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Felt like I should coherently record the ramblings in my head somewhere, like I did when I was in primary school. I do like writing, I've taken up the habit of reading my books out loud (not in the annoying public sense), in private where I can focus on the phonics and my pronunciation. Most likely this is due to my new part time job of tutoring English, but also because I surmise that language is a continuous learning process. It's always possible for me to write better, to speak better and to express myself more clearly.
The teaching has been good, I only have two kids right now, both aged 8. Their level differs significantly though, the little girl coping with reading comprehension and tenses while I'm reteaching the little boy his Alphabet. In terms of payment, I'm only getting about $20per hour, and considering I see them at most twice a week, this is more or less going to be saved up for my plane ticket to Australia. I've always assumed, from a variety of medias, that someone who is passionate enough to save up for something as important to me as that, should be applauded, my mom however thinks this selfish and it's left me in the dark while she considers me spending this money to go out an party, more important. I feel like I've become a cash cow for the family, as that is all she asks about when she comes home. I have an understanding that the family financial situation is poor, but my depression and guilt for causing such only causes me to worsen when she tries to guilt me.
Today we went to see my brothers performance in the city. I true honesty, I expected more or less like his previous performances, that being High School Musical 2. Instead I found myself in a bohemian room, just like the one that Barney appeared in when he did the one man show on How I met your Mother. Dark, dingy, a tiny seating bunker for the audience. It was so lovely to hear accents again, a British boy behind me eagerly discussing the Golden Compass, a young family with a small child next to me, his feet clunking against the seats. It reminded me of wandering the streets of Melbourne with Simon, the graffiti down Flinder's Lane, the indie classical folk band playing with a guitar collecting cash. It felt more like the world I had so very much loved. The second act, (we had missed the first due to "Michelle's fault of having a class until 6") was with several middle aged women, plump, womanly and you could tell with an eagerness to express a cultural repression of sexuality and triumph in theater. Granted, the performance was your generic expressive dance detailing the process of life till death, focusing on personality, the music...the changes in rhythm and maybe it was the fact for the first time, I didn't have to stare at anorexic tomboys, made it sensational. My hands were glad to clap energetically for it, being so lost in the appreciation of expression. I guess that's also while I'm writing this, it has been too long. I've drifted apart from the aesthetically esoteric bohemian world I had always dreamed of living in. The "Funny Face" Audrey Hepburn character of irresponsible idealism. I do love art, even if I do not have the taint that is needed to create a successful career out of it. Too many false compliments I've taken, too much ego involved. I've come out of that womb into a rather more harsh expectant world. I do miss it though, lately I've just been focusing on the historical repercussions of art, how it paints history through the changes of the day. I miss being utterly consumed just by the paint strokes or energetic kick of a woman in black tights.
That was how I felt when I left the building, tingling with the urge to actually get into an activity. I timidly asked my mother if it would be possible to join a dance class, or see some more shows. She had been complaining about (me)"not being a proper human being."What she doesn't understand is, I'm not the antisocial she seems me to be, I flourish with friends online, and maybe if she stopped comparing me to her students, the bubbly lot they are (Who call her mother as well, and she calls them her babies) then maybe I would actually seem more normal. Of course I crave the lunch with Georgie, the walking around arrogantly with Simon or the Gay innuendo with Jean, but I cannot have that, nor does sitting outside in the blazing warm construction working heat cure my need for constant brain stimulation. I felt this would cheer her up, instead I got a chilly tone of "Maybe you should consider how much I work and how much debt I am in before you consider asking that, Do you know how much stress I am under? How much you make me work?" And there it was. Another pang of guilt in my mind. My mind blinded by white emotion of guilt, sadness and self hatred. I closed up, I told her to forget it, that I was merely asking. She told me I was breaking her heart, how she was disappointed in me. In my mind I spat at the ignorant ways of the Chinese culture, how guilt replaces actual discussion. I tell her again that i understand the financial situation, that she brings it up every day, that it weighs down on my depression when it seems like she blames me. Once again, I am told that they are ashamed of how they raised me. I feel better off having lived in Australia, having seen equality between parents and child. Where the child, if actually having an opinion was allowed to speak up, instead of yelled at. She says I've changed, the only thing different about me is now I can actually speak up. I spent so much of my childhood, crying myself to sleep because I was not allowed to cry out loud. Hiding in bathrooms, or just pressing my face into a pillow. I have not changed, I have just met adults who have shown me that emotion and thoughts are to be encouraged, and not shunned.
I come home, so eager to talk to Dan. To make the past two fight fade away. I had hope, since he had promised to wait for me to do dailies. All through the car ride home, I listen to his mix, listen to TankSpot Ulduar guides, thinking of spending time with him on WoW, to be the better player he wants me to be. He doesn't want to speak to me on vent.. or hear about my problems. I thought out of everyone in the world, he'd be the one to understand the situation my parents put me in, the fact they see me as sick, and that I can just get up and get better in a second. He logs off because he had a bad day on WoW, leaving me in the cold. Now I push my emotions onto the keyboard, resisting the urge to cry. I have cannot sleep and have angsted to much on twitter. So I hide here. It's sad. I'm sitting here waiting for Joe to come online even though I know he's busy today. Though out of all the chaos or bland that is in my life, he promised to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas with me on Sunday. Last week, I pointed my web-cam at the screen and watched American Psycho with him till early hours of the day. He calls me his relationship crutch. My coffee to get rid of my smoking addiction. I want to disagree but I find the stimulating conversations, or just reassuring company to be soothing. ^^ He promised me he's going to learn how to play and sing, "Rainy Days and Mondays" for me. I have his other videos on my computer, for days like this, when I'm left alone. It's nice to know that distantly I have a friend who knows how to cheer me up. I just don't want to burden my friends in Australia with this you know? I'm still rather hurt and tainted by some of the events that occurred before I left. Thoughts that I would never share with anyone, not even here.
There is a tiny bit of comfort knowing that there is more than one boy out there who has a crush on me. This not being Joe of course, who suspects I have herpies. I pisses me off when my mom sees us talking and just tells me to leave Dan for him. Regardless of how I feel, of how Joe feels, or just with any understanding of how strongly I feel for Dan. How much I've fallen for his enchanting spell. I find myself befriending more males, it works better for my antisocial mentality. The emotional femininity and attention I have to give to female friends...weighs down on me lately. This is not lust, I am merely finding fellow kin.The crushes however..from unnamed individuals.. This however is then corrupted and repelled by the fact that I wish the attention they try to shower me with, is coming from another source. I turn them away before I play with fire, unfeeling any lust for someone who isn't the man I love. And yet, the irony of being lonely when you have someone. I guess this was the same thing I had with Steve, being lonely because I have what should be comfort, and yet it does not come to me.
I' behind a veil where people see me more clearly online. Whether it be my tendency to replace my own bodily insecurities with the utter opposite, hiding my own shyness with a semi false persona of confidence. I don't like the way people see me anymore. Though, I was not comfortable being the shy girl either. Whether I am trying to make up for my own cultural upbringing of sexual shame and banishment, or actually being more in tune with my own body, I think I've crossed a line. I don't like this reputation, it disgusts me in a way. People see me in a way that is unrealistic. I feel the need to detonate my thoughts on the media hype on Swine flu, the arrogance of radio hosts when it comes to geek culture, to my deep love of zombie culture, from the depths of within, and yet, people don't want to talk to me about this. After all, I am an idea to them. a Mascot to be joked about, the limp deer in the corner, waiting to be eaten.
The teaching has been good, I only have two kids right now, both aged 8. Their level differs significantly though, the little girl coping with reading comprehension and tenses while I'm reteaching the little boy his Alphabet. In terms of payment, I'm only getting about $20per hour, and considering I see them at most twice a week, this is more or less going to be saved up for my plane ticket to Australia. I've always assumed, from a variety of medias, that someone who is passionate enough to save up for something as important to me as that, should be applauded, my mom however thinks this selfish and it's left me in the dark while she considers me spending this money to go out an party, more important. I feel like I've become a cash cow for the family, as that is all she asks about when she comes home. I have an understanding that the family financial situation is poor, but my depression and guilt for causing such only causes me to worsen when she tries to guilt me.
Today we went to see my brothers performance in the city. I true honesty, I expected more or less like his previous performances, that being High School Musical 2. Instead I found myself in a bohemian room, just like the one that Barney appeared in when he did the one man show on How I met your Mother. Dark, dingy, a tiny seating bunker for the audience. It was so lovely to hear accents again, a British boy behind me eagerly discussing the Golden Compass, a young family with a small child next to me, his feet clunking against the seats. It reminded me of wandering the streets of Melbourne with Simon, the graffiti down Flinder's Lane, the indie classical folk band playing with a guitar collecting cash. It felt more like the world I had so very much loved. The second act, (we had missed the first due to "Michelle's fault of having a class until 6") was with several middle aged women, plump, womanly and you could tell with an eagerness to express a cultural repression of sexuality and triumph in theater. Granted, the performance was your generic expressive dance detailing the process of life till death, focusing on personality, the music...the changes in rhythm and maybe it was the fact for the first time, I didn't have to stare at anorexic tomboys, made it sensational. My hands were glad to clap energetically for it, being so lost in the appreciation of expression. I guess that's also while I'm writing this, it has been too long. I've drifted apart from the aesthetically esoteric bohemian world I had always dreamed of living in. The "Funny Face" Audrey Hepburn character of irresponsible idealism. I do love art, even if I do not have the taint that is needed to create a successful career out of it. Too many false compliments I've taken, too much ego involved. I've come out of that womb into a rather more harsh expectant world. I do miss it though, lately I've just been focusing on the historical repercussions of art, how it paints history through the changes of the day. I miss being utterly consumed just by the paint strokes or energetic kick of a woman in black tights.
That was how I felt when I left the building, tingling with the urge to actually get into an activity. I timidly asked my mother if it would be possible to join a dance class, or see some more shows. She had been complaining about (me)"not being a proper human being."What she doesn't understand is, I'm not the antisocial she seems me to be, I flourish with friends online, and maybe if she stopped comparing me to her students, the bubbly lot they are (Who call her mother as well, and she calls them her babies) then maybe I would actually seem more normal. Of course I crave the lunch with Georgie, the walking around arrogantly with Simon or the Gay innuendo with Jean, but I cannot have that, nor does sitting outside in the blazing warm construction working heat cure my need for constant brain stimulation. I felt this would cheer her up, instead I got a chilly tone of "Maybe you should consider how much I work and how much debt I am in before you consider asking that, Do you know how much stress I am under? How much you make me work?" And there it was. Another pang of guilt in my mind. My mind blinded by white emotion of guilt, sadness and self hatred. I closed up, I told her to forget it, that I was merely asking. She told me I was breaking her heart, how she was disappointed in me. In my mind I spat at the ignorant ways of the Chinese culture, how guilt replaces actual discussion. I tell her again that i understand the financial situation, that she brings it up every day, that it weighs down on my depression when it seems like she blames me. Once again, I am told that they are ashamed of how they raised me. I feel better off having lived in Australia, having seen equality between parents and child. Where the child, if actually having an opinion was allowed to speak up, instead of yelled at. She says I've changed, the only thing different about me is now I can actually speak up. I spent so much of my childhood, crying myself to sleep because I was not allowed to cry out loud. Hiding in bathrooms, or just pressing my face into a pillow. I have not changed, I have just met adults who have shown me that emotion and thoughts are to be encouraged, and not shunned.
I come home, so eager to talk to Dan. To make the past two fight fade away. I had hope, since he had promised to wait for me to do dailies. All through the car ride home, I listen to his mix, listen to TankSpot Ulduar guides, thinking of spending time with him on WoW, to be the better player he wants me to be. He doesn't want to speak to me on vent.. or hear about my problems. I thought out of everyone in the world, he'd be the one to understand the situation my parents put me in, the fact they see me as sick, and that I can just get up and get better in a second. He logs off because he had a bad day on WoW, leaving me in the cold. Now I push my emotions onto the keyboard, resisting the urge to cry. I have cannot sleep and have angsted to much on twitter. So I hide here. It's sad. I'm sitting here waiting for Joe to come online even though I know he's busy today. Though out of all the chaos or bland that is in my life, he promised to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas with me on Sunday. Last week, I pointed my web-cam at the screen and watched American Psycho with him till early hours of the day. He calls me his relationship crutch. My coffee to get rid of my smoking addiction. I want to disagree but I find the stimulating conversations, or just reassuring company to be soothing. ^^ He promised me he's going to learn how to play and sing, "Rainy Days and Mondays" for me. I have his other videos on my computer, for days like this, when I'm left alone. It's nice to know that distantly I have a friend who knows how to cheer me up. I just don't want to burden my friends in Australia with this you know? I'm still rather hurt and tainted by some of the events that occurred before I left. Thoughts that I would never share with anyone, not even here.
There is a tiny bit of comfort knowing that there is more than one boy out there who has a crush on me. This not being Joe of course, who suspects I have herpies. I pisses me off when my mom sees us talking and just tells me to leave Dan for him. Regardless of how I feel, of how Joe feels, or just with any understanding of how strongly I feel for Dan. How much I've fallen for his enchanting spell. I find myself befriending more males, it works better for my antisocial mentality. The emotional femininity and attention I have to give to female friends...weighs down on me lately. This is not lust, I am merely finding fellow kin.The crushes however..from unnamed individuals.. This however is then corrupted and repelled by the fact that I wish the attention they try to shower me with, is coming from another source. I turn them away before I play with fire, unfeeling any lust for someone who isn't the man I love. And yet, the irony of being lonely when you have someone. I guess this was the same thing I had with Steve, being lonely because I have what should be comfort, and yet it does not come to me.
I' behind a veil where people see me more clearly online. Whether it be my tendency to replace my own bodily insecurities with the utter opposite, hiding my own shyness with a semi false persona of confidence. I don't like the way people see me anymore. Though, I was not comfortable being the shy girl either. Whether I am trying to make up for my own cultural upbringing of sexual shame and banishment, or actually being more in tune with my own body, I think I've crossed a line. I don't like this reputation, it disgusts me in a way. People see me in a way that is unrealistic. I feel the need to detonate my thoughts on the media hype on Swine flu, the arrogance of radio hosts when it comes to geek culture, to my deep love of zombie culture, from the depths of within, and yet, people don't want to talk to me about this. After all, I am an idea to them. a Mascot to be joked about, the limp deer in the corner, waiting to be eaten.
annoyed
nauseated
confused
blah
amused
and amused