Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

I’ve been losing weight. I didn’t notice it of course – you simply don’t notice small changes in yourself because it happens so gradually. Today however, I took a look at myself in a shop window as I was walking past on my way to a meeting for work, and it suddenly hit me. Perhaps not so much weight, but general body shape – my legs are slimmer and my hips not as wide. Still have the stomach, but well, you can’t have it all. Of course, I celebrated by scoffing down a huge bag of potato chips, which probably undid a lot of good.

I haven’t intended on losing weight. It was merely a result of a few lifestyle changes:

1. Dylan and I made a conscious decision to stop eating out as often – more of a money issue rather than health issue, but it contributed.
2. I’ve been living out of home for the past month – and hence, I’m not eating meat. I’m also not cooking that often – maybe four nights out of the week, and eating raw vegies and fruit or yoghurt the other nights. Therefore, no fatty Asian home cooking with lots of oils, sugars, and sauces.
3. Since I’ve moved out, there’s also been an increase in the amount of fresh fruit and vegies I eat, as opposed to a peanut butter sandwich or instant noodles. It’s what happens when your housemate works at the produce market and you get free produce.
4. With the start of some lovely summer weather here in Melbourne, I’ve been walking to and from work to the train station (round trip of fifty minutes) rather than waiting for the tram. I wouldn’t have done this in the rainy winter.
5. Along the same lines, I’ve been walking to and from the train station from home, rather than driving to the station. Again, it’s the place I’m now living – it’s a ten minutes walk, rather than a twenty minute drive to the station.
6. My flatmate has an overly energetic dog with what would probably be labelled with ADHD if he was human. He’ll only shut up and stop whining and barking when he’s worn out – which is great incentive to take him for long walks at night.

I wouldn’t want to lose any more weight than I already have though – I already look outlandish enough with my out-sized breasts on the body I do have. It’s already impossible to buy clothes; I went shopping with Dylan on the weekend and threw a tantrum and got all sulky because everything I liked, wouldn’t have fit my body. If they had fit my body, they wouldn’t fit my F-cups.

Which when you think about it, is actually really sad. I have to actively curtail my taste in clothing because of my body shape. I’m used to dressing older and more mature than I’d actually like to, because mature clothing is the only type that will fit my chest. I have never dressed my age. What I’d really want to wear are rainbow halter neck dresses in floaty chiffon and silk…which will never happen. I can’t even buy a print Tshirt because I end up warping the print. I can’t even wear short-shorts because showing both my legs and my chest (no matter what I wear, I end up showing my chest) would just be too much.

It’s fucking ridiculous – and you bet your arse that once I’ve breastfed the three kids I plan on having and have had my breast lift and reduction (C-cups, here I come!), I’m going to indulge and wear the youthful clothing I never had the chance to wear in my youth. Forty-year-old mutton dressed as lamb? That’ll be me, and I don’t care what anyone thinks!

Back in September, I sent an expression of interest and my resume to Family Planning Victoria – essentially letting them know that I was impressed with the work they do (especially after having had my Implanon done with them), and that I was interested in working for them should any suitable opportunities come up. Last week, they called me about a three-day-a-week role as their HR and Payroll Manager. I honestly contemplated taking the offer, and probably would have, had it been more directly related to my Masters in Human Services Management (rather than a HR/Payroll role, something in project management would be preferable). I believe in sexual health and FPV values.

I’ve also been offered the chance at another role. The deputy CEO of the second largest disability services provider in the state (I’ve worked with her on projects in my current role) contacted me and told me she thought I’d be ideal for a part-time/casual event management position that’s soon to open up at her organisation. They’re still to finalise the position, and I’d have to go through the official recruitment process, but when the deputy CEO suggests that you apply for it, you’ve got a fairly good chance at getting it! I have suggested that if they were able to make it casual at two days a week, I could take the role starting in the new year. I do love the organisational side of event management. It would be a fun role, and since I already know a number of people in the organisation through my current role, I know it would be a comfortable working environment.

As for my current position, things have been somewhat frantic these past couple of months. We’re a small organisation – there’s myself as all-around go to girl, and then there’s the executive officer as strategic planner and program developer. We’re both new to the organisation – both starting in the middle of the year when the former executive officer left the organisation. Within three months of starting the role, the EO submitted her resignation as the role wasn’t what she had envisioned, and she finished up this week.

The board of directors already advertised and did one round of interviews to fill her role with no suitable candidates. The next round of interviews is scheduled for the first week of December. Essentially it means that I will be carrying the organisation on my own until the new year. I enjoy the challenge, but it is a lot of responsibility. This combined with the fact that we will be moving to new premises in the next three months (and the work involved in moving an organisation!), means that I’m going to have to make a formal request for extra days (boosting myself up to four days a week rather than three days) so I have enough time to cover both roles in a bare-bones capacity.

The organisation has also recently received some funding for staff training and professional development. The budget isn’t huge, but it would be enough for me to do one short course. The treasurer has advised me to submit a few proposals of different courses I would want to do (that would enhance my performance at work) for board approval. In his words, the organisation is lucky to have me making sure that everything runs smoothly, and would love to reward me in some way. There are currently two options:

• A bookkeeping course
• Prince2 Foundation project management course

For the first, my bookkeeping skills are primarily self-taught – I know enough to do the day-to-day bookkeeping for our organisation, but not enough to do tax returns, etc. If I did a course that qualified and accredited me to do BAS statements, payroll, etc., that’s training that would allow me to basically set up my own business if I wanted to, doing bookkeeping for small companies. I could work in my own time, working as much or as little as I want – and I have to admit that’s an attractive concept as I’m always thinking of work that would fit around the children I plan on having. For the second, the Prince2 course is internationally-recognised and universally-applicable project management training. It is the preferred accreditation for project managers and supervisors in many Australian government departments (and there’s no job more secure than a government job!).

I suppose the consideration is upon the portability of the qualification, and what it could allow me to do in later life. I’ll have to weigh up the Australia-only nature of the book-keeping qualification, with the flexibility of work that it would offer me when I’d want it most. Then there’s the international recognition of the Prince2 training which I could use to get a decently-paid job in pretty much any English-speaking country. The fact that it is fairly corporate and bureaucratic is a turn-off though; as a Gen Y, I do value work environment and flexibility, and how it fits around my own personal life, over any sort of renumeration. A traditional 9 to 5 would just about kill me mentally.

Anyway, long story short, I’ve basically been very much caught up in work and various career-related thinking. There seems to be some actual career trajectory and a certain amount of “notable people beginning to recognise that I’m awesome” happening – which, considering my still-a-student status, is very promising.

ORIGINALLY POSTED AT JINGWEN, LEAVE ANY COMMENTS THERE.

After three hundred and eighty-two days of the blue, white, and red honorary Obama-esque layout, I’ve finally gotten around to coding up something new. Was I particularly inspired? No, I was just sick of the old layout.


Colours are drawn from the cover of an old comic book I found in the boyfriend’s belongings. Header font is fuchsiabuddha, by Tracey Bleeden. Floral design comes pre-packaged as part of Photoshop’s shapes. Basic blog structure remains the same as the old design, though you will now find the categories and archives located at the bottom of the page – there is a “skip to” link at the top to take you down to them. I’ve also put a photo of myself up on the About page, as I’m becoming increasingly vain.


All comments of gushing adoration will be duly accepted. Criticisms will be taken with a grain of salt, but acknowledged reluctantly if deemed to be correct. Tested in Mozilla Firefox 3.5.5., so if you find any structural differences in your particular browser of choice, please take a screenshot and let me know either in the comments, or by emailing me at acchamanda at gmail dot com.


ORIGINALLY POSTED AT JINGWEN, PLEASE LEAVE ANY COMMENTS THERE.

In the office building next to the one in which I work, there are a small handful of dedicated pack-a-day smokers. In the morning when I walk into work, they’re standing out there. When I go out for meetings, they’re standing out there. When I go out for lunch, they’re standing out there. When I head out to the bank in the afternoons, they’re standing out there. When I leave work, they’re standing out there. There was one day when I was in and out of the office all day, from 8am to 6pm in meetings. For the six or seven times I walked past their building, they were out there smoking.

Which got me thinking: if you were their non-smoking colleague or employer, how pissed off would you be? Assuming they take cigarette breaks once an hour, or once every hour and a half, and that every cigarette takes anywhere between five and ten minutes to smoke (allowing for chit chat with other smokers, etc.), in a normal working day, they’d be spending an hour smoking, in addition to their lunch break. In a normal working year, you’re losing about 250 hours of productivity per worker – work that is probably being taken up by non-smoking employees.

Those figures are enough to encourage me to discriminate against heavy smokers if I was an employer. Given two candidates with identical qualifications – one a smoker, one not, I’d definitely hire the non-smoker. Think about it. Imagine them missing an important phone call because they’re out smoking. Imagine them rushing an important project because they’ve wasted important working hours smoking. Imagine them excusing themselves from a lengthy meeting in order to have a smoke. Imagine them meeting important stakeholders reeking of cigarette smoke. Imagine them costing your companies thousands in health insurance and sick leave because of lung-related diseases.

I understand that smoking is an addiction, and that nicotine is a drug like any other. But I simply have no sympathy for people who are weak-willed enough to let themselves get so dependent on something so destroying. Perhaps the solution is to hit them in the wallet – docking pay for all the hours wasted smoking. If smokers find their paychecks are lighter by $100 per week, they might find more motivation to reduce their habit to one every two hours, or one every three hours, instead of one every hour.


ORIGINALLY POSTED AT JINGWEN, PLEASE LEAVE ANY COMMENTS THERE.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

So I’ve finally got most of my room in order, in that the bedroom furniture is in place, curtains are up, and everything’s stored and organised as I like it. It’s a small room, but really, I don’t own enough to require a larger space.

I’ve done pretty well with minimalising my wardrobe. I’ve gone from this, to the above – just what you can see in the chest of drawers and portable wardrobe. Ideally I’d be able to minimalise it further, so that it would all be contained in the wardrobe without what’s currently in the chest of drawers, but that’s more a pipe dream, and quite unrealistic.

As a form of girly/lazy interior design, I’ve turned one wall into a live display of accessories. I have sparkly necklaces and colourful scarves – why not turn it into a wall display? The other wall is still very bare – I’m thinking some large framed abstract painting or macro photograph would go well there, but that’s something that can wait until I’m a bit more flush with money.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

Where do I even start? Let’s try and break it down into categories and organise the information, because this is going to be a long arse entry:

How it happened: I don’t think it’s any secret that I’ve never really been the daughter that my parents would have chosen for themselves. Past entries on this blog (check under the ‘Family’ category) have made it blatantly clear that their traditional strict Asian values are completely incongruent with my own. Put simply, they’re about as stereotypically Asian as you can get, and I’ve been told repeatedly that I’m about as white Australian liberal as they come. I drink beer! I enjoy pre-marital sex with white men with huge penises! I believe in equal rights for women! I like long extended holidays and don’t work six days a week, 52 weeks of the year! I have a tattoo! I’m immodest and flaunt my body in bikinis! I go out and party regularly!

And, I guess the difference between their actual daughter and their ideal daughter finally got too much for them. I was out all last Tuesday night, and was on my way out on Wednesday night, when they stopped me and basically yelled something along the lines of “If you take one step out that door, you’re no longer our daughter, don’t bother ever coming back, etc”. At which point I just thought:

Wait. What? I’m turning 23 in a week, I’ve been paying my way in this house in both a monetary and supportive sense since I was a teenager, and they still want to dictate when I go out? I’m not irresponsible when it comes to my social life – I hold down two jobs (have had three jobs in the past), I study, I organise their business and my brother’s schooling, and I balance all my obligations with a social life. So fuck that, and fuck them and their stupid antiquated ideas about propriety.

So with those thoughts, I left. I took that one step out of the door, and have only been back to pick up my belongings when there was no one else in the house. Which, by the way, I managed to fit into my new car, so I obviously own less than one Camry’s worth, considering the Colt is a micro car! I own much less than I originally thought, which bodes well for the whole minimalist and bare-boned essentials lifestyle I’m slowly working towards.

I have spoken to my brother, and essentially told him to behave himself and keep his head down for a while until our parents simmer down, but I haven’t spoken to my parents since I left a week ago. Nor do I have any intention to for a few months – put simply, I’m just too angry to see them or even speak to them. Given a few months break, things might improve enough so that we can meet again as adults, but for now, I just need to be away from them.

( Read the rest of this entry » )

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

Earlier this evening, I announced on Twitter that I was kicked out of the house, pretty much permanently. Do not worry. I’m fine. I have places to stay, a regular income, and I’ll be just fine. I’ll find a way to pick up all my possessions and load it into my car when there’s no one in the house, and I won’t be deprived of anything at all.

Needless to say, blogging will be last on the list of priorities over the next few weeks. I should still be twittering though, so feel free to follow me for regular updates on how angry I am, and how fucking unreasonable and irrational my parents are.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

And I feel pretty flash with my alloy wheels and pedals, and my leather-wrapped steering wheel. Time for a road trip to put the car through its paces I think.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

There’s an old adage, “You can catch more flies with honey”. After the day I had yesterday, I can confirm that I’m not one of those calm and patient people who live by that rule – rather, I’m more likely to be a real cold and nasty bitch and throw a tantrum if things aren’t going the way I like.

The loan car that I was given last Monday to use until my new car arrives, was a piece of shit. A 1997 Holden Commodore with performance stickers all over its back windscreen, it had been through a real flogging by the various fully sick bros who had driven it before me. The steering was shot, the windscreen was by no means roadworthy (one knock, and it would have shattered), the indicator switch was unsteady, the battery light kept flashing on the dashboard, and it was just bad. I took it back to the dealership on the Saturday (the first chance I had), complaining about the state of the car and detailing the various things wrong with it, and asked for a more suitable car to drive until my car comes in. They made the excuse that there were no other loan cars available at the time, and unhappy with the non-service I’d received since I signed on the dotted line for the new car, I left the dealership.

An hour later after having been to the nearby fresh food market, the alternator on the battery died, and there was no way the car was going anywhere. I was absolutely livid at this point, especially considering that I had just complained about the battery in the car, so called up the dealership again, saying something along the lines of: “I was in an hour ago complaining about the car, it’s now dead, and I want someone here with a new replacement car in the next ten minutes or else I’m going to absolutely crack the shits and cancel the $19K sale and take my business to another dealer”. There were also possibly more “fucks” and “shits” and “cunts” in that sentence, in order to better convey the amount of rage I was feeling.

And what do you know, they manage to find a 2002 Ford Falcon (in good condition!) for me to drive in the meantime, to replace the Commodore. WHAT A FUCKING JOKE. “Oh, there’s no more loan cars available” my arse. Being a bitch might be nasty, but it gets results. On a bright note, my brand spanking new Mitsubishi Colt will be ready for me to pick up on Tuesday afternoon, and I’ll soon be zipping about town in a shiny red car!

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

So I had my graduation ceremony for my undergraduate degree today, and you know what the best part was?

Having someone important from every part of my life there. My family were there. My cousin was there. A high school friend was there. A friend from my first trip to China was there. Friends from my second trip to China were there. My boyfriend was there. I felt very very loved, with all my loved ones there. Another very awesome part to graduating, was the fact that I looked absolutely radiant, if I do say so myself.