Pillar of Salt

It's funny how the months have progressively gone by and not once have I looked back in regret. Reminds me of the story of Lot's wife turning into a pillar of salt as the family were escaping their forsaken city. I guess I'm not one to plague my mind with what if's or could have been's or would have been if's. Perhaps it's just easy for me to think this now when I've been through the worst; now that I'm walking on dry land instead of wading waist deep in mud. Maybe it's a coping mechanism where, in my mind I capture the positives out of a whole difficult situation, of how I'd managed through it and how I'd ultimately overcome something. Selective retrospect, it would seem. Guess that kinda helps, though...lets me know that I can get through most things, at least. And of course not without some mega external force who's been guiding me through every situation these months.

Aaaanyways, I had a little look through my previous posts throughout the year and some beyond, and it occurred to me just how many warning signs were flashing in my head; warning signs of how a certain something would be the most terrible idea in the world, and how it could have been avoided altogether. These warning signs might as well have been cow bells (for lack of a better analogy), cause you know what? In my oestrogen-filled being I just enjoyed the romantic notion of having someone flip 180 degrees just.for.you. I enjoyed the terrible plot of having someone discover something they'd been missing all along. Well, if you do too, you're bound head first in your crash to reality. Truth is, things just don't work out that way, because by the time someone's discovered what it is they're missing, they've completely blinded the other person with their selfish barbs and it's just too late to get what they now realize they want. And as far as I know, people don't change. Not completely, at least. And it takes a certain narcissist to want someone else to change for your sake; they might as well be circus animals performing tricks to suit your own ideals. I know I've done it before, changing myself for someone else. All I can say is, it's so much more fun when I am me.

But, well, at the end of it all I honestly feel I'd dodged a bullet, harsh as it may sound. I am in no way pointing the finger or expressing bitterness; it is just what it is. I had misled myself despite all those warning signs, and despite how things had snowballed, and nothing turned out to be the ending I'd wanted aaaall those months ago, I'm really glad I am where I am right now. It really is a good place to be in. I know the big guy upstairs has my best interest in mind, and perhaps that's what gets me through stuff.

Everything's fine and dandy, by the way. The tone of this post probably resulted from boredom and having too much time on my hands which needed some thinking to fill in!

Status: Deeply relaxed and utterly content :)

Collect Call

Wishing you could keep me closer

I'm a lazy dancer

When you move

I move with you.

Woe of the Asian

How can I suck SO BAD at studying?

Puts my Asian roots to shame.

Eventful Events

This year is nearing its end, and it really has been peppered with events that demand strength, patience and faith. And sacrifices.

In my bout of self-pity and of feeling sorry for the situation that is the dear mother's diagnosis, I think about how unfair it is that the sister and I have had to give up things that we care about. Sure, my "sacrifice" looks pale in comparison and most definitely the more trivial of the two, but the fact is that I had been dreaming of this day since its announcement (at which I had promptly marked it down in my calender in complete capitals and not just a few exclamation marks!) and had been fantasizing about how great a day it would be. Then I think of the sister and I feel so bad for her that her year probably did not turn out as she'd envisioned either, though she is the tougher and the braver of us two and she wouldn't spin this into a greater tragedy than it already is.

Then I carry on to think about how my transition years have been marked with things both unexpected and disappointing. The mother's great loss, which spiralled into a few months of miscommunication (if there was any at all) and frustration, became the hallmark of 2007 i.e. my final year in school, and the transition period between living at home and coming to Melbourne. And now, in my final year in uni, there's this.

This year I'd dealt with loss(es), disappointment, and bitterness. But the year has not been without gains, lessons and uplifting traits. I then realize that everything has been placed, perfectly timed, to help me deal with things as they come thrown at me from left and right. People have been placed in my life strategically to become my support. Through experience I have gained insight on how best to give the support that mum so clearly needs, and how to deal with her reactions when it comes to news like this (I was emotionally retarded 5 years ago [no, seriously], and I regret not having the maturity to have dealt with the situation better than it turned out then).

I think that what's happened now would determine the course of my life and become a year I look back and think to myself, this is why I'm doing what I'm doing. Just like it was 5 years ago. What had happened then had become a precursor to my choice and motivation in the following year to pursue this career and what I intend to do with my future. What has happened, and is continuing to happen now, would probably affect my decisions on who how when why in the years to come. Every eventful event motivates a cascade of reactions, and despite the negative thoughts and feelings that surface from time to time, it's been a journey that shows me I am capable of being strong, patient, and faithful. And making sacrifices. It tests the strength of our family unit, which, I am proud to say, is passing with flying colours (I hope I'm not being delusional).

Well, I'm pretty sure everything would turn out alright. Eventually.

Never Ever Have I...

Had such a suchasuchasuchasucha strong urge to

TRAVEL SOMEWHERE.

My eyes are roaming, my mind is flitting from place to place to place

I want to go on a lovely adventure.

How I just wish a rainbow could just land on my doorstep :(

Mountainous Retreat

Last weekend the family (in-laws included) spent some much-needed quality time on the snow-capped mountain for some much-needed stress relief and exercise (I call it my exercise for the month year, and I stand by this claim).

Goodness me, who could EVER feel encumbered by the crushing weight of obligation, stress or work when you wake up to such a view in the morning? (ref picture below) As I finally managed to pick up the bare basics of manoeuvring on the blasted snowboard after my first attempt which included falling (not boarding) all the way from the top to the bottom, I just felt so...free. Part of learning how to board was just to let.it.be, and to trust that my body has got this covered. Pretty amazing stuff there!

Doubtless the weekend away from home did me good. I think the same can be said for the others. Unfortunately, Sunday rolled around pretty quickly. We came and we went...Back to home it was, said time :(   

The only things remaining from our then-anticipated trip are our lovely, lovely pictures, and the crazy aching of my muscles protesting over the strenuous act of picking my bottom off the snow time and time (and time) again.

Sigh, I miss it already.

DEFINITELY a trip worth repeating! I'm already anticipating our next weekend getaway...


p.s. thanks for the cool driving, Cwee!
p.p.s. I am sooo addicted to this collage-making app thingy I'd just downloaded yest (if you haven't yet noticed :p)

Ohm

So, here's what went down last night. I came home from clinics,  dead tired from running on 2 hours'sleep the night before, washed my feet, pinned up my hair, got changed, studied the map of my newest fantasy fixation that is the Seven Kingdoms in the Game of Thrones, and drove off to the city for my 1 and a half hour long Yoga session.

Boy, oh boy, was it worth it.

I went in with all of my sulkiness and just full on sleepiness, and came out refreshed, energized, rosy-cheeked...happy. During the session there were times when the instructor's zen-like and patient voice infuriated me cause all I wanted to do was go home and lie in bed, not do the downward facing dog a million other ways, but looking back I probably felt better than I ever would lying in bed.

The theme of last night's class was being in the moment and enjoying progress. We spend too much plotting our goals, she says. Too much of looking at where we want to be and leaving ourselves in a position of lack. Our lives are always progressing; we are never static. It is too precious not to enjoy our constant progress. And that's why we did the downward facing dog a million other ways - they were progressions to an otherwise static pose. But then again when we ever tried to hold a pose, we never really were still. The wobbles and the shakes were, as she said, exactly where we needed to be to have progress. Wobbles and shakes are sort of equated to anger, frustration, despair. Sounds very cliched, but definitely not something emphasized enough it seems.
So she went on to say, while I was on my back doing the ultimate failure of a Hamstring stretch (I can't get my leg past 100 degrees), that in order to always feel fulfilled and to take yourself away from feeling lacking, why not make smaller goals for yourself so you'd always feel satisfied? It's true, isn't it? We reach for the sky and beyond, we want the moon and everything in between. It's an endless chase. So. Say...you're a lazy bum and your goal is to be the picture of health and have glowing embers for cheeks. Well. Stepping out the front door could be a very nice, achievable goal. Pat yourself on the back. Walk to the neighbour's house and back. Another pat on the back. Don't sit down immediately. Amazing. There you go, impossible to feel like a failure now, huh? Okay, I'm kinda mocking her now, but you know what I mean.

Yoga aside, I'd just passed my musc placement! :) 3 blocks down, 3 to go. Whew, it's gonna be a loooong 6 months. I will be trying, other than pass my placements, to enjoy them as I go. Enjoy the progress, right? I guess academically I'm actually doing as she says. I aim for 50 in all of my subjects. Well, that's the bare minimum. Maybe that's why I'm always happy with my shit marks. Making me a happier person who is not living in lack! That's my silver lining. And my excuse.

So, my status right now? ...I am happy. And I am grateful.

June Barcarole

She stumbled, footstep by footstep, toward the door. Weakened by her desire to have a glance, just one glance, of her oh so proclaimed beauty, she scuffled across the cold cement floor.

This is the story of a girl bound by vanity, a slave to jealousy, embalmed by dreams of being sought after; of being an object of envy and of desire; of being an instigator of insecurity.

This is the story of a girl who was born into this world with a face so maimed and so utterly distasteful the midwives who delivered her from her mother's womb crossed themselves before they dared lay a hand upon her for washing. This is the story of a girl who also had been, very ironically so, favoured by the hands of fate, so that she might come across a modern-day alchemist so skilful he was able to create a modern-day panacea, the perfect solution in her quest for beauty.

What was brought to life by the hands of this modern-day alchemist was by no means a quick and easy feat. It took the girl days, months, years of patience and keeping the faith in his promises; it took him days, months, years of fixing his gaze upon the prize of his labour. It was a curious thing, but for the discretion of the girl in question, and the dignity of this modern-day alchemist, the terms of their agreement shall not be disclosed.

The solution that came from the modern-day alchemist was a substance so pure it perfected her flawed features, but most of all, it encased her face in a thin crust of porcelain, so that she might have skin that could make her an object of envy and of desire, and she could be an instigator of insecurity in the women around her. The only catch, oh, and there was a catch, was that she could never ever catch a reflection of herself, inadvertent or purposeful, lest she face its most dire consequence, which she herself was not fully aware of.

The first few weeks came and went easily: she had her maids remove all mirrors, draw all curtains so that she appeared to be a modern-day vampire (if they ever existed at all), but she did not mind that at the very least. Better to be named a Dracula than a Quasimodo, she thought. Those first few weeks she had felt so on top of the world. Everywhere she went she had followers, admirers, wishing to take her hand for a one-night-stand. Everywhere she went, heads turned, and whispers and envious eyes tracked her every move. She felt, for once in her life, pretty.

Thence came that one fateful day, as the girl was busying herself in a windowless flower shop, searching for the most beautiful, perfect flowers to match her most beautiful, perfect face, when the dark clouds drew in and the sky started rumbling and the pitter-patter of raindrops became a downpour so heavy the unsuspecting pedestrians thought they were having a shower under the Niagara Falls. It was on this one fateful day when the girl slipped and fell as she exited the windowless flower shop and found herself face first in a puddle of rainwater. No, her face did not crack or break from the fall. Her face did crack, though, from her instinctive gathering herself up, causing her to catch an inadvertent glance of her reflection in the water. The consequence of that was not dire, however. That little gash was out of pure luck situated beneath her chin, and measured just a centimetre long,  no less, but trust the girl to exaggerate in her mind the size of it. She ran home, crying, feeling with her fingers the crack in her no-longer-perfect porcelain skin, refusing to let anyone see her with what she thought was a big gash across her face.

And so it began that the girl barricaded herself in a cell of her own device, afraid even to step out the front door lest she saw herself without warning again. With the growing onset of agoraphobia, the girl spent more and more time within the confinement of her mind, often times staring into space, recalling by force that flicker of an image of her face in the rainwater. She grew evermore obsessed - much, much more than before. She had to see herself, even for another flicker of a second. She just had to.

And so, here she was, stumbling footstep by footstep toward the door, weakened by her desire to have a glance, just one glance, of her oh so proclaimed beauty as she scuffled across the cold cement floor. She was a crazed woman, a mad woman, eyes dancing wild, puffy and red, as she mustered her last remaining morsel of courage. She flung the door open and was greeted by a large, gilded free-standing mirror hiding intentionally in her closet. She stood there, staring at the reflection of herself, unable even to admire her perfection as the little gash beneath her chin became not so little any more, growing and growing in length across her face as if it had a life of its own. Soon enough, the gashes turned to chunks of flesh falling off the bones, but still she could not peel her eyes away as if possessed, and not long after, they did.

This is the story of a girl who was bound by vanity, enslaved by jealousy, and, at the end of it all, embalmed without a head.

To Strangers

And yet, freely you gave it all for us.

In the End

You just can't miss what you'd never had.

Wavering Resolve

"Bob the builder, CAN. YOU. FIX. IT?"

"No, I can't"

Sorry to disappoint, kids, but unfortunately I am merely an imposter.

But I sure as hell can't help myself from trying.

Thanks for the perfect analogy, you.

The Big 'D'

Perhaps I've put too much faith in the human race. Or, more specifically, in the alphabetically varied gene pool.

Depleted Tears

Sometimes it really seems like I don't realize how precious someone is to me until I start bawling my eyes out for him or her.

Well, it's hard not to when you are given report after report, all pointing to the fact that this person is facing imminent death. There's been some good news today. Let's hope it stays that way.

I've never really thought about how I have grown to love this amazing woman so, so, so much. I have all the respect in the world for her, she who's lived through everything unimaginable at this day and age.

So...pull through, my favouritest old lady in the world! The whole Law-Che brood will be there with you shortly :).

Roller coaster

Right now the feeling is as if you've chosen to get on the scariest ride - you're in one of those hard, plastic seats, you're securely (or not quite; that's how you feel) locked in, the staff are checking the seats of all the other thrill-seekers ahead of you.

It's that awareness that there is absolutely no turning back. You're left with this heavy bolus in the pit of your stomach made up of fear, apprehension, anticipation and dread. Yet somewhere at the back of your mind you know it's not the end of the world. You're not gonna die (hopefully) and the ride is gonna last 60 seconds, after which you would be overtaken by a bout of wild laughter at the sheer exhilaration of it and impressed that you'd worked up the courage to take up on your personal dare.

The battle is now between what you feel at that present moment and what you know you would feel at the end of it all.

But on a (more) personal note, this morning, on top of all that I'm feeling tired. I'm tired of being pegged 'the strong one'. It's not a matter of keeping up appearances; more the fact that sometimes I wish I could crumble in the folds of someone's arms and weep. But I do know for a fact that at the end of it I would not have liked it one bit. So for now it's preferable to brave it through like never before. Never quite expected this to bring on such a massive impact. But it has. Huh. Surprise, surprise.

For now I shall be awaiting what I know is ahead. I know my strength is not my own, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Post-apocalyptic revelation

And so, the question remains...

Was it bravery or stupidity?

It really is too close to call

A Little Birdie Told Me..

And I couldn't have anticipated how disappointed I feel.

So. Amazed.

Silence

You're likened to a thoughtless mule

A field of wheat 

A speck of dust

So indignant

So insignificant

No convictions

You follow the wind of the unknown

You go nowhere

Nothing's changed

despite the change:

The silence is deafening;

It is now broken.

You think that would be a milestone

It isn't, really.

You still exist in a pool of stagnancy.

You go nowhere

As you did before

So plant your feet in the ground

Stand firm

Make a decision

Stick with it

Repeat.

Life, Personified.

Sometimes, this shadowy figure: dark, mysterious, a little ominous,

hands you a box wrapped up so tight you could never quite figure out how to tackle its bindings.

That is, up until the moment someone somewhere says the right words, at the right moment, asking the right question, provoking the right answer.

A little something is revealed at that exact moment.

You shoot sky-high, to the zenith of your awareness in one crashing second.

You no longer have to try breaking that stupid box!

But, as with any other form of euphoria,

what goes up must come down.

After some time your revelation is meaningless -

It can no longer apply to the changes happening all around you.

This shadowy figure is relentless.

Another box is handed to you.

For now, it's frustration, puzzlement, effortful attempts

all. over. again.

Sigh, you can never have your fun.

Oh my god, this brain needs to shut down. I am in dire need of some shut eye but nope!...forcing myself awake those last few minutes to finish watching the Running Men do their funny running things really did it for me! Now it's one sleepless night in Melbourne and unfortunately there isn't anything remotely romantic to at least make it worthwhile (har, har).

So..now, a story.

(Based on a true story)

Something happened to a particular window. This window...it's been so abused by blistering winds, hurt by harsh sunlight, worn down by vicious winter snow...yet it's always kept itself slammed bravely open amidst and against the cruel, cruel elements. However, slowly and surely, as would any other window, this particular window started losing its shape; its colour started waning. It's lost its vigour -- it's lost the fight. It started closing in...closing in...closing in...until one day it vowed never to open again. 

Now! After months of solitude, closed off from the world, lo and behold, a warm and fuzzy feeling returns to this particular window! O, the man of the house has returned! His giant chopsticks for fingers press its wooden panes open, once again uniting it with the cruel, cruel elements that have treated it so harshly. The warm and fuzzy feeling does not go away. The man's hands bring forth such nostalgia, such love that the window feels it can conquer anything and everything thrown at it. Bring it on, wind, sun, and snow! Nothing can stop it now! 

Alas, the brevity of it all is heartbreaking. The tender loving care from those giant chopsticks for fingers never lasted. The man of the house has returned and has left, once again. What was this poor window to do? Time and time again, it's left to brave the harshness of reality all on its own. "ALL BY MYSELFFFFF, DON'T WANNA BEEEE", it sings in mute. No vocal cords to voice its discontent. No eyes, no tear glands to shed pearls of sadness. This window started closing in...closing in...closing in...until one day it vowed never to open. Ever again.

The Narrative & the Narrator

Things have pretty much settled into a routine -- a very terrible routine of skipping lectures, getting to prac an hour late, getting to everything in general at least 5 minutes behind the appointed time. But I must say I'm loving every second of it! It's as if, after the whole clinical debacle (okay, maybe not so much a debacle) last Semester, I've regained my autonomy in all things academic! Nothing's forcing me out of bed at 6 am just cause I have to make it to the hospital on time, nothing's stopping me from just packing up to LEAAVE when I'm dead bored and feeling intellectually unstimulated (hah, hah). And nothing's forcing me not to just skip this 3 hour lecture I'm supposed to be attending. Right now. At this exact moment. Smiley face.

In the house of Kew it's not as drastic a change as I'd anticipated over the weeks. I think that's the best way to sum it up. Well, of course apart from the fact that the sister and the cousin aren't here at all, I guess the place isn't as eerily quiet and as cold as I thought it'd be. Really. That's what I was expecting. But perhaps the cousin's presence does make a huge difference -- she's always the one in the living room, she's always the one in the kitchen...noises from the TV, the pots and pans fill the void, in a way. Perhaps when she leaves, everything will change. Again.

I think it's sort of a nice turnover, if you will. Let me explain. I have always, and I mean always, been the baby of the family. I'm the youngest of our cosy family of 6, and, for crying out loud, the youngest in the whole friggin generation. I guess it's when you've always been taken care of and babied, in a way, you tend to settle into that role without even realizing it. It's like sinking into a comfortable dependency like the crater your butt makes on the couch. It leaves an imprint, doesn't it? It becomes your favourite spot. You don't wanna leave it. But, alas, one day you get too bloody fat you can't help yourself, you have to get up. It's quite refreshing, I must say...being the elder one. The responsible one -- though that's really still to come. In time, people. In time. I'm taking baby steps here (not a pun!).

Alright, on to other things. Like..Japan! Okay, to be honest sometimes I wish people would stop asking me how I found Japan. I end up repeating the same reply over and over again as if rehearsed. It was amazing - the food's great, the people's great, the place is great. Short and sweet. Although, it takes a certain amount of self-control to not elaborate further -- e.g. the food's so great that whatever Italian, Korean, Angmoh, Japanese food you can ever find anywhere else in the world (okay, maybe I really just mean Melbourne) can never be on par with what the Japanese can come up with. NEVER. My goodness do I sound annoying or what. It's hard! It takes some restraint not to let the account of my experience in Japan become a certified brag! Eh hem...maybe I should let the pictures do the talking. Self-explanatory awesomeness.

OSAKA

Osaka Castle

Noodles for 3,500 Yen! No chairs.

Takoyaki @ Dotonbori, Osaka

Dotonbori

Rikuro Ojisan! Fluffiest, lightest cheesecake ever

Best train snack! On the way to Mount Koya

KOYASAN

Koyasan Monk Food. FEAST.
Everything's vegetarian. Amazingly awesome.

Unadon
So good, of course.

 KYOTO

Bamboo Forest @ Arashimaya, Kyoto

Cycled 1 hour to bamboo forest

Fushimi Inari

TOKYO

ICHIRAN RAMEN @ Shibuya. Best ramen I've ever had in my life. 

Ichiran - eating in booths

sneaky pic -- 20 year olds dress up in traditional garments and go to the city hall. Officially adults!

Shinjuku at night

Yakitori @ Omoide Yakocho (Yakitori Alley) in Shinjuku

Tsukiji Market 

Asakusa - Chaep Shoes!

Okonomiyaki @ Sometaro, Asakusa

Tempura soba in Ginza

Cold soba. BEST.

Apparently the "best ramen in Tokyo" -- courtesy of St. Luke's hospital.
...not the best ramen in Tokyo.

Friggin ginormous electronics store in Akihabara.
We died.

Sushi at Ueno.
Sushi master is pinching some raw tuna to be rolled  into the freshest, crispiest seaweed I have ever had.

In Chinatown (Yokohama). Panda rice.

panda

Double panda

Panda EVERYTHING.

Need I say more.

Ramen in Yoyogi

Snow in Tokyo!

Karaoke with strawberry smoothie and butterscotch ice-cream milk smoothie

Lunch at Takashimaya

Part of lunch too.

Lunch set.

Bye bye Japan :(
On the Narita Express

Peace

I feel so close to you right now

Hands Up If This Is You Too

I get so focused on your vices,

I tend to forget you are one of the good ones.