AN EPISODE OF LIFE

Comments People Make.

2009-11-15T10:48:00.004+10:30

Stupid thoughtless people generalize me simply because I am 'da ayshunn'. Here's a few retarded comments that I often make a 'WTF' face to.

'Omg you're so Asian'
OH REALLY? I NEVER NOTICED.
You're a freaking genius with great observational skills..

'You're good at math because you're Asian' // 'You're Asian therefore you're smart'
Why would you assume that? I could be the dumbest skank-faced Asian ho on the planet. Why would you think I'm smart simply because my eyes are squinty? Ok ok, so I'm decent at math but still, stupid generalization. I'm not good at it because I'm Asian, I'm good at it because my dad pushes me to learn it.

'Stop squinting' // 'Why are you eyes so small?'
I was born like that, you retard. I cant help it that my face is somewhat deformed. Why are you eyes so far back in your head?! Why is your nose invading my personal space?! Chyeah, see? I can be racist too.

'Can. You. Speak. English. ?'
Yes. I. Can. But. You. Obviously. Have. A. Speech. Difficulty. If. You. Speak. Like. This.

'Go back to your own country, you illegal immigrant'
Gladly, does this mean you'll pay for my plane ticket? Firstly, I know Australia isn't 'my country' and I never claimed that. I'm not Australian. I know that, I'm not trying in anyway to be Aussie so, sorry if I offend you. Secondly, we're skilled migrants meaning Australia NEEDED us to migrate here because my parents have skills that are useful. What the hell do yours do to contribute?

'AZN PRIDE!!!!!!!!'
If you say this line, you are either a) an Asian-wannabe who is trying to impress a group of Asians or b) a retarded Asian who has recently discovered things such as bubble tea. I'm not prideful because I'm Asian, what does my culture have anything to do with my pride? Asians are not necessarily better than other cultures so WHAT THE F is with teenyboppers screaming 'AZN PRIDE!'?

'I wish I was Asian'
Why? You're probably a recently admitted Japanophile who think that all of Asia is just like Japan. News flash, most of Asia are poor 3rd world countries where people suffer and die from hunger. You have no idea what those people have been through so don't assume that being Asian is so freaking awesome simply because you read a manga and saw that the girls wear really short skirts and the boys all look like girls. If you want to LOOK Asian, that's a different thing. BEING Asian is more than having squinty eyes and a flat nose.

To be continued.

Cambodia

2009-11-15T10:35:00.003+10:30

The long awaited holiday in shortly coming up. 16 is the number of days that I must endure until we leave this 40 degree heat and go to Cambodia where it is Winter. Then again, Cambodia's Winter is approximately 30 degrees. Better than 40 though, hah, suckers.

I'm looking forward to seeing my relatives though I'm cringing at the thought that they will pinch my cheeks and tell me how big (AKA, fat) I've become. Being Asian, it seems as though I can never be skinny enough. My frame is pretty small and I'm pretty tall for an Asian girl who spent most of her life in a 3rd world country. But it seems like my thighs will always consume a large portion of space and it must really irritate my relatives when I ear thirds of every meal. I'm not one of those people who say 'I don't know why I'm so fat. I diet and exercise. etc etc'. I will gladly admit to being fat and I know I'm fat so I definitely don't feel sorry for myself like my Biology Teacher.

I feel guilty that I'm looking forward to shopping more than I am to seeing my relative's disappointed faces when they ask me 'So, how many years until you become a doctor?' and I say 'I don't want to be a doctor'. Of course they will shun me for the rest of my life and probably introduce me as 'the-grand-daughter-who-does-not-want-to-be-a-doctor, please-marry-her, she'll-never-get-anywhere-in-life'.

Back to the shopping. Shops in Asia are generally very very cheap. DIRT CHEAP. With 50 bucks I could probably buy a whole new wardrobe accompanied by shoes, accessories and cosmetic. Then again, I do speak Fobbishly and will probably get ripped off by my own people. :/

Started a count down. (:

Exams.

2009-11-13T17:06:00.003+10:30

Unbelievable, year 11 as I know is coming to an end yet I can still remember my nervousness when I was coming into year 8. Though I'm a senior now, the anxiousness has not disappeared. In fact, I'd say it has gotten worse over the past couple of years. As year 12 is staring me in the face, I feel as though I have been thrown naked into a shark infested pool where the only way I'll live is.. actually, there is no way I could live.

The daunting thought that one day I will have to be independent makes me sweat bullets. 400 more days until I graduate from high school and I'm still acting like a 12-year-old. My parents are the over-protective kind (chyeah, they're Asian, what do you think?) and even if it was only a paper cut, Mum was always there to put a band aid on me. What happens when I have to put the band aid on myself?

Obviously I have no trouble putting on a band aid, it's a metaphor.

I want to go back to being a child.. where I can spill food on the ground and pee my pants and my parents still love me.

Being an adult is an episode of my life that I don't want to see.

Die!

2009-10-30T17:01:00.003+10:30

By 10am today, I had wished death upon at least 5 people. Making a deal with God, I hoped that he would kill them off in some painful way. Wouldn't it be weird if they all died of supernatural causes and I was convicted as a criminal? That's actually a pretty scary thought.

Most of the people I wish death upon are actually drivers. If I could drive properly, I'd tailgate them and dent their car a little bit or maybe I'd wait until they innocently get out and then.. RUN THEM OVER. No, unfortunately I am yet to drive on the left hand side of the road.

People I've killed off in my mind:

Guy-who-parks-over-crossing-line.
At the traffic light when the man turns green, at least 100 OLSH girls cross the road to find that an idiot has parked his car over the entire line. Thus, we were forced to go ALL THE WAY AROUND his car and put ourselves in danger of the moving traffic a mere metre from us. I mentally decapitated him and turned him into dog food.

Girl-who-talks-on-the-phone-while-driving-really-fast.
Like, oh-em-gee, my hair is, like, so good today cuz, like, I just got it cut and like, *hair flick*. No body gives a shit. It cant be so important that you have to put other people at risk. Put your goddamn phone down and drive at a normal speed. In my head, the phone shaved her entire head off and then ate her alive.

Girl-who-applies-makeup-while-driving.
I gotta say, she's got some talent if she can turn herself from pimply man to beautiful woman all the while driving and putting others at risk. Wake up a little earlier, dear, the you'll have time to put that mask on and hide your flaws. The makeup was of course acid and thus, her entire face caved in within minutes of applied it. She later died from suicide because she was so ugly.

Guy-who-plays-really-loud-music-at-the-stop-light.
He has his window down and bobs his head (sometimes he sings along) to some really old music from 2000, e.g. Pink's Let's Get This Party Started. Not that there's actually anything wrong with that song but.. he was a 40 year old man. Or even worse, some song in a different language. I didn't wish for this guy to die, I just hope he'll grow a taste in music soon.. or just turn the volume down.

Guy-who-zooms-pass-zebra-crossings.
FUCK YOU MAN I COULD'VE DIED! I swear, he was probably 15 centimetres from me. If I could get away with it, rocks would've flown through your windscreen, buddy. This guy.. drove into a post. Then his car caught on fire. But no, he's alive! Hallelujah. He climbs out weakly, croaking for help. Of course, Linda comes to the rescue in her awesome family sports-car and runs him over. Oh shit, did I just run a guy over? I better check. So I reverse and oops, run him over again. Meekly he says 'I'm sorry for nearly killing you at that zebra crossing', I then call 000. I got a busy signal and thus, he died. The end.

I have another rant about buses but I'll save that for later.

~

Pore Strip

2009-10-26T16:30:00.002+10:30

Today I found out the hard way that when you stick a band-aid-like object on your face, wait 10 minutes then peel it off, it's going to hurt.

In an attempt to get rid of the blackheads on my nose, I spent $5 on magic stickers that promised to make them disappear into this air. Basically, I had to work for half an hour to pay for something to stick on my face that not only hurts but leaves a red mark.

Of course being the idiot that I am, I'm not going to stop using it. Keep trying, I say! I have 5 more strips to use up. Woo.

Idiots

2009-10-03T17:02:00.003+09:30

I realize that perhaps a 'blog' is just another word for 'rant space' and thus, this is now my rant space. I find that it is so much easier to compile words in my mind than type it out because once it is on screen, it makes no sense. Speaking and understanding 3 languages, I guess that makes me tri-lingual, I think in a mixture of all. Often, I think in only English but as my vocabulary isn't exactly impressive, I struggle to find the right words and resort to replacing it with Khmer or Chinese. Hence, I often compile sentences that has 3 languages in it that only I can understand.

Nonetheless, today, I'd like to complain about the idiot customers who come to McDonald's. Purposely to make my life hell.

On Monday, it was a public holiday. They all conspired against me, knowing in advance that I would be in Drive Thru. Planning ahead, they said 'OK, Team 1 shall attack at 1742 hours. Do you have your screaming 4-year-olds ready?' and of course, they did. So at 1742 (if you can't read 24-hr time then now would be a great time to learn), screaming kids and their useless parents come through Drive Thru and my ears begin to bleed.

It's like it was an idiot's public holiday and they all decided to come out. Screaming in the speaker box, smelling terrible, half drunk and some missing their front teeth, they order food that we didn't even sell. 'Double whopper no onion' followed by a zoned-out 'duhhhhh' sound. Of course, being an optimist, I always look forward to going to work. I start my shift well-groomed and happy. I end my shift, twitching and tense, snapping at anyone who makes eye-contact with me.

I won't be racist but there were CERTAIN Australian people who were just...terrible.

Through the speaker-box:
Customer: nnnlnnnuhhdddnnnmmmmuuuaahhnnmmdddduhhhh
Linda: I'm sorry, was that a Big Mac meal without cheese?
Customer: nnnnnuuuuuummmmusuuuuulllldhhnnnnmmmuudduhhh
Linda: Sorry, was the Big Mac just by itself?
Customer: nnhhuuaaaaeeemmmueuuuudhhhuumammmhuuudhhduhhh
Linda: Uh.. if you just drive down, I can take your order at the window.

At the window:
Customer: cuhnnnnuuuudmmmujuuuulaluuuuuasuusjuduhhh
Linda: ...

I have no made it my goal to touch as little skin as possible. Who knows where their hands have been? So I lay the notes on top of the receipt paper tactfully so that it covers most of their palm. Then, I place the coins on top of the notes.

I have to give a special mention to the feral kid who was in the blue car last night. He was about... 7 or maybe 8. Let's say 10 at the most. This kid... was making VERY rude gestures to me, followed by a wink and lip-licking. I wanted to puke and throw coins at his head. The gestures... a little kid shouldn't even know the gestures... OR WHAT IT MEANS! It is so wrong. Feral kid.

Linda

Phobia

2009-09-30T11:36:00.000+09:30

As I grudgingly got up from my cosy bed this morning, I never imagined that a monster would be waiting for me. I trudged to the bathroom to wash sleep from my tired eyes and quickly glanced at the mirror. My choppy self-cut hair doesn’t look too bad and I’m somewhat proud of it. The roar of my electric toothbrush was my morning wake up call; I could taste the sweet minty taste of the toothpaste on my tongue. I’m glad I decided to wake Lisa up as I would have never been able to deal with the monster alone.

We both moved slowly even though it was 10:00 am. School holidays calls not for fun times but for sleeping in and putting on a few harmless kilos. My toasted ham and cheese sandwich tasted a little burnt - perhaps I’d left it in the grill press for too long. Without my glasses, I could only see blurs around me. Perhaps if I’d seen IT earlier, I would’ve been braver. Putting on my glasses, I was greeted by a large and menacing creature. It grinned at me mockingly, its slimy body moved towards me, suffocating me and stealing my air. I began to hyperventilate as I screamed for help from my sister.

She sat on the couch, paying no attention to my trembling body that was becoming catatonic. I ran screaming into the garage, looking for a weapon of some sort that may help me survive this creature. I came back in, feeling brave, holding a pathetic broom stick in my hands. The monster launched itself at me, its deathly black eyes pierced into me. A scream erupted from my lips as it touched my broom stick, I curled into a defensive position. The monster sniggered at me and turned away, sauntering through my house as though it was its property. Its flexible body moved gracefully towards the carpet. No, I couldn’t let it get to the carpet. A war-cry escaped from my mouth as I attempt to attack it with my trusted broomstick again.

But as soon as it touched my broomstick, I lost all energy. My body shook with fear and I struggled to catch my breath. I stood sobbing, my legs were weak and struggled to hold me up. When I was about to give up on life, my sister took the broomstick from me. Bravely, she swept the some-sort-of-bug into a dust pan and tipped it out in the garage bin. Still sobbing like a child, I clutched onto the dining room chair for dear life.

FMyLife

2009-09-15T19:45:00.002+09:30

Today, I was asking a boy whom I've liked for a while out. I thought I was doing pretty well. Then another boy interrupted and they began to have an exciting conversation about Maths. FML

I may have just experienced my first rejection, let me tell you, it's not a great feeling.

Anywho, I think it's more fun if we laugh at other people's misfortune instead.

Courtesy of FMyLife.com.

Today, I was at the lake watching a romantic sunset with my boyfriend. He tenderly started touching my thigh, then started shaking my leg to the rhythm while singing the J-E-L-L-O theme song. FML

Today, I decided I would finally get up and weed our front yard. After a long couple of hours, I was hot and sweaty and decided to jump in the pool, with all my clothes on, just for fun. Right as I was in the air doing a cannon ball, my blackberry started to ring from my pocket... FML

Today, when I was finished eating at McDonalds, I went to Shoppers to pick up a new toothbrush. I got back to my car only to find the windows smashed in. The only thing that was missing from my car was the Hello Kitty toy I got from McDonalds. Someone broke into my car for a 10 cent toy. FML

Today, after finishing a three-page essay for my spanish class, I went to rip up my brainstorming paper in an act of triumph. After I finished ripping it up, I looked on my desk to see my brainstorming paper fully intact, and my essay torn into bits. FML

Today, I filled out an application at WalMart after being unable to find a job in three months. I just graduated from law school. With honors. FML

Today my boss asked to use my phone since the company pays for it. A few hours later the same boss called me into his office to fire me. Apparently the company checks the phone records and found a call made on my cell to a sex line. My boss made that call and just fired me. FML

Today, I had been working at the checkout for over 5 hours. Slighty tired while serving a customer, my eye accidentally twitched and I gave him a wink, he smiled and winked back. When I finished work 2 hours later he was outside, waiting for me, and followed me to my car, still smiling. FML

Linda.

The Cemetery

2009-09-05T21:17:00.004+09:30

No, I did not commit murder. This is a story I had to write for English Studies. Excuse any typos/engrish, this is still my first draft. Oh and once again, excuse the (lalalinda09).

The hammer met his skull with a loud crack. (lalalinda09) He screamed in agony, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to the ground. I was hysterical with anger as I readied myself for the second swing. The hammer met his head again, this time it made no noise as his skull gave way and blood spurted out onto my face and clothes. (lalalinda09)I could taste the subtle saltiness of his warm blood. This was the blood of the man who was never jailed for killing my sister. I watched his whole body twitch as he struggled for breath. A large puddle of thick red blood seeped through the cracks of the creamy white pavement. (lalalinda09)When I finally stopped myself, my face and clothes were soaked in blood and he had stopped twitching. His face was distorted and deformed - his nose was virtually non-existent as his entire skull had caved in. I felt liberated with my achievement.

I stared at the cemetery gates, hesitant to walk in. It was like the mouth of the devil, inviting and fascinating yet sinister and evil. It surrounded and held back an intimidating creature made of fog. (lalalinda09)My fingers involuntarily reached out and stroked the decoration on the metal bars. The coolness of solid frame made me shudder in pleasure and fear. Beyond these gates laid possibly hundreds of corpses, all rotting away with time and here was a new friend that I have brought to join them. (lalalinda09)I took a step through the large rusted metal gate, dragging his limp body behind me. His skin was warm, or maybe my hands were just cold. The stale grey fog greeted me, swallowing me whole and blurring my vision to the point that I struggled to see my own feet. (lalalinda09)The eeriness of the place made me shiver uncontrollably. Paranoia took over and I found myself continuously glancing over my shoulder. I wanted to run back out but when I turned, I could no longer find the gates through the thickening fog. (lalalinda09)

Through the haze, innocent trees appear to be dangerous creatures. Their angular branches were numerous arms, all holding knives. (lalalinda09)Every time the wind blew, their long arms reached for me, swiping at my face with their sharp weapons. A soft breeze blew through my hair, whistling and whispering warnings in my ears. (lalalinda09)I was hesitant to take each step as I feared that the ground would suck me in. The dirt was soft and wet, it clung onto the bottom of my shoes like it was trying to hold me down. (lalalinda09)Each step became harder as the body sunk into the muddy ground. The trail of blood mixed with dirt to create a stale, sour smell. The putrid odour tickled my nostril, my stomach churned and I wanted to throw up. The scent was like meat that had been left out in the sun for too long. (lalalinda09)

Different shape and sized tombstones stood erect and marked rows and rows of graves already occupied. (lalalinda09)As far as I could see, there was no space left for my dead friend. My eyes watered as I squinted in an attempt to gain a better sighting of the cemetery. (lalalinda09)I gasped and jerked back defensively as I felt the icy coolness of a stone statue against my bare arm. (lalalinda09)I looked up to see the face of an angel looking down at me. She was no longer beautiful and polished but instead she was covered in slimy green moss and cracks. (lalalinda09)Her blank grey eyes stared accusingly at me, as if she was judging me. I made a sharp left turn in order to avoid her dead piercing stare only to find myself inches from an open grave. It was as though someone knew I was coming, as if they dug this grave specifically for me to dispose of the evidence. (lalalinda09)

The next night I drove down to the cemetery again. It was as though my body was moving against my will and before I knew it, I stood in front of the large metal gates once again. (lalalinda09)The devil’s mouth smiled at me warmly and welcomed me as though we were old friends. With its creaking hinges, it beckoned me to walk in. The fog had thinned out, making it easy to see in the dark night. (lalalinda09)The trees were no longer stabbing at me, instead, they appeared to be waving. I was their friend and they were proud of me just like my sister would be. When I finally found the stone angel, her smile was no longer grim, she looked happy, perhaps too happy. (lalalinda09)Her grey eyes glimmered in the moonlight and her parted lips whispered an inaudible phrase. My eyes traced her lips, down to her neck, her shoulder then down her arm. Her fingers pointed to my left and where there should be dirt, there was a messy, open, empty grave.(lalalinda09)

The Thickshake

2009-09-02T14:12:00.004+09:30

It's been a whole month since I'd logged in last. Yes, I have been neglecting this blog but seriously, pass year 11 vs. blog? I think the choice is clear here (and this is why I am blogging). School has been absolutely vicious. Day in, day out, we're suffocated with at least 2 or 3 assignments that would be due at roughly the same time. As I am typing, I am also hyperventilating over the fact that my Biology essay is due tomorrow and I've written a measly introduction that is more Engrish than English.

I have just arrived home from school. Because it is my free period, I get out at lunch time. Lucky me.

Have you ever eaten/drank something that was disgusting, but you kept drinking/eating it?

I just bought a thick shake from a CERTAIN cafe in Regency Plaza and it tasted like crap. Surprisingly, I've bought from there various times before and each time, it tasted like crap. Vanilla tasted like vanilla, chocolate tasted like vanilla, strawberry tasted like vanilla, caramel tasted like vanilla and even iced coffee tasted like vanilla.

An no, it is not cheap. $4.50 for a large cup of shaken up milk, anyone? Strangely, I find my self buying it over and over again even though each time I know it will taste like crap and will possibly give me a stomach ache later on.

Have you ever bought things you don't need?

I just bought 4 chocolate bars because they were on sale and I don't even like Crunchies. I also decided to buy an eye lash curler for my non-existent eye lashes. I was THIS close to buying a mud mask and then decided against it. I own so many ugly pieces of clothing that I have never worn, many of those aren't even my size. I have 3 digital watches, all the same appearance and I have never worn them. Instead, they sat in my drawer, wasting away and 2 of them are now dead. I'm just drawn to useless things.

Have you ever anticipated a certain person calling/texting/e-mailing or even just seeing them?

Lately, I've been raving about a certain person who I shall not name for my own sake. My friend gave me a ultimatum because I seemed to be wasting precious time: either talk to this certain person or forget about this certain person. So I chose the latter and all is forgotten. I am the biggest wuss to ever exist on this planet.

Nonetheless, I love my life at the moment. Every thing's going just right. Not perfect though. If it was perfect, I'd have my promotion at work by now, I'd have certain-person as my boyfriend (HAHA), I'd have no assignments due, I'd be able to control my mood swings (PMS.. lol) and I'd be a lot richer. But no, everything is not quite perfect but I'd settle for just about right though. I'm happy with the way things are. I'm grateful for my violent best friends who beat me up everyday.

Linda

Year 12

2009-07-30T16:20:00.003+09:30

This is just me thinking and typing at the same time...

It's only coming to the end of July of 2009 but already, the school is pressuring us into deciding our year 12 subjects for next year. This is crucial! Why are they doing it so early?

English Studies, Math Studies and Business Studies are the only subjects that I will definitely be taking next year. The other two, well, I have no idea what they will be.

I have issues with time management and exams. I never study for tests nor do my homework. I put assignments off to the night before it's due and yet I somehow managed to get straight A's with one 20 and three 19s. I know that it was just a fluke but really, that report card has given me a huge inflated head. Especially from English, I'm on a perfect 20 roll and it's been going for about 6 summatives now.

I'm considering Biology as a subject but I've never been very good at Science. I thought about Psychology but it's completely irrelevant to anything that I would ever aspire to do. I even thought about Modern History since I sat through all the lessons with music blaring in my ears yet managed to get an A. I hated Modern History, I didn't like the teacher in the slightest bit and the stuff we were learning about made me age at least 50 years. Multimedia may be an option. I just got my results back for my summative last semester. 100% anyone?

I don't know.

But I'm actually sort of enjoying my big inflated head.

I'm supposed to be studying for math right now. I haven't done one equation for this topic. Let's see how I go in the test. I'd be content with a B.

Contact Lens

2009-07-15T11:18:00.004+09:30

It's another turning point in my life - to be able to see without a thick rim sitting in front of my eyes. I've just recently (about 45 minutes ago) gotten my very first pair of 2-week-wear contact lens from OPSM. It cost me $100, this includes the consultation fee and the cleaning solution, lens as well as the case.

I've never been able to see so clearly in my life, I've been wearing glasses for at least 5 or 6 years and I can't remember the time when I didn't need them. It feels so strange to look around and expect to see a blur of color but instead, I see perfectly clear objects with their own distinct outlines. I can't say much about contact lens improving my squinty-eyed look.

Don't get me wrong, I've always loved wearing glasses (and I still do) but sometimes, my vision blurs and I get dizzy when I've been wearing it for too long or I'm focusing on something close to me.

The contact lens are soft and almost jelly like but at the same time, quite solid. You know if you hard boil an egg and you peel off the shell? Sometimes, you'd see a thin white strip peeling off, contact lens are something like that. They're slightly bigger than the colored part of my eye. So if you're sitting (awkwardly) close to me, you might be able to notice a slight blue tinge around the color of my eye.

I can't say that putting it on is pleasant because it's not. Ever touched your eyeball as a kid? That's exactly what you have to do. It's not hard, neither is it painful but it's somewhat awkward. You have to hold back your top and bottom eyelid so that you can see the white all the way around the colored-bit. The blink-reflex makes this very hard and my eyes start tearing up and twitching like crazy.

However, once the contact lens is in, I can't even tell it's there. For the first 10 minutes of wearing it, my eye felt a bit uncomfortable but it quickly adjusted. I was given a bottle of what I call 'magic-water' because apparently it cleans your contact lens really well and you can put it straight back into your eye straight afterwards.

At the end of the day, I am to take off the contact lens, clean it and put it in the container then drown it in magic-water. Taking off the contact lens is somewhat fun if you like pinching a very thin piece of plastic off your eyeball. I guess it's a lot easier than putting it in though. Cleaning it is also fun. I put the contact lens in my palm, put a couple of drops of magic-water on it and rub it around. However, putting it back in straight after cleaning really is a pain in the ass because the lens are wet and they stick to your finger. I end up sitting there rubbing my eyeball for about 30 seconds before I realised that it was stuck to my finger.

For the first few days, I'm only allowed to wear it for about 4 - 6 hours but after my eyes have adjusted completely, I can wear it for 12 hours if I want to. I will still wear my glasses because well, why would I want to jab myself in the eye if I'm just sitting at home socialising over MSN?

All in all, I think contact lens are amazing and I really thing we're going to become very good friends. I'm leaning towards buying the daily wear so that I don't have the hassle of cleaning it because that's the part that I hate most. Maybe one day in the future, I'd like to get colored contacts, possibly a light brown/hazel color.

It's been half an hour so I have to go take off/put on my contact lens to practice. Bye bye.

Linda

HBD

2009-07-12T15:49:00.003+09:30

A (belated) Happy 16th Birthday to Sophie. ~090709

(By the way, you have NO IDEA how long it took me to figure out how to make that above link work.)

English Studies Assignment FINISHED!

2009-07-12T15:22:00.002+09:30

Warning: Very long and somewhat useless post.

Starting off again with rants:

I'm stuck on my Psychology assignment and my vocabulary is rapidly deteriorating. For example: 'Lots of people are depressed. Not just teenagers or adults, anyone can be depressed.' (Taken from Psych essay). No kidding, I actually typed that out before realising how stupid I sound on paper.

Dad has agreed with me getting contact lens. He didn't argue, didn't give me bad looks, didn't mock me, NOTHING. He said: 'Research it so you know the pros and cons and if you're still willing to wear it, then you can'. That's it. I was so surprised. Even Mum is fine with it. She says it's my responsibility and if I think I can handle jabbing my eyeball everyday then she has no problem with it. I'm thinking of getting the daily/single wear contacts so I can wear it occasionally and still be able to wear glasses.

Here's my finished and "polished" English Assignment. I don't know how to get it any better than that. As I mentioned before, my vocabulary is currently that of a 5 year old child. I blame it purely on the swine flu symptoms that I've been having which is apparently only a cold. I know that I'm usually overly dramatic about a couple of sneezes and a sore throat but this one lasted 3-4 days!

It took me a whole week to finish this 800-something words piece of crap. I wish the word limit was something along the line of 2-3000, it would be so much easier to write in details. Don't mind the occasional '(lalalinda09)'. I'm a bit paranoid about sticking my work online. Just as a precaution, I don't need a therapist or anything like that. I'm a perfectly happy teenager, in fact, I would say that I'm much happier than most teenagers. I don't have issues and I have never been a victim of... whatever you'd call the following incident. Just because all my stories end with a suicide/death or something of the sort doesn't mean I'm a depressed child.

'Stranger'
anEpisodeofLife @ blogspot.com

I cry every time I think about it. Tears burn my cheeks like the knife that he used to carve shapes onto my face. I trace my fingers on the rough skin that was puckered into a small triangle on my chin. (lalalinda09) The shapes overlapped each other on my cheeks and his initials healed into a proud scar on my forehead. J.T.R – the letters were jagged and bumpy, the full stops were small pieces of flesh that he carved out.

Crying has become something I do on a regular basis. No matter how much I cry, the left side of my face remains dry even though the right side of my face becomes saturated with tears. No one could ever love something so ugly, an abnormal person with only one eye. (lalalinda09) I run my finger over the curved coarse skin where my eye should be. It didn’t hurt but I flinched from instinct. He has taught me to become scared and paranoid of everyone around me. (lalalinda09) I can no longer be touched by another human being without a shrill scream escaping from my lips.

The beach was so beautiful that day, the weather was perfect and the breeze was heavenly. A subtle smell of BBQ hit my nostrils and my stomach grumbled. I stood in the middle of the beach, the sand was fine and smooth underneath my delicate small feet. I can remember every detail on every small grain of sand that day but why can’t I remember anything about the man who offered to buy me an ice cream? (lalalinda09) My parents lay on the towel next to one another, unaware and unsuspicious. I followed the man towards the canteen, the pebbles felt cool underneath my bare feet. He was young, perhaps in his mid-30s, his voice was friendly and sweet like a siren. I contently licked my vanilla ice cream as he paid for it.

He took my small hand in his, I let him. I could see no harm in befriending a pleasant man who bought me an ice cream, I was a foolish girl. (lalalinda09) We began walking away from the beach. I looked back and saw my parents sat up. Mum was frantic and Dad was yelling out my name. I tried to answer back but a strong hand covered my mouth, the man was no longer nice. (lalalinda09) He violently jerked my arm and dragged me towards a white van. Kicking his legs made no difference, I was too weak. He effortlessly picked me up and threw me over his shoulders and ran towards the van. I screamed as loudly as I could but it must have sounded like a squeal of delight. Unsuspecting strangers must have seen us as father and daughter having fun.

I woke up as a cup of cold water was thrown in my face. (lalalinda09) My eyes were opened but all I could see was darkness. The room itself had no windows. It was warm and humid, the air was stale and thick, it was hard to breathe. Water droplets trickled down my leg, I tried to stand up. Pain shot through my calves then up my thighs, I heard a loud crunch erupting from my knees as I fell to the ground. I opened my mouth to scream for help but the effort was useless. I screamed loudly, no sound came out. The scream remained trapped inside my head. (lalalinda09) My tongue pressed against the inside of my lips, I could feel some sort of cotton holding my lips together. I could taste the subtle salty taste of my own blood.

I felt water trickling down my palms, I violently attempted to move my arms but something sharp dug into my wrist and more water dripped down my fingers. (lalalinda09) The man chuckled and held up barbed wires in front of my face. He watched quietly as I continued to struggle. I screamed silently as I thrashed about trying to free myself, the barbed wire was digging deeper into my wrist with every movement. The ‘water’ that was seeping through my wrists was blood. Tears streamed down my face as I said a silent prayer to God. (lalalinda09)

I lied still on the filthy floor. I could smell the tangy sweetness of my own blood mixed with dirt. I couldn’t summon anymore energy to move. My whole body was sore, my eyelids were heavy but my head felt light. (lalalinda09) I struggled to breathe in the thick air, my body had grown cold from the loss of blood. Before I knew it, darkness consumed me and I could remember nothing else.

I opened my eyes to find my parents’ nervous faces hovering above me. Mum was crying so much, the tears from her eyes could have filled a bucket. (lalalinda09) Dad had a confusing look on his face, I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Mum and Dad came to visit me in hospital everyday for the next couple of weeks. Neither of them spoke to me. Neither of them touched me. After a few days, I had grown accustomed to Dad’s odd look. I had figured it out what the look was: disgust. (lalalinda09)

I couldn’t blame Dad for being disgusted. The first time I looked into a mirror after the incident, I could see that I wore the same expression on my face that Dad did at the hospital. I looked like something from a horror movie. Never again would anybody hug me. (lalalinda09) Never again will I hear my relatives compliment me on my fine facial features. Never again will I go out in public. Never again will I talk to a stranger. (lalalinda09)

Linda

English Studies Assignment

2009-07-03T16:46:00.002+09:30

Our very first assignment for English Studies is a creative piece with the theme 'Water'. There were a few sentence starters and a couple of pictures that we could use as ideas. I chose the picture of the beach.

Firstly, an update on my Work Experience.

It went quite well this week and I'm sad that it has ended but I'm proud to announce that I have survived and I'm well and alive. I still have to write a thank you letter to Ms. Ridley for being so kind to me.

There was a fight this morning between Robert and David (and his protege Tim). I know it's not my place to take sides but really, I'm not on any sides. I just really hate one kid and really like the other.

Although David proudly and constantly declared that he had won the fight, I'd like to contradict this little vulgar piece of something stuck on the bottom of my shoe and say that he didn't. In Robert's defence, it was two against one and Robert still managed to land more punches on David than David did on him.

Robert did nothing wrong. The guy was sitting down quietly watching Transformers and David, the inconsiderate imbecile, started pushing him around. Of course, what are the odds that David was pushing Robert around just after Tim had entered the room? Why couldn't he push Robert around in the past 20 minutes that he was alone? Can anybody say, wimp? Come on, what has happened to an honourable fight?

Of course I wanted to give the little pansy a piece of my mind but being a student-teacher, I couldn't risk getting a bad report. I made sure to openly dagger him as he walked passed though.

Putting that aside, here's a rough draft of half of my Creative piece so far.

I cry every time I think about it. Tears burn my cheeks like the pocket knife that he used to carve shapes onto my face. I trace my fingers on the rough skin that was puckered into a small triangle on my chin. The shapes overlapped each other on my cheeks and his initials healed into a proud scar on my forehead. J.T.R – the letters were jagged and bumpy, the full stops were small pieces of flesh that he carved out.

Crying has become something I do on a regular basis. No matter how much I cry, the left side of my face remains dry even though the right side of my face becomes saturated with tears. No one could ever love something so ugly, an abnormal person with only one eye. I run my finger over the curved coarse skin where my eye should be. It didn’t hurt but I flinched from instinct. He has taught me to become scared and paranoid of everyone around me. I can no longer be touched by another human being without a shrill scream escaping from my lips.

The beach was so beautiful that day, the weather was perfect and the breeze was heavenly. A subtle smell of BBQ hit my nostrils and my stomach grumbled. I stood in the middle of the beach, the sand was fine and smooth underneath my delicate small feet. I can remember every detail on every small grain of sand that day but why can’t I remember anything about the man who offered to buy me an ice cream? My parents lay on the towel next to one another, unaware and unsuspicious. I followed the man towards the canteen, the pebbles felt cool underneath my bare feet. He was young, perhaps in his mid-30s, his voice was friendly and sweet like a siren. I contently licked my vanilla ice cream as he paid for it.

He took my small hand in his, I let him. I could see no harm in befriending a pleasant man who bought me an ice cream, I was a foolish girl. We began walking away from the beach. I looked back and saw my parents sat up. Mum was frantic and Dad was yelling out my name. I tried to answer back but a strong hand covered my mouth, the man was no longer nice. He violently jerked my arm and dragged me towards a white van. Kicking his legs made no difference, I was too weak. He effortlessly picked me up and threw me over his shoulders and ran towards the van. I screamed as loudly as I could but it must have sounded like a squeal of delight. Unsuspecting strangers must have seen us as father and daughter having fun.

I woke up as a cup of cold water was thrown in my face. My eyes were opened but all I could see was darkness. The room itself had no windows. It was warm and humid, the air was stale and thick, it was hard to breathe. Water droplets trickled down my leg, I tried to stand up. Pain shot through my calves then up my thighs, I heard a loud crunch erupting from my knees as I fell to the ground. I opened my mouth to scream for help but the effort was useless. I touched my lips. They were messily sewn together with wool.

That's all I have so far. (:

Linda

Work Experience

2009-06-30T16:31:00.002+09:30

This week I'm away from school for a Work Experience week which I am spending at Enfield High School. This choice is justified by the fact that the school is convenient in location (right across the road from my house) and I am familiar with the rooms and staff as I used to attend this school.

The first 2 days have gone so well and I'm enjoying it so much that I don't want the week to end. The year 8 and 9 kids are so friendly and although they swear a little bit too much, I know that they don't mean to intimidate me. Most of them get along well with each other, which is a nice thing to see because it wasn't like that when I was in year 8/9.

I've learnt a lot on how to deal with troublesome kids. Miss Ridley has been nothing but kind and helpful to me. I'm so grateful for that.

It's like, I'm the new piece of chew toy around. People very un-subtly whisper 'who's that? Is she new?' to each other and the younger, more immature boys push each other into me. I've gotten quite a few requests for my number but of course, I haven't given it out because it is inappropriate. (:

Well I'm very lazy and I haven't blogged in a long time but term 2 is finally coming to an end. Phew. I lived.

Linda

Temporarily Unavailable

2009-06-11T18:17:00.004+09:30

Half way through studying Quadratic, my brain decided to put a BRB sign up and shut down. I'm not even exaggerating, my brain has actually stopped working. So much that when I saw simple equations such as x + 1 = 2, I couldn't think of the answer.

So while waiting for my tiny memory chip to reboot itself, I will blog something useless: my love for TV.

Dear God, I confess my sins.

I watch more TV than I study.

Homer Simpson? Oh yeah, I'm his female counterpart. Of course since it's illegal for me to drink alcohol, I drink water or lemon tea instead and I cant say I love donuts either, I prefer cookies and cream ice cream.

My favorite shows would have to be (in order):

1. NCIS, the cocky and witty character of Tony Dinozzo is the love of my life. Really, it's too bad he lives in the TV box on Channel 10.

2. House, once again, the cocky and witty character of Gregory House dazzles me. He never fails to crack an inappropriate joke in the worst time.

3. Heroes, Sylar, anyone? Or maybe you guys don't like the type who cuts people's skull open and prod at their brain?

Oddly enough, I some how manage to pass school even though my eyes are glued to either the TV screen or my laptop screen 24/7. Except when I sleep. Then I dream of my eyes being stuck to the TV or laptop screen.

This semester I have 3 exams. I hyperventilate and cry every time I think of the math exam. 6 months worth of math to study in just a few short days. English? I've gotten 5 (or maybe even 6) perfect 20s during the whole semester, I just can't wait to tarnish that with my pathetic exam score. I've been barely making an A in Modern History, I struggle to remember the dates of WWI. I'm so screwed in the exam.

If my brain shut down while copying examples from the math book onto a summary sheet, how will it handle sitting in a quiet room with 110 other girls for 2 hours doing nothing but solving equations and answering comprehension questions?

I'm not even capable of doing daily thinking (should I wash my hair today or tomorrow? Did I order lunch today? How many gummy bears will I get for $1?)...

Nerd gone bad

2009-05-23T19:10:00.003+09:30

Oddly enough, I am somewhat proud of these little anecdotes that my dad has told me. Many times, I have doubted him and accused him on BSing but it's true.

Project Manager? Sure.
Master Degree? Sure.
Helps his kids with homework? Sure.
Doesn't drink or smoke or gamble? Sure.

Was a teenager gangster? Hell yes.

If you could see my dad, you'd pin him for a nerd - which he is - but crazily enough, he has a history of travelling in gangs and fighting in dark alleys at night time.

With broken glass, knuckle busters and his homemade nun-chucks.

NO KIDDING. NUN-CHUCKS!

He was somewhat popular, and somewhat non-deformed looking as a teenager. Rebellious and tough, he defied his parents' rules. Not for stupid reasons though, usually he gets into confrontations because he's attempting to stand up for his wussy older brothers.

Funniest story he ever told me?

His wussy older brother was getting pushed around. Dad got angry and started pushing the bully around, the fight was eventually broken up by a teacher.

He said (something along the line of..) 'I'll see you at *insert address here* at 11pm, if you're so tough.' I'm sure the language was probably more barbaric and vulgar but I'll keep it G-rated.

11pm.

He went with his knuckle busters.

12pm.

The bully wimped out. Never came.

Funniest bit?
Little-uncle, who was a 10 year old 'chubby' kid, trailed after Dad, carrying an axe over his shoulders.

How did your parents meet?

Was it romantic? The whole Cinderella story, love at first sight?

Well, my parents were something along the line of High school Sweethearts. Dad would always tease mum. He sat behind her in class and occasionally stabbed her back with his pencil and she would return the love by beating the crap out of him. Romantic huh?

Linda
ps: how do you like my profile photo? hahaha.

-

2009-05-23T19:02:00.000+09:30

RIP Beau

230509

Competitive Nature

2009-05-20T15:53:00.002+09:30

Even when I was little, I have always been competitive. Not just about the important things like who could eat more apples in a minute or who would drink more tea in 30 seconds but also the not-so important things such as who can stand on one foot for the longest.

I was 8 and they were about 12, the oldest one was about 16.

My cousins were all around the same age, many were also in the same year level. Although they did not attend the same school, they would still help each other with school work. They all towered above me at 150cm. Me? I'd have been lucky if I'd made 120cm. I was a scrawny kid, thin and lanky with messy hair. Dirty hands and feet, muddy socks, bruised shins and grazed knees. Yep, that was me.

They bullied me sometime.

They'd corner me and tickle me until I cried, or worse - wet myself. They always some how made up for it though. Whether it was giving me a share of their food or telling me silly stories until I couldn't stay angry anymore.

Even though I was small and shrimpy, I insisted on hanging out with my bigger cousins. I did everything they did, I tried my best to fit in. They didn't mind, in fact, they never told me to go away once. They would say all their secrets out loud in front of me - in a language I couldn't understand of course.

We were at the a water park. The water there was dull and murky, not blue - GREY. My cousins chipped in and paid for my ticket although my parents were hesitant of letting me go with them. They were careful to never let me out of their sight. They even stole (yes, they stole) a floating noodle to wrap around me to make sure I didn't sink.

'I bet I could do a perfect dive.' Je Pih said.
'But you can't even swim!' Je Hong retorted.

Ah Hea answered them with a perfect dive into the grey water. We stared in awe. Knowing that they wouldn't have been able to do a perfect dive, my other cousins cannonballed in and made huge splashes. Jump in! They told me, or we'll swim away without you!

Determined to be just as good as Ah Hea, I took a few steps back. I ran, my arms up in a point, ready to dive in.

'Lin! Don't dive!' Ah Hea shouted.

Too late.

I dove.

The water was only about a meter high. I didn't know that.

My head smashed into the concrete ground, my forehead scratched and my nose slightly bruised. I got out of the water with scratches on my face, I was bawling my eyes out. They took me out of the water and wrapped me in a towel and commenced the usual silly story session until I began laughing again. They bought me an ice cream and cleaned the scratches on my forehead with a cotton ball.

Driving back home, I knew they were worried I would tell on them. Even if I couldn't understand Chinese, I could still recognise my own name in their hushed conversations.

I didn't tell on them though.

I dropped my fringe over my forehead and covered up the scratches.

I'm sure my parents knew that I was hurt but because I didn't make a big deal out of it, neither did they.

If I look very closely in the mirror, there's actually a faint scar between my eyebrows.

Linda

RIP Annie and Charlie

2009-05-14T16:40:00.003+09:30

The following is my very own true story.

When I was a young girl of about 9, my 5 year old sister and I each had a pet chicken. It took months to convince my father to buy them for us. Our demands began with a puppy then a kitten, after that it was a hamster or guinea pig but eventually we settled on baby chicks. We chose our own chicks from the big container; I chose the scrawniest chick because I believed that if I didn’t then no one else would. My sister chose the one chick that kept on eating even when other chicks were running in various directions to get away from the store owner’s hand. They costed $5 each.

I named my baby chick Charlie and my sister named hers Annie. I loved both chickens so much, I’d cry every time my mother joked about making them into chicken stew. When it was their first winter, I continuously insisted on bringing the chicks into my room at night time so they wouldn’t get cold. My ridiculous tantrums were finally settled when my father bought the chicks a hot water bag and filled it with warm water every night.

When spring came, they had both grown too big for their cardboard box and my father had decided to build a roomy cage for them in the backyard. They were much happier and more active as they always had grass and insects to eat. After a few months, the season changed into an unbearable blistering summer, the plants in the back yard were burnt to crisp and the grass became grey and brittle. Our chickens had to eat dry chicken feedings from a package; we cleaned and refilled their water bowl with new water every few days.

Perhaps it was my childish imagination but the chickens did not seem happy. I’d walk my sister to a small park close to our home and we would pick handfuls of green grass, we’d then run home as fast as we could because we wanted the grass to be as fresh as possible. When we got home, we’d poke as much grass through the cage as we could and watch the chickens eat them. Of course, most days we were too tired and it was too hot to go to the park so we began sneaking the chickens our food. After many trials and errors including ANZAC biscuits, noodles and chips, we found out that they loved rice – both cooked and uncooked.

One lazy weekend morning, I tiptoed out with a handful of my breakfast cereal for the chicken when I found a white golf ball in the cage. I stared at it for awhile and wondered how a golf ball had gotten inside their cage. Then I realized that it was an egg, the very first of many eggs. I reached into the cage and bravely picked up the egg, although I was praying the entire time that the chickens would not attack my arm.

I scanned the egg in my hand for a few seconds before running back inside to share my discovery with my family. My sister was ecstatic and began wrapping the egg in a hand towel, when I asked her what she was doing, she explained to me in her annoying smarty-pants voice that eggs grow up to be chickens. She placed her soft toy on top of the egg that was wrapped up in towels; again I asked her what she was doing. She gave me a look that clearly said ‘are you dumb?’ and told me that eggs will only hatch if someone was sitting on it.

This one egg was our obsession for the next 3 days. We’d wake up early every morning to inspect the shell for signs that the chick was growing. We’d rush home from school every day to check on it and we’d stare at it in our spare time, thinking that any moment now the egg would hatch. One day my sister came home looking upset, I asked her why and she told me she’d asked her teacher why our egg wasn’t hatching. Her teacher had explained that if an egg doesn’t have a daddy, it will not hatch. I became upset too, thinking how much time we’d wasted on this egg. That night, I fried the egg for my sister to eat.

After two years, we decided to give the chickens to a friend who owns a farm. My sister and I were sure that they’d be happier in a bigger and grassier cage. One morning, a month after we’d given them away, my friend called and told us the bad news - a fox had gotten into the chickens’ cage.

I was devastated. I wouldn’t eat any chicken for weeks.

Linda

Cyber Bullying?

2009-05-07T17:31:00.002+09:30

Wah, I haven't blogged in so long that I can actually see the dust building up my on blog. No matter! I'm here now, and I'm equipped with a cloth and spray.

At school today, as part of 'Life Skills', teachers spoke about Cyber Bullying. I liked this topic better than the last one which was the typical 'don't drink, don't do drugs, don't have sex, join the nunnery' lecture that seemed to last for at least 4 hours but in reality, it was only about 45 minutes.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES OF MY LIFE THAT I WILL NEVER GET BACK!

Nonetheless, it was somewhat informative though the statistics were a bit iffy, I mean - 49% of all teenagers binge drink regularly? Did they survey 2 kids and one of them just happen to binge?!

We watched a 10 minute video of a boy who was bullied so much that he decided to take his own life - the bullies? His own 'friends'. He jumped off a bridge in Melbourne, one of his 'friends' drove him there in the middle of the night. His definition of 'friend' must be differ to dictionary.com quite a bit.

I was so scared I actually did this creepy thing where I moved and sat REALLY close to Paige.

To think that our comments can be taken so seriously by someone that it might drive them to commit suicide. If you don't find that scary then you either have a cold heart (so cold that I could mash up Coldrock ice cream on it) or you don't have one at all (ooh, look at that empty space!).

When caught bullying, the bully will always say 'It was only a joke!' or something of the sort. Real life bullying? I can understand that. We're only human. We need to take out our frustration on creatures (AKA. nerds?) that are physically inferior to us. Humans would never challenge someone that is bigger or stronger than themselves. That's a fact.

But CYBER bullying? Come on guys, what have we come to? Bullying ONLINE or by phone? That's just cowardly and a total waste of phone credit. 'Ohh look at me. I'm uber tough cuz I can type faster than you! Take that! *Kick* *Punch* Noob!'

Haha, I bet I could beat all of you up and take your virtual-lunch money any day...

Linda

Infatuation.

2009-04-15T16:19:00.003+09:30

An average child would go to one primary school, starting at 6 years old and finishing at 12/13. They would grow up with other children who was also average and went to the same school. They would then (probably) go to one high school together and graduate from that same high school at age 17/18.

But me? Yeah, I was an average child but I've been to so many schools that I now find it hard to make friends. Just off the top of my head let me list the schools that I've been to (so far):

Anuwat Primary, Cambodia. Yr 1 - 5.
North Ainslie Primary, ACT. Yr 5 - 6.
Thames South Primary, NZ. Yr 6.
Hope International, Cambodia. Yr 7 - 8.
Enfield High School, SA. Yr 8 - 9.
OLSH College, SA. Yr 10 - 11.

I gotta say, Hope International was the highlight of my childhood, maybe the highlight of my life. The place was calm and civilised, filled with privileged international students from all over the world though many were Korean.

Why was this place so special?

I had my first real crush. (:

His name was Kim Hyeon Seob, we were friends but we hardly spoke because he usually spoke in Korean. There is actually a class photo sitting on my wall so I still see his picture everyday. He was Korean, from Seoul I think. When he had to, he spoke fobby 'Engrish' which just made him even cuter despite the fact that I had trouble understanding him.

The only thing we had in common was that we both played soccer and we shared a best friend, Ben - who was this adorable short Singaporean boy. I remember coming home from school with my clothes covered in mud and my shins covered in large bruises. Other than that, we were quite different. He played 6 or 7 instruments and I find it hard to play a single note on the recorder. He wasn't a show off though, he was actually quite modest. I guess I found it intriguing that he was the only boy that didn't tease me and pick fights with me.

He had this dorky bowl haircut that must be extremely humiliating. I gotta admit, I secretly found that haircut adorable despite my other best friend Se-Ra dissing it at every opportunity.

I wonder how he turned out. Last I'd heard, he'd hurt himself during basketball and gotten 8 stitches, but then again, it was Joo-Sin who told me this and the source isn't exactly reliable.

Linda

I am Mature.

2009-04-14T11:54:00.004+09:30

So teenagers go through a hormonal phase beginning at around 12, usually it goes a little something like this:

12. The 'Tween' phase. This is when they begin to worry about their appearance. The cause? Our best friend, pimples. But actually I didn't go through this stage until I was 13/14. I went through the Tween/Emo/Ugly phase all at the same time. Haha, ain't I lucky?

13. The 'Emo' phase. Ever gotten upset at your parents for no apparent reason? 'You're ruining my life!' or 'You don't understand me!' You know what I'm talking about.

14. The 'Ugly' phase. This phase is crucial because this is when you change the most. You start to grow out of your dramatic Emo phase but the pimples from the Tween phase is still with you. For me, oh man, I was practically DEFORMED.

15. The 'Mature' phase. You no longer cry and pick fights with your parents for no reason. For the luckier bunch, the pimples begin to disappear although I can't say much about the scars (physically, emotionally, psychologically) that it's left behind. You finally have a personality and your hormones are slightly more balanced.

16. The 'T-Adult' phase. Think Tween but not so immature. This would probably be the transition that you make, you know the whole 'I'm an adult now!' thing.

I gotta say, I honestly think I'm 'Mature' because I actually feel quite civilised. I have a job - that I've prepared a resignation letter for since last year just in case I spontaneously decide to scream 'I QUIT!' - and I manage to pass school at the same time but I can't say much about my social life though since it pretty much doesn't exist.

I still get the occasional breakouts (a nice way to say PIMPLES) but come to think of it, my skin is not actually that bad. I do wish that I'd listen to my mum when I was going through the Emo phase though but no, my obsessive compulsive disorder kicked in and I just had to touch every real or imaginary dot on my face. And now? Wonderful, annoying little scars that doesn't quite look like freckles will reside on my face for life.

The thought depresses me but then again, there are such things as makeup and photoshop. Haha. :L

Weed Boy

2009-04-08T15:56:00.003+09:30

This happened yesterday actually and I would have written about it then but I had to go to work.

So the morning started out OK. I caught a bus by myself, and yes, I say that proudly because usually I catch it with my dad. 229F, it was. When I got on, I saw Work Boy - he works with me if that wasn't already obvious. I awkwardly sat next to him and tried to make petty conversation such as 'are you working tonight?', which didn't work because he's one of those boys who grunts or mumble unintelligibly in reply.

When the bus stopped to pick people up at stop 26, this other guy got on. He stood on the connecting bit in the middle and faced the wall. I curiously (and sublty) watched him as he took out this small clear plastic packet that contained what looked like dark green mushed up grass. You probably already know what I'm talking about but at the time, I had no idea what it was.

He took it out and poured it onto his hand and started shaping it or something with his other hand which he kept wiping all over the seat in front of him. A few seconds later he threw it all into his mouth and it was gone.

When I told Sarah that I watched him, this horrified look came onto his face as she said 'OH GOD LINDA! DON'T WATCH! HE MIGHT THINK YOU WANT SOME!' and I said 'Some what?' and she said 'IT WAS WEED!'

And that concludes my life story of the first time I ever came across 'weed'. And since I give a lot of people nick names (Polite Boy, Attractive-Voiced Boy, Work Boy, Shoe Girl, Fake Girl, Bimbo Girl, Shy Boy, etc), I decided that this guy also deserved one. So I've dubbed him 'Weed Boy'.

Linda

Completely unimportant.

2009-04-04T17:09:00.002+10:30

OH.
I've just discovered the joy of Big Bang! I know their songs are based on the genre of hip hop/RnB/rap and they're speaking a language that I have serious trouble understanding but the music and beat is really nice.

I'm also aware that the guys are way overrated with the whole 'EEEEEEEEE! G-DRAGON IS SHO KAWAII! HIS SMILE IS SHO KAWAII! HIS HAIR IS SHO KAWAII! THAT SCAB ON HIS ARM IS SHO F*CKING KAWAII!' but hey, I can't critique the way they look because TOP ticks off almost every box on my 'perfect boy' list, appearance wise of course.

My favorite song of all time (yes, even better than Halo, If I were a Boy and Reila) is 'Lies'. If you can, try and get the English-chorus version. And if you're seriously bored, I recommend the MV of this song because I seem to find it 'beautiful'. My friends' comments? Beware of eyeliner overload and bad acting.

Also, I was thinking the other day... 'WTF is with the name of the blog?!' because for some reason I thought I could simply blog on stories only but guess what? It turns out, I can't and for some reason, I've started to blog on random crap that I come across...

Linda

Drive Thru.

2009-04-04T16:53:00.004+10:30

Dear parents who go through Drive-Thru at fast food restaurants. Please avoid letting your child(ren) order through the speaker box because I am friggen bleeding from the ear here.

Here's me being brutally honest:

Your kid is not cute. Neither is his/her screeching voice screaming 'I WANT A HAPPY MEAL!' through the headset.

While you're at it, please also avoid letting them pay - especially when there are coins involved. Oh, but you think it's cute? Well, I don't. 50 coins dropping all over the ground is not cute. Parents getting cranky at ME when their 2 year old drop 30 five cent coins on the ground is not cute either. Neither is your kid digging their fingernails into my skin. That's bloody painful and bloody disgusting too.

I'll tell you what's cute though, the guy working with me. *Maniacal laughter*

PHail.

2009-03-29T10:16:00.003+10:30

While many people I know tell me that year 11 is the bludge of high school, I completely disagree. I don't see how this is the 'party year' because I'm so overwhelmed with my 14,028,364 assignments due on the same day. With my short attention span, it's not likely that I'll be passing year 11 with flying colours and getting my 1st choice subjects for year 12.

I sit myself down and I say 'I'm going to finish all my homework' but before I know it, I'm reading Death Note on mangafox.com. Occasionally - not often, just now and again - I have what I call 'slow days' where my brain just seem to be working in slow-mo. When people speak to me, I stare blankly at them for as long as 8 seconds before I realize what they just said. These 'slow days' are extremely bad to have when I'm at work..

'Hello, welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?'
'Can I please have 2 large Big Mac meals?'
*8 seconds passed*
'Sure, what drinks were you after?'
'Just Coke and Fanta, thanks.'
*8 seconds passed*
'That comes to $16.50 thanks'

Well at least I'm slightly more confident that I'll be passing Business Studies. That's one subject down for my year 12 choices. Of course my dad would never let me drop English so I might as well aim for English Studies. Wouldn't it be sad if I was put in Generals? And being completely insane, I'm also aiming for Math Specialist but that's a whole nother story because right now, I'm barely making my B's.

Linda

Athletics

2009-03-15T13:12:00.002+10:30

I have no inspiration to blog. NONE whatsoever. And the attempt to write a decent story? Failed. I am an epic failure. I came up with 3.5 sentences before I gave up, yes, I actually gave up mid way through a sentence - that is how pathetic I am. Pity me, pity me, give me money? $$

I do have a lot of things to complain about though, including: selfish people who have no respect for others' privacy, shops who don't label their seasoning which caused me to put (a lot of) pepper in my hot chips, Sarah's (possibly) expired sunscreen which gave me clogged pores and finally, the girl in my math class who never, literally never, stops talking - yeah, that's right, you know who you are.

But that's unimportant today because I have to congratulate the mean green fighting machine, Xavier.

So on Friday 13th of March 09, something incredible happened. Xavier, who hasn't won either athletics or swimming carnival in FOURTEEN years, won. It was actually heartwarming to see how happy everyone was, especially the year 12s since it's their final year. And I gotta give it to them, it's not like they won by a few points or anything. They actually bet Chevalier by around 300-350 points. How sad are we? 'Team work' was non existence as our captains said, i quote: 'We are losing and I am your captain so you do what I tell you to do. Don't look at me like that you bitch'. So much for 'there's no I in team'.

I would post up some photos but I don't have any. I'm relying on Sarah to post hers up because I didn't bring my camera that day.

Actually, I don't have a camera at the moment due to my dad giving both of them away. How irritating, the man cannot say no and puts everybody's needs before his own. Of course, I was meant to go shopping for a camera today but instead, I'm stuck at home doing math. This links to the story of selfish people who have no respect for others' privacy which I am fuming over right now. Yeah, that's right, you ugly little girl who resembles a full grown man

Let's go vent out some frustration: popping some tyres!

Linda

Another Attempt.

2009-03-03T17:05:00.002+10:30

When I was younger, 10-11ish, I used to spend my time writing stories because .. well, it was fun! I had creative ideas and I could never draft (I still can't) so I'd just write it and then hand it up to the teacher to see if she liked it. Then one sad day a couple of years back, I left my USB at the library and of course, no one returned it. All my stories went with it and I haven't written anything remotely original for the past 2-3 years.

So now, I'm going to attempt to write a story. I won't say what it's about because that will ruin it (again, the whole I can't draft thing). I'm still forming ideas, characteristics of my protagonists, location, time, how they speak, etc.

I'll probably post snippets of it as I go along though.

Toodles.

Linda

A date, please?

2009-02-24T15:14:00.002+10:30

Ah, I don't know if this qualifies as a memory. It's more of a random rant, I guess. Don't ask me why, I'm writing about this. I'm a complete realist and I don't believe in the whole 'Love at First Sight' thing.

The whole topic was related to 'Formals'. My friends are going to attend the formal on the 1st May and I'm fretting on whether to join them because:

1. I don't own a dress.
2. I don't own heels.
3. Ditto, makeup.
4. Ditto, boyfriend?

Then my friend suggested, 'why not go alone?'. Oh sure, that's a great idea. I go to an all girl school, this is the one opportunity where I can slow down my development of insanity by seeing a person of the opposite gender and I'm going to go ALONE? Oh that reminds me, I have a huge fear of dying alone and never finding true love. Isn't that just fantastic? You can just imagine what a pessimistic person I am in real life but I promise you, I don't wear a inch thick of eyeliner and cut my wrist for the fun of it.

Now, I do have a boy in mind and truthfully, I'll admit that he's completely out of my league. Why is he in my mind then, you ask? Well, I have no social life and he's possibly the only boy I know. Slightly exaggerated but here's my real reason: I'm extremely shallow and he's extremely handsome. I personally cannot think of a better combination. Haha.

I don't really see the point in going to a year 11 formal because there will be a few more next year and those are the important ones. So here's my goal: work up enough courage to ask someone to go to my year 12 formal with me so I won't be such a loner. That's it. I have such high aims, don't I? Ah, what wouldn't I give to be one of those girls that boys chase after, hmm? Of course, we can't all be pretty. The majority of us has to be average-below average to make the rest 'pretty'. Did that make sense?

Well, this has been a useless blog but I must get to my Modern History homework now.

I hate Modern History.

Linda~

I'm perfect.

2009-02-21T16:57:00.003+10:30

I wish.

The truth is: I'm not perfect. But there are just days when you wish you were, it's only normal for a human to always be unsatisfied with what they have. We crave for more. The days where your self esteem is about the size of your pinky toe are the worst. When you look in the mirror, certain features seem to magnify dramatically. For example, on a day when I feel like crap, bruised my leg, scratched my arm and ripped my dress, if I stand close enough to my mirror, my eyebrows resembles a bushman's eyebrows.

Here's a list of my flaws that I'd like to share with the world:

>One of my eye is slightly bigger than the other

>I have a hole (yes, a HOLE) next to my right eye

>My right ear is chipped

>My vision is no where near 20/20

>My teeth are yellow from birth

>I have the same sized feet as my dad

>I have the flat asiany nose

>I'm utterly average - below average in the breast department

>I'm only 162cm tall and have been for around 1.5 years

>I'm on the 'fat' side of the asian scale at around 48kg

>I have funny looking knees

>I bruise easier than a banana

>I scar from a paper cut

>I resemble an albino, I don't tan at all

>If I jump into a pool, it'll splash

>I'm extremely self conscious about my ocassional spots

>I can't dance

>I have extremely bad balance

>I have no sense of direction

>I have a terrible memory

There are plenty more where that came from. My point for this blog is that, these things are worse when you're going through the 'tween' stage.

In more scientific term .. puberty?

When I think back to the first couple of years in highschool, I remember the days when for no reason at all, I would feel so small and insignificant. When I spoke to people, I was always paranoid that they would stare at/point out my flaws. I put up a front and blended in with the 'popular' group because bullying ugly people made me feel prettier. But I always knew that I wasn't.

Of course, I couldn't accept that. Why? Blame the hormones. Being a 13 year old is the hardest thing in life. Possibly worse than the mid-life crisis stage. I could do nothing right and I couldn't understand why my parents couldn't see things from my point of view. I always wanted things that my friends had even though it was completely unecessary. I distant myself away from my sister because .. well, I'm not sure why but now, I do wish I hadn't.

I can't say that I've grown up and matured since then but I know that I've gained some perspective. At least now I know what and who are important to me and who was only there for the ride. I can't say that I'm completely confident in myself and what people percieve when they look at me but I've accepted my flaws and now they aren't such a large part of my life.

When I see little 13-year-old girls who strut around and bullies other girls or the ones who hide in the library because she has no friends, I can sympathise. I had and still don't have an identity. I never fitted in any cliques or stereotype. I have no aim in life.

What do you want to be when you leave school? When I was 13, I'd laugh off the question because it was ridiculous to think about it at that age. But now? Now, I'm scared. Year 12 is just around the corner and I still have no idea who I am or who I want to be.

Linda

Chevvies in RED.

2009-02-20T16:37:00.005+10:30

Not a real blog.

Just wanting to say that we had sports day today. I'd be lying if I said I thought we did good. My opinion? We did pretty crap. We came third for the overall competition which was pretty unfair considering the fact that we had points taken off because our members didn't attend. We then went on to the cheers where we scored second place. Honestly? I thought we were pretty dodgy then too because we were spread out everywhere. The reason why we came second was because we had this adorable red Telletubie (how do I spell that?) running around. She was so cute. *____*

The year 12 vs. teachers competition was the best part of the day. The year 12s were totally feeling up Kroppy and I must say, he wasn't exactly resisting either. What a flirt. But his legs? Oh I would kill for his slim girly (also waxed) legs..

~ Linda
p.s: Yes, Roncalli won. Again.
p.p.s: Mr. Hasket can swim down my pool anytime. Kudos to his wife and/or girlfriend. LOL. (Believe it or not, I actually meant that in a literal way. He's a great swimmer.)

I dare you.

2009-02-19T17:07:00.002+10:30

Ah, year 11. An enjoyable experience? I THINK NOT! Now, I didn't come into this year expecting stickers to be stuck on my books when I did a good job but I didn't expect this much workload either. I have a math test in a few days (Quadratics) and if I'm planning to get into English Studies, I'd better do a good job on the analytical essay for 'Of Mice and Men'. We just watched the movie today, I have to admit, the character of Lennie made me get teary-eyed. His innocence contradicts the youth of today and his simplicity is so hypnotising.

I actually have some homework to do so I might make this a quick one. Hooray, hooray, people won't die of old age while reading! A story from a once-close friend, N.B.

I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was the excitement of the adrenaline rush or maybe because I felt oblige to. Their piercing eyes stared at me, willing me to do it. I hesitated, my hands shook. Mum wouldn't like me doing this, she would be so disappointed. I glanced up, I saw the small black globe that descended from the ceiling. A security camera. It seemed to grow bigger before my very eyes, it seemed like it was watching me.

They told me that they'd never gotten caught before. They said that the security cameras were fake and that I had nothing to worry about. Maybe I shouldn't have believed them but they were my friends, they would never try to get me into trouble, would they?

I stood there for what felt like an hour deciding on what to do but in reality, only a few seconds had passed. It was so small, so worthless, I had enough change in my bag to afford it. I glanced up, they were still staring at me. I could see their 12-year-old faces growing impatient.

The innocent game of 'I dare you' was suddenly so much more mischievous and electrifying. I hummed to myself, this shouldn't be so hard. I reached out my hand slowly and smiled nonchalantly as if I was doing nothing wrong. I took the packet of gum in my hands, it felt like it was burning, a warning that I shouldn't be doing this. I looked up again, my friends' eager faces light up. Their eyes gleamed and they nodded encouragingly. Too late to back out now.

I shuffled between a group of people and while blocked by them I did it.

I put the packet of gum into my pocket.

When I got out of the shop, all the blood had drained from my face. I felt lightheaded and the paranoid feeling of being watched still had not passed. My friends began to congratulate me but out of the corner of my eyes I saw a security guard.

I ran.

Linda~

Don't touch it.

2009-02-17T15:35:00.002+10:30

I had Business Studies after lunch today. I needed to pee but being the Satan-fearing child (in other words, a completely wussy) that I am, I was reluctant to ask Ms. Barnette if I could go to the toilet and instead I endured over 2 hours of crossing my legs. I accept that I am a wussy but you wouldn't understand how much I fear Ms. Barnette until you've met her. The woman is demanding, scary and intimidating. Think: The Devil Wears Prada. Of course, she's no where near as classy as Miranda though.

No matter! I lived through another Business Studies lesson and today I'll let you in on another fear of mine. Trust me, there are many many more.

I'm nearly 16 years old and oddly enough, I'm afraid of so many things. One of them is open flame. Yes, that includes candles, stove tops and especially lighters. I have only lit a lighter once in my life and it wasn't an enjoyable experience. The flame was less than half a centimetre from my thumb!

The source of this fear began when I was around 2 to 3 years old. I was one of those stubborn children who will do something simply to spite you. I was extremely fascinated by fire and I could sit there for hours and watch a candle burn. The flickering movement of the small flame intrigued me as I wonder how it moved like that. In my developing mind, I asked myself: 'is it solid? If it's solid, then why does it not look solid?' and I wondered night and day how a flame works.

'Linda, don't go so close to the fire! Don't play with it, ok?' Mum would tell me and I would grudgingly inch back a little, my eyes still fixed on the dancing flame.

One night, the power was out. There were candles all over the house and it was beautiful. Everywhere I turned, a flame danced for me. I was ecstatic! I'd never seen so many flames dance at the same time. I bopped and danced along but soon, I grew tired of doing so and sat down to watch one of them.

I could feel the temptation grow inside me. I replayed Mum's warning over and over again and it only made me crave the flame more. I turned my head slowly and perked my ears for any noise that suggested someone was approaching. I watched the darkness for a short while to make sure that no one was around. Then finally, I reached out slowly, my arm extending and my mouth opened in an excited 'O'. So close. Now I would know whether it was solid or not.

I touched it.

'Aiii!!' I squealed in pain. I ran to Mum with tears streaming down my face. I showed her the red pointer finger that went through a candle flame just seconds ago. She 'tsked' loudly and ran my finger under cold water. I cried and mumbled my story to her, I blamed it on the candle because it burnt me.

You'd think that maybe, I'd have learnt from this incident but a few weeks later, I burnt myself with hot wax from the very same candle. (:

The first time I'd lighted a match was in year 9. I was so afraid of it that all the blood had drained from my face. I've managed to conquer my fear of match-flame but I'm still working on lighting a lighter without squealing.

Linda~

Stairs = Death

2009-02-16T15:48:00.003+10:30

I'd like to announce that today, a girl suggested that I was remotely average looking and not deformed. It is officially the very first comment that I've received that is not along the line of 'wtf, why are you so fugly?' . But after that, she said 'can you stop sticking your neck out like that? It's really unattractive'. Why did she say this? Well I'm about to explain.

Perhaps you seen me walking down a flight of stairs, if you haven't, you're missing out. It's bloody funny and I'll happily admit that. At school, we have an elevator for the disabled. I honestly believe that I am eligible to use this as I usually hold up a large group of people behind me who are impatiently waiting for me to move my butt so they can get to their own lesson. I'm sure it's crossed some year 9's minds to push me down or carry me.

Why am I such a freak when walking down stairs, you ask? Well it is because I'm fat. No, I'm kidding (although it could possibly be a contributing factor, the size of my thighs could easily slow me down when walking down stairs..). First let me set the scene:

There is a large group of girls, all in uniform, going down an average-sized flight of stairs. Everyone is moving at average speed but WAIT! at the top of the stairs, a girl is talking with her friend. All of a sudden she stops speaking. The people behind her slows down. Her foot is shaking and she's clutching a large amount of books. She licks her lips and concentrates on placing her foot on the actual step. She unattractively sticks her neck out to be able to see where her feet are landing. Every step feels like death because if she misses it, well she's dead.

Now, you might wonder: is there a reason for her disability or maybe was she born this way? Let me tell you that even as a child, I did not have the best balance and as a two year old whose head is bigger than the rest of her body, I struggled to walk and instead, I waddled.

One day, Mum was sick but Dad wasn't home yet. She was dizzy and struggled to breathe. I climbed up a large flight of stairs to retrieve her medicine. Digging through many draws, I could only find my toys, I had no idea where her medicine was but then I spotted it. It sat on top of a bedside table and it seemed to sparkle to attract my attention. I felt victorious, I ran to the table, snatched the medicine and ran back downstairs.

A few steps from the top, I tripped. My foot was stuck behind my other foot and I flew down the stairs. I must say, the 2 seconds of flying was extremely enjoyable but the impact that my face made on the floor was not. I howled in pain but no bones were broken (and to this day, I can proudly say I still have not broken any bones) unless you count the few teeth that I had lost.

Those teeth did not grow back until I was at least 8 years old. If you know me well, maybe you've seen some photos of me as a child. Have you noticed that instead of smiling like a normal person, I press my lips together so hard that they disappear? What was I hiding? NOTHING! :

Linda~

Well that's gotta hurt.

2009-02-15T16:32:00.004+10:30

Did anybody see on the news this morning? The 12 year old dad? Well golly gosh, I was gobsmacked. The kid is about 123 cm tall and his voice hasnt even broken yet but he has just had a baby with a 15 year old girl. Click here for the article. But enough about that!

Here's a story that I was required to write for English a few days ago. My very own memory, I got full marks for it too. (:

Unlike many other children, I’ve always adored going to school in the morning. My carefree time at home did not satisfy my constant need for a challenge and as soon as I had turned five years old, I insisted on going to school. Mum would dress me in something bright and colourful, ‘so you can never get lost in a crowd’ she told me. I would wave at her with a grin on my face as she dropped me off in front of the school gate in the morning. My small Pokémon bag pack made me feel important as I convinced myself that I was just as big as my older cousins, although it was usually empty except for a 200ml bottle of water. Most five year old girls would prefer Barbie shoes but supporting my delicate feet that day were chunky Spiderman runners.

My Kindergarten was called “8th March” for reasons that I’m still unaware of. It wasn’t the best school around, some would say it was underprivileged. The playground was old and rusted. In the middle of it sat a small swing set that squeaked as the wind blew past, the wooden seats were worn out and the paint faded. This swing set, however, was the treasure of the school. Children would argue for it, each claiming ownership, and often it would end in tears. We were still in the mindset of a small child and the swing set was only valuable because someone else wanted it.

The bell rang, adrenaline rushed through me. It was recess. I pressed my feet into the ground and inched my wooden chair back silently – once again, undetected like a pro. As soon as the teacher dismissed the class, I vanished through the door. This routine repeated everyday and almost everyday, the swing would be mine. I liked to think that I was the fastest runner but perhaps people were merely intimidated by my temper. My puny legs were taking me forward as fast as they could. On a windy day it would feel like I was going at the speed of light as the wind rushed noisily past me. I was so close when unexpectedly, a boy climb onto the empty seat. He smirked at me as if he was daring me to start an argument with him. Although I was only the size of an average 5 year old girl – if not smaller – I stomped right up to him and challenged him in a verbal quarrel. I demanded him to get off my property but he remained glued to the seat. People glanced over, amused by the small fish threatening the shark.

In the period of 25 seconds my sensible side bickered with my stubborn side, my head filled with thoughts of ‘should I give up the swing as this boy is twice my size?’ and ‘this swing is mine. He’s not allowed on my swing.’, finally, my stubborn side won. I reached out and pushed him off the seat. His face contorted into a shocked expression, he seemed surprised by my strength. No emotion appeared on his face after that, he refused to cry but sat on the ground to prevent me from enjoying what was mine. Nudging him with my foot, I told him to move away but he stubbornly hugged his knees and remained seated right in front of the swing. I pushed as hard as I could with my feet but it felt like I was pushing at the wall, he would not budge.

I wasn’t going to surrender the swing and if he wasn’t going to retreat, well, that shouldn’t be my problem. My hands gripped the rusted chains that held the swing up, I took small steps in reverse and pushed the swing back as far as I could. When the rusted chain could not stretch any further, I hopped onto the small wooden seat. The warm wind rushed past me at such a speed that it felt cool, I flew forward with my feet extended. Move, I thought, move out of the way! But he didn’t. The impact that my foot made with the side of his head must’ve been painful because once he screamed and fell to the ground, his ear began bleeding. The swing slowed down, children were gathering around us, they stared at him, I was still refusing to get off.

If I had gotten in trouble for that incident, I can’t remember it. I’m sure that it wasn’t my parents’ proudest moment of me. I was the daughter who had confronted a boy, the girl who wore Spiderman runners and the child with very few friends. After this episode, my parents were careful to occasionally remind me not to pick fights at school, they discouraged conflicts. After 10 years, I have not done anything as impulsive as kicking a boy in the head and to this very day, the memory remains my most rebellious and proudest treasure.

Linda~

Also, I really love Harvey Norman right now.
I justs bought a $60 Sims 2 PC game for $8 and being the stingy, penny pincher that I am, this satisfies me more than a chocolate cake satisfies a fat boy.

Treasure

2009-02-14T20:50:00.000+10:30

Written from the perspective of K.E.

#Warning, a bloody long blog.

When I think back to the time when I was young and simple, the memory floats in my head like an old black and white movie. I feel unsure if the events really happened but as frail as my parents are, they remember every insignificant details about my childhood. That’s the interesting thing about parents, they remember the exact month you could sit, the exact moment you could walk and eventually the first race you won as a toddler but of course, they never remember your birthday. To this day, I’m still unaware of my real birthday but when you’ve lived more than 14,600 days, the day that you were born was simply another day and you were just another baby born on that day.

Though some memories are like old films and refuse to play in my head, some are as bright as the HD television of the 21st century. If I concentrated hard enough, I might even be able to tell you who was in the background or draw you a picture of every piece of furniture in my small but cosy house.

As a child, I adored all my siblings – especially my two older brothers who seem to tower above me, I watched their every move like a hawk and prayed for the day to come when I could be like them. My two older sisters were less inspirational but perhaps that was because I spent less time with them. My oldest sister was not bright but she was a hard worker. She was quiet and would do as she was told without questioning the motive. I also had two younger brothers, my second youngest brother was not physically as strong and stayed quiet most of the time but my youngest brother was different. He looked up to me as much as I looked up to my older brothers. He would follow me around and do as I tell him to, perhaps a few times it was my fault that he was punished by Mother…

Perhaps I was the favourite child because of my quick wit and courage but perhaps not as what came with cleverness is also stubbornness and sometimes rudeness. This story is set in the time that I was in high school. As exciting as the journey was, I was struggling to keep up with the rest of the class as most kids had some sort of calculator to assist them with their studies but as a child from a family of 8 children, I could not afford to have such luxury.

Before and after school, I walked passed a shop that sold beautiful watches. I went in almost everyday for a few minutes to admire one watch. This one watch wasn’t just any one watch, it was sleek and black and not only did it tell the time but could also be used as a calculator. I would press my bony face against the glasses and opened my eyes wide to take in every detail; the buttons were so small that it could only be pressed by the lead of a pencil or the tip of a pen. The white numbers and signs were written on the buttons neatly with an accurate pen.

The year was 1987 and although my family was not as poor as some, we could not afford valuable items such as watches. After awhile, I had the courage to tell Mother about the watch. Naturally, she refused. I was not angry, I could understand that it was not a necessity. The next few weeks, I brought it up again and again, she said no. I remained quiet but I was struggling more and more at school. The next time I asked, I explained to her that it was important and I needed it for my study. She looked at me sternly as if to crack any lies out of me. When she saw that I was serious, she sighed and rummaged through the draws and began counting our savings, the precious savings that took months and months to earn was going towards my watch.

She took me into the shop awhile later, I did not complain for I knew that she would keep her words. I felt sad to watch her trade in our savings for such a small item but when she handed me the watch; the sadness transformed itself into guilt. It pained her to give away such hard earned money but it was for her son. What had I done? Now, I know you’re judging, perhaps calling me selfish and spoilt. I put on the watch and stared at it, now I had no excuse to struggle in school.

The very next day, I strutted around and proudly showed off my new watch. It was more special that anything in the world and no one had seen anything like it! A watch AND a calculator all in one not to mention it was even water proof. My friends envied me but being the nice guy that I was, I let them touch it - of course I discretely polished it afterwards to make sure it always stayed shiny.

15 years later, I showed this watch to my daughters. The awe on their faces delighted me. I could say that without this watch, perhaps I might not be where I am today. Such an insignificant material made such a significant impact on the way I see life.

An Example Picture.
Very similar except it was rubbery and black instead of metal. (:

Linda~

Wow Linda, you're really creepy.

2009-02-14T19:20:00.001+10:30

Yes, yes, children.
I am a bit of a creep, not in the sense that I'm a jerk but more in the sense that I'm interested in odd things such as .. what you did last summer. *Maniacal laughter*

No kidding, I actually would be interested in what you did last summer if it was the slightest bit significant. Who gives a crap if you spent it with your boyfriend/girlfriend? I sure don't. On the other hand, if you spent it with your boyfriend/girlfriend and invented a time machine .. now that would be significant.

This is more of a personal blog, not just MY personal blog though. I'm going to write about people's pasts. Stories and anecdotes about the tears, laughter and regrets. Of course, I won't put up names unless the person has asked me to simply because STALKERS = BAD.

I listen to stories a lot. No, I was not eavesdropping. I especially love my parents stories about their survival in the hardship of the Pol Pot* Regime*
* and the excitement of things such as coloured TV. I know what happens in the story but how I see it in my head and how I write it out may differ from how it originally happened so please excuse me for that. In other words, the story is still true.

I see life in episodes. I know that to you this might not make any sense but to me, it's the only way that I can understand life and the value of it. Think of The Simpsons. Every episode marks something significant (Selma adopts Ling or Bart getting a cellphone). When I look at life, I break it into episodes and this is why the blog is called 'An Episode of Life'.

Well that is all for my introduction. The first Episode of Life will be up soon. It's a story from a person very close to my heart [and if you think it's a stupid story well you can go and *beeeeeep* yourself and I will find you and *beeeeep* you up so bad that you wont even be able to call for your *beeeeep*ing mother. (:].

~Linda.
* Pol Pot: in other words, a cruel mofo with no heart.
* Must Read: First They Killed My Father by Ung Loung. Tears guaranteed!