There's this saying in Chinese- that if you marry someone, it should be 门当户对. What it essentially means, right, is that you marry someone your social class, and your own social situation. Ever since I was very young I've always thought it an unnecessarily arbitrary and somewhat oppressive concept- after all, I had watched too many TV shows which proved that love could overcome everything. As I grew older and grew over tales like Cinderella- I still believed that social class would only be a minor hindrance. Pride and Prejudice became one of my all-time favourites, and I would go on to believe that the whole concept was thought up by the rich so that they stay rich, and that they can continue to oppress the poor.
I've recently changed my mind on the matter, and I have come to agree that yes- you should definitely marry someone suitable of your economic situation.
My psychology textbook stated that people who survive poverty- and by poverty, I mean true poverty- are truly resilient, that they overall become stronger people if they survive the ordeal. What I believe my textbook failed to mention, was that the experience of poverty does more than simply reward you with resilience- it scars you. It scars, and it burns, and the indignity and humiliation you suffered while impoverished are etched into your bones. What you ultimately walk away with, is the rancid stench of fear- fear that you will lose it all, fear that you will fall back to what you have risen from. And this stench labels you- marks you out- no matter what you do in life and where you go.
For the longest time I've had this idea that I wasn't going to be with anyone. I have some major personality deficits which my other oh-so-amiable qualities do not cover. My solution then was to make money- make a shit-ton of money, and the bitches will come to me. If I have to sacrifice my career for monetary gain, at least I can preserve some of my romantic naivety, and believe that I can marry without thought of it being... possibly advantageous. I thought- well, if I just make enough money, then I can really afford to marry whoever I like. Never mind that they don't have a job- never mind that they wait tables for $10 an hour. I can pay for everything. I can afford to send possible children to rich, private schools- and it will work out fine. Our love will make everything alright.
My illusions were shattered very completely, very recently.
I realized that even if your situation in life changes- your propensity to spend doesn't tend to. Even if you had an income of 100k per annum you would spend a good 5min at the bakery, contemplating on whether you should buy a fresh, newly baked loaf or go for the bread that's a day old and $2 cheaper. Then you would pick up the bread that was cheaper, because surely you wouldn't even taste the difference, right?
I think as your economical circumstances change, so do your needs and wants. I imagine I would eventually be at the point where I would like to eat at a proper restaurant once a week for dinner- and I know I would be rightly frustrated if my partner suggested that we get cheap takeaway or eat at the shopping mall food court. It sounds snobbish, doesn't it? It's almost like I can't stand the fact that someone's trying to be frugal. It's not really the case though. What I really can't stand is the fact that our expectations are so different. It's the same way as me never being able to justify spending $5000 on a funny-looking pet fish- so I would probably annoy someone who was that rich, and could afford their pet fish without worry.
Anyway, this is just a massive rant about how my romanticisms were thoroughly destroyed. Like always every opinion is my own. If you disagree feel free to leave a comment, or just stop reading my blog, w/e. Right now I've basically come to the conclusion that fantasies are just fantasies, and if you marry someone who is a lot like yourself- life probably won't be as adventurous or "exciting" but it will definitely save you a lot of grief. I guess what's most important at the end of the day is that two people understand each other, and can accept what they see. I strongly believe a separation by social class and income will render that understanding impossible- and this is the premise to my argument.
Money does spin the world around.
Friday, 29 August 2014
Wednesday, 27 August 2014
Tuesday's a good day
It's been raining for a week, so the weather's absolutely depressing. The winds cut to the bone, but I left all my heavy coats back down South because I thought it would be warm up here. I guess it would be warm if it didn't rain for so many hours of the day.
Anyway, I made woke up late this morning because I turned off my alarm after it had sounded. Terrible mistake. I had just enough time to brush my teeth before leaving. Luckily someone brought food to the tutorial and it was all good. The whole tutorial didn't last very long but I ended up wasting an hour or two before I caught the bus to the shopping mall.
I can't really remember what happened at the mall- I think for the most part I just wandered around somewhat aimlessly, until I found what I wanted. You see, my favourite author (Brent Weeks) just released a new book today- The Broken Eye. I've been looking forward to this release for so long- and I'm just really eager to start the whole thing. I expect it to be absolutely amazing- so I hope very dearly that it will not disappoint.
On an unrelated note, I somehow bought a very heavy stuffed chicken while I was out looking for the book. It doesn't really look much like a chicken and it weighs a fucktonne, so I'm not sure it was worth my $18- actually I'm almost certain it wasn't worth my $18- but yeah it's absolutely adorable and I hate myself for buying stupid useless shit impulsively for no goddamn reason.
I had pork ribs for dinner, which tasted nice.I had dinner with a friend and I enjoyed his company. I mentioned this blog in passing during conversation, and then he became really intent on reading it. I think I might've alluded to him in one of my posts from ages ago, but either way I wasn't too keen on giving him the URL. I guess if he finds this blog I'm ok with it overall- the privacy setting of this thing is non-existent, after all.
And uh- that pretty much sums up my day. Boring, huh? Oh well. Maybe something more entertaining will come into my life tomorrow- until then... Good night.
Anyway, I made woke up late this morning because I turned off my alarm after it had sounded. Terrible mistake. I had just enough time to brush my teeth before leaving. Luckily someone brought food to the tutorial and it was all good. The whole tutorial didn't last very long but I ended up wasting an hour or two before I caught the bus to the shopping mall.
I can't really remember what happened at the mall- I think for the most part I just wandered around somewhat aimlessly, until I found what I wanted. You see, my favourite author (Brent Weeks) just released a new book today- The Broken Eye. I've been looking forward to this release for so long- and I'm just really eager to start the whole thing. I expect it to be absolutely amazing- so I hope very dearly that it will not disappoint.
On an unrelated note, I somehow bought a very heavy stuffed chicken while I was out looking for the book. It doesn't really look much like a chicken and it weighs a fucktonne, so I'm not sure it was worth my $18- actually I'm almost certain it wasn't worth my $18- but yeah it's absolutely adorable and I hate myself for buying stupid useless shit impulsively for no goddamn reason.
I had pork ribs for dinner, which tasted nice.I had dinner with a friend and I enjoyed his company. I mentioned this blog in passing during conversation, and then he became really intent on reading it. I think I might've alluded to him in one of my posts from ages ago, but either way I wasn't too keen on giving him the URL. I guess if he finds this blog I'm ok with it overall- the privacy setting of this thing is non-existent, after all.
And uh- that pretty much sums up my day. Boring, huh? Oh well. Maybe something more entertaining will come into my life tomorrow- until then... Good night.
Sunday, 24 August 2014
My First "Party"
Firstly- I'd like to define the word "party" in this culture I live in. Party at my age does not specifically refer to a gathering or friends or a celebration or anything- in fact, definitions vary. But what is consistent is a surplus of alcohol, drunk people, and ear-deafening music. I'm going to tell you my story of my first "party".
I was invited to the event on facebook, and it was some charity/fundraiser thing. I usually ignore these things but my room mate asked me if I'd like to go- and I thought- actually, I've never been to one of these things, so why not? Anyway I thought it was a good idea so I get my ticket or w/e and I mark the date in my calendar.
Now the arrival time set for the party was at 7pm- so my room mate and I show up at around 10 or 20 past 7, thinking it was a fashionably late time. WRONG. Due my complete lack of experience with this kind of thing, I did not know the unspoken rule of "a party only picks up after 10pm". Also apparently when they say "free pizza" they mean “pizza might be here at 10... maybe 11. Oh and there's like 4 pizzas between 60 people. NPNP".
So what do you do at a party when you arrive at 7pm and there's literally no one else there but your house mate? Well, me, being my very anti social self, sat in a corner and started texting people/ going on facebook. The party had picked up after a few hours, and my ear-drums were just about dead. I was bored as hell and no one was particularly interesting. The thought of simply leaving crossed my mind a lot of times- my primary excuse was that I knew no one there and I wasn't having a fun time. Then all of a sudden a scene from Pride and Prejudice played in my head, where Mr Darcy tells Lizzie that he didn't know anyone at the ball, and she rebuts with something like "oh and no one can be introduced at a ball". I didn't particularly feel like being Mr Darcy in that scenario, because I don't think I'll be fortunate enough to find someone like Lizzie for my happy ending- so I decided one standard drink had uninhibited me enough and I was going to make conversation, goddammit.
I sat down next to this girl who I had never seen before- the chairs beside her were empty on both sides, so I thought it was invitation enough. After the usual exchange of "hello my name is" and "oh what are you studying", we were left with not much to say. The music was deafening, after all, and I don't feel like it very much encouraged conversation. I know they're mean to lean close or w/e, to create a sense of proximity- but I really haven't gotten to the stage yet where I'm comfortable leaning into a stranger's ear. Even if it is to "pick up" or whatever- I guess I'm like... not really interested in people that can be picked up at a party like that.
Anyway the girl left and I got ditched, so I proceeded to talk to a bunch of Asian guys who were like 2 years above me about not much at all. Conversation died again, and now that I think about it- I've been introduced to and conversed with many people over the course of the night, but none of it was really that worthwhile. I managed to invite myself to the next gathering of the Asian guys for board games, but other than that I don't think I've made any social progress.
What is the point of these parties, after all. I saw some many people make out- and quite a few more who just grinded their bodies against strangers on the dance floor. Yeah you can probably go get a room afterwards and have sex- but I guess it's weird because sex seems a bit dirty that way. Everyone appeared so animalistic after only a few drinks- and I guess being an animal can be liberating, but the words that crossed my mind was closer to "feral" and "rabid". After a while everyone who was drunk just became absolutely disgusting- my room mate by this time was enjoying herself on the dance floor- and I was still sitting in this chair on my phone, in the company of a sober driver who seemed rather unhappy that he had to remain sober.
All this while I thought about how easy it was to get laid if you just walked into the pit of sweating bodies smelling of alcohol and pumped full of adrenaline. Then my mind wandered to my crush who I had 2 years ago- and I thought about how they'd never drink and would probably be studying or attending some sort of educational lecture instead of coming to something like this. I thought about how boring that person was- and realized that was probably why I liked that particular person back then and why I thought about them for so long afterwards. Of course they were very attractive and sporty and academically gifted and whatever- but the fact that they were "boring" in that way must have held a great appeal to me. I'm "boring" in the same way- sometimes I wish I would change because it's like... instant popularity, right. I could be fun, I could drink a lot, and I can make a lot of friends- but when presented with the opportunity, I realize I don't care enough for that kind of popularity, that their "fun" is not my "fun", and I don't even want to be fucking friends with all these drunkards, who I find absolutely revolting.
I knew then that I'd rather sit in a "boring" lecture, next to my crush, half falling asleep while they were furiously taking notes and doing their best to be attentive. That's my version of bliss, and that's my version of happiness.
I'm not much of a party-goer, you see.
I was invited to the event on facebook, and it was some charity/fundraiser thing. I usually ignore these things but my room mate asked me if I'd like to go- and I thought- actually, I've never been to one of these things, so why not? Anyway I thought it was a good idea so I get my ticket or w/e and I mark the date in my calendar.
Now the arrival time set for the party was at 7pm- so my room mate and I show up at around 10 or 20 past 7, thinking it was a fashionably late time. WRONG. Due my complete lack of experience with this kind of thing, I did not know the unspoken rule of "a party only picks up after 10pm". Also apparently when they say "free pizza" they mean “pizza might be here at 10... maybe 11. Oh and there's like 4 pizzas between 60 people. NPNP".
So what do you do at a party when you arrive at 7pm and there's literally no one else there but your house mate? Well, me, being my very anti social self, sat in a corner and started texting people/ going on facebook. The party had picked up after a few hours, and my ear-drums were just about dead. I was bored as hell and no one was particularly interesting. The thought of simply leaving crossed my mind a lot of times- my primary excuse was that I knew no one there and I wasn't having a fun time. Then all of a sudden a scene from Pride and Prejudice played in my head, where Mr Darcy tells Lizzie that he didn't know anyone at the ball, and she rebuts with something like "oh and no one can be introduced at a ball". I didn't particularly feel like being Mr Darcy in that scenario, because I don't think I'll be fortunate enough to find someone like Lizzie for my happy ending- so I decided one standard drink had uninhibited me enough and I was going to make conversation, goddammit.
I sat down next to this girl who I had never seen before- the chairs beside her were empty on both sides, so I thought it was invitation enough. After the usual exchange of "hello my name is" and "oh what are you studying", we were left with not much to say. The music was deafening, after all, and I don't feel like it very much encouraged conversation. I know they're mean to lean close or w/e, to create a sense of proximity- but I really haven't gotten to the stage yet where I'm comfortable leaning into a stranger's ear. Even if it is to "pick up" or whatever- I guess I'm like... not really interested in people that can be picked up at a party like that.
Anyway the girl left and I got ditched, so I proceeded to talk to a bunch of Asian guys who were like 2 years above me about not much at all. Conversation died again, and now that I think about it- I've been introduced to and conversed with many people over the course of the night, but none of it was really that worthwhile. I managed to invite myself to the next gathering of the Asian guys for board games, but other than that I don't think I've made any social progress.
What is the point of these parties, after all. I saw some many people make out- and quite a few more who just grinded their bodies against strangers on the dance floor. Yeah you can probably go get a room afterwards and have sex- but I guess it's weird because sex seems a bit dirty that way. Everyone appeared so animalistic after only a few drinks- and I guess being an animal can be liberating, but the words that crossed my mind was closer to "feral" and "rabid". After a while everyone who was drunk just became absolutely disgusting- my room mate by this time was enjoying herself on the dance floor- and I was still sitting in this chair on my phone, in the company of a sober driver who seemed rather unhappy that he had to remain sober.
All this while I thought about how easy it was to get laid if you just walked into the pit of sweating bodies smelling of alcohol and pumped full of adrenaline. Then my mind wandered to my crush who I had 2 years ago- and I thought about how they'd never drink and would probably be studying or attending some sort of educational lecture instead of coming to something like this. I thought about how boring that person was- and realized that was probably why I liked that particular person back then and why I thought about them for so long afterwards. Of course they were very attractive and sporty and academically gifted and whatever- but the fact that they were "boring" in that way must have held a great appeal to me. I'm "boring" in the same way- sometimes I wish I would change because it's like... instant popularity, right. I could be fun, I could drink a lot, and I can make a lot of friends- but when presented with the opportunity, I realize I don't care enough for that kind of popularity, that their "fun" is not my "fun", and I don't even want to be fucking friends with all these drunkards, who I find absolutely revolting.
I knew then that I'd rather sit in a "boring" lecture, next to my crush, half falling asleep while they were furiously taking notes and doing their best to be attentive. That's my version of bliss, and that's my version of happiness.
I'm not much of a party-goer, you see.
Friday, 15 August 2014
What day is it
My sleep-wake cycle is completely screwed. The clock reads 11.21pm right now, but for me it could be 7pm or 3am- I really can't tell. I've been sleeping at strange times and waking at noon- yeah it's bad, I know. I haven't been blogging either- I know. My week is a bit messed up.
Sunday- rush tutorial notes which I haven't started. Sleep at around 3am (Monday now).
Monday- wake up at 7am (4hrs of sleep OP) so I can get to my tutorial on time. Finish tutorial at around noon. Go to a second tutorial at 2 (if I have one), feel completely dead, come home, sleep til at least 9pm (or just sleep through entire night. What is dinner).
Tuesday- wake late, around 10am. Get to tutorials again. Become occupied by some other event after the tutorial, whether it be social or otherwise.
Wednesday- wake, go to class, sleep during class, feel exhausted, eat shitty cafeteria food, go back to class. Go home when it's completely dark. Make dinner. Collapse.
Thursday- repeat Wednesday. Go to labs.
Friday- sleep til noon, realizing there is no class. Breakfast and lunch together. Play piano for a while. Spend the rest of the day gaming/drawing. Sleep late.
Saturday- watch LoL games, all day, after waking at noon. Think about writing tutorial notes without actually writing them. Will go grocery shopping, exercise, or even clean to procrastinate.
So pretty much at no point does "I should blog" cross my mind. I guess it's not so much I have nothing to complain about- it's more like... I'm literally too tired and zoned out to blog. I'd write another book review except the most recent thing I've read is 1984 and that was weeks ago. I guess I could start another philosophical rant about people and how I don't like them- but no one really gets on my nerve nowadays. I haven't been feeling particularly sad lately, which is excellent, but I don't think I've been feeling anything at all, really.
Eh, either way, things are pretty good right now. I can't really finish my work, and my latest test scores have returned, indicating that I have performed poorly--- but I don't think I mind, really. I passed, and that's pretty much all that's notable. It sucks knowing that I'm like the worst out of 100+ people: I used to be part of "elite" of my cohort, after all. It's taking me some time to adjust- and sometimes I feel I've come to terms, but I think in reality, I'm still deciding. I'm tossing up between whether I just want to admit that I'm now one of those people who are bad at everything and resigned to being "below average", or whether I still want to reach up and race for top 10 and a 95+ test score. Obviously the hard work required is putting me off a great deal- and it's even harder given my lack of interest in the subject on most days- but more importantly...
Well, I don't really want to admit, but I have doubts as to whether I will even be top 10 if I try. I've always been in the nice position of "put in minimal effort, achieve highest mark"- and slowly I've had to put in more and more effort to maintain my position. Then all of a sudden part of my identity just crashed and burned and I'm not too sure what I'm good at any more- and I've never had to work hard to be good at something for which I have very little talent or interest in. Literally NOTHING comes naturally. Understanding is gained at great pains, and every bit of experience I have to trade with disproportionate amounts of time and many, many embarrassing failures. I like to tell myself that I can only fail so many times before I do it correctly, and that once I know that the answer is (A) it's not like someone can know (A) better. It's just... a bit daunting.
I don't feel like going through some sort of existential crisis. I'm not even a teenager any more. Some days I feel like I'm way too young- no money, no experience, idealistic thoughts about everything in this world. Then other days I feel like I'm too old- too old to be moping around pondering philosophical questions, too old to be moody and draw/write uninspiring things--- and more importantly, way too old to be questioning my identity and self when I've left myself no other options anyway. It's sort of jumping off a cliff and wondering if you'd have made it out unscathed if you had chosen a different location.
Yeah look, I don't blog for ages and this is what happens. Walls of text and hideous amounts of melancholy. I should've just left it at the "things are pretty good right now".
Sunday- rush tutorial notes which I haven't started. Sleep at around 3am (Monday now).
Monday- wake up at 7am (4hrs of sleep OP) so I can get to my tutorial on time. Finish tutorial at around noon. Go to a second tutorial at 2 (if I have one), feel completely dead, come home, sleep til at least 9pm (or just sleep through entire night. What is dinner).
Tuesday- wake late, around 10am. Get to tutorials again. Become occupied by some other event after the tutorial, whether it be social or otherwise.
Wednesday- wake, go to class, sleep during class, feel exhausted, eat shitty cafeteria food, go back to class. Go home when it's completely dark. Make dinner. Collapse.
Thursday- repeat Wednesday. Go to labs.
Friday- sleep til noon, realizing there is no class. Breakfast and lunch together. Play piano for a while. Spend the rest of the day gaming/drawing. Sleep late.
Saturday- watch LoL games, all day, after waking at noon. Think about writing tutorial notes without actually writing them. Will go grocery shopping, exercise, or even clean to procrastinate.
So pretty much at no point does "I should blog" cross my mind. I guess it's not so much I have nothing to complain about- it's more like... I'm literally too tired and zoned out to blog. I'd write another book review except the most recent thing I've read is 1984 and that was weeks ago. I guess I could start another philosophical rant about people and how I don't like them- but no one really gets on my nerve nowadays. I haven't been feeling particularly sad lately, which is excellent, but I don't think I've been feeling anything at all, really.
Eh, either way, things are pretty good right now. I can't really finish my work, and my latest test scores have returned, indicating that I have performed poorly--- but I don't think I mind, really. I passed, and that's pretty much all that's notable. It sucks knowing that I'm like the worst out of 100+ people: I used to be part of "elite" of my cohort, after all. It's taking me some time to adjust- and sometimes I feel I've come to terms, but I think in reality, I'm still deciding. I'm tossing up between whether I just want to admit that I'm now one of those people who are bad at everything and resigned to being "below average", or whether I still want to reach up and race for top 10 and a 95+ test score. Obviously the hard work required is putting me off a great deal- and it's even harder given my lack of interest in the subject on most days- but more importantly...
Well, I don't really want to admit, but I have doubts as to whether I will even be top 10 if I try. I've always been in the nice position of "put in minimal effort, achieve highest mark"- and slowly I've had to put in more and more effort to maintain my position. Then all of a sudden part of my identity just crashed and burned and I'm not too sure what I'm good at any more- and I've never had to work hard to be good at something for which I have very little talent or interest in. Literally NOTHING comes naturally. Understanding is gained at great pains, and every bit of experience I have to trade with disproportionate amounts of time and many, many embarrassing failures. I like to tell myself that I can only fail so many times before I do it correctly, and that once I know that the answer is (A) it's not like someone can know (A) better. It's just... a bit daunting.
I don't feel like going through some sort of existential crisis. I'm not even a teenager any more. Some days I feel like I'm way too young- no money, no experience, idealistic thoughts about everything in this world. Then other days I feel like I'm too old- too old to be moping around pondering philosophical questions, too old to be moody and draw/write uninspiring things--- and more importantly, way too old to be questioning my identity and self when I've left myself no other options anyway. It's sort of jumping off a cliff and wondering if you'd have made it out unscathed if you had chosen a different location.
Yeah look, I don't blog for ages and this is what happens. Walls of text and hideous amounts of melancholy. I should've just left it at the "things are pretty good right now".
Sunday, 10 August 2014
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