Short and Sweet (and sour)

When I was 10 I was tall-ish compared to other kids in my class.  But the joy was short-lived.  What I didn’t know was that I’d actually reached my full height and pretty much peaked right then. I was destined to remain the size of a pygmy nomad and wear what should be shorts in my adult life as full-length pants.  I’m exaggerating, I’m a bit over 5 foot and small build – true it’s partly a genetic thing with being Chinese, after all I tower over many of my older relatives (even more now as they’re  shrinking with age).  I should be pleased over the economic advantages of being able to make a second pair of pants, a cape and some curtains with the leftover material after I have the excess cut off a new pair of pants.  But I live in Australia and not Asia so most of the time I’m speaking to people’s armpits and crotches (those guys over 6 foot ), or I’m pushed and squashed against these body parts on the peak hour train.  Nobody wants to lean against a crotch they hardly know…unless they’ve had a drink first…I’m joking…no I’m not.

Anyway this whole short thing came up because some girls from work were talking about weight and calories (yes – a rare topic amongst women I know) and I made the point that if it’s not weight they’re stressing over, it’ll be something else – crooked teeth, big nostrils, hairy back etc.  I have none of these things (I got the back waxed) but I am known to bitch about being a short-ass and have a tendency to wear high heels most days – not for the fashion but for the height.  Everybody’s got that one thing (at least) that gives them the shits.  For all those that have ‘fat days’ etc just keep in mind that at least people don’t feel so readily free to remark on your ‘sore spot’ like they do with the shorties.  Many people who I know or have even just met don’t think twice about dropping a line like, ‘Hey, you’re really short compared to me’ or ‘I feel really tall next to you’ and then they do this laugh to themselves that becomes awkward once they see I aint laughing with them.  Imagine if I said back to them, ‘Hey, you’re a real fat and ugly fuck compared to me’ or ‘I feel really not like a hippo that’s 56 months preggers next to you’.  I would never say that or even think that about another person as I like to find personality defects to insult instead, but while it’s not a big deal – the same comments are still a negative remark about someone’s looks, it’s just not considered insulting enough to avoid saying I suppose.  Anyway gotta go now to find some yellow pages to sit on while driving…

Being Chinese

I’m Evelyn and my life so far has been ….um interesting and colourful, kind of like a bad SBS comedy show at times and a shady b-grade travel show more recently in my late 20s.  Growing up Chinese in Australia means I’ve lived through the usual cross-cultural dilemmas – my own pursuits vs my parents’ expectations, Buddhist & Confucius teachings vs mainstream Christianity & the storyline morals in Home & Away, forks vs chopsticks (depends on what you’re eating, sometimes it’s easier to just stab chunky foods with a singular chopstick), dim sims vs meat pies (though the same sort of mystery ‘meat’ is exists in both of them doesn’t it?), Chinese school and violin lessons vs jumping on the neighbour’s trampoline and playing board games like ‘operation’  and ‘guess who’ (um yeah….what a dilemma that one was) etc.   This blog isn’t going to be a rant on that already well-travelled road of the east meets west dichotomy, I’m just saying that being Chinese is important to me and being Australian is just as important to me – but it’s a complex hybrid – the combination of which has brought me both great pain and joy in my young adult life, but it’s neither a blessing or a burden but my identity which is born from and wrapped up in both my state of mind and state of circumstances.  Given the topic, I thought I’d had add a pic of a Chinese person to this blog ( it’s my dad!). 

Wallpaper Worry

I’m staying over at my mum and dad’s tonight and I’m looking at the wallpaper I had in my old bedroom…

Animal print mural-like wallpaper on all 4 walls where rabbits are living in big mushroom houses, fluffy bunnies are riding tricycles, a frog is swinging from a tree trunk, a pig (wearing a blue formal suit jacket but no pants) is playing the tambourine, what looks like a beaver is playing the flute (or the recorder), and what looks like a skunk without a tale is fishing in a pond– I swear this wallpaper exists, I’ll try to get a photo of it up on this site.  This wallpaper in my bedroom was great when I was 12, freaky when I was drunk and 18, but by the time I hit my 20s this wallpaper started to speak to me, it was saying: You are an adult with a full licence to drive, look at your 4 walls, to continue with this wallpaper as a full blown adult is bordering on perverted…. so the wallpaper was driving force number one that led me to move out…damn it’s creepy the more I look at it now.

An Example of a Ball-Buster is…

The needy, high maintenance ‘friend’ that soils herself/himself if you don’t return a text or call within 4 minutes so they can keep reading from their self-titled website: www.imavictimandaspoiltshiteventhoiminmy30s.com. I changed my number and told them I had no room for whacky in my life.  After that they couldn’t just keep on pressing redial.  The legal term for them is as follows: crazy stalker motherfuckers.  Seriously, it was tedious and draining as hell.  But then I read a blog post called ‘The game called circle’ … hey hold on, it’s on this site….

The Game Called Circle

My favourite song right now is ‘Not Afraid’ by Eminem, I’m a girl who likes her rap but this song is outstanding – it’s standing out because it’s raw and honest and has a killer beat and hook.  Eminem is the rapper of the moment right now and his latest work is the sign that you can come back from the dead – more about the rap life to come in other blogs.

In Em’s second verse he says, ‘There’s a game called circle and I don’t know how, I’m way too up to back down’.  Of course there’s the tale as old as time, what goes around comes around (fuck with me and you’ll get fucked 14 times back) but I think the ‘game called circle’ means more than that. It means that relationships, friendships, jobs, frictions, fights, mistakes, dramas, pains, demons, shameful moments and all shit moments that you’ve ever had keep on coming back unless you walk away from the drama, shoot and kill (metaphorically) the cause and roots of it.  To just think you’re done with it doesn’t mean you’re actually done with it.  You either accept someone’s flaws or get them out of your life, you either take up a craft or swallow the office job that doesn’t validate your sacrifices, you either wear your decisions or keep on chasing your parent’s elusive approval, you either leave your partner or keep on having the same scripted fight, you either stop being an easy slut or keep on getting used, you either stop being a criminal drug peddler or end up a prison bitch or your cell mate’s bitch….you get the drift… with all things bad that keep on coming back there’s a game called circle.  You just keep on going round and round until you decide not to.  Listen to Eminem’s new song, I’m Not Afraid – the man is back: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMoMxPnc_tA