the thing about jealousy

This awesum author-slash-actress came to our school today. she's one of the authors of a book of short story collection called "Growing Up Asian In Australia". as the title suggest it's basically a book about people who grow up as an Asian, in Australia. Us year twelve use this book as our resource for the context part of our ESL exam. It's basically our text book. I mentioned this book on my earlier post. you could probably guess i really like this book, and I think whoever came up with the idea of having this book as a resource for our exam, is a genius.

The story this person wrote is titled "5 Ways to Disappoint Your Vietnamese Mother". From the title you could guess what it's about. It practically become on of the favourites through out the year level. I mean, in a school where 90% of the population are Asian and most of them are Vietnamese, I guess it can't be hard for my classmates to feel related to this particular story. Especially since the exams are coming and they are facing pressures from all sorts of direction, probably including their parents. so yeah, this story is pretty popular. Personally it's not my ultimate favourite since I can't really compare it to my story. My mum is my closest human relationship. thankfully I haven't disappoint her so far. She's not the type of person who gets disappoint easily. She would never ask more of what I can become. yep I'm lucky that way ;). However, as any other readers, I can be sympathetic to the author's point of view and admire how she could stand up to her own opinion and manage to be who she wants to be despite the lack of support from her mother. all together it's a good story.

The school organise this person to come to our school to talk to us. I was excited. finally the school actually organise something that does not have anything to do with SAC's or exams. well not directly anyway. So I was looking forward to it. According to the letter they give to us, the whole event starts at 3:30. I came at 3:26. I was late. go figure. so it wasn't a glorious start. I hate being late. over all it was pretty good. She was a great person. She talked more about her life, what happened before and after the story that she wrote. How her relationship with her mother changed. How she describe her identity and other stuff. I always find people's story interesting. however near the end of the event I feel strangely unsatisfied. I can't understand why. I mean theoretically I shouldn't feel like that. I got what I wanted; a school event that doesn't have anything to do with SAC's or exam which let us relax for a short period of time. And it's not like it's boring or anything. It was really entertaining. She did a bit of acting which was really enjoyable to watch. However I feel like there is something wrong with me. There is something I don't like. I come out of the theatre feeling sort of empty-ish and sad. it was confusing. so I did what I usually do when I'm confuse: I make a list of possible reason why I might feel a bit upset:

1. I was tired. it was friday and I had a really really busy week
2. I still feel annoyed that I come in late, and that somehow affect me through out the event.
3. the author is really different to what I expected from reading her story. maybe I was dissapointed.
4. ...... maybe I secretly wish my cousin was here, since her story is similar and maybe she can learn a lot from this event, and I feel disappointed that she can't... 

okaaay so the last one is waay too far fetched. but hey I was considering all possibilities. but then it dawned on me. I was jealous. everything then make sense. I was simply jealous. This person is able to overcome the problems of her life and then she can SHARE it with everyone. This stranger stood in front of the theatre talking about...herself. she was talking about her personal life, her family, her history, her opinions, and every one was listening, everyone was interested. And she's not some sort of special person who saved the world. She's just talking about how she had learned how to be herself.

okay I realise this makes me look like an arrogant brat who needs attention. well I guess I am. hey I'm human too. but sometimes it seems that nobody cared that much about my story. maybe it's just not interesting enough. people just don't care about my opinions. There was this guy who usually have contradicting ideas with me. we fight all the time. we're sort of in a friend-enemy terms. One thing I find him annoying is that he doesn't listen to me (well maybe I don't listen to him as well but that's not the point). every time we argue, I feel he's just arguing for the sake of arguing. he doesn't consider my opinion. he just like to yell at me. Even though I think he admires me for my very good english (thaat's right B)) and the fact that I don't back down from an argument like most people, but he looks down on me for the fact that I'm just a little girl in his class who he thinks doesn't know more than him. well maybe I don't know more than him, but it's also possible that I do. I don't think it gives him the right to look down on me. So the thing is, on this event, this guy actually have the nerve to question the author. I could feel the author doesn't agree with his opinion. she developed this witty reply (sort of a question) that leaves the guy dumbstrucked into silence. from here you can understand my jealousy. I've battled this guy since the start of the year, and somehow I don't feel like my arguments ever have that effect on him. It just makes him want to argue more. It will never change the fact that in some degree this guy still looks down on me.

okay I might be a little bit carried away there... (just a bit). Anyway the point is, the idea of sharing my story, my opinion to a large group of people is attractive. It's something I would definitely want to do someday. I'm always expressive. I love to express my thoughts Ideas as much as I love listening other people's thoughts and Ideas. And sometimes I'm worried if I'm not good enough or whether other people would care about what I think. and maybe that's what leads the jealousy.

or maybe I'm just tired.

The drug

Books are drugs. you might hear this phrase a lot. especially between us bookworms. as nerdy as it sounds its true.

I'm never sure if anyone else feel the same way, but to me it's more than drugs. its intense drugs. something that pulls me into a virtual whirlpool and left me gasping for air afterwards. even the side effects are similar to drugs. I would stand up look around, and try with all my might to remember where I was, what I was doing, what I'm supposed to be doing, and the hardest bit, how much time did I spent. the last questions usually comes up to a shocking and dangerous answer. then reality will gradually hit me. I'll emphasise on the word "gradually". eventually I would gain my complete sense, but before that I would drift in an awkward, blissful moment of going back and forth between reality and dreams of whatever I was reading. unless somebody whipped me out of this state, like what my mother usually does, it could go on for quite a while.

I've been like this since as long as I remember. as a year 5 student in indonesia where there is hardly any libraries. I was known as a book thief. everyone in the class knows that if they accidentally leave a novel or comics unattended in a visible place, it would get snatched by yours truly. it's not like I hid it or take it home or anything. my intention is always to borrow it for a couple of second to see what it is about. only after I knew that I really really really haaad to now how it began. I'm not going to read the whole story or anything. after I read the beginning, I had to now how it ends. that's it I promise, I'll give you your book back afterwards. then afterwards I started to peak a page somewhere in the middle, hey you can't expect me to know the beginning and the end without any curiosity of how the story reach its exciting conclusion. and you can guess how it all ends. it doesn't help that my parents banned me from reading Indonesian books as they see it's a waste of time. I didn't understand it back then, but now I realise that most of the novels I snatched are cheap dramas that ruined my taste in literature. now that I explored many different type of text from novels by David Metzenthen which became an immediate favourite, the ever famous Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer series, to Katherine Mansfield which I have fallen in love with, I regretted ever reading those stuff.

I realise that my desire of reading is strong and startling. something like this could be dangerous for year 12. I recognise this early on year 11. I started a move to try to "control" my reading. instead of borrowing a book almost everyday, I borrowed two every friday. there is two days in a weekend there was no way I can survive with a single book. then I limit it into one, and only every fortnight. I tried to stretch it as far as possible until I only borrowed books before holidays, which I am very proud of. but then I realise I cheat often. a sneak to the library during recess and lunchtime with the excuse of studying ends up as wasted time on an interesting book that just had to be visible just when I don't need it the most. sometimes I even ran to the internet for something to read, this create a more guiltless feeling as I could argue that I'm not even touching a book so I'm so not getting addicted. a favourite site is Asian Fanfics, this has everything to do with the fact that I am a huge fan of Korean pop, like most teenagers these days. this creates more problem in the holidays, when my mind stubbornly argues that I have all the time in the world no matter how hard I tried to remind it of homework and the upcoming exams.

it all started with ESL homework. I didn't do ESL in year eleven, which means I have to catch up on a few stuff from unit 2. the teacher gave me a guide and instruct me to read a couple of stories from a short story book that was studied by my peers last year. it turns out the book is "Growing up Asian in Australia" by Alice Pung. needles to say I was interested. it was a collection of stories by Asian writers that grew up in Australia, as the title suggested. as a teenager living in melbourne I am clearly a targeted audience and is immediately hooked. I never viewed myself as Asian. technically I'm not. my skin is too dark and my eyes are bigger. the fact that I wear a headscarf is certainly a noticeable difference. however two years ago I moved to Springvale, a place where it is populated by asians. my school friends are mostly Asians. as I mention before I was a fan of Korean pop, I also enjoyed reading Japanese manga. as a teenager seeking of a place to belong, I find being Asian attractive. I also realise that in some degrees I was in denial of my own culture. In some degrees I have a bit of a hatred. I might write about that later on. as I was saying I can relate quite a bit on Asian culture and I can certainly relate to wanting to belong as that is what the book is centred on. I was immersed in the story of people like me, minorities trying to fit in and adjust. I can sympathies on stories of children that doesn't meet up to their Asian parents standard, this is something I see often in my friends. I can empathised on stories about being judged by what you look like, and you can guess how often that happens to me. I giggle girlishly at stories about homosexual men coming to terms with their sexuality and race and how they deal with their own culture and society. the fact that me, a straight, muslim, 16 year old girl finds that attractive is beyond awkward. and logic. I haven't read any books for quite awhile, I didn't borrow one for the holidays knowing it's year twelve and I have heaps of work to be done, this really affects my addiction and I simply can't stop myself reading other stories in the book. I can't think of why the curriculum decide for us to only read two stories. two stories??? two short stories out off a huge amazing collection of stories???? how is that even physically possible? so I gave up on resisting and read as much as my heart desires.

I have a feeling that it was getting late. I look up to the clock and realise it was midnight. slowly I tilt my head to the pile of homework I was planning to do. great... I did it again...

The dude with the locker above mine

first day of the school year I made an excellent choice of staying back when everyone is racing to get their lockers. it wasn't much of a choice really. I was trying to adjust to the new heights created by my brand new shoes. heels was never my thing, but since it's my last year I considered that there is no use of buying normal ugly school shoes that I would never be used again during my lifetime, I decided to buy something I could wear with clothes that are not uniform. these ones are the only ones I can find. it made me 5cm taller. which was horrifying at the beginning. fortunately I got used to them. anyway back to the first day....

the others are racing down the path way, when people started to realise that the year coordinator was in fact behind us, and then he went left...

naturally as one of the students who are closer to the back I realise that sooner than those who are in the front. fast forward and I get to choose my locker before most people and got a perfect one, in the second row. top row is obviously out of reach (even with my heels). bottom row is where I was last year, to shorten the story I'll just say it was unpleasant. I was happy. also considering that a bench is located right behind me. it was almost perfect. the locker underneath mine remains vacant even now. it took me a few days to actually noticed the one occupying the locker above me.

before the locker-choosing session, the year coordinator made sure that tall people get top rows. that's clearly to avoid awkward positioning of short people in top lockers. so naturally I assume all top rows are tall. but after close observation, I realise that the dude occupying the locker above me is no taller than me. or at least me plus my heels. which means he can't hover over me and have to wait in turn to get to his locker. I found out that he's in my bio class. he has the type of eyes that change when he smiled. and he has the tendencies to awkwardly jiggle his hands or feet. I noticed that's quite common about boys. it's like they can't stop moving even for a second, some part of their body just has to be kept moving. I'm not saying it's bad though, sometimes I caught myself doing the same thing.

I also noticed he has quite a circle of friends. that's the annoying bit. he often stop, and socialize while in the middle of getting something in his locker. unfortunately, I'm usually waiting in line at the time. in it could take quite awhile. he would talk to someone, then went back to his locker, then talk to someone else. not realizing that we're actually not supposed to be in our locker between session 3 and 4 and it is very likely a teacher could pass by anytime. or that my next class is on the other side of the school and someone obviously does not enjoy being late. so that's where it all starts.

soon enough I solve that problem by going to the locker early, before him. then i started to realise something. his locker has a lock with a key. mine has combination lock. not just any combination lock though, it's the one that is usually used for baggages. the one that you have to arrange precisely and pull gently to unlock. the one that does not even make a sound. it's so soft and fragile that people like me has to be extra careful with it. having a lock like that I realise that it took me longer to open my locker than for him to open his. that's where the guilt started.

soon enough I get into the habit of arriving before him. which means he has to wait. which is a great opportunity for the guilt to build up. I started notice other stuff. I choose to use binders for everyone of my subjects, which means I have heaps of them. which means my locker is full. which means it takes longer to receive stuff. my bag is big. in previous years I use to put my bag in the bottom part of my locker which is bigger in volume. but this year I decided that it would be easier for me to be more organised if I use the space for my books. which means my squeezed bag has to fill the smaller space at the top. which means it took me longer to put it, or get it. not to mention inserting books or receiving them from the friggin bag. I also noticed how I have to turn the combination in order to lock it. which takes more time. everyday I tried my best to be faster. sometimes this does not end very well. and lets just say the scratches on my calculator are the product of that. but the guilt never goes away.

and it all happened today. friday. 2nd of march. before form assembly. I was in a hurry this morning that I forgot one major problem. I left an uneaten plum in my bag yesterday. it's still there. squashed. what the effect of that can be guessed. books, pencil case, everything. as a result I tried to unload most of the stuff in my bag so no more harm can be done, since I figure out I can't clean it until I get home. which means my bag is still full. which means it cant fit in the small space on top of my locker. which means it has to go with my books. which means it's gonna take me even more time to get stuff. 2 minutes after I started wrestling with my stuff I noticed a presence behind me. great. he's already waiting. great.

the guilt just builts up I decided to give up. I moved back and face him.

"you can go first"

he seems surprised.

"no no, you go"

hmm... gentleman rule. but I'm not having that.

"no, you can go"

"no it's okay you go first"

"no, you go"

we went on like that for quite awhile. until he sat on the bench. unmovable. gee talk about stubborn. I gave up and went back to my stuff. I took my book easily, lock my locker, step back, and move on with my business. the guilt was gone.

everything should have an intro

year twelve.

many people have different ways to deal with the situation.

some would work.

really hard.

tutors, extra work, after school classes, staying up late, study groups.

some might be annoyed.

by constant nagging of stressed parents.

some might choose not to care.

others already have their future planned.

some might still wonder.

and then there's me.

somewhere in the middle. between this and that.

yet my heads are still in the clouds.

refusing to come down.

my eyes are locked on the well thought dreams I had once.

that is now starring in front of my face.

challenging me to reach.

everyone will have a different story.

this one is mine.

welcome to my year twelve :)