The responsible one

          I have a friend who is so incredibly responsible. She starts assignments the day she gets them, always has something to show for class, and never misses class without a valid reason. This is all well and good, of course, especially when you're in a group with her. She'll make sure everything gets done, even if she has to do it herself. But I'm the opposite of her, practically. I'm so lazy. If I don't have to do it, there's a 95% chance I won't. I'm usually ok with it because I'm a bit more responsible than some of my classmates. But I talk to this friend so much more often, and I'm not gonna lie, sometimes it makes me feel really bad. Imagine me watching videos all day, then I hear her saying she's stressed because she only did 2 assignments. Imagine the guilt for all the time I wasted.

          The thing is, I need that, don't I? If she doesn't tell me about her doing assignments, I wouldn't even start to think about doing them. So I'm grateful, in a way. So many days I'll feel like skipping class and sleeping in, but I don't, because I'll feel guilty. Guilty for wasting my time, guilty for wasting money, and guilty for basically leaving her there alone. Sometimes I really can't handle it and I skip class anyway, but it's rare and far in between.

          Basically, thank you. It's negative motivation but still motivation all the same.

Intolerable team mates

          Recently we've been assigned with teammates for our final assignment, which means we're stuck with one person for the whole semester, and our grades depend on each other. No big deal. Pick people on random. Go ahea- oh wait you actually did that.

          I've been stuck with the new classmate. She has work experience in advertising, which is what this class is, she already has a diploma in advertising and graphic design, sounds great right? Nope. Every single task, she'll say "why don't we make our target audience mothers? Because I made a study on mothers before this." or "What if we made a vending machine for noodles? Because that's what I did when I worked for Maggi." My god, shut up. Have you ever thought about maybe having different ideas?

          It'd be nice if it was something like 'oh, our target audience is working young adults? Great! I have what we need right here.' instead of 'oh, our target audience is working young adults? How about we completely switch focus and target people who don't need targeting at all? Because I dealt with that once, and I only know about things I've already done.' Perfect. Just the kind of teammate everyone wants.

          How about you start thinking about things that can actually be done? I know you're older and you have experience, and a newer iphone, but you have to know that there are some things you're just not that good at. Food photography for example. Part of our assignment was to create a new recipe for instant noodles. Don't be like 'here, why don't I take pictures instead' after I've already taken pictures (and mine were used in the end anyway). You don't know how to use an iphone OR an iphone camera. Swipe left god damn it, you don't have to unlock your phone and find the camera app EVERY SINGLE TIME, the food is burning.

        AND I'm the one cooking too. We had to go shopping to buy some ingredients that I didn't have, because I'm a nice, generous person, so I volunteered some ingredients that I already had. Makes sense right? So we bought tortilla wraps, instant noodles, and mushrooms. And I used my butter, chicken, cheese, and broccoli.  Some of these things are more expensive than the other. So she offered oh so generously to pay for half of the food we bought just then, but she fully intended to take half the ingredients home with her. Not just that, she absolutely LAYERED the wraps with cheese. MY cheese. And it's not cheap cheese either. She even said afterwards, 'you know, I don't eat noodles or mushrooms or wraps, but I do eat cheese'. Dude, I'm not gonna give you my cheese. My cheese is my life. Anyway, she never offered to pay for my ingredients that we used.

          What also sucked was that even though my ideas were the ones that the lecturer liked, she got all the glory because she talks more than me (too much in fact) and now the lecturer thinks it's all her idea. And since the photos were on her phone, it looks like she cooked it too. I know it's partly my fault for being quiet, but MOST people would say 'Jo had an idea that bla bla bla' or 'Jo cooked the food bla bla bla' because most people are decent.

          The thing about all of this that really annoys me is she's not doing it on purpose. I can't even really be mad at her because she doesn't know what she's doing. It's so frustrating. And I have to deal with it for the whole semester. 6 months! Argh. Time to train my patience.

Barbie dolls and doll dresses

          Many people have asked me: Why did you buy a barbie doll right before your 20th birthday? I know. Seems ridiculous. I haven't played with dolls since I was 10. And it is very very much because of my father.

          When I was about 7 or 8, my dad taught me how to sew. He was constantly buying me barbie dolls and dollhouses, and he told me stories of when my aunt was a girl, He would tell me about how they had no money to buy doll clothes, and how creative my aunt was, so he taught her how to sew. And she stole clothes from people and cut holes out of them to make clothes, specifically a pair of my dad's jeans.

          This just reminds me so much of the kind of person my dad is. He never thought, oh, I can afford to buy doll clothes now, there's no need to make it by hand. Because it really isn't about the doll clothes is it? I mean, let's face it, they were incredibly ugly. It was the process. The bonding as father and daughter. And the lifelong skill he taught me. None of my other siblings know how to sew, and it is a terrible inconvenience. Sewing on a loose button, mending a ripped seam, it's an incredibly useful skill.

          When my dad was very very sick, I ordered a barbie doll and some sewing materials, thinking I could start making doll clothes again and show him the things I made with the skills he taught me. Deep and metaphorical, I know. But luck is cruel, as it happens. My parcels arrived on his funeral. What a shock, and what a blow to my emotions. As if I didn't already have enough regrets.

          I am not unfazed by my father's death, how could I be? I'm just not the type of person who shows emotions so freely, as many people do. And it does bother me that many of my relatives think I do not love my father or appreciate my father, just because I couldn't find anything to say to him in his deathbed. It bothers me a great deal, considering I am definitely the only child to ever really consider my dad's feelings on most anything.

          He and I are very much alike. A little too much alike, even. He was incredibly stubborn, as am I, and many people have urged me to curb my stubbornness, but... It would feel like I would be less like my dad. I would never ever want to be less like my dad. If I could, I'd be a carbon copy of him. I want my life to go the way that his did. Marry someone better looking than me, earn more money than my spouse, have 4 children, live in a big house that I bought myself, and be a great parent. It's my life long dream. The ultimate life goal.

          I like to think he's in heaven somewhere and he sees what we're doing (not how taoist heaven works but honestly, it's made up anyway, I'd like it to be my way) and he'd be able to read what we write, hear what we say. I hope that I'll get to be in heaven some day and he'll tell me how proud he is of me. And I'd be able to tell him how much of it was because of him.

Depression...?

          For years and years I've been lazy, unmotivated, and shut in. I've always thought it was just my personality but I remember as a child I wasn't like this. I was happy and productive, I had a lot of friends, my studies were going great. Then came puberty and everything went downhill. My grades slipped, I no longer had a lot of friends, I read books by myself all day and never talk, I did nothing outside of school.

          And now, almost 20 years old, I'm still that way. Before this I've never ever thought there was something wrong with my life, I thought it was my personality. I'm an introvert. Only after I read a reddit comment about how he felt nothing mattered, why bother working his ass off if we're just going to die anyway, and finally going to see a psychiatrist and got diagnosed with depression, only then I thought "oh shit, maybe what I'm going through isn't normal".

          I have no dreams, no aspirations, no will to do anything. I don't want to die, but I don't feel like living either. I'm stuck in this state of feeling like I shouldn't bother with anything, and everything I do is to make my father proud but even he's gone now.

          I've talked to my mother about this. She's diagnosed with schizophrenia and I thought she would understand and take me to a psychiatrist just to see if there's something wrong with me. But nope. Dismissed me completely. You're not depressed, you're normal. You smile all the time. You've always been like this.

          Anyway... I'm probably never seeing a doctor or anything about this. I'll just try to do the best I can.

What am I doing with my life?

          Nothing. That's what. I'm doing nothing with my life and it's really bothering me. I know my family wants me here, to help out around the house or to help make some decisions since my dad's gone.

          But more often than not I'll be sitting doing nothing, driving people around (mostly my sister, damn her and her performances) which just means sitting in a car instead of at home. 

          I AM WASTING MY TIME. But what can I do? Leave my family? Like damn. It's hard enough with recent events, now I gotta go and leave them to do my own thing?

          There is a compromise, of course. I could get a part time job. BUT. That means stealing a car just for myself. We have 2 cars, one for my mum to go to work and one for family use, like grocery shopping or going out to eat or whatever. My dad used to have a car but it was a company car apparently, and they took it back, the bastards.

          Anyway, I justified to myself that if my brother and I (and he's doing nothing too btw) got jobs at the same mall, then there would be nobody at home who could drive anyway, so both cars can be gone. But he's all like nah, I've earned my doing nothing days fam, I'm good.

          Bastard. Not really of course. But ugh. I might just have to do it. I can't live like this. I am rotting away here. I'm gonna get a retail job and be like pshh yeah, I worked as a cashier/ marketing guy/ fast food person or whatever, I've totally paid my dues. 

          I'll take a job that doesn't even require a secondary school education and be way over qualified so my employers will be like damn that's a good deal. When really of course I have no skills whatsoever. Or a resume. Or a cv. Whatever the difference is. 

          And there really ain't no way I'm gonna find a job related to my field of study but hey, money's money, and I'm not getting any allowance right now.

          Anyway, I got free internet from 1am to 7am and I'm really binging on netflix right now so that's a silver lining eh?

Peace out.

It happened

          My father is dead. May 24, 9.03am, my dad passed away after struggling to breath since 5.30am. It's been... Weird. I cried, I laughed, I sang. I'm now sitting in a room with him, expecting him to sit up and start talking at any moment. It just... Hasn't sunk in yet.

          I'm ok. Which makes me feel guilty. When I laugh, I feel guilty. When I enjoy myself, I feel guilty.

         Chinese people have this thing where if a dead person's eyes don't close, it means they have unfinished business, or worries in this life. My dad's eyes are wide open. All morning we've been trying to tell him not to worry, move on, rest now. Obviously... I'm a rational human being, I know eyelids change a certain way after death. But it still makes me feel uneasy. What if he really is worried and unable to move on?

          This is really... Unexpected. Yesterday night my dad had trouble breathing, so we went to the hospital. He was still talking and all, a bit tired but still very much alive. Then this morning... My mum woke me up. Dad's going, she said. He can't recognise people anymore.

          I was shocked. He said yesterday that he was going to buy me and my brother coffee, for going to visit him at the hospital at 11 at night.

          I don't know. I feel normal. It just doesn't feel real. It hits me at certain points, when I drive his car... When I see his glasses... The waterworks start going mental.

          I don't know. I guess I just wanted to document my thoughts from the day my father died. Me, gene and mae sang somewhere over the rainbow with the ukulele. I didn't say anything before he died. I didn't know what to say.

          Anyway... I'll just be a bit out of it for a while.

Understanding

          There are a lot of people in the world who genuinely believe that their way is the only way, and any other way is just wrong. There isn't a lot that makes me as mad as those people.

          I am aware that I'm like that, to a certain extent, in that I like to do things my own way and I don't like to change it. HOWEVER, I don't push my way on to other people. At least, I don't believe I do.

          Honestly, you don't know me. You are not my parent. Heck, you're not even A parent. What gives you the right to parent me? You can state your opinion, but don't act like your word is the law. If my parents come to me and tell me I need to change, then I will. But coming from you? It just makes me mad.

          Aunts and Uncles, especially those without children, sometimes push their "parental advice" on their nieces or nephews, and they're offended when said nieces and nephews don't obey their rules. I mean, come on.

          You can't compare me with my cousins and be like: Why aren't you like them? Oh... I'm not sure. Could it maybe be because I'm NOT them? Because I wasn't brought up with them? Wasn't brought up like them?

          This isn't your house. Just because it's not something you're used to seeing doesn't mean it's wrong. Just because you were brought up a certain way doesn't mean that is the only way. Doesn't even mean it's a good way.

          You told me to think about privilege vs rights. Ok, what is this thing that I did that made you think I felt entitled? What exactly did I do wrong? Oh wait. Let me guess. You're not going to tell me. Great. Just clears everything up doesn't it?

          You made some specific examples, where you said I was wrong. I don't see what I did as wrong. Not by a long shot. A TV was installed. There was dust on the floor. I got the vacuum out, my sister vacuumed it up. I stood out of the way. Then my mum mopped the floor. Keep in mind, this is a tiny pile of dust from drilling a couple of holes in the wall ok? It wasn't like a bomb went off.

          Apparently I should have done something? Stand there while my sister vacuums? Take the vacuum from her and vacuum the floor myself? Wipe the floor while she was vacuuming? Telekineticly know my mother was going to mop the floor and take the mop before she does? I don't know.

          I would understand if nobody was there to clean it, and the dust was just left there, but it was being cleaned already. Am I supposed to be psychic?

          Your actual literal problem with me is that I don't automatically do things without being told. I'm sorry. Do you have a chore list that I'm supposed to have known about? And don't be pedantic. These aren't things like wash my plates after I use them, or close the door after I come in. These are specific things like mop the floor after the tv is installed? Carry bags into the car? Excuse me. Was I supposed to know what bags you're using?

          Or, get this. You should've woken up earlier for this appointment you have to drive us to. That you never told me about beforehand. That you're then pissed about because my mum had to come wake me up. You know what I'd appreciate? A little heads up.

          With all of this, it's not hard to do. And maybe that is your line of thinking. But wanting me to know about what you want me to do? Without you telling me? I can't read minds. Or tell the future. SHOCKER. I know. Why can't you TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO? Is it really that hard? Is it really that degrading? Is it COMPLETELY unreasonable?

          Some people can know what they're supposed to do without being told. Well have you thought that maybe these people have grown up with you? That you have set routines with them that you don't realise? Just because I don't know what you want me to do does not make me wrong.

          On another note, you mention you're here because you WANT to be, not because you HAVE to be. Ok, fair enough. You're taking care of your sick brother out of the goodness of your own heart. And the rest of us are here only because we have to? Excuse me? I literally gave up 6 months of my supplementary education, of being in my happy place, just to stay here for my family. I'm not resenting that (okay maybe a bit, subconsciously) I'm resenting the fact that you think you're the only one making sacrifices out of the kindness in their heart. Ok. Everyone is an entitled, rude, disrespectful, dumb idiot because they don't go by your rules or your code of honour and respect.

          Respect is earned, and respect can be lost. You are not entitled to my respect purely because you are an older relative, even if that is the "chinese way".

          Maybe, once in a while, think about it from our point of view. We were brought up a certain way. Things are done differently in our house. It's ok to think what we're used to is wrong, but it's a whole other thing to force us to change our habits, our personalities, for no good reason other than:"I don't think it's right."

          I'm sorry. I needed to rant. And it makes me pissed off beyond belief that I can't win an argument with him. Out of ingrained respect for elders, out of his experience in debate. There were many, many times I could have corrected him but didn't. Because he is my uncle and I am supposed to be beneath him. Just the poop cherry on top of a shit cake.

Love and stuff

          I've just watched a pretty good love story disguised as a movie about bull riding, and it's made me really really sad. The movie is called the longest ride, and I do recommend it if you're looking for a sappy romance movie, like a lot of us do sometimes.

          Wrapped between a modern romance laid the incredible story of a couple who met during world war 2 in rural north carolina. A story of sacrifice, a story of loneliness, it really made my heart ache with how sweet and beautiful the love was.

          Now I am not a girl who goes through life with the goal of getting a boyfriend, nor do I ever do anything to meet guys, go on dates, etc. In other words, I don't want the hassle of meeting someone when I'm doing perfectly fine on my own. But these damn romantic movies just... Really punch me in the heartstrings.

          How great would it be to just have someone who will look at me like I'm the most important thing in the world, someone who cares what I think and how I feel. Someone who would sacrifice anything for me. I know, I know, this is a hollywood fantasy, and I am under no delusions, I just think about these things sometimes, and all the what ifs.

          Maybe someday someone would see me across the room and I don't know, sweep me off my feet or something, but I'm no beauty, in fact I'm pretty much on the low end of average, because of my lack of effort, I know.


But until that day comes, I will be here, alone and content.

Life Choices

          My brother is at a time in his life now where he has to basically choose what path his career will go through, which makes me think: How did I decide to do what I'm doing now?

          It's never been a conscious choice where I suddenly thought, yes, I'll pick graphic design over, let's say, accountancy. Growing up, I've always just known: I'm going to study art, I'm going to be an artist/designer. My family always knew, and I always knew. But now, in my second year of studying graphic design, I really can't help but wonder: Did I make the right choice? There's no doubt that I'm going to see this through, I'm going to graduate, for sure. It's just... Was I meant to be doing something else? An author? A performer? A musician? What would've happened if I was nudged in one of those directions instead?

          I do enjoy designing, of course, but I find myself wanting to write, and wanting to sing, wanting to play an instrument and make music far more than wanting to draw or design. Maybe it's because I am spending the majority of my time already designing for school assignments? No idea. This whole semester I've been completely tanking in motivation and I feel like I can blame it on what's going on with Dad, but maybe it's not? Maybe I'm just finding excuses for my complete lack of interest in graphic designing.

          In fact, the subjects that I enjoyed the most are critical writing and making a zine (magazine). Both involving writing. My basic thought process back when I was still in secondary school was that writing is something anyone can do, you don't need to go to school for it. Which I still agree with to some extent, but I can't write good fiction, and I think I'd have to learn it from somewhere.

          Every time I write, it's one of these streams of consciousness things (perfect for a blog, obviously), but these are just the same words that I'd be saying whilst talking to myself. Not really a feat of extraordinary storytelling here. Most people wouldn't enjoy reading this at all truthfully.


Anyway, that's everything off my chest now.
See you soon!

I have PCOS (TMI)

          Now be warned, this post will contain lots of girl stuff so stay away if you are eating or are disgusted by these things.

          PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) is a relatively common problem. It basically means that there are cysts- bubble like growths- in the ovaries. Obviously, not ideal, and it comes with a great deal of negative side effects. None are fatal, of course, and thank goodness too. Basically what the effects are, mainly related to child bearing and conceiving, which I don't think is of much importance to me right now. Other more pressing (but noticeably less concerning) problems are weight gain, hair growth (not the good kind, on the head), acne (dammit I knew I had a problem), dry skin (including the scalp, which causes dandruff) and the most obvious of all, irregular periods.

          If left untreated, it can also cause diabetes and heart disease, but it is not directly related, as in a person who is active will not suddenly die of heart attack just because of PCOS. But it is something I have to be careful of.

          As a teenager (yes, I will still say I am a teenager, it is only fair for me to wring it out longer) of course I complained "why me? Why curse me with weight that I cannot lose and acne that requires medication?" Honestly, I am not obese, but what girl doesn't want to be skinnier? Well... Skinny girls I guess but you know what I mean. I eat half of what normal girls eat (because I also have a stomach problem) and yet I am twice the size of those girls. I always chalked it down to me being inactive and unhealthy, which really doesn't help, but those other girls do not exercise either. Now I know, it is PCOS.

          It's not like 20KG weight gains, mind you, it's just 5, maybe 6 KG weight gains, so I still have no sympathy for obese people who blame it on "conditions". But we all know, 5 KG makes a whole lot of difference when you're only 5'2". Barely 5'2" I might add, only 157CM. Technically 5'1 13/16", according to google. I am on the high end of ideal weight, which is 48-59 KG, again according to google. I'm glad to be in the ideal weight bracket but I still wish to lose a bit more, especially in the tummy area. Dieting is completely out of the question. I barely eat enough as it is, which my dad says is the problem, but I doubt it. Exercise is my only hope. But oh I am so busy, and there is so much more I'd rather be doing.

          Anyway, to anyone who has ever looked at me and thought "Why does she not wash her face more? Why does she not wash her hair? Why does she look so fat?" Well now you know. PCOS. I can fix all these problems, but it is much too much trouble, and I am far, far too lazy.

          After all, I do not have to look at myself, therefore I shouldn't care how I look.