amounts of money that they never usually have because most of us have barely enough to go to school with, despite the difference in riches. but still they claimed they loan me that much.
my mum acted nice to them, eyebrows raised at me. i didn’t dare to sit in the car after school.
the entire ride home was full of shouting and pinching, tears and pleading. when i reached home, dad was home, which obviously was a sign of how bad the situation has become. i told my dad that i found it, but he still caned me and said that i was a liar and a thief. he made me apologise to my mum, and i plead her for forgiveness, despite knowing that i did NOT steal it.
well at least not in my opinion.
then my mum kicked me away. and told me to get lost.
i think that was the start of when i started hating my mum.
all these years, i have been striving for nothing but her approval. i was on my knees, begging her to forgive me, BUT SHE KICKED ME AWAY. she has always pushed me aside, like i didn’t matter.
when everything cooled down 2 weeks later, our family was going out on our usual sunday treat. mum said something real mean to me, which i can’t remember now what it was. i got upset, and ran a little bit, before jumping up and landing a tight harsh slap across her face, and told her to go to hell.
oh yes, the rebellious little me. it was starting to show that i had enough of her and her abuse. of course dad was not happy about it, but i didnt care. he told me off and slapped me too, but for all that was worth, i had slapped her and left my mark. and that, somehow was satisfying.
in the car later on, i said my first ever threat to her when she started going on again about how retarded i was.
“if you are not careful, i will throw you into an old folk’s home when you are older and just dump you there.”
this just in, and i don’t know why i keep laughing about it. Chemistry building in uni just went bang, and now smoke’s everywhere and alot of people were evacuated from the nearby buildings, which extended all the way to union court, which is about 500 meters or more away.
the good part is, no one was injured as far as we know now, the bad part is, i am sure there are losses, and perhaps massive ones.
bulk emails were sent out, which i take to meaning spamming everyone. considering how they have spammed my email account even though i had no access to it, i thought they would spam me one on the smoke thing as well. however, none was sent. this info about the bulkmail though, is taken off postal forums from my uni. am i right to say then, that even if i am studying now, i would not be warned about it?
that’s why i have started believing in karma again.
end of innocence part 2
Framed by the light from outside, she walked in in a semi shocked look, asking us why didn’t we turn on the lights. as she tried to turn on the lights, my dad’s voice rang out, cold and angry.
“don’t bother.”
“what? why?”
“where were you?”
“at work! where do you think i would be?”
“didn’t it occurred to you that she’s only 5?”
“she’s old enough to take care of herself! she could call her aunts to come if she really needed anything.”
“the lights went off, she was scared, you said you would be home early. you just left her behind like this. what kind of mother are you?”
“eh, i need to work ok, so she can be fed and we have the money.”
“yer? well, how come she’s still hungry then?”
she turned to me in anger, “why can’t you make your own milk? are you so stupid?”
dad was even more angry and held me tight, “she’s only 5, what does she know? we never really taught her how to make milk before, and the electricity went out, she doesn’t even know where the switches are. the water had be cold. stop putting blame on others that you know was your fault.”
as it got more heated, i got more scared. i started trembling in my father’s laps, because i didn’t know what to do. i didn’t want them to argue, but i was so scared, i didn’t know what to say.
eventually, it got even more heated, and dad sent me back to bed, with my milk bottle in hand.
i tried to force myself to sleep.
hours later, mum walked back into the room, unshowered, crying, and turned away from me.
subsequently, there were more and more arguments, directly or indirectly related to me as my dad finds out more about how she’s working so hard, but ignoring me as a whole.
he never went back to taiwan ever since.
on the one hand, i was glad he was staying permanently, but as i often come home to find my mum weeping, i got sadder and sadder. i didn’t want my dad yelling at my mum. i didn’t quite understand the arguments then, but i wanted to make things right. one time, as she set crying on the couch, i clambered over and wiped away her tears.
funny part was, dad actually took a picture of it.
not so funny bit was how she pushed me away and told me to get lost.
finally i turned 6, and primary school started. it was a whole new experience. of course, being the idiot that i was, i was more than a little too enthusiastic. my mum tried to apply to all the top schools for me, but because i was being registered fairly late, things were going awry. also, my performance at kindergarten level was recorded as “hyperactive, disruptive, asks too many questions.” it got me turned away at many a school, and by the time i got to St Margaret’s, not only was i too late for proper registration, i had been turned away by at least 12 nearby primary schools, and this one was way in town. a good 20 mins or more drive, depending on the traffic.
the great part was they said since it’s so late, they don’t mind accepting me. the bad part was, on the day of class balloting, my mum got me there an hour late, so i got shoved into the first class, where the supposed elites were in. this class was full of the smarties, the richies and the parents that has huge influence in the school.
i was just a poor raggedy girl, who’s mum drove a station wagon and have a bad hairdo, bad dress sense, can’t speak a tad of english, and neither can i really either.
and i liked transformers.
in all my pre-schooling excitement, dad started training me for maths while i had packed my school bags. oo the stuff i tried to stuff into my school bag! because mum has bought lotsa things to wrap my books in, and various other articles that i obviously was not meant to carry, i simply thought i was supposed to bring all to school.
to be honest, this is where i think dad actually wished i was male. all my old toys, were guyish. battery operated trucks that i could sit in to drive around the house in, transformers, hot wheels cars… the list went on. of course, i believe my mum felt that way too, since she bought the more expensive ones.
going to an all girls’ school with transformers pencil case and school bag was getting a little extreme though. and i didn’t know how to fit in properly, since i was in a co-ed public kindergarden before. no one was way richer than me, so obviously that was a bit hard, since i never knew the importance of money, nor how much it makes us “more important” and etc.
the first week i was there, i got snubbed by the girls.
no one paid me more attention, i had less pocket money than everyone else. i tried to make friends with everyone, but because i was often late due to mom’s antics, they had see the car, see how i got yelled at by the teachers, and they had ostracise me.
by the second week, someone stole my pencil case.
the only silver lining in this ever increasing lonliness, was the form teacher i had back then. Mrs Chan. She was young, pretty, sweet and new to all this teaching thing. She was so kind to me, that it always never fail to brighten up my day.
otherwise, the teachers almost treat me the same way as the girls did. they had yell at me for the smallest thing, bad handwriting and what not.
one day, the most embarassing day of my first year in primary school, i had left my homework home, and i couldn’t hand it in. the Chinese teacher got upset with me. she made me stand to the right of her table, beside the door, beside the corridor that runs along the side of the school thats by the quiet road that the school was situated on. i was not used to being punished this way.
my dad is one who believes in corporal punishment. by the time i was 7, i had tasted the bad end of his cane, and i know how bad that feels. but to be standing infront of the entire class of snobs, and being stared at, smirk at, was more than i could bear. but it was a 30 min class, and accidents were bound to happen. by the 10th minute, i was trembling.
i had to pee.
i asked the teacher if i could go, she looked at me and sneered and then yelled at me, “when you’re being punished, you stay punished, don’t try and run away from it.”
5 more mins passed.
“please mrs ng, i really need to go to the toilet.”
“quiet la, i told you to stand there means you stand there. stop whining and trying to run away from it.”
i was only 6. up till that time, i haven’t mastered the art of holding my pee in.
i swear i tried my darnest. however, in the next 2 mins, warm water was felt trickling down my legs as i cried in humiliation. i didn’t dare to say a word because i knew she had be more angry, and i had be probably punished more, but a girl walked up to hand in her class work, and she saw.
“uh… teacher… eeeeee”
and she pointed to me.
and my teacher yelled at me, “how could you do such a stupid thing?!?!?!”
i did ask her to let me go to the toilet, no?
needless to say, my popularity dropped even further in class until one day, like a stroke of a luck thing, something came to me.
i found a 50 dollar bill at home.
the end of innocence
i was reading some blogs just now, some news and it occurred to me, no matter how society wants to see it otherwise, no matter the different television shows that we watch, no matter how pretty we all may imagine life to be, there will always be as many downs as ups. there will always be some shit happening, that you can not possibly foresee, cannot possibly come to terms with or get rid of.
suddenly looking back, i realised how fucking stupid being upset at failing uni sound. for the record, i failed university. that’s the reason for the last few depressing posts. i am upset, perhaps because deep down inside, i know one of my tickets out of my past life is closed. it doesn’t mean other doors aren’t open. but i just feel damn sad i might lose this place, i might have to leave and this was a great place regardless of what happened. for once, i feel free when i am here, and because i am so far away, things between my dad and me finally got better. perhaps not alot, but it was better.
i said i don’t want my blog to be too personal because i am not comfortable with it at times, to know that regardless of how anonymous i try to be, i will always end up being found out at some stage anyways thus i never bothered to hide my identity much. This blog though, has kinda evolved for me. i still need a goddamn outlet to rant and rave and i can’t just cry my life away, doesn’t solve shit. however i can write stuff out, and vent the pent up feelings for a bit.
how awesome isn’t it.
let me start my life story where it did started. right at the beginning. it will span a few pages, but i have all the time in the world now, so everyone can slowly enjoy.
When i was young, my family lived in a small 2 bedroom flat. We were very poor, both my parents work their arse off, and married late in life so that they may have money before they start a family. our tiles were so bad, i can peel at it with my 5 years old fingers, and they come apart.
and i can spend my entire childhood just prying them apart like that without thinking of the consequences of walking on concrete floor.
my mum’s a seamstress. when she was 18, she ran away from home to start a new life working in singapore. back then, visa and what not was not like a hard thing to get, and she worked her way up to being rich at making import and exporting clothes, while still selling some locally. she claimed that many people woo-ed her, but my mum has this very materialistic streak. as long as the guy doesn’t look rich, doesn’t seem to be earning much and have a nice car, house, whatever, she doesn’t want to be with him.
add that to the fact that she works from 7 till 11 at night every day, she barely met “eligible” people and family got desperate and friends helped to match make her to my dad.
my dad on his part, graduated from secondary school and worked all kinds of job before settling for, what was considered back then as a prestigious job in the government building thing, because it was a necessity to find a well paying job. from time beyond memory, i knew my dad love wu shu, love chinese medicine, love chinese-y things, but with barely any money on hand, and what with the inability to earn much with those knowledge anyways, he did the “normal” work route.
when he married my mum, it was because he saw that she was hardworking and seemed capable of handling money since she’s earning so much, so he thought she would make a great housewife, mother, wife person.
oh the practicalities of men.
Since both married late in life, they were in a hurry to have kids. people of that era, it seemed abnormal not to marry, and also not to have kids. For a couple of years though, my mum couldn’t conceive. They had no idea why, till they visited a doctor, and they found out due to her erratic eating behaviours, sleeping hours and what not, her period was not coming regularly enough for her to conceive.
so she had medication to aid her in that and then i was born.
i am not sure how much my mother actually wanted me though. from time beyond memory too, she had never really talked nicely to me when i was young. when she does, it was to conspire against people, bitch about my aunts, and so on. not her sisters, my auntie-in-laws.
then my dad started travelling overseas when he had saved enough money to pursue learning about his interests. he had barely enough to support himself for 3 months or something at a go, while still paying the guy he’s learning from the fees to learn wu shu. At that time, his choice of destination was taiwan, and there was a giant country wide sales happening.
i was only 3.
my mum pleaded with him to let her go, because she wanted to go shopping. He didn’t have the money to bring her along, plus i was very young. i am not sure anymore if we had any maid to look after me at that age, but she didn’t seem to care either ways. My dad still refused, because if there was anything huge that happens, he wouldn’t have the money to support both of them and bring both back.
moreover, by then my mum has started showing her spendthrift ways. it was hard to bring along someone like that and hope to have enough money. her motto was “his money is mine, and my money is mine”. which, in every sense of the word, brought alot of problems home.
my mum got terribly upset. on the day of departure, there used to be a macdonalds in the middle of changi airport, which was only 1 terminal back then. we had our last breakfast before my dad departs. i am not sure what happened, i only remembered i was clambering and then sitting back down on my chair when my mum swoosh the cup of hot tea over me.
oh
my
god.
i don’t know who to be more upset with now, but back then, i didn’t understand what was going on. it hurt, it hurt and i was scared of my mum. she poured it over me, and i don’t know why. i didnt know who to reach out for comfort, because my mum was supposed to protect me in any cartoon i have ever watched, yet, she just poured something to hurt me.
on the other hand, dad was NOT going to put off his trip for this. he said “don’t try to stop me with this cruel act, i know what you’re thinking. if you can’t go you don’t want me to leave either!” and he went off to taiwan.
by the time he came back, i was cured, and all well again. relatives visited me, everything went fine and dandy, and i believed in my mum again, my dad, everything was forgotten.
oh, how naive the child.
my dad left again when i was 5 to Taiwan to visit his friend, the teacher. again, i was left alone with mum. again, she was upset.
she was still a “young” wife, the marriage was still young, and yet, she was left alone with a child, while she’s still trying to get ahead with her career. at times, i sit down and wonder, did she ever wanted me, because it seemed she hated me for bogging her career down.
the number of times she told me i ruined her life, because i came and she couldn’t concentrate on her work anymore, that i was the cause of her career’s downfall. i lost count.
most of all, at times, i think she resented my presence because she couldn’t go with my dad on such trips to taiwan.
one day, during the trip when i was 5, i woke up, hungry, with nothing to do as it was holidays or something. i asked her to make milk for me because i am hungry.
“ma, i wana drink milk.”
“go make it yourself! i am busy can’t you see?”
“but i don’t know how to make.”
“why are you so stupid? why did i have a fucking stupid kid? just pour hot water and milk and everything that u need. so damn simple, and you don’t even know?!?!”
i was hurt. tears ran down my face as i attempted to do everything.
i was 5. even today, some tools call me short. can you imagine at 5, what kind of height i am? the mixing of milo powder and condense milk was easy. then the part of the hot water came. the kettle was high up on a shelf. i couldn’t reach it without some kind of aid.
i found a stool, and pushed it towards the kettle. i was still far short of being at a comfortable height. i had never made my own milk before. i had never touched a hot bottle the moment its being filled with hot water. mostly, i had never had to pour things from a kettle to a milk bottle. this line of action thing never occurred to me before.
as i shook in fear of scalding myself, i pressed the button to release hot water.
the warmth scared me, but hot water was spilling on the side too.
it hit my hands, ran over it, leaving a mark of sharp pain as i released the bottle to its doom on the floor, falling off my stool, and weeping and crying for help.
i hit the floor on my head, while the stool overturned onto my legs, one part of it being hit by the hot water on the floor too.
i have made a mess in the kitchen, and i was scared what mother would do to me. she came running in, i thought she had pick me up and cradle me.
she started screaming,
“why are you so stupid?!?! why did you make a mess of the kitchen!?!? huh?!?! why do i have such a stupid child as you?? your cousins could cook their own lunch and dinner now (they were about 12?) and look at you!”
“i am sorry..” i sobbed, still hoping she had take me into her arms
“go fuck off, you don’t need to drink any milk today!”
i think, at that point, i was more disappointed in her, than anything else. she was nothing like the moms on television. she was nothing i thought she might be.
i hid in my room and cried even more. i had a rag doll back then, and every time i cried, i cried into her, because i didn’t dare cry too loud, that people may know i have such a bad mother. because everything was my fault. i made her angry, and i was the bad child.
i was bad, and nothing should be pushed onto my mother as her fault.
my happier moments back then, was when my father comes home.
when daddy comes home, he comes home with presents for me. he would hug me and carry me in his strong arms. i would kiss him on the cheek, because i love my dad for coming home to protect me.
protect me from this mother whom i am starting to realise, hates me.
we had a rocking chair back then, with a tattered back because it was with us for a long time.
when daddy goes out to taiwan, i had sit there and rock myself. because when my dad comes home, he had sit there with me on his lap, lying on his chest, just rocking me to sleep.
it felt good to be lying there, even without dad, coz it felt like he was there cuddling my problems away.
then the quarrels started.
as i said, mum work till 11 pm at times, or even 1 am. she had a “factory” of sorts. a shop people could walk into. she brings her work home but she has her own shop to work in. she used to work mostly by herself, although she has helpers, but to save costs, she does the bigger job and only give them small parts to do. like sewing buttons or something. this resulted in very long hours for big orders.
and when we didn’t have maids, it meant i was home alone for the large part of the day when i was deemed to old to be brought to the shop. my mum didn’t like her clients knowing she was married with a child, because she thinks it helps with her business. that if they like her, as a woman, they would probably order more from her to get her attention, to attract her. having a child around means she has less charm.
that day, when dad was already back from taiwan, and i was home alone because he was at work that day, the electricity suddenly turned off. i remembered my dad once saying that if the electricity short circuits or something, the switches are there to turn it on. but me being all young, i somehow thought it was outside of the house rather than inside.
i was scared. i tried to reach through the locked grilles to turn on the lights. i couldn’t reach them, much less know which switch to turn on.
as it hit evening, it turned even darker and darker till i couldn’t see anything. dad was part timing as a chinese medicine doctor by then, and it was one of those days where he was on duty. it was a free service thing, the patients only pay for the medication. he only had to work one week a night, and it was more of a hobby than a real job, it pays really bad.
by 7, the entire apartment was doused in darkness, save the light that came from the stairs landing because i was scared of the dark and left the door open. i forced myself to sleep, in the lonely flat, on a lonely queen size bed. the smells of my parents luring me to sleep amidst my fear, hunger and lonliness.
“lihuan… lihuan…”
my dad’s voice soothingly called me awake. i ran out, in tears from pent up fear, rushing to the grills, climbing up it to face my dad at the same height, scared shitless from the darkness. he was surprised to see a dark home, and being an ex policeman, was instantly alerted because it was dark and the door was open, but the grilles were locked.
“what happened?”
“daddy..” i sobbed like an idiot “the lights went off daddy, i am sorry, i don’t know what to do, i am scared, they won’t come back on.. mum isn’t back yet, she said she be back, she never came back..”
in my rush to explain everything, the words tumbled out in a row, one after another, between tears, gulps for fresh air, while my dad tried to unlock the grilles to calm me down and hold me in his arms as i cried even more.
“don’t cry, it’s ok. i am back now ok? see the switch here? if it goes off again, just flip this big one on.”
all along, the switch was just beside the grills to the left.
all along, this stupid thing that terrorised me could have been resolved, and i didn’t know.
my dad was angry, i could see it simmering in him, but i didn’t dare to question. he made my milk for me, which was a huge part of all my meals when i was young because there was often no one home. i was finally weaned off bottled milk when i was in primary 2. even the maids were taught to give me milk if they have no time to cook.
it was 10 at night by then, when i was fed by my dad on his lap, in tears, and he turned off the lights, left the door open like i did when he found me after work. his body heat was rising, and i could smell the anger growing.
at 11, my mum suddenly appeared, shadows covering her face as lights fell from her back to the doors.
her shock was obvious as she asked “what happened here?”
before i forget
just a quick one. yes i didn’t attend classes, but that doesn’t mean i didn’t read. i did mention i had a perfectionism problem, so i knew my work, just didn’t think i was good enough. it happens to even the best of us, no?
and thus, i knew the postal acceptance rule. duh. 
Administration?
i have been running around the entire day, trying to get together for lunch with Elephant and then running to immigration to settle some issues.
the problem here lies in that, i called up DIMIA last week, the guy knew i had a change of address, and he even asked for full address, i know he took it down or something, but apparently it might not have been updated on the system, even after he told me that there was NO address on the system whatsoever.
ok fine, i don’t care who’s reponsibility is it to report my change of address to the immigration. on the one hand, some rules page things mentioned that i have to update my address with school because it involves the immigration department, on the other hand some rude guy on the phone just now mentioned that i was the one who had to do it.
seems like everyone’s turning bitchy to me this week. i can be bitchy too, if i am that type of person, and go, i paid my fees and no one seemed to care to do anything properly.
and now i received a letter from uni, that i would be receiving similar information about reporting to DIMIA and halting the cancellation process via email.
HEY.
you guys DELETED ME. how the HELL am i SUPPOSED to received any EMAIL?
Extra sensory perception?
oh wait. let’s check out the postal acceptance rule, since technically, the uni is a business entity, and i am a consumer:
“Acceptance is complete as soon as the letter of acceptance is properly posted. The acce[tance is not affect by delay, destruction nor loss of the letters in the course of post, provided that the parties contemplated the post as a means of entering into contractual obligations.”
as stated by the high court judge in Tallennan & co Pty Ltd vs Nathan’s Merchandise (Vict) Pty Ltd (1957) (Dixon CJ amd Fullagar): “A finding that a contract is completed by the posting of a letter of acceptance cannot be justified unless it is inferred that the offeror contemplated and intended that the offer might be accepted by the doing of that act.”
ok, this is a poor attempt at applying this law since universities are vastly different from actual large companies, and it wasn’t really an acceptance or an offer. BUT, since they have indicated right at the start of my education that communications is going to be via email as much as possible, because of the turnaround time, and the same goes for the first email from them with regards to my show cause, it meant that everything is agreed and “fine with” that we perform this via email.
so that’s the “inferring” part down.
however, since my email system has always been really screwed (slow connection to it, sometimes even timing out, people complaining that they could NOT send me emails because they bounce back etc etc) and no one seems to want to admit to it, other than earlier this year when they advise us to delete our shit so that we could actually have a functional email system, how does that equate being properly sent?
a year ago, even the student admin tried to send me a show cause email which somehow subsequently failed to send. i have not question them about that, but since it failed, the show cause was waivered. an it didn’t seem to occur to anyone, HEY our email system has a problem, maybe we should send a letter out too so it’s NOT so unreliable.
but no. nothing happened.
and now, they expect to send stuff to my email account that has been deleted? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
it’s been a week. i have been begging for my email for one hell of a week. yes i am no longer paying gsf, no longer a part of anu, does that mean i am SECOND CLASS? yo.. even the worst of private schools still allow us access to our RESULTS and stuff for another month or so.
you just DELETED me the day after i was excluded, with NO information whatsoever. that in itself is TRAUMATIC enough.
but since according to the postal acceptance rule, you know, as long as they sent it, and it showed in their systems there was no bounce back (assuming that my email address is still within their system), i am legally “in the know” about it. i should have expected it, and geez, good god, i have extra sensory perception to know exactly who sent me what. it doesn’t matter what happens on my side, because i am no longer under your care, your jurisdiction, nor concern, as well as the fact that i am no longer paying you to do all that.
you know what? that hurts.
just in: they suddenly called after i sent out an email 30 mins ago begging them to reinstate my email AGAIN. they finally have my email up, and good god, check out the amounts of emails i have gotten. FROM THEM.
if that wasn’t bad enough, something made me laugh.
they reset my password.
they sent the reset notification to that email.
like hey, i didnt even had access to it, how the hell would i know that the password was changed, till the guy called me? funny systems they have.
stars
…and then being not strong for once, and just leaving it all to my friends to hold me while i fall, is a good feeling.
perhaps sadistic, but a good feeling to know that all’s not lost, that there’s always someone to hold u when you can’t be strong and needs a shoulder to cry on.
too many times, i have just pretended to be strong when i am dying inside. and when i can’t take it no more, i just sit in my corner (yes, that’s why this is labelled my little corner) and weep because everything seems to be falling apart around me, so quickly, so hard to keep tight.
i called home, to norjit, and she stayed by me, upset with me for being silly, but throwing ideas into the air, offering help in anyway.
then by sheer stroke of fate, one of my friends from primary school (yes, way back when i was all alone, i actually had a few friends somehow) somehow got together with another friend from a more recent past. i didn’t set them up together, i don’t even know how they found each other. but there they are, together as a couple.
and they started chatting together with me online and i told them about what happened. i was brought to tears, because they loved me so much on their own, and together, they just made it all the more.. worse? happier? for me.
“come back, we love you, we will take care of you..”
“do you need us to come over now? or any time, any place, we send some one for you?”
“do you want to meet up with us?”
“are you ok? calm down, we will help you out.”
“come back, we will solve this for you…”
despite whatever broken promises i laid down to them, no matter how many flare ups we had with each other (both me and renee have like… terrible tempers, 2 sitting volcanoes, waiting to kill each other), they are here. right here.
and for that moment, i just let everything down again, and weep, because everything seems so dim, despite the little light. everything felt like, everything i touch, they just turn bad. i don’t know if i can make things right at times, it scares me shitless.
and these 2 very different people, whom i have no idea how they even found each other (despite the fact that both knew me o.o) they both love me in their very own ways. i know, it’s not good to be reliant on others, to be retarded and go all putty when help comes along my way. i am trying to be strong, to stand up on my own, but when this help comes along, with a love so strong between friends, oh god, it feels good to sit there and savour in it, bathe in it, and weep.
because they understand.
because they aren’t going to turn away from me.
because they aren’t going to judge me.
the counsellor said, “it is a great thing, that you have this gift to feel deeply for people. it is sad that it causes you pain as well, but it is a great thing.”
but wouldn’t you want to love these people too?
the hardest thing, is often to love the enemy, not to love the person who shower you with so much care, support, when you most need it.
the hardest thing, is to forgive past wrongdoings.
then again, my friends have forgiven me for the various times i threw tables and chairs at them, broke my promises to them. they are so above that.
there might be no bright light at the end of this tunnel. there are plenty of stars though. they come in the form of friends.
just for the record, i dont think i have spoke to renee for the last 3.5 years. scary aye?
Closing doors and a light
i walked into uni today, it was starting to get warm. this time of the year, it’s a little unstable, wavering between the semi-warmth of spring, and the bitter cold of winter.
yes i know, out there in the world, there will always be a colder winter, but this is what i am experiencing right now, and i happen to enjoy cold anyways.
i see people lying in the sun, studying, reading their bricks while mine lay cold, uncared for at home. this time, it’s no longer by choice, or by sheer pain. how ironic, as i go take out my forms to fill for a print out of my transcript.
i had a talk with my counsellor, who had a talk with the dean of admin, and it’s a no go. oh no, i wasn’t keeping my hopes up again this time. i am not denying myself, but in the last week, when my entire world turned upside down, i realised the uni is the last place to expect hope in. while if i have been a good and normal student, there probably would not have been so much problems.
all i have to do is to sign up, go for classes, and voila, everything is nicely done.
the uni, is but a blind fool.
i speak like a spurned lover, but i AM bitter, and i AM upset, i am not denying all these. However, i cannot be blind either to their faults. i think that’s where my problems lie too. i ignore people’s flaws too much, and then when it comes whacking in my face, i don’t know where to start, what to start complaining about.
i had issues in my life, i am starting to change. hell, i am even going to a counsellor voluntarily, things i would die to even do back in the past, but no, they won’t listen.
“She has talked about these issues in her show cause (although not in such details), and the review committee has rejected her appeal. I understand the distress she’s going through, but i am sure the review committee has made an informed decision. i regret to say that the decision to exclude her stands.”
what bull. this is what i wrote:
“They range from financial issues, to relationship issues, to the passing away of a friend and a family member.”
how does that equate informed decision? they knew nothing.
the last 3 years that i have been here, i have done nothing to solve the problems i had, because i couldn’t talk about it. it wasn’t my story to tell. i can’t go to people “hey my friend was cutting himself, go save him” because it wasn’t my story to tell. i can’t go to people saying “i deleted 15k words in the last 3 months because i hated my essays” because people might make me see a shrink.
yes, the shrink. what a stigma.
the doors are closed now, and nothing i do can help me, i guess. i might never see ANU again, and suddenly, i don’t really care anymore. i used to love ANU. i even got upset with Gin coz she mentioned something about ANU being ranked less than UOM.
the reality is though, and this is after some extensive readings from various universities, students become a “customer” to universities. when we reach the end of our shelf life, or threaten their very existence as a “prestigious” university, we get the boot. they need to protect themselves, and that i can’t deny.
in some sense, at times, some of us students might feel that if we become too big a problem, universities turn us away, because we might cost more than we actually paid.
it still hurts though, how i have been literally deleted off their system just like that. yer, i don’t exist.
life moves on though, and the better of us would also recognise that one does not need certification to be successful in life. check out bill gates and steve jobs. they got successful regardless of their original certification, dropouts and what not. this is not a comfort to me, nor to say i have quit.
i am not quitting.
fuck no.
after they had put me through, i am going to make the fuck out in this world and figure some way where they will NEED me. ^.^ sounds a little optimistic, but i am only 24 (or going to be) and say average human lifespan = 70, i have a good 50 years or less to do all that.
yer yer..
EAD…
yer…
now i am going to sleep. it’s going to get better. some how.
the dam
in my hurry to close this chapter of my life and start another one last week, i overlooked several important details. one of which was to ensure i had copies of the transcript that i was given in the rush to get over to university of canberra. then today, i called to ask about another unofficial transcript, since i have to wait for the official one to be prepared.
“cheryl, please, look at yourself, this is where you should start looking around at things that you should be responsible to yourself for. you can’t keep on relying on people to do things for you, to plan things for you. you should start doing things for yourself.” the woman said in an exasperated voice.
“i know but everything happened in such a hurry, i didn’t know what to do, i was all muddled up…”
“no, you know it’s coming cheryl, you know it for a long time. this is something that was happening for a long time.”
tears fell. the support that i thought i had was but a shaky one.
“i am not trying to be hard on you cheryl, but you got to start looking after yourself, and show the authorities you meant it when you said you would be responsible for yourself.”
more tears fell.
“so have you told your parents?” she asked, even though her voice hinted that she knew what was coming up as an answer.
“no. i can’t.”
silence
“look, cheryl, what would you tell them when things starts going awry?”
“i just can’t, not now, not for a while. ok?”
copies of transcript. it’s like the end of a certain life that i knew it as. not too long ago, i was staring at a transcript, mesmerised by it, wanting it to have my name on it, but i know that the circumstances would not allow it.
now it is like a mark of how much i am responsible to myself.
on the one hand, i am hurt, this university that i have loved so much has not been much help the last few days. not that i should expect it from them, after all, to them, i am just a money churner. universities these days, students are like commodities, are we not? once we have reached our shelf life, there’s not much use for us.
crude, but practical.
2 weeks ago, if i said i had problems with my email, they would have tried to resolve it within 24 hours.
now. i have problems with my email. it’s been about 6 days now or so. nothing has been done.
in our system, we had an advisor’s comment’s thing. it’s been 3 years now. yes, 3 years. i have never seen it once used. the emails they claimed to have sent me, i have never ever received. Prepared for the worst? yes, i should have been. but even the harshest of authorities gives fair warning. i thought i still had a small amount of time to change.
and now there’s none. none that i can smell of, none that i can think of. none.
and nobody seems to want to help me when they are in the positions to. i am reliant on them professionally. i am not asking them to do things for me. i was in a state of a muddle, i was in a state of crisis. i can’t think. i was freaking out.
i wanted to quickly do things before they go bad or i am unable to save myself.
was that wrong that i forgot to zap a copy of the transcript for myself?
would you, in my position, want to be kept a copy of an unhappy thing to yourself, while your head is all messed up because the university that you love so much just “deleted” you?
would you?
i would, only because i had to. and only if i could, in my circumstances, to. but to be upset at me coz i was muddled up.
oh. i lost an ally in this fight.
