Where I get excited about dress-ups

I had my uni enrolment day yesterday.

...

It is by the beach. It is pretty purdy. The course still sounds fabulous.

And I get a JUMPSUIT.

ZOMG.

I'm doing Nursing and Emergency Health, the latter of which is related to being a paramedic/reliefpersionwhogoesoverseastohelpoutinwartorncountriesandthoseaffectedbynaturaldisasters. Throughout my four years of study, apparently I gotta do a lot of placements - right in the thick of the action - and therefore I get a snazzy uniform. Part of which is a JUMPSUIT.

(Okay, I can't find a picture, but when I do get it, I'll show you guys.)

I'm super excited. You don't understand. It's the jumpsuit that really gets me, but there's so much I have to prepare. Here, lemme list everything I have to do:

1. Have a uniform fitting appointment
2. Immunisations
3. Fitness test
4. Get a Police Check + Working with Children Check
5. Start timetabling my lectures and blah blah
6. Buy my books

... okay, it doesn't look like a lot, but it is. It's a bit overwhelming. I donno. The thing that freaks me out is how independant I have to be. No cute little forms for me to take home to mummy and have signed. I have to do everything By Myself. It's everything I was afraid of. 

I'm good at following instructions. I'm very happy to be lead. At most, I can be a second-in-command, or someone who gets the ideas but offloads them onto someone else to carry through. And now it's all like "You have to do this this this this and that and then this and this and that", so on, so forth, but there's nothing specific. It's all officially 'in your own time'. It's... scary.

Oh, I should probably talk about people. The suburb where my uni is located is known to be a White People Hotspot, so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised by how many white people there were. But I was. I mean, I expected a lot more ethnics to be in the uni, because it's based on course, not race. I literally saw one brown person and two Asians in my course, and everyone was white. I don't mean like white white in terms of skin - I mean like Aussie. Not even any recognisable Europeans, and no Middle Easterners either...

This might sound a bit weird, right? Having been born and raised in Australia and suddenly being overwhelmed by Aussies? The thing is, I grew up in an Ethnic Central, and yes, I meet Aussies and all that jazz, but they all tended to blend into this brilliant spectrum of People from All Over the World. So I donno, I find it... disconcerting... to be in this place where there are only Aussies. Only Aussies. And they all dress similarly, and I'm a bit worried, because I don't know how I'm going to find someone to bond with on equal footing.

But whatever.

I get a JUMPSUIT. AND A STETHOSCOPE. And this snazzy fluoro jacket and a t-shirt and.... !!!

Okay, that's it for now about that. There's still a Long Way to go for uni to actually start, plus I'm really worried about all the costs and stuff the my scholarship doesn't cover (i.e. the uniform package is over $200, which I need by Tuesday :/ ), so I'll just leave you a little show of patriotism. The 26th was Australia Day, and so here's a little video of what I think about it. Please, do take a look.

 
If he was single, and not that old, and marriage didn't have to be consensual, I'd marry him. Unfortunately, he isn't single, he is (kinda) that old, and marriage does have to be consensual. Sigh.

Peace in,
Laila

A Walk on the Wild Side

Nooooooooooooooooo. 
Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.
Nawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease. 
Pretty pretty pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? 
PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE?

 

This is how I got myself to the city on New Years Eve. An annoying combination of agonised cries for my mother's refusals and incessant pleas with puppy-eyes at every other moment; those elongated vowels, the constant badgering so infuriatingly annoying that one just has to say yes so you can just SHUT UP ALREADY. 

It works well.

I mean, they were right to be concerned. New Years Eve is when the stupidity of YOLO is showcased in all its glory. Public transport is free, so obviously every cheapskate wants to take advantage of it, and all the trains are so packed it's a wonder there's room for oxygen. And, you know, everyone gets drunk, and it being Australia, it is rather common for white people here to welcome the new year by putting on raucous displays of their hatred for... not white people. (You see what I did there? How ironical x] ) 

So why would I want to go? Because I'm bored. I mean, school's over, I'm on holiday for about three months. I've yet to get a job (I'm trying, okay?), and not having money can really impede your outdoorsy fun options. Not just that, but me being me... I just ... crave adventure, I guess, but not just any adventure... danger. I crave danger. Thrills. Adrenaline rushes. As well as a certain ache, you know, the really good feeling you get after a long run? That. And walking about the city at night, with no parents, on New Years Eve... well, it seemed fitting.

And also, there's a kind of romance attached to it. Come on, the city at night? All lit up? It seems like a dream, doesn't it? It was.

The train ride there was as expected. It was crowded when we got on, and at each stop on the way, it just got more packed. At first I was standing - I kind of prefer standing, because you know how you should give up your seat to the elderly/pregnant/etc? I have this paranoia that one day I'll be sitting down for a good long ride and I won't notice some old person who needs my seat and hence I won't give it up for them until I get off and then I'll see them and I'll feel really terrible for not noticing them and I will forever be plagued by this guilt for putting them through such an uncomfortable ride... it's sort of irrational, but it's what I do. Stand so I don't have to be on my guard.

But this time, as it was packed, where I was standing was getting uncomfortably thronged by guys. Young guys. They were quite boisterous. My cousin -

[Side note: I should, at this point, mention that right now I have two guy cousins in my house. It's kind of sad, right, the first time a cousin came over, I was so ecstatic on this blog, and this time, I haven't done anything? Well, whatever, c'est la vie, now you know. You also know now why my mother wasn't too strict on me not going - two guy cousins to play bodyguards.]

 - had been standing in front of a seat, not taking it I think for similar reasons to moi. Noticing that it was getting crowded, he offered me the seat (again, actually, because up til then I was showing some bravado about not needing it) , and I took it. It was a tiny cramped singular one, tucked away. My cousin stood in front, to block me off from any other creepers. I spent the ride trying to figure out where to put my eyes. Have you ever been in this situation, where you're in a crowded space, and everywhere you look, there's a face, and you don't know these people, so you don't want to be caught in that awkward moment like you were staring at them, when you weren't really staring at them? So you sort of look up, but if you're shortish like me, that takes effort, so you look down, but you don't want to look depressed, so you're not looking all the way down, and then, after some time, you realise you're actually staring at... people's derrieres, or their legs, or something like that, and you feel mortified because you think that maybe other people think that you're a creeper, so you find yourself hurriedly shifting your eyes again, looking around to see if anyone saw you...

... and it repeats. That was my ride to the city.

We got there at 7ish, if I remember correctly. It was lovely. So many people, but so few vehicles, because most of the roads were blocked. But people still felt inclined to stick to the footpaths and stuff, and so you just had these empty roads that were so clean, and we just wandered through them.

That's the only thing about us going out. My cousins and I, we go places, but we lack purpose. Everyone's in groups, walking HERE or THERE, you know, SOMEWHERE, and we sort of just drift. But it's a nice sort of drifting, that lose yourself in the crowd, in the city. It was twilight, the sky was a dark blue, still tinted with gold from the sun, and the city was lighting up. It also - despite the crowds - in my head, it felt kind of quiet.

So we walked without purpose, going this way and that, trying to figure out what to do. My parents would probably never let us do this again, so we wanted to make the best of it, but how?

In the end, it was just walking, talking, admiring the buskers, the views, bemoaning our lack of a good camera, just killing time slowly. We looked for the perfect place to view the fireworks, but then got hungry so we left it to find food. We tried to get back to the place, but we were swept up by the crowds, and somehow time escaped us. So we hurriedly found another place, and soon it was those final moments, everyone looking to the sky, just waiting.

I was a little sad because we didn't get to do my favourite bit - the countdown. The few times I've been before, in the final seconds, everyone starts counting down, and its like the voice of the city itself, it's that unified, that loud. But that night, we waited, and the fireworks just exploded out of everywhere.

My cousin, a few seconds before, he said: "Just watch, everyone's going to take out their phones and cameras and start filming."

He was stating the obvious, but I wish he wasn't right. I mean, it's right there guys, right in front of you. That's the beauty of the moment. If you wanted to see it through a screen, you may as well have stayed home and recorded it off your TV. I could do a whole other rant on how meaningless photos are becoming these days, how we're not really preserving memories, because there's really not much to preserve anymore, how the moments that are worth remembering are the ones that stay in your head, and yes, they may get distorted over time, but that's what makes them so worth it - because it's a reflection of how you felt at the moment, not really what happened. But I won't go on about that now.

So we stood there in this crowd, we watched the fireworks, we lost ourselves in the ooohs and aaahs. We bemoaned our lack of a good camera again. It was nice.

Then it was over. People hugged. They loitered. They started to disperse. The paths were clogged, the bridge was blocked, so we could only imagine what the trains would be like. So hung around, leaning against the bridge. This apparently drunk (I couldn't tell) walked by, offering free high-fives, and my cousin leaped forward - literally - and seized the moment. The drunk guy grinned broadly, saying, 'You are a good man. You know what? You get a bonus. You get a discount. You can have a hug.' He then embraced my cousin somewhat passionately.

We found our way to the water again, and just sat there. There's something about that, you know, just sitting there by the water, in the city, at night, and you know, the reflection of the light just glitters on the surface. I don't really consider myself the meditative type, but I could just lose myself in it.

Eventually, at about 2pm, the bridge started to clear, and we walked back to the station, which was still filled up. We couldn't take the first train, and me and one of my cousins were just happy to hang around for a few hours until the whole place cleared up, but the other one (I really ought to give them names, huh?) insisted we get on the second one. We had to wait, of course, and oh, in that time, there was an almost fight - two guys getting all buff and shouting and then their girlfriends interfered.

Then we squashed onto a train, with a whole bunch of others - it really did feel like a kind of wrestling match. I wasn't fussed about a seat - I guess I was in a zombie-state, so I just couldn't care - but my cousin had once again saved me one, and I couldn't care to argue either.

The ride back was that sleepy kind of blur. You know, you can hear the noise, but it feels far away. I remember a group of guys singing that song, 'Rude', and it just kept going around in my head the whole way back... why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know we human too? Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway. Someone else kept yelling 'HAPPY NEW YEAR!' everytime the train stopped. People were sleeping. A few times, I closed my eyes, slept about five minutes - could it be longer - and then I'd be wide awake again. An old man in front of me spoke to someone loudly on the phone, and people were laughing, but in a kind of endearing way.

And then we got off, at our station. The body heat made it hard to feel the cold. It was, I think, maybe 3am? The plan was to catch a bus - we assumed there was one, that's what my dad said. Turns out there wasn't. We had the option of calling my parents, my mother did say to, but then... but then I got the YOLO vibe. My cousin got it too. The other one not so much, but you know, majority rules.

We decided to walk.

It's just over 6km. Which is... about 4miles. I don't know if you consider that long or not, but the real importance of what we were about to do lies in this one little fact: we live in Dandenong.

Okay, I can't believe I gave that bit information out. I guess I'm becoming less paranoid? Okay, whatever.

The point is, where I live has a lot of notoriety about it. It's infamous for being thug central. It's a bit of a ghetto. Star's brother, who has done this before, apparently put up an FB status after saying 'just walked home from Dandy station and didn't get shot'. Heck, our whole walk home, we were cracking jokes about drive by shootings.  Do you get what I'm saying?

Guys, it was the best way to start the year. I feel like I deserve a badge for Stupidity/Bravery. I guess you know the end of the story - we got home alive. But gosh, it was thrilling. Walking across all these empty roads, past empty houses. Not even the trees shivering, it was that much of a ghost town. Something freaky about all the traffic lights, but no cars. Oh, the occasional car was there, and yeah, that's when the jokes about drive by shootings came up. Long stretches without streetlights, commenting on the possibilities of creepers jumping out of trees. How eerie it was that you couldn't even hear, say, a dog bark.

We got to an intersection where we had the option of going along a more lit up main road, or into a darker avenue. There was a park we'd pass, one that I was told, growing up, was a hotspot for druggies. I made us go that way just for kicks (now I'm wondering why they even listened to me - I mean, I'm the youngest, so they didn't have to... huh, boys). My cousin suggested we take a nap at that park, and I reminded him of the druggies though the park was clearly empty, and we discussed the cunning and cleverness of drug-addicts these days, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. We made it to the next main road alive, and then it was just this long stretch home. 

Then we saw the thugs.

Okay, initially, I was sure my cousin was just jumping to the stereotype - a group of black guys, jeans hanging low and all that jazz, swaggering down the street. But then - they were ahead of us - they just seemed to be putting on this shifty show, you know, stopping randomly, crossing the road back and forth when certain cars passed, and I too got the shivers. We had to laugh though - somewhat masochistically - because we were all so broke, if they tried to rob us, they'd probably end up giving us our wallets back after putting money in it. The longer we walked down that road, the closer we got to them, and I have a habit of commentating in a really... how do you say it? Darkly humourous way? Morbid. I'm pretty morbid about a lot of things.

[Fun fact: sometimes at night, when I'm under my quilt, I like to imagine someone standing over my bed holding up a knife, poised, ready to plunge it right into my neck. I don't know why.]

But again, you know the end of the story. We got home in one piece, and none of my unhelpful suggestions about how to get out of being shot were put to use. 

I know this is the time for reflections, but looking back, it was one of those years that feel short, but in fact, are really long and it's just too difficult to pick out the most significant moments. Right now, I can only remember being at the park a few days ago, and I met this kid. He introduced himself as Yaqub. I asked him where he came from. He said something like 'Gherkos'. I was like, 'is that a country?'

And he replied, 'No, it's a swimming pool.'

He's five. I'll probably never see him again, but he was one great kid.

But it's been a momentous year, I'm glad I came out alive, and really, I don't even know what to expect from the year to come - university, battling marriage proposals, brainwashing tutoring, learning to drive.... it's almost beyond comprehension.

I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST. HAPPY NEW YEAR

Peace in,
Laila

One Little Number

At 11:52pm, my mother was braiding my hair.

"Are you going to check?" she asked.

"No," I replied flatly.

"But there's only 8 minutes," she said.

"But you're here," I countered. "I need you to be out of the house. I'll check when you go to work tomorrow."

She honestly doesn't get it, and it sort of amuses me, that she can't seem to comprehend the pressure she puts on me, explicitly and implicitly. But then I can feel her smile evilly, really, just the vibes shifting.

"Well, I don't think I'm going to work tomorrow," she says nonchalantly. "You know... I think I'll do some cleaning, and I have some shopping to do."

And I can't help but think how eeeevil she is, my mother. I sleep after midnight, but I absolutely cannot make myself check. Although I'm not usually a dream/nightmare person, I have vague recollections of a kind of dream or nightmare, numbers of a possibly ATAR or study score spinning around, not making any sense.

In the morning, my mother's in my room.

"Are you going to check?" she asks, her voice sing-songy.

I pretend I'm still asleep, moaning and pulling my sheet over my head. When she's gone, I take my phone off my charger, turn on the WiFi and hide under my quilt. My friends' group on Viber, AWESOME, is alive and kicking. Hundreds of messages pile up and keep going, and I try to go back, get updated, but it's impossible. The only thing I get is that everyone seems to be alive.

Of course they note that I'm online, and then they're asking me. Are you alive?

I can't check. Up until now, the waiting period was torture, like being on death row, waiting for the execution date. But right now, the waiting is a mild comfort, because as long as I don't know, there's this possibility that I may still do well. Whatever happens after, of course, cannot be changed, and that's even scarier than not knowing.

When they realise I can't contribute to the group, Star messages me personally. Pep talks me into it, mingling motivational and demanding. It's weird - I have never been this nervous in my life. My eyes literally tear up, my stomach feels like it's holding stones, my throat hurts, and my hands are sweaty. It's gross, but as my fingers tap against the screen of my phone, they leave little pixelated rainbows.

But she tells me that she's alive and kicking, which is what she said last year when we got our Literature/Methods results, and it's enough. I log in. I check. I die.

98.70

It's jizbillions more than I expected. Okay, not jizbillions. I was arrogant enough to think I'd do better than my sister, though not by much. But this is a lot. This is huge. I can't even speak.

I crawl out of bed and traipse to the kitchen and show my mother. Her eyes scan the screen, they widen, light up, and she screams a little. Envelopes me in a huge hug.

And it's too much for me, so I go back to bed and crawl under the sheets. Inform the rest of my friends that I'm alive. Start checking up on my comrades. Outside my room, the house is abuzz. My cousins shouting their congratulations, then hushing 'cause they think I'm asleep. My dad coming in to see my room. The calls start coming in, because that's what it's like, being a part of the Curry community. They start going out too - we have a whole family to inform. It's insane.

The best part is that 90% of my friends so far are alive. And well. And happy. And I'm so proud of us, I really am. My school in particular - we're usually considered a part of the ghetto, you know, with the leftovers, the rejects, the thugs. And I know 7 of us so far have 90+ results. Star got 99.35. We killed it.

An annoying side note: the Herald Sun newspaper published an article on the high achievers. They mention a whole bunch of schools, taking the time to mention Dandy High's highest result was 96.1. They did not mention our school, when, excuse me, we did a lot better. Let me repeat: STAR GOT 99.35.

The same day, Monash uni calls up and informs me that I've won a scholarship. That very day, they're having a ceremony for high achievers. That very day. I don't even know what to do anymore. It's all above me.

So there you have it. I'msohappylikeyouwouldn'tbelieve. I could cry. I could cry because my peers killed it, because we put in the effort and we got the rewards and no one can say that our school is crap. I could cry because I showed my mother that I don't need to go to a posh private or select entry school to get a good result, nor do I need to have a million tuitions, or do all the sciency mathsy subjects. I could cry because I haven't let anyone down - not my parents, not my teachers, not my friends, not me. I could cry because everyone's so happy. I could cry out of gratitude, thank God, literally. I could cry just out of relief.

The funny thing is how little all this will mean in a couple of months. We'll all start university, and we'll realise how insignificant the ATAR - this number - is. We may even forget what we got, like my sister did. I used to think it was unfathomable. Now I'm not so sure.

But until then I'm going to enjoy it :)

Peace in,
Laila

Money, money, money.

On the 14th of November, a father was admitted into hospital. The doctors performed tests and gave him a report, and they were ready to release him. His family - wife, two daughters, two sons - were about to come visiting, but he calls his oldest son to tell him not to worry. He tells his son to just come by himself to pick him up, there's nothing wrong, why cause the hassle of hiring a van to get everyone to town?

So off this boy goes, catches a bus to town to pick his father up. The story gets a bit awry here, but from what I've heard, on the way out, his father had his first stroke. The boy is there to see it. He's around for the second stroke, he's around to see his father die. I heard he fed his dad, too. When he set out that day, with the intention of bringing home his father, he didn't realise it was going to be a dead body.

His younger brother too, still in school, did not realise that when he left for school that day, that was the last time he was going to say bye to his dad. The girls, too, went about helping their mother wash the clothes and make lunch, they didn't know that some of those clothes and some of that food were not going to be worn or eaten.

You probably want to know what was on the father's report, right? Well, it said 95% of his kidneys were gone. 

The thing about kidneys is that they don't just go. They don't just fall apart like that, one day. It's a gradual thing, and there are signs, signs that the father must have noticed up until the moment he was finally admitted into hospital. So why, you wonder, wouldn't he go to the doctors earlier, when these signs first cropped up? Why didn't he tell anyone earlier?

Money. He didn't have the money. Doctors appointments in Sri Lanka are pretty darn expensive, and his family just didn't have enough. He could have asked someone, right? Mentioned it... our side alone, my mother has three brothers and three sisters. Surely someone could have dished up.

About two years ago, we went on a holiday to Sri Lanka, and that proved to be the period where our family was conned, and we lost all our money. Not just that, but this 'business' involved the wealthier members of our family, so they too, went down with us. It was on that holiday that my dad told my uncle, who had reluctantly admitted that he needed some financial help, that he would aid him in any way possible. But my dad never got to, because, as I said, the money was all gone by the end of that holiday.

It makes me sick. Don't get me wrong, I'm not calling for a revolution, to burn all the money in the world and live in this happy chappy, airy fairy utopia, where love makes the world go round, and everyone just gives, gives, gives. I know the communist dream is only that - a dream, because in practise it never works. But that doesn't make me feel any better about the inequities of this world. All he needed was a bit of money, and maybe this never would have happened. But then, huh, what's meant to be is meant to be, right?

And still money is the problem. None of his kids are working, nor does my aunt. The oldest daughter, besides being a bit fussy, can't get married because they don't have the means to meet the requested dowries from the umpteen suitors that have come along (completely unIslamic, btw -_-' ). The son has just finished some major exams - O-levels, A-levels? all the same to me - and we're trying to get him to come here, but again, you have to have a certain income to sponsor someone to come over, which is also true of his sister. We're working on it, but it feels like no one has enough. The youngest is still in school, and I guess everyone's going to try and contribute to the tuition and school fees.

On Thursday (the 28th), my sister went overseas. She had this money saved up for a party we were going to host for our friends at the end of the year, but we decided it was better used going overseas. I haven't spoken to my cousins, yet. They're grieving, and understandably, talking on the phone is not the first thing on their minds. And besides, what can we possibly say from over here to make it okay? When someone's mourning, the best thing is just to be there, you know? And however you need to help should manifest itself without you having to offer pre-written, conventional condolences.

I admit I was a bit jealous. Not in the sense of, God, I hate her, why does she get to go? I want to go, it's not fair, my life sucks, I hate the world. It's more like, gee, I wish I could go, but I ain't hatin' on nobody because I can't. It's strictly a moral support trip, and everyone has been saying that if we had the money (again! >.< ), they'd have sent me too, so I'm not holding it against anyone. 

And then this nasty voice starts up in my head, going something like this: Well, will you look at that? When Number One finished school, not only did you guys go on holiday to Sri Lanka, but within that you also went on Umrah. And yet, when you finish school, not only is there no overseas holiday, not only do you just mostly wallow about at home, but there is the added list of  demands - get a job, get your license, tutor your sisters, clean this, do that. And they're even talking about marriage. They just can't wait to get rid of you, huh?

Really hate that voice. 

Anyhow, I don't really know why I blogged this. I told Linchy I would blog something, and I've been meaning to, but I couldn't figure out where to start. So here is Something. My life as of recent. 

I'm not as depressed as this sounds, awnestly. My uncle, he will be missed, but we watched a part of his funeral on Skype, and I actually saw him, and I expected something ghastly and emaciated, but in fact, he looked almost beautiful. Glowing. Nur, they say, right? Isn't it supposed to be a good sign? I put my trust in God. And I know my sister will be helping my cousins, even if I can't. I actually have another cousin coming in two weeks or so. And I've also been given this new resolve - I actually am really attempting to get a job, for me, now, because I want to save up and go to Sri Lanka at the end of next year. New Year's goal, I guess.

And, one more thing: this is so cheesy, but make sure the last thing you say to someone before you leave them, whether it be before you go to school or work, to sleepover at a friend's place or go on a grand trip overseas, make sure it's nice, okay? My mother, she kind of had this experience, in this post. One day, she said her salaams and went to school, and when she came back, it was to her father's funeral. Just like that. You never really know when you're going to speak to someone for the last time, so try, always try, to end it on a good note.

Be happy :)

Peace in,
Laila

Adieu, High School

So that's it. Today marks the day that high school is officially over for me. I mean, it 'formally' closed on the 21st of October, but I still associate exams with school, and so I've still felt as if I was in school during this period.

And today, I had my last exam.

That's it.

It's done.

...

A part of me is just so THRILLED. Liberated.  No more SACs, no more exams with the same kind of weight of expectation, no more bad teachers (this is specific to those bad teachers, because I have had great ones too). No more 5 days of school, 8:30am to 3pm. No more waiting for it to just be over.

And thinking of all that makes me want to do a little happy dance, it does.

Then the other annoying, self-righteous, angsty, officious part of me pipes up, with a 'is that it? That's all?'

And all that's left is this huge blank space of all the things to come and all the things that will never happen again. It's just so... surreal.




Anyhow, I'm now going to embark on the task of trying to catch up on all your posts (I've been terrified of looking at my dashboard until now), and it's going to take me ages because I'm actually without a laptop right now.... my charger broke :/ Sort of convenient for the exam period, but now it's just going to slow things down. So be patient with me ^_^

And I do, in fact, have many things to blog about, as many things have happened from eons ago that I just haven't had the time to jot down. So many, many things, good, bad and ugly, and you know, because there are so many, I probably won't blog about any of it.

Cheers.

Peace in,
Laila

Wedding Bells

So much for the 'I'm-going-to-post-random-stuff-to-get-into-the-Ramadan-spirit' thing. Um. Excuses. I've been tired. I've been busy. I've been... really really tired. And admittedly, this was not such a great Ramadan for me, so far. It was really a slap in the face to be told we were already in the last 10 days o.o I'm usually much better, but this time I let it slip away :/ Insha'allah I'll get another year.

Anyhow, another reason why I didn't post was because I was waiting for a certain event, and... erm, it took some time. About a week or two after my last post, my cousins' babies were due. One was on time, the other was a whole week late. Then, because I had photos for the first, I wanted to have photos for the second, but alas, it hasn't happened. But whatever. Let me introduce to you...

Little Miss Japan: Sara

 Très adorable, non? And a week later (although he was due a day earlier), Little Mr Dubai was born. I have no pictures, nor have I a name, but I'm superdy excited all the same. I love it when our already huge family grows x) I love being an aunt a million times over.

I wonder if you remember this one? From ayyyges ago?

Anyhow, this isn't about my incredibly awesome perpetually expanding family. This is, as you may have guessed by the title, about marriage. And it may seem ... not that important, during this month, but I believe there's a hadith somewhere that says marriage is half your deen? In which case, this ia very relevant ^_^

I decided to do this post 'cause I had an Interesting Conversation with Linchy yesterday, and it also brought back to mind many things I've made Mental Notes about, to mention, but never got around to doing. Well, here it is.

So basically, 95% of my family has been hitched by semi-arranged marriage.

... okay, first, lemme make the distinctions here. Arranged marriage is when your family/parents pick who you're marrying, you don't get a say, it's just a done deal.

Semi-arranged is when your family/parents present you with potential spouse after potential spouse, but ultimately, you make the decision from who they present.

And, erm, love marriage, well, I guess that speaks for itself ^_^

Also, I don't think I'm going to be saying anything controversial, but JUST IN CASE, these opinions are MY OWN. I am not seeking to shove this down anyone's throat, kapisce?

Anyway. from what I know (and I rarely get to be overseas when there is a wedding in my family), we have one 'love' marriage in my family. A cousin of mine was the pretty girl walking home from school, her hubby-to-be was the handsome guy playing cricket along the road, they saw each other, sparks flew, and they approached the parents for a marriage, by way of doing it 'right'. 

It was not met well, initially, with her parents. But my dad (having been dubbed 'the cool uncle') stepped in and acted as her wali, they got hitched, and eventually her dad realised that his son-in-law wasn't such a bad guy. It's just the notion of a love marriage had all the wrong connotations.

But anyway, the rest of my family, from what I know, had semi-arranged marriages. You know, when people hear that phrase - any kind of 'arranged marriage' - the usual reaction is shockhorrordisgust. No really, today I heard snippets of a conversation where this guy pronounced his utmost digust for arranged marriages: 'I hate arranged marriages. They're [bad word] disgusting.'

Okay, so this is kind of understandable, and I agree when it comes specifically to arranged arranged marriages. No one should be forced to marry someone, everyone has the right to make their own decision, and I mean, it's haraam anyway, under Islam (so when you hear those horror stories about crazy Muslim families forcing their girls into marriages with people they don't know or didn't agree to - IT'S NOT ISLAM. OKAY?!).

But when arranged marriage is spoken about here, it usually encompasses semi-arranged too, and I'm here to defend that.

Let me go back to my extended family, in Sri Lanka. They live mostly in underdeveloped areas. The way they grew up, boys and girls do not mingle. Even if they go to co-ed schools, girls hang with girls, boys hang with boys, they barely socialise between them, unless they're related. Otherwise, they're just awkward.

It's partially a society thing, but also, for many - especially the 'villagers' of my dad's side - they're all just naturally shy. Girls especially, and boys sometimes when they have to interact with girls,  are just timid by nature. 

These are just the school days. Perhaps, if they got to uni, they'd 'mature' in such a way that they'd socialise more. But, the education system is really strict. If you're not a part of the 'cream of the crop' in the first round, well, that's it. You're out. And a lot of people don't make it to the uni stage. So there's very few places for you to actually meet someone and get to know each other inadvertently, on 'halal' grounds. 

In these circumstances, it is incredibly difficult to find your One True Love. Especially if you're of the Very Bashful, like most of my cousins. While some of them made it to further education, the majority, particularly the 'villagers' of my dad's side, didn't. The rest of their life is just building a family. But how's one supposed to do that if they can't find a person to start with?

Hence that 'brokering' business, where the families put their feelers out and look for who's available. They look at the photos, they ask around, and if someone seems okay, a meeting is organised. The eligible bachelors/bachelorettes converse in supervised conditions, and if they like, another meeting or two may be organised, and then, TRALALALA, THE WEDDING BELLS RING.

And it works for them. Trust me. Take my favourite cousin (mother of Little Mr Dubai). The whole meet and greet thing took place before we were there, but we were there for the nikaah (contract signing ceremony thing - on Western terms, it's sort of like a pre-nup engagement party). If you think it's awkward and weird and you don't understand how you can possibly just fall in love with a stranger, let me tell you that 

- well, doesn't that happen a lot anyway? You meet someone you didn't know before, and love blossoms after you get to know them. This is just a different, more controlled environment -

I've seen it with my own eyes. Oh my God, it was sort of sickening to watch her get lost in that lovey dovey delirium. Her man had to go to Dubai soon after, and they Skyped every night, and every day she just kept floating about waiting for every night, and I will not lie IwasojealousshehadallherattentiononhimwhereasIonlygettoseehereveryfewyearsIwantedhertodoteonME.
She had a special ring tone for him, and she made a Brangelina variation of their name, and it was just ewwwwww. 

But the point is, it worked for her. And for all the others. Like seriously. That's just how it is for them. I know my cousins, and I know that left to their own devices, they will flounder and end up forever alone. That's just the way it is there.

So when people diss semi-arranged marriages (usually under arranged), it really irks me because I personally know a whole bunch of happily-ever-afters that have resulted from them. Not just that, but who are they to just assume something like that is absolutely awful when they haven't experienced it?

At the same time, I was not brought up the way they were. I was born and raised here, in Oz. As it happens, I did go to co-ed schools, and although I've stuck to abstinence from dating and everything that can ensue from that, I have grown up socialising with guys (still awkwardly, though not that dramatically ^_^ ), and the thought of marrying someone I don't know, even if I've had meetings beforehand, just seems... crazy. Beyond comprehension o.o I mean, I've already said I doubt I can find myself a guy, but I've also thought about what would happen if by chance, I did find someone. would my parents be okay with that?

I mean, I know my dad played guardian for my cousin's love marriage, but I feel like he has a general soft spot for all the things from his village. If it was me and being here - I get the vibe that he'd find it dangerously Western and haraam.

Okay, my parents have an underlying, ingrained racism in them. My dad less than my mother, but it's a thing against Africans, and the way, for a while, the media used to portray them as thugs and stuff. My sister and I, having gone to a seriously multicultural school, were really defensive about this, so in some rather extreme ways of defiance, as a youngster, I used to say that I wouldn't mind marrying an African. Once, my dad actually took me up on this seriously. He said he wouldn't allow it, because an interracial marriage means me and the guy would have had to meet outside of parental supervision, so therefore, something haraam MUST have happened.

NO. This is absolute rubbish, just in case you didn't get that.

It's a traditional view amongst lots of ethnics - not all, but a lot - that 'love' marriages, like arranged to the Westerners, have all the negative connotations, of 'loose' children who do the hanky-panky outside of wedlock.

And so, I'd like to defend 'love marriages' here too. It's entirely possible for you to meet someone of the opposite gender, and do things 'right' - like my cousin - and just marry them before anything goes wrong. Why the heck not? Just becase you end up liking someone, it does not mean your physical bod goes out of control and does inappropriate things immediately. And by preventing two people who are in love from doing things the right way, you're only paving the way for haraam. Just sayin'.

But I feel like you guys already know that, so I don't have much to say on it.

And I know this is long, but I'm going to answer the other question from the Anon about Why I Wouldn't Mind Getting Married Young:

1. I donno, there just seems to be something awkward about getting married old. Personally. To me. It just feels like something better done young.
2. I like the idea of working your life out together with someone, rather than establishing a very independant lifestyle and then having to readjust it to make it work with someone else. I like the idea of finding someone to share the same vision of what you want in the future from the early stages, and then making it happen together. "Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction." (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
3. I want to be a young mother. Kids are energetic. I would also like to be at a certain peak in my own energy when raising them. Also, the younger you have them, the smaller the age gap is between you, and the better chance you have of relating to them as they grow up. And you can hopefully end up being a young grandmother, and you may even get to be a great-grandmother...! ^_^
4. You know how people like to travel the world and do lots of crazy 'independant' stuff before they get 'tied down' to marriage? I worry that if I travel the world and all the jazz before marriage, my heart will never be content staying put again. I don't want to be constantly plagued with wanderlust when I attempt to raise a family. So going back to the young mother thing, I would rather get married, have the kids, have them grow up to be adults, the whole shebang, and then still be young enough to take on the world with my man, and I won't have any official reason to have to stay put. Also: I hate it when people think of marriage as that 'tied down' thing, like it's some kind of imprisonment. Honestly, if that's how you view marriage, if you really do follow through with it, I pity the person you end up with.
5. Like I said before, I've kept away from dating and all that for all my school life. I will not lie, while I'm not very crush-crazy, it is still a bit hard watching everyone else get swept away by their whirlwind romances... psh, yeah right. I'm actually happy to be away from all the angst -_-' But, a lot of us abstain for so long, and some may feel that way, so why should they have to prolong their loveless life? Why shouldn't they take the first shot at a romance, the halal way, as soon as possible?
6. Finally, if the right person presents himself/herself, why shouldn't we get married straight away? Why should we have to wait, unnecessarily so? WHAT IS THE POINT?!

That's it.

Okay, I can actually talk more on this topic, on a lot of other angles, but I think this is long enough, and I'm tired. Hope your lives are happy, and if you want to share how marriage works in your religion/culture, feel free to share :)

Peace in,
Laila

Where I respond to an Anon

C'est ma vacance. Or the NIPS: Non-Instructional Period of Study.

I felt like I ought to write something while I can, but I didn't know what, exactly. It's the halfway point of the year. I was thinking of maybe summing up the highlights/happenings of the year so far:

1. Well, there was the formal.

2. Before that, I got my senior jumper, you know, the one where you put on a nickname? I really really wanted to have my surname on it, like a soccer player or something, but then, that's what my sister did when she was in year 12, and she kept alternating between: 'D'aw, look at you, trying to be like me' and 'Don't copy me, stupid'. Both of them hurt my ego. Why do we have to have the same surname? WHY? (That was rhetorical.) So yeah, I ended up with 'Nemo', which is what my little sister used to call me when she was still learning to talk. Hm.

3. My grades. My grades. I've had 100%s all year in English and Legal. In History, I've had A+s, one a perfect score, one off by one mark. In French.... hahaha. Haha. French. Well, I haven't failed it. It's been a mix of Bs and As. Haha. French.

4. Oh, two weeks ago, I went with three of my friends to Melbourne's Amnesty International/Welcome to Australia 'Walk Together' event, in support of refugees and asylum seekers. It was fun. I felt proactive. Some guy came up and said he was a journalist and asked for a photo. We were all like, yokay, sure thing dude. We did not ask what paper, we did not ask for a name. Only later it occurred to us that he could have been a creeper. I like to think not. Eh. C'est la vie.

5. On Saturday, I went to Monkey Pina's house. We made pizzas, like, with the outside oven and everything. 'Twas fun. And for some bizarre reason, she had this Gossip Girl card game-y thing, so we decided to play it. Um. Lesson of the Day: We're not Gossip Girls. Well, it was funny, anyhow x)

6. Huh, did I mention I turned 18? In May, of course. Fun, fun, fun.

7. My sister and I are not completely made up yet, but we're sort've talking. I gave her one of my Ferrero Rochers. 

8. MY COUSINS' BABIES ARE DUE THIS MONTH. SQUEE.

Okay, now I'm going to get to the part where I respond to l'Anon's request....

"...can you make a post about your aims for year 12 in terms of your atar, blah blah, and also about the top 5 things you want to do in the future, accompanied by the top 5 uni courses and uni as well?"

Ohwait, hold up guys. I'm going to do something uber creepy and maybe disturbing, but um, bear with me.

OhmyGod. OhmyGod. I just did the most awkward thing. OhmyGod.

I just... I just...

OhmyGod.

I... just watched a video on birth. I mean, not on birth, but of birth. A woman giving birth. OhmyGod.

*inhales, exhales*

Okay, to answer one of your questions, dear Anon, the uni course I planned to take was Midwifery. I wanted to do it at Monash. But, despite my many fluffy reasons behind why I want to be a midwife, recently it occurred to me that - well, to put it frankly - birth is not a fluffy thing. It can be bloody, from what I've heard, excruciating, and, well, pretty darn ugly. And I thought to myself, can I handle this?

In order to figure out how I would know, I asked a family friend who's taking the course. She told me the key to this answer is in Youtube. 'Type in birth videos'. I'd been meaning to do it, but I either forgot, or procrastinated, because, really, giving birth - actual birth, not a movie thing - seems like such a personal thing. Furby told me that if they're putting it on Youtube, clearly they don't mind people seeing. But honestly, it just feels invasive. And, of course, I was scared. I was scared that I couldn't handle it, and where would that leave me? I have, really, no other career path in mind, besides writing, but that's not something I can depend on, and I don't even know if I want to make it a career.

But I just did it, people. Right now. I watched a video. Just the one, for now, but apparently I have to watch multiple ones. However, the fact of the matter is, I watched it, and I didn't puke. So there. Midwifery (at Monash, hopefully) is still on. If not Monash, then Deakin. If not there, well, I donno.

Okay, so let me back track. Aims of year 12. My ATAR. For those of you who don't know, it's the Big Final Score, or, technically, ranking. I may or may not have mentioned it before, but generally speaking, 80+ is pretty darn excellent, 60 to 70 is a bit average, and below that... well, on the Asian scale, it's pretty bad. Though, I guess, on the Asian scale, anything below 80 is bad.

My aim? I want a 90+.  The highest possible score you can ever get is 99.95, which is obviously what my mother expects of me (NOT. She expects 99.99. She doesn't believe me when I say that rank does not exist), but I don't think so. But a 90+ in general? Yes please.  If you want me to get specific in terms of scores for my individual grades, well. I finished Methods last year and got a 30 (scales up to 36). I finished Literature last year and got a 41 (scales up to 42). For English and Legal, I'm aiming for above 40 as well, as high as possible. For History, I'm not entirely sure, but I can settle for 35+. For French, I really want a 30+ as well, but I donno. I can't quite grasp how good I am at it, and what my competition is like. So yeah :/

My other goals for year 12 include: make friends. Okay, not like that. More like, ensure that the friendships I have are strong enough to survive post-high school. I love my friends dearly, and I'm also co-dependant, and I donno how I'm going to survive the real world, and I NEED THESE PEOPLE. AND I LOVE THEM AND CAN'T SEE MY LIFE AHEAD WITHOUT THEM. Also, this may sound odd, but I'd like to 'take back' my Muslim friends. Sad fact (for me): I don't have any close Muslim school friends. Mainly because my original class in high school had no Muslims, and the ones from primary school kind of slipped away. But as much as I love my non-Muslim friends, there are things about me that they just wouldn't understand, and I have a feeling the differences are going to become more apparent when we're out of high school. It's not that I think they'll stop being my friends, but I feel like I need people that I can relate to more, who'll understand aspects of my life more. So I'm working on getting my old Muslim friends back. It's not hard, 'cause we're all still on good terms. Just not... close terms. Hm.

Finally, I want to do something Big as an Art Vice-Captain for the school. I was given a responsibility, I want to make sure it's fulfilled in the best way possible. I don't want to be the one that leaves everyone with the complaint of 'they never do anything, those captains'. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to do yet, but I'm working on it.

So that's high school :)

Okay, onwards, life goals and blah blah. Erm. Well, truthfully, I don't really have any specific goals for the future. I'm afraid of expectations. I hate it when you plan something or want something and expect it to happen and then it doesn't... it's just.... slap. Ouch. Burn.

I don't have a 'top five uni courses' list, for that matter, either. As I mentioned, I only have Midwifery, because it's the only career path I want. If it was just to study for the fun of it, I'd probably go down the artsy path, Literature maybe, or Criminology. But it's not career stuff, you know? Just learning for the sake of learning. 

For life in general... well. Ehm. There are sort-of plans I like to entertain in my mind, but nothing really solid, you know? Some depend on chance, others depend on the money I have. Like, I always thought that as soon as I finished high school, I could go back to Sri Lanka and spend time there. Heck, maybe even to Dubai, and stay with my cousin for a while. I also wanted to go to the FIFA World Cup next year, in Brazil, but I mean, pshhh. Yeah right. Those dreams were in the time when the Financial Crisis was still open to the possibility of getting our money back in the immediate future. That's no longer the case. So I don't think travelling is in the immediate future...

... although... *blushes* I also liked the idea of getting married soonish too, and I have my reasons for this that I don't feel like explaining now but if you really want to know I might find it in me to explain that in another post ANYWAY, the point is, in theory, I could get married soon, and *blushes* for the honeymoon, I'd love to go on Hajj. Ohwow. What a dream. But, erm, I haven't the slightest idea how I'm supposed to get myself a guy, and as much as I understand semi-arranged marriages, I don't think it'll work for me. I feel like I was brought up too differently to be able to adjust to that, but again, I'm too awkward (and not very attractive) to land myself a guy, so marriage in the immediate future? Not likely.

AND I WANT TO GO ON A ROAD TRIP. How much fun would that be? Just me and my friends, in a jeep, backpacking around Australia, sleeping under the stars or in tents or in caravan parks, living simply, minimum money and technology, maximum adventure. Donno if that would ever happen, but gosh, it would be awesome, would it not?

Okay, lemme just get down to it and be realistic. Um, these are not grand goals or anything, but here is the List of 5 Plausible Things I'm Going to Try and Do When School is Over:

1. Start a book club. With my friends. Wouldn't that be fun? But everyone's all like we'reinVCEnotimetodoit now. But afterwards: no excuses.

2. Get a proper, steady job as a tutor. Not the sort of casual thing I'm doing now. Make money to make some of the dreamy stuff come true, or at least, ease the burden of the Financial Crisis.

3. Work on my stories. The novel ones. Not because I want it published or anything, just because I want to.

4. Oh, volunteer/join the St John's Ambulance thing? I forgot what it's called, exactly, but I want to get trained in all that emergency first aid stuff.

5. Attend more Islamic classes. I attend one, now, but I think I need more.  

Hey, bonus one: 6. Learn how to make fancy pretty cakes, like my sister. I love cake ♥

Okay. That's it. Questions answered. For the record, Anon, you didn't word anything badly, nor are you really creepy, I'm just paranoid. It feels weird to have someone who's been there from the start that I haven't known about o.O 

Anyhow, also, you guys, if you have any other suggestions as to what I should write about, feel free to say so. I can't say for sure I'll answer immediately in the future, but I'll keep it in mind ^_^ Cheers. 

Peace in,
Laila