...It's because he's a boy...

Whenever a boy would treat me like dirt (and believe me, a lot of my *friends* have treated me like dirt) my friends and family would always say: 'Don't worry about it. You can't even blame him...it's because he's a boy'.

Put aside the fact that it's horribly degratory (I'm debating whether degratory is a word at the moment) and sexist, isn't it horribly, I dunno, unfair? It's like boys get let off the hook for all the crazy shit some of them do, because of their sex. If you look at it from a masculist perspective, it's horribly unfair to boys as well, like they're not expected to do any better. And believe me, I expect a lot from boys, and I think 'it's because he's a boy' is a lousy excuse. But they say it all the time!

And they say it to whatever things boys get up to, and, trust me, some of the boys round here get up to the worst: dumping online, cheating and then admitting it, pulling the whole 'we can still be friends' after ripping a girl's pride up and strewing it across the streets...

I mean, seriously. Having someone you love dump you and saying 'we can still be friends' is like having your dog die and your mum saying 'you can still keep it'. The sooner guys learn that, the better.

Another thing that bugs me:

Those classic, horribly stereotypical remarks like: 'She's pretty smart...for a blonde' or 'She's incredibly good looking...for an Asian'. Like they don't expect blondes to be smart (okay, most dumb people I've met are blonde, but that doesn't mean most blonde people I've met are dumb), or that Asians aren't pretty. I mean, can we just put aside the sex, race and appearance of someone? Someone is either pretty, or not pretty. Not 'pretty for a 24 year old' or 'pretty...considering what her sister looks like', just plain pretty.

Why is that so hard to comprehend?

Some minor layout changes...

The 'Followers' List is now the FBI'S OFFICIAL LIST OF THE CRAZIEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, or words to that effect (can't remember).

My blog archive now dates oldest to newest as apposed to newest to oldest (because a blog should be read as it was written - oldest to newest), and is now called 'random ramblings', because that is what they are.

I've also decided that 'About Me' is too boring and lame so I've made it a bit more pokeynuts.

The Feedjit thing is now The Stalkerific Thing That Now Dictates My Life, because it's true! I obsessively compulsively study it when I have nothing else to do. I know where you sleep, I know how you got here, I know everything there is to know about you and everything that isn't there to know about you...

Just joking.

But seriously....

Cheap Chinese.

In Australia, Chinese food has a notorious reputation for being dirt-cheap and a perfect choice for nights out on a tight budget.

I'm not entirely convinced that's a very good reputation to have, but because the steady stream of middle class people keep Chinese restaurants full to the brim with good business, the Chinese don't complain.

The thing is, to a Chinese person, Chinese food is not cheap. Chinese food is fairly priced, and Western food is just damn expensive. Besides, the Chinese restaurants that Western people go to are far from cheap or good anyway, for our standards.

The thing is, you don't pick out a Chinese restaurant the way you pick out a Western restaurant. When you pick out a Western restaurant, you look at the decor. It should have nice lighting, stylish interiors and sexy furnishing. All of this stuff in a Chinese restaurant gives the impression that they're trying to make up for the less-than-sexy food.

Then you look at the menu. The menu should be clean, professionally-printed, and typo-free, and should have the fancy, haven't-got-a-clue-what-the-hell-that-is names of the dishes listed, and underneath a detailed description which, behind all the fancy names and enticing adjectives, really doesn't tell you much. In a Chinese restaurant, this standard of English and professionalism is just creepy. All this stuff is appealing to Westerners, not Chinese people. The lack of typos and the flamboyant language shows the lack of authenticity - after all, a good customer shouldn't really understand the English part of the menu anyway.

The authenticity, or the distinct lack of it, can be most easily discovered by looking at the customers. A big family or group, especially one that doesn't speak English and has lots of old people in it, is a good sign of Asian authenticity. Asians who don't speak English generally don't settle for substandard food from their motherland, and all old folks are picky, and picky people don't go to crap restaurants. Authentic restaurants have authentic (i.e crazily cheap) prices, which means Westerners stay away from these kind of places. Authentic restaurants are generally small, generally shabby, generally have waiters who speak fluent garbage and broken English, and generally have a menu which is in Chinese and pin-yin, and therefore incomprehensible to the non-Chinese speaking person.

In Singapore, to get the best food from a hawker place there is one simple, basic rule: Join the biggest queue. The same holds true for Chinese restaurants here. Don't go for the big, grand one with the big, grand furnishings and the big, grand name - because, it will most likely be a big, grand fail. Join the smallest, noisiest, loudest, most boisterous place you can find.

What can you say? I'm proud of being a small, noisy, loud, boisterous Chinese.

...back to normal.

Okay, back to normal posting now. Sorry about the sudden halt in the post flow, I'm just...going through a rough time at the moment.

Anyway.

If you're a young person like me, do you ever feel...lost in the crowd? Sometimes I feel like when I talk, no-one's listening. Like my opinions and thoughts are irrelevant to decisions made for you about your life, by other people. It's like I'm caught between the world of children and the world of adults, and my opinion just isn't taken seriously.

I try to stand tall and not be a pushover to old farts trying to take over my life, but it's so hard. I try and be big and brave and strong, but sometimes I feel so...small.

As much as I am an advocate of women's and children's rights, I am also a huge supporter of youth rights movement. After all, we are the ones who have to save the world from all the shit our parents got us into. When all you old folks are blissfully rotting away in cemeteries we'll be desperately trying to pull this crazy chaos called society together. Some thanks might be nice, you know, some gratitude for what we have to do, some sympathy about the huge task ahead. But no.

People dismiss the voice of the young people as being uneducated, naive and ignorant, but seriously, people understimate what young people can do. They underestimate what young energy and young passion can drive young people to do.

I'm just telling you this now: don't.

The Playlist of K

So...I'm really sorry for not properly posting for such a long time - I noticed I'm losing readers...eek...but I'm just not in the right frame of mind to blog at the moment.

So here is the Playlist of K (there's no particular order):

1. You're Not Sorry, Taylor Swift
2. Should've Said No, Taylor Swift
3. Picture to Burn, Taylor Swift
4. My Happy Ending, Avril Lavigne
5. If I Were A Boy, Beyonce
6. Too Little Too Late, Jojo
7. White Horse, Taylor Swift
8. I'm Not Missing You, Stacie Orrico
9. What Hurts The Most, Rascal Flatts
10. How To Save A Life, The Fray

So there you go.

Once again, I must apologise for having such a long gap between posts. The thing is, everything that has happened between then and now is too personal - and, I must admit, too painful - to write about, although I'm sure it would have been a very interesting, juicy read.

Maybe not.

My life is like a soap opera at the moment, with too-dramatic-to-believe climaxes and sudden endings that leave you with this horrible sense of emptiness. And then, just like all those crappy shows that they force you to watch during midday tv whilst you wait impatiently for prime time, things just randomly pick up again - and then end with a tragic cliffhanger.

Because I haven't got the guts to explain in all the gory detail exactly what went right - and what went wrong - about my weekend, I'll let Taylor Swift do the talking. If you listen to these songs in order, you might get the gist.

1. Teardrops on My Guitar
2. I'd Lie
3. You Belong With Me
4. Crazier
5. Our Song
6. You're Not Sorry
7. Picture To Burn
8. White Horse

Can you believe it? Eight songs in three days.

Crazy...

ThatRachGirl.

Please invite me to your new blog. It's driving me nuts.

I will add you to Splinters and all of that ASAP.

Arwen Burns

Thanks to my stalkerific gadgets, I've found out that most of the Americans who stop by have all come from google after searching 'arwen burns'.

Out of pure curiousity, can someone please tell me what that is all about?

Thanks.

See, this is why optimistic writing sucks.

As I predicted, no comments on my latest, happy-shoes post. As emo as this sounds, the best writing is truly negative, and as much as I would love to change that, that's just that.

I mean, unless you have something truly inspirational and awe-inspiring to write about, positive writing just comes across as cheesy, tacky, obnoxious...etc.

Which brings me to a story that I have found truly inspirational: It's called The Miller, His Son and Their Donkey, or various variations to that effect. It shows how you can spend your entire life trying to please the world, and end up with nothing, not even a pleased world.

Here is one version of it:

The Miller, His Son and Their Donkey

"I shall have to sell that donkey of ours," said a miller to his son. "I can not afford to keep him through the winter. I will take him to town this very morning to see if I can find a buyer. You may go with me." In a little while the miller, his son, and the donkey were on their way to town.
They had not gone far when they met some girls going to a party. They were talking and laughing as they went along. One of them said, "Look at that man and boy driving a donkey. One of them surely might ride."
The miller heard what they said, and quickly made his you mount the donkey, while he walked along at its side.
After a while they came to a group of old men who were talking very earnestly. "There," said one, "I was just saying that boys and girls have no respect for the aged. You see it is true in this case. See that boy riding while his old father has to walk."
"Get down, my son," said his father, "and I will ride." So they went on.
They next met some women coming from town. "Why!" they cried, "your poor little boy is nearly tired out. How can you ride and make him walk?" So the miller made his son ride on the donkey behind him.
They were now in town. A man coming down the street called to the miller, "Why do you make your donkey carry such a load? You can carry him better than he can carry you."
At this the miller and his son got off the donkey. They tied the donkey's legs together, turned him over on his back; and began to carry him.
A crowd soon gathered to see the strange sight. As they were crossing a bridge the donkey became frightened at the hooting of the crowd. He broke loose, fell into the river, and was drowned.
The miller was angry and ashamed. He said, "There! I have tried to please everybody and have only made a fool of myself. After this I shall do as I think best and let people say what they will."

(from Fifty Famous Fables , by Lida Brown McMurry)

So who are you - the people who laugh and scorn at people who do things their way, the dumb miller, or the miller who realizes that there is no better way to do things than your way? Or, are you like me...the son?

Ten Things I Like About Me and My Life

1. I can write. I haven't met anyone who can deny that
2. I have all the basics - food, water, shelter, etc...
3. I have my awesome blog with my awesome readers
4. I have perfect pitch
5. I got to skip a grade in English - that does bring you a certain amount of status
6. I'm not dead and, with any luck, I won't be dead anytime soon
7. I have the most awesome outfit for the next social, which I hopefully won't miss like I did the last one.
8. Despite having no boyfriend, I have other loves in my life - food, music, family, friends...my computer...
9. Being single does have it's advantages - I can flirt and ogle at eye candy (c'mon, there is nothing cuter than a senior with a six-pack) as much as I like.
10. I have nice hair.

Oh, and lucky last: I love my mum.

So there you have it, I do love life after all.