If you haven't realised, my posts have gotten shorter.
And I wouldn't usually mind, but see, I had all the pictures on the side to line up down the posts. Now I'm mildly irritated that they go on forever and my posts do not. So for that superficial reason alone, I shalt write a really long post on all the story of my life since Wednesday. And Ali, if you're reading this, I challenge you to try and write a longer comment for this one ^^
Mwahahaha. Hahahaha.
Okay, on Wednesday, Star and I went to a preview thing for The Perks of Being A Wallflower, which was released here... yesterday. Anyway. 'Twas a lovely movie. I got teary. It was so powerful and devastating and heartrending. Completely worth the watch - from someone who hasn't read the book, btw. I wrote my review for that ... other... website, so I can't be bothered going over it. Now, I'm not waving a rainbow flag, nor do I recommend looking up the recipe for those magic brownies. Just watching it for those messages of love and staying strong, and the overall storyline, is worth the watch.
Oh, before I watched it, Star and I strolled up and down Chapel Street, where the cinema was. It's a renowned fashion strip in the city over here, and... okay. I wasn't impressed. I mean, I can only look at clothes for so long. Besides, we saw this one shop with clothes, and walking down a block or two, another shop said it had clothes from the first shop. Say whaa?
But we came across a mini-Dymocks (book store), which was just so nice. I could have cried. Those are so rare around here these days. It was almost unbearable leaving the place.
We were, in fact, looking for Ben 'n' Jerry's ice cream, which was allegedly on Some End of Chapel St. We walked down one way for a superdy long time, didn't reach the end before we decided we should walk the other way instead. Yup. We walked the other way and realised it was actually up the way we had started off on.
So we went into a Woolworths store and bought a little tub instead. Star's older brother said that was cheating, but we said we were just applying our wisdom and using our resources.
Ben 'n' Jerry's Chocolate Fudge ice cream = yum. The tub was so tiny though, and we still couldn't finish it.
We also bought cookie dough, because apparently that's another must-have in order to classify yourself as having 'lived'. We didn't try it then, because the ice cream was filling. We didn't try it until yesterday, in fact. Now that is what you call filling. I had the tiniest pinch and I was like YUM... I'M FULL. So it's in our fridge right now, and I shalt eat it in smidgeons, every now and then.
Yup.
So yeah. Cometh Thursday. I finished my Legal and French exam (mwahaha, night before exam, I go to the city to watch a movie (: ). Uhh... life goes on.
Friday. My dad went to Sri Lanka.
Usually, in my house, these things are planned months before. I was told on Thursday.
See, my grandmother is sick. Really sick. She's been in and out of hospital, and apparently she has lung cancer :/ Now I feel really horrible for saying this, but I have to. I'm just... not that... sympathetic. I love her, truly, and I feel for her pain, but honestly... she's old. When I was in grade two - eons ago - I used to think she was 100 years old. I'm 17 now, and yeah, I know she's eighty-something, but really... she still looks about a hundred. It's not that I don't care for her or anything, it's just that, I can't help that think, with regards to my father: didn't you see that coming?
We're in the midst of a financial crisis, and he borrows money from his friend to fly over there for about two weeks. He complains when we leave a light on a for a second extra, but he borrows $650 from my cousin to buy all this food and even some kind of biscuit just in case she has a fetish for them. If it's such a sad and worrying occasion, why is he going all these extra miles?
My mother was upset. She cried, once again, because she does not like being left behind. More than that, though, she was furious with his family.
I understand why, though I just can't find it in myself to be mad at either party.
Basically, I've mentioned before, my dad likes to be the hero. He loves going over there and dishing up the dollars to whoever's in need in his village. He loves to be the one that everyone runs to with their problems - family or financial, whatever. My cousin even said, that out of his brothers, he's the 'cool' one - as in, if this was good cop, bad cop, you know who he'd be. I don't think he means it with any arrogance, or fame seeking, it's just how he is. Because of that, he hasn't really told his family that we're in a financial crisis, so they love to appeal to him with their problems. And he can't say no.
My mother's annoyed with them because they always want him around. I've also said my father's side is the 'cuddly' side. It's true. They dote on him soooo much, it's kinda sickening. And he dotes on them equally as much, especially on his mother, and I don't think it's bad, so to speak, until it gets to the point he neglects us.
So yeah, there's conflict, and I'm not nearly as sad as I should be about my grandmother. It's just that with someone as old and frail as she is, all I can think of is that you can't live forever. She's had a good, long run. More than eight decades. If she goes, she goes. Such is life. I love her, I'll miss her, but expecting her to live until I'm thirty or something is just pathetic. She has great grandchildren. Isn't that an enough said?
Okay. So that's the Friday episode. My mother has been bitter, so as crude as this sounds - I kind of have to treat her like a dog. I don't mean insult. She just wants me to walk with her, most afternoons when she's particularly peed off, to let the stress go. She walks furiously, just to expel the energy, just so she can sleep. I've never been really cuddly with my mother - we're not the kind on Full House, sharing our problems, hugs and kisses and all, so I was worried I wouldn't be able to help her get over this. But I've realised she doesn't really need me to put some deep input in, or hug her every second or something. Sometimes she just needs to rant. Other times she just needs someone to be there, in the house, or something, with her. And I can do that. No schmaltzy required.
To add to the drama of the Financial Crisis, the family of the dude who swindled us threw a party. (Let's just call this dude Swindler, okay?). So it wasn't actually Swindler who threw the party, but his sibling's family. They had a massive dinner party while our family - and dozens of others - are broke as a result of their bro, and my father pitifully borrows money to go visit his sick mother.
Now I know they can't pay us back. Swindler somehow got away with millions of dollars, from dozens of families, and they're just one. But what we did expect was at least some kind of apology, or expression of sympathy on behalf of Swindler. That never came. At least to lay low? Nope. They throw a massive dinner party, and guess what? All the Curries go. They know. One even had the cheek to call us, sharing her horror and disgust at how they could do such a thing, whilst adding as a side note that yes, indeed, she did go.
Curries. Sometimes I really hate them. Such superficial, materialistic, social climbing, desperate carrots.
No offence to carrots.
SUNDAY. Star invited me to her family's St Patron's Day. Now I knew it had religious connotations by the very fact that it has a 'Saint' in it. I just didn't realise to what extent. I had to stand there awkwardly while they did some ceremonious, symbolic breaking of the bread, and taking a bit out of this funny (but rather yum) concoction, whilst also making the cross across their chests. And gosh, my faith was tested and I realised how weak I was. See, they had this one long table set up across their lounge-y kind of open kitchen dining room thing. I was sitting in front of a small row of young, presumably attractive Serbian men. The more families that came, the more hands had to be shaken. I just couldn't bear to seem rude you know, so I shook the hands - the hands of men. I'm hoping that because most of them were old, they don't count. Also, alcohol was served. They weren't getting stoned or anything, but it was there. I just couldn't leave - I felt like all eyes were on me to see how I handled this religious celebration, where I was the sole green pepper amongst the red.
Also, my cutlery skills were being tested. I eat with my hands almost everything - besides noodles, soups, Italian food, and food in general that doesn't require cutlery. How am I supposed to know what spoon is for what, and that you actually use the small fork for dessert? I felt like all eyes on me for that too, but they weren't. Still. Felt like a freak show.
Hm. I wonder how I'm going with length...
Never mind.
Anyway, I guess one of the reasons why I haven't blogged much despite the many happenings is because of my blogging for the State Library. Gosh. It was fun. I'm going to miss it. And the team were so lovely, they even want to continue emailing me despite the fact it's all over. Also, for once I feel proud to put something down on my resume - this is something I actually genuinely enjoyed, you know? Not like Work Experience -_-' *shudders*
Oh, and obviously NaNoWriMo was eating my words too. SUCCESS. TRIUMPH. I started on the 10th day and I made it! Even funnier - I've only just began scratching the surface of the Conflict of the story. The main problem hasn't officially even been introduced, only hinted to. For the first time in my 2 year NaNo experience, I think I actually have to look at my NaNo story after the month is over. And finish it. It's just so weird, 'cause usually I'm floundering to keep the plot going, you know, throwing in dragons and all that... kidding. But you get my drift. Either way, I have a whole summer to work on it. And our Dream story. And Chipped.
Fun fun fun.
I really can't tell if this is superdy long or not.
Oh, yesterday, I went to Star's house to hang out for the day. It's so freaking HOT. I once told Sam I wouldn't complain about weather because Saudi's a lot hotter, but so help me, it's sweltering here. I hate summer. I almost turned into a puddle yesterday. Star said she would say some nice words if I did. Anyway, we just talked, and I tried a coconut. I mean, obviously, I've had coconuts in Sri Lanka, and they're DELISH. But because of that, I never felt motivated to try coconuts over here, 'cause I knew it wouldn't be good enough. I was right. Refreshing, but just missing the Sri Lankan touch. The white stuff wasn't even that great.
What a pity.
Now I was supposed to leave it here, but then I had to go do some frying for my mother, and another Interesting (or Amusing) Episode took place.
This morning, when my little sisters were getting ready for school, they were fighting, as usual. I was still in bed, but I heard the whole kerfuffle, and, a certain word starting with B and rhyming with 'itch' tumbled out of my 6-year-old sister's mouth. Loud and clear.
Just to clarify, the 9-year-old one came tearing into my room to report the crime.
I was sleepy, so I just rolled over and said I'll deal with it later. This occured about ten hours ago.
Now, while I was frying, some kind of incident occurred, and my older sister locked the Haloomi (nickname of my 6-year-old sister) out of the house, in the backyard. Standard punishment, running in our family since 199something. No big deal. She came running around the other side of the house to get back in through the outdoor kitchen, where I was frying. I decided now was high time that she get punished.
My real concern though, is she didn't look sorry one bit. She gave me the attitude of a teenager. A bit disconcerting coming out of a tiny thing, but there you have it.
"Don't you feel bad for saying what you did?" I asked her. She kind of place a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes.
"Yes," she said, with snotty tone of someone saying le duhhh. I shook my head sadly.
"Well, you sure aren't showing it," I told her.
"Showing what?" she asked.
"Guilt," I sighed. She got all iffy about it, raving on about how could she possibly show it, how Asma (9-year-old sister) started it, how everyone was being mean, how she wanted chicken, blah blah blah. So I told her the story of my first ever swearing experience. My older sister and I had been fighting, also as usual, and having learnt this word recently, I decided to experiment by throwing it at her.
She just went on reacting as enraged as usual - the one word didn't particularly encourage or discourage her anger - but I burst into tears. I felt so dirty and yucky and horrible and cruel and evil and pathetic and just plain awful. This was probably when I was in about grade five - so I was 11 years old.
Anyway, it's not like I went around begging for mercy and apologising, but I think that bawling my eyes out like I did was a clear sign of my guilt, and I never swore again. From memory, anyway. I know a lot of people don't really care, and weirdly enough, I've stopped caring when it's my peers and stuff, but when it comes to a six year old, for God's sake, someone has to be worried, right?
But she just kind of snorted and went: "I can't just cry. I cry for other things. Not this."
"This isn't about crying," I said. "It's about showing that you're really sorry about what you said. Not acting like a stupid, snotty little brat."
She huffed and walked off, and I immersed myself into the wonderfully intriguing world of frying chicken. I even accidentally flicked some oil on myself. Boiling oil on skin - not fun. Don't try it. Then, at some point, she kind of coughed and said: "I'm finished!"
And she kept repeating it, and I kept saying I was too busy to turn around and look. Frying. It takes all your attention with its charm and wit. Eventually, though, I finished. I turned around, looked at the floor, and this is what I saw:
Can you see that? She drew it on the floor. I think I taught my sisters well ♥
ATM:
Writing: Untitled Dream Story. More like planning. And I guess I'll be working on my NaNoWriMo too.
Reading: The House of Special Purpose. John Boyne. Reading slowly 'cause of NaNo, but because it's kind of fragmented, I can afford to. I love Russia.
Listening to: Nothing. Ehm. Yeah.
Feeling: Meh.
Just because I'm still in crazy cat lady mode:
Doesn't he look like he's amused or something, sitting there on my lap? D'aw.
Peace in,Laila
