my own kind of baptism.

Now Playing: Teardrops on My Guitar by Taylor Swift (I fake a smile so he won't see)

I've always been fascinated with water. I'm not much of a horoscope hokum fan but my mother always used to tell me that I'm a water baby, her water baby. I've never been much of a swimmer (stamina issues...my swimming coach just didn't believe me when I tried telling her that heart problems + small lung capacity + tendancy for my legs and feet to cramp up for no apparent reason = limited ability to swim laps of perfect breastroke) but I love the water. I love soaking in water so hot it almost hurts, and the weakness and trembling sets in and slowly fades as the water cools.

I love the rain. I love playing in the rain. I don't understand why, but it makes me feel alive. When everyone runs and hides - from water? - I run out, go crazy. And catch a cold, but I'm not always one to think of the consequences.

Have you ever been in a pool, all by yourself, and you go under and hold your breath and shut your eyes and everything is still and quiet, you can't feel anything, you can't see anything, and you're so beautifully alone but you're not lonely?

I've always been fascinated with the almost universal link between water and physical and spiritual purity. Every religion has it. I mean, it's an obvious link, but...I don't know, there's something beautiful about the symbolism of it. 

The Jewish concept of the mikveh, for example, fascinates me. The mikveh is a ritual pool that is used by both men and women for physical and spiritual cleansing, but specifically the mikveh is used by women on the night before their wedding, five days after the menstrual period ends, in the ninth month of pregnancy and after post partum bleeding ceases. The connection between water and blood and sex and being clean and unclean is pronounced (I mean, let's face it, you feel crap enough on your period without a major religion telling you you're 'impure), and I don't really agree with that, but it's a beautiful idea, ritually cleansing oneself just for you, for your family, and for your God.

Just because I don't believe in it doesn't mean I can't respect it. It's a beautiful ritual.

But I'm an atheist. I'm pretty much stuck with bubble baths and chlorinated pools.

Except...

When I go camping sometimes we stop by beautiful little streams, or beaches that nobody ever goes to. In Korea we went mountain climbing and drank from the coldest streams of pure mountain water (flicking away a few beetles...I'm not squeamish). Also in Korea there are public baths, which sound gross but once you're there it's...relaxing. Refreshing. You understand why the Romans did it; get away from it all. Korean society is a bit like Roman society; competitive, crazy, confusing. The bath is not any less chaotic, but it's steamy and cleansing, a world of women. I think that's what I like best. Men complicate my life too much. I like being in a world of women. 

There are choices you make in life. I've done things that pretty much every major religion would frown upon, I've said things against every single religion I know, even my existence is religiously incorrect. I don't like feeling guilty, or feeling like I have to change and conform to some morality that I don't really agree with. My conscience is clean, when I'm not completely out of it (when I'm completely out of it I become more self-loathing than a flagellant) and that's all I need. I let myself be myself, I let myself do things for pleasure and for profit. I have the highest respect for human nature, and the only person who needs to be confident that I haven't done anything I might regret is, well, me. I've turned my back on God and religion, ironically, for the greater good. But I can't help but feel like I'm missing out on things, that a part of me needs the comfort of something higher than human company. Sometimes it's very lonely...and if I'm a fallen woman, well, I'm in freefall.

Now Playing: I'm Not Calling You a Liar by Florence + The Machine (I love you so much I'm gonna let you kill me)

It's funny how during exams all I wanted to do was eat and dress up and go out and watch movies...

And now I feel almost bad, not studying ;P

Year twelve is a rollercoaster. It's not just the endless essays and assignments and exams and passing and failing and all of that. It's different, this year. For me, anyway. I am much more myself, much more open, much more raw and vulnerable. It's...doing weird things.

I'm more confident. I'm not afraid to lose people by being who I am. If they walk away, well, it's their loss. Because if you're not being yourself, and they love someone who isn't you...well then, you don't have them, anyway. I might not be the most pretty, popular kid out there, but I'm not that superficial. I can offer things that other teenagers can't even wrap their heads around. Loyalty. Trust. Respect. Acceptance. I don't judge, and I don't hold back.

I've been reminded just how small high school is. It's not the end of anything, and these people aren't the only people I'll ever meet. It's just a little taste of what life might be like. 

Last year I felt like I knew it all. Now it feels like I don't know anything. But that's okay. You can only change an empty cup into an open one.

what goes up must come down.

Now Playing: Fix You by Coldplay (lights wil guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you)

I don't really know what's wrong with me. I don't understand how it all works. What I do know is that I have what you might call...mood swings. But they're more than just that.

The littlest things, like going out or talking to people or just having someone smile at me, can trigger ecstasy. I am euphoric. I am so unbelievably and irrationally happy I laugh at everything, I smile at anything, I love everyone. It can last just a few hours, a few days, or even months and months of just being completely and blissfully content.

But what goes up must come down. The adrenalin...there's the rush, and then there's the crash. It's almost like depression, but not really. But I am in a different frame of mind, morally, emotionally. I never do things that I genuinely regret, but when I'm in a dark place I do dwell on the what ifs and could bes and consequences of things. Things that I was fine with, things that I have done without regret, things that I have said, things that other people have done, suddenly make me crawl. It's a combination of a sudden change in morality and a distinctly acute awareness of what other people might think.

It's not entirely pleasant, and not at all in my control. I can hide both of them to a certain extent, but that's not entirely helpful; I'm more prone to outbursts when I push everything under, and it lasts longer if I can't get it all out. It's not something that lasts forever - unlike real depression - but I just have to ride it out. I can, temporarily, put it out of my mind, but it's always there, lurking. Night time is the hardest; if the day's been busy and I haven't had enough me time it'll all come out when I go to bed and I'll cry myself to sleep for no apparent reason. Writing helps; I have a diary now, but seeing as I only write in it when I'm euphoric or depressed it actually reads like a log book in a mental asylum, and of course my blog, my beloved blog. Talking helps, too, but now I find that there are only certain things I can talk about to certain people - I don't have one person to whom I can just dump everything on. The hardest part is that, when I am a little down, I get so angry about things that I'm either fine with or pretend to be fine with, but I can't bring it up, I can't get angry at people, I can't lash out when there's nothing really to lash out about, which does not help my mood at all. And because the triggers are so little it's hard to explain how and why; people don't realize that it's not the trigger that matters, it doesn't matter if it's something petty and trivial or huge and paradigm-shifting; as long as cause and effect is there, the wheel is in motion.

But it's okay. I'm okay with it all. It's how I am. And it's not always one extreme or the other; if nothing triggers anything (it's funny how the littlest things can trigger but the biggest things are sometimes easier to swallow) I am more or less normal; or as normal as I can be, anyway. And I'm glad that the depression is an exception, not a rule; I am, honestly, happy.

But I just need people to understand...understand that when I am going through the motions I'm not myself. I might say things or do things that aren't always thought through. I might be angry, or upset, or sad or hurt or disgusted but it really, genuinely isn't you, it's me. And I just need the security of just knowing that I'm not freaking people out with all of this. I will listen to anything, I can handle anything - stuff like this or much, much worse - and it would be just lovely if just one or two people could return the favour; 'you're crazy but I love you', as it were. I will always be there for people, and people can tell me anything; anything, really, I've seen and heard it all. Don't get me wrong, people have been very understanding, and it's very sweet and touching. I don't want people to judge me or run away from me because of all of this, because I have a very real reason not to judge people. I know I am being difficult but I don't have a choice. It's not exactly something to be proud of, but I'm not ashamed of how I feel.

So for everyone who hasn't run for the hills, for everyone who hasn't branded me a freak, for everyone who hasn't accused me of being...I don't know, I've been accused of far too many things...Thank you. Seriously.

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #38

Now Playing: The Scientist by Coldplay (Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry, you don't know how lovely you are.)

#312: Too many Ryans?

#313: ESTROGEN RUSH!!!

#314: I was dancing to Death Will Never Conquer and drinking ginger beer. That does not constitute being drunk.

#315: I was aiming for 50s but I think I got lost in the 80s. Ah well, RED CONVERSES FOR THE WIN

#316: 오빠

#317: NO MORE EXAMS!!!!! WOOOT!!!!! 

#318: Psychology exam screw up. LOLS. 

오빠

Now Playing: Breaking Down (Live) by Florence + The Machine (all alone, even when I was a child I've always known there was something to be found)

It's really funny how nobody can really categorize me. I mean, everyone knows that I'm Asian, but I don't act very Asian. I only bring ramen noodles to school if it's really cold. I look like a ghost in BB cream (cosmetics in Asia come in two colours: pale and paler). I am exponentially bad at maths and science.

My mother is Singaporean, but ethnically her family are from Canton, China. My dad is from forty generations of Korean blue blood. People can never really pin down where I come from, and are even more confused when I say that I was born here. I look a lot like my mum, but I don't really have the dreaded Singaporean mentality. When I was little I didn't look one smidge Korean, because I was small and dark, but now that I'm bigger and paler and I've got the high cheekbones and Korean lips apparently I look like my 친할머니.

I don't like how some people here in the Asian community present themselves. I for one am very proud of being Asian and I respect and embrace my Asian cultural background, but there are some real douches who give us all a bad name. Some people carry themselves with no dignity, no common sense and seem to lack anything commendable; intelligence, humility, grace. And as an ethnic minority, we all get branded for stupidity.

I used to be very proud of telling people I'm Korean - back in the day, when I grew up with such delightful people who thought that Alaska was in Spain, Melbourne was a state and hadn't the foggiest idea what Korea was (if she has a Korea I want a Korea too!). But now it can get a bit annoying.

I seriously hate the K-Pop fandom thingy. I hate it when people try and be Korean. Only someone like me can see how unbelievably stupid they look.

You do not know everything about a society just because you can belt out a badly-accented song in a language you don't even understand. You are not 'Korean' if you eat ramen noodles and are lusting after some K-Pop singer. And you are *definitely* not Korean if you call everyone 오빠!  

오빠 (oppa) means 'elder brother', but only if you're a girl; boys call their brothers 형(hyeong). But because in Korean society you never refer to anyone older than you by their given name (can you imagine what a nightmare grade skipping would be over there?) girls will normally call boys who are a little older than them 오빠, but only boys you know really well; close friends, and maybe a boyfriend if he's older. The above are the only acceptable contexts to call someone 오빠.

I'm one of the younger cousins in my paternal family - I think I am the youngest granddaughter. I call a lot of people 오빠. I have cousins and cousins and cousins (and brothers in law), and it's so good to have all these 'brothers'. But in Australia, I know maybe one boy who I might call 오빠. But he wouldn't get it, and the people who would get it would get it wrong.

To me, it's a title. Calling someone brother, but the term is not as defined as it is in English; it's a cross between brother/friend/sweetie/etc. In Korea cousins are brothers and sisters - my younger cousins call me 누나 (nuna), or elder sister, and my cousin's children call me 이모 (imo) or maternal aunt, and it's adorably sweet  but also very instinctual - they don't think twice about it, there's nothing else they could possibly call me. For people outside of the family, it's a term of endearment - like calling someone 'sweetie'; it's sweet and I do it all the time (all the time. I'm one of those girls who calls everyone sweetie.) it doesn't actually mean anything other than being friends. I *hate* it when people who aren't Korean try and use random words like 오빠, especially in the completely wrong context. Calling popstars 오빠 is weird, calling random boys on the street 오빠 is weird, calling people you don't know 오빠 is weird, using the word 오빠 to make yourself seem cute or imply some kind of sexual fetish is just weird weird weird. Don't do it.    

I've been to Korea three times. I have a huge Korean family, quite a traditional one, and it's fascinating, the culture, the traditions, the society. I could never live in Korea, not permamently - too much sets my teeth on edge - but I always love going back. It is an incredibly complex and diverse culture, and it's irritating that people just see one element of it - the K-Pop, which is Korea's biggest export - and think that they know everything about a very ancient and beautiful society. You don't know everything about Italy just because you ate lasagne for dinner last Tuesday.   

Australia is an immigration nation, whether we like it or not. Racial diversity is something to be celebrated, but sometimes I feel like I'm ridiculed for it. And it's because of random crap like this.

crow dance.

I saw a crow dancing on your roof today
I could see the shimmer of black gloss
And its littlespindlyfeet were

taptaptapping
Along

The crow saw me and smiled at me
Death's messanger or an angel in disguise?
But its littlespindlyfeet were

taptaptapping
Along

Macabre and surreal
Empires fall, and hearts break
But all I will remember of today
Were its littlespindlyfeet

taptaptapping
Along

I fell in love with a crow today
Just swaying to the beat
Because its littlespindlyfeet were

taptaptapping
Along

wax lyrical

Now Playing: Part of Me by Katy Perry (you ripped me off, your love was cheap, was always tearing at the seams)

I've always wanted to know what music people listen to when they write.

Seems like an odd fixation, but I love my music. I always listen to music, especially when I write.

In terms of taste I'll admit I like a lot of Top 40 stuff. But my heart belongs to Taylor Swift, Florence + The Machine, Kimbra, Adele and Coldplay.

Kimbra is all me; I don't actually know anyone else who likes Kimbra, which is sad, because it's amazing. One of my girlfriends got me completely addicted to Florence + The Machine, and I vaguely liked a few Coldplay singles but it's only this year that I've dug through their old stuff to find things I like.

I've taken to including a little snippet of lyrics with each post, and people might think it a little weird to rip off lyricsmode.com. Allow me to explain.

I listen to music primarily for the lyrics. I think I have about three songs on my iPod that don't have lyrics: Across The Stars, which is the love theme from Star Wars, but that has a whole movie of dialogue to substitute as lyrics; Danse Macabre, by Camille Saint-Saens, because it is a symphonic poem and it really does tell a story, and a couple of random dubstep tracks that a certain friend got stuck in my head. But everything else has lyrics. I know so many lyrics, it's ridiculous. It doesn't matter if I can't sing something, I know every single word. I have a few Korean tracks on my iPod, but only if I know the lyrics in translation. I need to know the meaning of music, you know? The message, the story. That's also why I love music videos. And that's why a lot of my poems are inspired by songs.

So forgive me if I wax lyrical. But...if you play the song that I write at the beginning of each blog post, you'll quite literally be inside my head. Isn't that cool?

random things i've done in the name of procrastination:

Now Playing: Death Will Never Conquer (Live) by Coldplay (one day death is going to conquer me, I'll be down where the waters flow)

1. Facial! (my face is green and tingly at the moment...The Body Shop Tea Tree Face Mask is Uh-May-Zing)

2. Blog. Way, way too much.

3. I've never been so religious about coconut oil until exam week

4. Email...(I'm old school like that)

5. Dance to Death Will Never Conquer. Or You Belong With Me. Or Kiss With a Fist. Or Warrior. You get the picture.

6. One Directioning! Is very addictive!

7. Watching comedy. I love standup. My favourites are Adam Hills, Jeff Green, Wil Anderson, Jack Whitehall, Russell Howard and Ed Byrne.

8. I actually have a notebook I carry around everywhere. I write down random thoughts, funny ideas, the beginnings of poems I hardly ever finish. I do it really quickly and discreetly, people don't notice. I've become a crazy person.

9. I can't sing because I'm still sick (sore throat...waahh...) so I've just been miming really dramatically. Is quite disturbing when people see me and don't understand that when I sing/lip sync, I am LOST IN DA MUSIC.

yeah...about that.

Now Playing: Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine (though the pressure's hard to take, it's the only way I can escape, seems a heavy choice to make, and now I am under)

Apparently this story is making the rounds of Facebook...

Okay. I missed my Politics exam. Happy?

And it was my fault, I'll admit it. The long, boring story cut short (but still boring) is that I changed my exam timetable whilst it was still being drafted, and so the deputy principal wrote on my draft exam timetable. When I got the final copy it looked exactly the same as the draft, so I kept the draft with me because the changes were written on. I don't know, it made sense in my head.

But apparently, the two copies were different. You know I don't do numbers and the layout of the timetable doesn't make it easy to pick out the times. The politics exam was swapped from afternoon to morning. And so of course I showed up in the afternoon. I sat the exam that afternoon, no big deal.

Yeah, I'm a muppet.

There. Really not that interesting.

A Thousand Thousand Fearless Things #37

Now Playing: Cameo Lover (Live at Sing Sing Studios) by Kimbra (every day's like talking in your sleep, love feels like a silhouette in dreams)

#299: I can dance on the verge in the middle of the city if I want to. 

#300: You know you're stressed when the first thing someone says to you is 'Are you high?'

#301: Soul destroying. Lol. My sympathies are with the maths spec students. I'm looking pretty intelligent now, huh?

#302: Love and other animals

#303: Curiosity killed the cat. But I'm not a freaking cat. 

#304: Sleeping Beauty ;P

#305: Coconut oil. Muchos love.

#306: This lack of routine is seriously screwing with my head.

#307: Pfft. Learn to multitask, woman. 

#308: At last! I have a second opinion! ALL YOU FREAKING TALK ABOUT IS BASKETBALL.

#309: Epsom salt + raw sugar + coconut oil + honey = heaven (don't eat it! find something else to do with it...)

#310: Arguing with a teapot is scarier than it sounds...

#311: Now is beautiful.