rock on

Ho hum, I’ve skipped a May post!  The lazy nitpicker in me just turned over in their sleep.

Went to Vivid with dodo, her boyfriend and some of her uni friends.  Was an enjoyable night; time passed so quickly!  After having attended three in total (and am therefore an expert) I think Vivid is best enjoyed with people you can talk about everything and nothing in particular with – the exhibits are more there just as talking points or background noise to help you along.

I had this weird dream involving one of my coworkers where we were in love and totally cute and fluffy together.  Work dreams are the worst.

I can unofficially make coffee now, all without having drank a full shot in my entire life.  Once, I made B get me a babycino with his coffee on campus.  He lived through the shame.  (Seriously though, he is a champ.  And will never read this blog.)  I don’t know how to do latte art though, because honestly I’m just happy to get the right proportion of foam in there, let alone something fancy.





To the surprise of no one, the only things I got done during midsem break were the two reports due this week, both finished at 11pm Sunday and 8:30am Monday.  I continue to disappoint myself.

Speaking of which, I totally forgot about an online quiz worth 15% that was two weeks ago.  In the most dead easy subject in my entire degree, Intro to Food Science.  I’ve got two years more knowledge than almost anyone in that course, and yet I miss the quiz?  Don’t know if that’s worse than flunking it.

Oh yeah, what else has happened?  Went to the easter show with Dodo and a friend of hers, who invited two of his friends.  One of them was a girl who didn’t seem to want to talk to me and the other dude just sounded like a certain high school classmate every time he opened his mouth.  It was fun and I did get some good showbags!  No diving pigs this year and I missed the vegetable carving demonstration unfortunately.  Saw many cute dogs and chicks and turkeys and pigeons and had my requisite curly fries so all went well.

Feels like I’m coming down with something, my head’s been hurting all day and the mild nausea won’t go away.  Probably my dad’s nasty germs – literally the only symptoms he had were fever and bad headaches.

full of hope

I have many things I would like to do:

– finish various knitting projects: mesh sweater, red scarf, socks, chevron bag

– start various craft projects: headbands, pencil case

– anthropometry report (due week 6)

– fruit and veg report (due week 6)

– sauerkraut report (due week 7)

– starch report (due week 7)

– read more

– get my shit together

– figure out where I’m going with my life

– make a budget

– weed out my belongings and sell stuff on eBay

– buy some hardcase folders for my dad at Daiso/Officeworks

– catch up on various things like manga (very low on the list)

fine lines

More recently, I’ve been thinking about makeup.  I’ve noticed most of the women around me, both friends and classmates, wear makeup to varying degrees.  Duh, I guess you’d say, most women do.  One of my friends has started wearing makeup and perfume with only the designer brands like YSL, Dior and Chanel.  I’d start on the drugstore stuff myself, but I find myself worrying about the silliest things with makeup.  Will I look like a clown?  Will there be an obvious contrast between my face and my neck?  Will it start sliding around my face when I wear lab glasses?  (The latter two happen to my classmate’s foundation regularly.  No, thank you.)  I know my dad would make a fuss because my mum rarely wears makeup and he even did the whole ‘natural is the best beauty look’ thing on me when I put on black nail polish.  Nail polish.

So mentally, I guess it’s more of a fear of how other people will react to it – I mean, I won’t be seeing my face all day, everyone else is.  I would like to try experimenting with makeup; I have cheap eyeliner pencils, and the effect is less wow than I imagined.  That is probably 95% due to my being an utter novice, and the 5% due to overexpectation.

I think it’s part of my overall buying-things-for-the-person-who-I-want-to-be.  With which I will say, I will become that person.  Either/or by buying less occasion things, or making use of the ones I have.


So the other day, a customer at work told me that my hair was too short, especially as I am a Chinese woman.

He is a regular customer, familiar enough to walk behind the bar and grab his own beer out of the fridge.  Familiar enough with the family of staff for them to be comfortable swearing around each other.  I’ve seen him numerous times over the past months at this job, but after my haircut (waist length to a grown-out pixie/bob hybrid) he doesn’t seem to recognise me when I bring him his beer.  That’s not unusual.

Later, in between his entree and main, he beckons me over.  “How can I help you?” I ask, expecting a drink order or some such.

“Why did you cut your hair?”

He says it like I am a toddler caught sticking my fingers in an electricity powerpoint; he sounds so exasperated and reprimanding that it sounds as though there is no question mark, but rather a full stop.  I can still remember his exact intonations.  I say I wanted to try a shorter hairstyle.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he reassures me, “You look good with the short hair too, but women look better with long hair.  Especially Chinese women.”  He asks if I have seen his Chinese girlfriend before, to which I reply no.  “She used to have hair about this long” – he gestures vaguely around his waist – “but then she cut it short.”  He gestures around his shoulders this time, and looks affronted.  (It’s about this point at which I remember that I have seen her come to the restaurant with him.  Him, an old white man in his sixties, she a Chinese woman at least two decades younger.)  He tells me about how she sent him a photo of her new haircut, obtained while she was still in China for the Lunar New Year, and he demonstrates his reaction, a look of disgust and horror.

“I think Chinese women are beautiful, and long hair makes them look even more beautiful.  How long will it take for your hair to grow three or four inches, about twelve months?”  Yes, I say, about that long, and you know what, hair does grow, I say, deliberately omitting any agreement to change my look.  I am probably still smiling, smiling throughout the whole encounter like I automatically do with every customer.  He throws me a bone, “The short hair must be practical for work,” but finishes off with the same line, “It looks alright now, but it looks better long.”  Seemingly satisfied that he has done his civic duty, I take it as my cue to walk away from his table and work on my follicles.

There was just so much wrong with this man, I couldn’t figure out how to start.  The fact that he had such a blatant fetish for Chinese women, and then felt compelled to tell me about it was disgusting.  I, as well as every Chinese person out there, are more than just our race.  As a woman and Chinese person, I do not exist purely for your aesthetic or sexual pleasure.

The sheer gall of calling over a waitress, not for a food or drink order or some other dining-related issue, but to offer your opinion on her appearance, was shocking.  I am paid to attend to diners’ needs, and obviously cannot ignore someone when they gesture for my attention.  I was basically held hostage to listen to his lecture on how I should keep my hair to his preferences.  I could not listen to his offensive comments and tell him to shut the fuck up and go cry into a handful of his girlfriend’s hair because I couldn’t care less about his boner, because it’s a hospitality job and I have to be professional.  I could not tell my boss that he was being a racist and sexist customer, because she probably wouldn’t see the same degree of offense as I would.  He was clearly happy to exploit my position as a young female waitress, and no doubt had I been older and/or male I would not have been subjected to his idiocy.

You know, I do get comments from my hair, but really only when acquaintances and friends see it for the first time.  The only other time someone didn’t give a neutral or positive response was my friend’s mum, who looked disappointed while asking me why I cut it.  I like it, and guess what – it’s hair, people.  As Mr. Asian Fetish so kindly reminded me, it does grow back, and whether or not I let it do so is none of your business.  If you have any manners, shut your mouth and keep your disapproval to yourself.


linked in

Uni’s starting soon, and I’m both dreading and anticipating it; dreading, because the courses will be more difficult and I probably won’t be able to juggle work and writing reports, and anticipating because I’m a wannabe studybug at heart.

Went to three days of O week.  THERE IS KNITSOC, YOU CAN BET I SIGNED UP AS SOON AS I COULD OMG OMG EXCITED hopefully they have meetings when I am free.  It’s unlikely though.

On Tuesday, I went to the Engineering seminar for finding industrial training, because it’s compulsory in our faculty to do a paid internship over the summer holidays before final year.  And let me tell you, that seminar was both helpful and terrifying.  Networking?  Cold calling??  Meeting up with strangers who work in the company to discuss a job over coffee???  NOPE.

Wednesday I went to USyd.  Met B at his stall and saw him later walking off with the girl he likes teehee.  Also finally found Dodo, and met some of her Chopsticks members and they were really nice to me – am I weird for being surprised when people are nice to me?  They were like welcoming and taught me some reflex game and mahjong and ugh great people.  Dodo and I went off in search of the free iceblocks (Topshop, had to give them our details first though so hm) and to do some printing for her club. Bumped into Jenny and Julia on the way!!  Visiting USyd is fun because I think I have more friends there ugh not like I had a choice in unis though.  I HAVE SO MUCH TO CATCH UP WITH WITH DODO THOUGH.  She’s been having a busy life, what with being a club exec, breaking up with a boyfriend, parties…  We have kept in touch sporadically/regularly but definitely need to chat more!



I went iceskating on Sunday with Bubbles.  I was anticipating a hot day, so I wore a short sleeved dress with my legs bare.  Thankfully, I arrived at Macquarie early, so I could spend twenty minutes frantically hitting up chain stores for basic black leggings.  F21 did not have them, so I guess we will just have to start colouring our bare legs in  with charcoal again because obviously the world must have ran out of black leggings.  (They did have grey ones… which were not stretchy?  How do you screw this up?)

Luckily, H&M was right opposite so I dashed between… capsules?  I see the plan is to maximise consumer pathlength through the store, by having absolutely no signs or indication of any order.  I need my stores to have signs, like a supermarket aisle or the various categories on the eBay homepage.  Anyway, H&M leggings were $12.95 and um that’s expensive.  But I’m a battler and I spy another basic-basic looking section, and lo and behold!  Black leggings, some of which are disgustingly linty (I thought it was a spotty/variegated pattern…) and none of which are in my size but are strangely a few dollars cheaper.  I grab the next size up and hope for the best while paying at the counter, because I am almost late.

You know, now that I think about it, getting hosiery leggings would probably have been the best move.  Or to suck it up and find the damn Target/Big W.

Anyway, I did not know where the iceskating entry was!  Got in and got skates, and skated and chatted with Bubbles.  Got dragged into joining the limbo game on the rink, and fell down that one time!  My right buttock occasionally twinges; Bubbles was worse off and tore his jeans.  So he schlumped off to the seats to “wallow in shame” and I joined him because I am a good sport.  Not before one more solo round around the rink.

Had bagels and curly fries at the bagel place, it was quite nice.  But then again, it’s kind of hard to stuff up burgers and fries, isn’t it?  Accompanied Bubbles to buy jeans, he said something about leg muscles hampering his choices?  All I could hear was “I have nice leg muscles and my thighs look delectable in denim” so uhh anyway the jeans were bought quite quickly.  I will never get over the fact that women’s clothing costs more than men’s – there was a lot of $49 mens jeans at Levis, and then a few women’s jeans that were like at least 30% more expensive.  I MEAN, I’M NOT EVEN GETTING 100% COTTON BECAUSE YOU KNOW CURVES AND STUFF.  WHY AM I PAYING MORE TO HAVE ELASTANE?  IT’S NOT LIKE I’M USING MORE MATERIALS.  There was this pair I kind of liked but I didn’t want to waste his time and I didn’t have much money after buying our lunch.

Which reminds me, I need to buy myself at least one nice pair of denim so that I’m not running around campus with my asscrack hanging out for the second year in a row.  I’ve been wearing this same damn pair of blue jeans for years now, but even more so after my original main piece got a hole from chub rub and I couldn’t be bothered buying a new pair.  My current ones were labelled “EXTREME LOW RISE”, but I didn’t care because FINALLY A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT ME.  Now, I can’t bend more than 5 degrees from my waist without getting the urge to arrest myself for public indecency.

Oh also I dragged him to Daiso and I got a little plastic storage thing with four drawers so I can keep all the little bits of useless stuff that live on my desk!  Hooray for compartmentalising my mess!

In other news, I’ve finally cut things off with old dude after he kept calling me (?!) and told him it was the age difference that was freaking me out.  He was nice about it, but boy do I feel relieved now.