Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

This is a hallway in my house that leads from the bedrooms/bathroom to the kitchen. It has been like this for six months – and everything there belongs to my female housemate. In that time, she has made no attempt whatsoever to clear her personal belongings out of what should be a communal hallway, and other people in the house are forced to go the long way around to the kitchen, going through the living room and dining room. Regular hints from both my male housemate (whose family owns the house) and myself haven’t worked at all.

Now imagine that clutter in a bedroom. What you’re now thinking of is her bedroom. She has to literally climb over bags and boxes of things in order to get into bed. I had to strong-arm her in order to get her to throw out six months worth of old newspapers that were nearly waist-height. Did she want to keep the newspapers? Yes. Did I have to bully her to get her to throw them out? Yes. Was I justified? Yes. Combined with the dozen or so oil burners and candles scattered around her room, it was simply an unnecessary fire hazard. Could she clear out three year old magazines and other unnecessary papers that are also a fire hazard? Yes. Will she? No.

Is it that she needs all her possessions? She hasn’t touched it or even looked at anything in the hallway in six months, so one would presume not. Is it a time issue – does she simply not have the time to clear it up? Clearly not – she works hospitality (primarily weekends), but is free throughout the week. Watching television for six or seven hours each day does take up a lot of time, and I guess watching daytime soap operas is serious business.

Now this is the first time I’ve ever lived in a share house, but logic would dictate that though she might also be paying rent, a standard rule of house-sharing should be that one’s activities and actions should not hinder other people’s living spaces and lifestyle. Communal areas should be kept communal. You can do whatever you want with your own space/bedroom (within reason, e.g. fire and other hazards should be removed), but communal areas should be kept in a live-able and usable state by all members of the household. That hallway doesn’t fit the criteria.

So, when I buy her organisational stuff for Christmas? Sure, it might be blunt and somewhat of an insult, but if it acts as a kick up the pants and gets her to get her act together and recognise that it is socially unacceptable to hinder other people’s living space, then I really don’t give a shit. It was either that or my other house mate cracking the shits and asking her to leave and find somewhere else to live within two weeks (which he was on the verge of, and could still possibly do if she doesn’t get the message). Between either insulting her, or kicking her out to find another share house…lesser of two evils. She can deal with it.

I could have, of course, bought her things she would probably like a lot more. I could have bought cosmetics or body stuff (soaps, lotions, etc.). I could have bought candles, essential oils, oil burners. I could have bought clothes or accessories. But when she already has that many material possessions (and buys more of the same junk every week though she’s always complaining that she doesn’t have enough money and that it’s a struggle to get the $100 rent together each week), I don’t feel sympathetic enough to contribute to that level of mindless consumerism.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

It’s no secret that I’m not particularly into the Christmas spirit. My family have never celebrated Christmas, and I’ve never really understood the concept of gift exchanges – why not just all agree to buy yourself the thing you want most, rather than have gifts that you don’t want given to you by others? I think the same of birthday presents – I’d much rather get money so I can buy my own large present, rather than have lots of little things given to me.

This year however, marks the first Christmas I’ve spent away from family, with two house mates who believe firmly in the concept of gift-giving, a fancy Christmas lunch, etc. Because I knew that they’d buy me presents, I kind of felt obligated to buy them presents as well. So, in the practical and logical way that I do things, I bought:

1. For my female housemate: Organisational things. A shoe rack you can hang over a door, hanging organisers for wardrobes, etc. Her room is a pigsty (by anyone’s standards, not just my own anal standards!), and I thought it would come in handy for her to be able to organise at least some of her possessions.
2. For my male housemate: Jumpers and scarves – he’s heading to Italy for three weeks in January, and has no winter clothes. He wears Tshirts and shorts year-round in Australia, but that’s really not an option for a European winter, so I bought him some warm clothes to wear over there.

Dylan tells me that I’ve misunderstood the whole concept of Christmas gift giving. He claims that Christmas gifts needn’t have to be about practicality and whether or not the recipient will use it, but that it’s about something thoughtful and personal, something frivolous that will put a smile on the person’s face. To teach me a lesson about what a “true” Christmas is about, he’s already claimed that he’s going to wake me up at 5am to open presents, then take me out for “experiences” all day. I have no idea what these “experiences” are going to be, because he won’t even tell me what I should wear for the day to ensure that I’m appropriately dressed for the activities.

Anyway, point is, I personally think that a practical gift is more likely to give long-term happiness to the recipient. Sure, a gag gift might give you a few laughs on the day, but after that it’s probably just going to go in a drawer and be forgotten about. A practical gift like the two I got however, will give ongoing benefits to the recipients!

Question of the Week: What kind of gift giver are you? Do you aim for practicality, or do you get anything that will put a smile on the recipient’s face?

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.

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.

Because our family isn’t quite stereotypically Asian enough, my parents have brought back the following items (amongst others on their shopping spree) from their three week vacation visiting family in Hong Kong and China:

1. Soy bean drink maker
2. Plastic covers for our television/DVD player remotes
3. A bobble head toy figurine for my new car (more later)

We do our best to pander to stereotypes. My mother also deemed it necessary for the modesty of her only daughter to purchase these two items for me (see photo on right). The camisole, as she thinks the tops and dresses I wear are too low-cut, and that I need to wear something more modest underneath them. The cardigan, because I shouldn’t go out with bare arms unless it’s a forty degree day. Of course, I’ll probably only ever wear the camisole by itself, and will continue to go out with bare arms, but at least she can now feel like she’s done her bit to make me a lady.

My brother on the other hand, got an LG KM900. Recommended retail price: $799AUD. I don’t know what a thirteen-year-old needs a high tech mobile phone for, but he asked for it, so of course, he got it. To recap – he got a $799AUD mobile phone, I got a bobble-head toy figurine and two tops that cost $30AUD all up. I know love for a child isn’t reflected by the amount of the gifts bestowed upon them, but fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Anyway, bitterness at blatant favouritism of the male child aside, I put a deposit down on the new 2009 model Mitsubishi Colt VRX yesterday. It has pretty much all the same features as the current model, but has had a slight facelift in the shape of the exterior to bring it in line with their Lancer model. I bargained it down to $18,990AUD from about $22,000AUD, so I’m happy enough with the price.

It’ll unfortunately be about two weeks before the new model comes in, so I’ll be vehicle-less for a week – I’ll get a free loan car from the dealers after the 18th until the day it arrives (probably around the 30th). One week shan’t be too much of an issue – I should be spending the next week and a half finishing up (or you know, actually starting) my last assignment of the year anyway, rather than zipping around in a new car!

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

If I were to be entirely responsible for all my own food (e.g. no dining out), it would be incredibly simple for me to become a vegetarian. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been subsisting on mainly cereal for breakfast, yoghurt and fruit for lunch, and a cooked dinner. It’s ranged from fancy dinners that Dylan has cooked for me (he’s the culinary genius in this relationship), to dining out with friends, to plain soup noodles or toasted sandwiches made by myself.

The only meat I’ve eaten in the past two weeks is in Dylan’s meals, in meals out, and his man meat. There’s a simple enough reason – I can’t stand raw meat, it makes me throw up in my mouth. It’s not an ethical thing – I don’t associate with death and former living creatures, and wouldn’t have a problem with it even if I did. I just don’t like the smell or the feel of raw meat. It makes me ill, though surprisingly, I don’t have a problem with the smell or texture of raw seafood.

Essentially, if I was to live by myself, my meals would include: cereal, yoghurt, fruit, sandwiches, salads, nuts, noodles and occasional vegetarian stir fries. Meat would only be eaten when I dine out, or when someone else cooks for me. It’s been a very healthy diet, and bodes well for my living independently in the future.

Here’s the level of effort I put into my meals – tonight for dinner I’ll be having vegetable soup/stew (whatever the slow cooker turns it into). Essentially I chopped up whatever veggies I had left in my fridge (carrots, potatoes, lettuce and capsicum) and put it into the slow cooker with some water. I’ll add some chicken stock cubes in a few hours, and that’ll be my dinner. Ah, effortless dinner that I’ll be able to freeze and have for a few nights running.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

Out on the town on Saturday night with a friend from Sydney, we somehow ended up walking in on Fashion TV’s state finals for Model of the Year. Because that’s evidently the circles I always socialise in here in Melbourne – with the glamour and glitterati, perving on half-naked model wannabes, sipping champagne, snorting coke, and dancing till dawn with go go dancers at Love Machine. Don’t let any other reports of me being a boring stay-at-homebody fool you.

In other news, I have a new job to replace the one I lost. It’s one day a week, to start in late October. I’ll be an all-around receptionist, administrator, and organiser for a one-woman psychology practice. I’ve been thinking about my lack of direction, and am trying to view this as perhaps the type of role that would be best for me – essentially organising and restructuring the practices, procedures, and policies of small organisations so that they run at peak efficiency. I did it at a former job, am in the process of doing it at my current job, and I know that I’m good at it. I’m good at implementing spreadsheets to reflect income and outgoings, at creating databases of details, at enforcing privacy policies to secure company documentation.

The problem is of course what I do once everything is perfectly organised and streamlined for efficiency, I get bored and need to move onto the next small company I can whip into shape. Oh, and then there’s the problem that these sort of administrator, “jill of all trades” roles never pay a great deal of money which could prove to be a problem when I’m in my forties and still only earning $40K a year. Unless of course, I get into freelance consultancy for big businesses in the field of organisational efficiency, in which case, I have no idea where I would even begin to look at getting relevant qualifications for such a role.

On a happier note:

1. I have a ticket for the Black Eyed Peas concert this time next week! $20.50AUD off eBay.
2. Oh, and I’m going to Britney Spears in November, but I bought those tickets at full price months ago.
3. I’m crazy in love.

I hardly know whether my life is good or bad right now.

Originally published at Jingwen. Please leave any comments there.

I’ve been absent from this blog these past seven days – and this will not be an apology, but rather an explanation. In past times when I’ve been discontent with life, my writing has suffered as a result. I’ve become stilted, or less ready to speak of matters that may actually be close to my heart – I’ve taken refuge in more impersonal discussion of current affairs.

I am, at the moment, discontent with life. I feel as though I lack direction – I’m not yet certain that I’m doing something that will make me happy in the long term. I don’t know if I’m studying something that’s right for me. I don’t know if I’m pursuing a career that’s right for me. I don’t know that I’m doing anything at the moment that’s right for me – and while I’ve been told that I have years ahead of me to decide upon a course of life, it rankles that someone who achieved as much in her first two decades could be so undecided at the age of twenty-two. I suppose the difficulty is that while most people have a passion that they try to turn into a career, I’ve no particular passion for anything. I’m good at many things that I enjoy, but aren’t passionate about anything. There’s really nothing I can turn into a legitimate career.

As a result, I’ve been rather, for lack of a better word, glum. My perspective on things in general have been rather negative – aided perhaps, by the whole car drama which seemed entirely worthy of a FML. Life in general seems to conspire against me, and I must admit that I find myself at a loss as to how to get myself out of the rut. I’m aiming to book a holiday for later this year – simply so I have something to look forward to, something to work towards, something that might give life some direction again. But really, it’d be nothing but a temporary reprieve until I can find some professional direction.

The past week by itself has been hard as well – I’ve been an absolute wimp in the house by myself. My father’s a loud snorer, and being in the house by myself in the dead of night without that familiar snoring reverberating through the house means that I have trouble sleeping. I’ve been having nightmares too, of getting a phone call saying that they’ve decided to stay overseas forever, or from a relative saying that they died in a freak accident over there. It’s just all been very lonely, all alone.