vicarious lie-ability

"Mum, I don't feel like coming in to the restaurant tonight. I just broke up with my girlfriend." Now if that's not a flawless coming-out spiel, I don't know what is. Huge round of applause to NS (aka Suga). What ensued was a week of festivities dedicated to the Complexity of Being Gaysian.

When Suga's mama finally cornered her for the inevitable intervention, the result was at once heart-wrenching and hilarious:

• Your father won't find out about this.
• Nobody else in our family is like this, so it can't be genetic. You must've talked yourself into it.
• Those white girls, they're only after your money.
• I'm telling you right now, you will die alone.
• ...

Not that I feel an inkling of inclination to follow suit. It isn't something that should be done out of peer pressure, or on the spur of the moment when you literally see the liberation your friend feels and find yourself envious. Sophisticated cost-benefit analyses are involved. Years of sanity, of several parties, are at stake. Besides, my home-front is a lie with or without this sordid dimension.

a week's some-merry

Fri night

Won't use the usual pseudonyms. 'Tsnot safe; for me. Instead:

NG: gayest-acting straight chic I know ('not gay')

NS: straightest-acting gay chic I know ('not straight')

Can you not appreciate the beautiful symmetry already?

The plan was to get plastered/maggoted/shitfaced (gotta love vernacular), in hope of momentarily reversing the smallness of Life and bigness of Problems. NG started off not as complicit as I'd have liked; until she realised that leisurely sipping white wine in a hectic Northbridge budget-dining establishment was a trend worth starting, even if it meant glares from the owner of said establishment.

Fried ice-cream was followed by a wasteful (for it undid part of that lovingly nurtured intoxication) interlude of fumbling along the Terrace towards the site of the State Squash Championships (NG has diverse interests) - and not remotely making it. Whereupon the substance abuse was resumed at my new fave wine bar.

Now let me digress!

Beware of Asiaphiles. They're everywhere. Luckily they're easy to spot; easier yet when they introduce themselves as such. Yep the singer in the bar (if only he manifested one-tenth of the attributes typically associated with this occupation!). I mean, how much gayer must I dress - ditto NG (recall description at start) - to be spared this nonsense? OK that's not the point, and that's also exactly the point. 2 Azn girls 'on their own' in a bar = open invite = fair game? Like, keep tryin' boys - sooner or later you'll stumble across one in heels and a foul mood. (Lucky for our singer we were neither at the time.)

Enough rant. Later a distressed NS crashed our party-of-2 to find solace in a euphoric and therefore empathetic audience. The conversation rapidly deteriorated to somehow centre around NG's OGTs (Obvious Gay Traits), for which I suspect I was partially responsible but I plead diminished capacity in defence.

In said diminsed capacity a lift by NS was declined and the alternative of waiting 50min for the 1am train jollily taken, notwithstanding that it cost NG and I 2hrs' sleep. Well, dero behaviour is becoming a luxury and ought to be savoured at every opportunity.

Sat day

Woke up to the sounds of children playing. It made me happy; yikes I'm maternal. Get to see a different side of N when she's interacting with people her age, it spins me out. I'm excited for her, being a kid and all. I'm also reminded to not overdo the Missing Childhood line; I too have had my fair share of fun.

Sat night

Bro's housemate's birthday party at their house. So many Mormons, so little alcohol. *sigh* I was introduced to everyone as Bro's wife. Not in a closeted way! More in a mocking-the-institution-of-marriage way... no that's not it either. We are practically married. We rock as a couple. When we have enough affluent acquaintances between us to make the ordeal profitable, we'll 'throw a wedding'. Consider yourselves put on notice.

vincible

Moments like this, I forget why it is that I think I can walk away anytime I want.

The picture is perhaps best painted in numbers.

Upshot of his latest business venture, as it affects our home loan:

• 47% increase in the balance owing,
• 37% increase in the minimum fortnightly repayment,
• which translates to 250% of the additional loan being repaid over the entire loan period

The damn thing will need to average 10% p.a. net return over the next 30 years to break-even. And nobody, even in the monstrous Chn economy, makes that kind of profit on a capital outlay measly as this. But of course, I'm all for being contradicted on this point by concrete fact.

Meanwhile:

• Mum may need to look for paid work shortly in order to continue receiving Centrelink parenting allowance => she doesn't want to => I don't want her to, she has enough on her plate as is => methinks some ingenious income tax reporting under my guidance is called for.
• One of our lodgers (the Macau money-pit) moved out yesterday => amidst the celebrations we're alert to the fact that the B&B is now operating at only 2/3 capacity.
• 2.5-day working weeks for dad don't appear to be subject to review => buggered if I know how to coax him into further gainful employment.
• 30yr loan vs. 15 employable years left of the parentals => gee I wonder who'll put their hand up to cover the remaining period? Any takers?

Moments like this, I can but (pretend to) be a mercenary.

mid-week excursion

Time is like cleavage, squeeze and you'll have some.

Just had to share that choice line with y'all.

The day started off badly: a 6pm Procedure tute with hopeless presenters and a tutor who hadn't read my paper and therefore presumed I was in my usual clueless form (which presumption, however, was well-founded given my stunning displays of ignorance to date).

But then I decided, gladly in retrospect, to do what a sizeable portion of Australia would've done this evening: watch the Green-v-Mundine bout at a pub. Venue - the Melbourne. Cohort - Suga & co, and the Albanyan (whom I dragged along because a. she looked like she could use a drink even if she didn't know this until she'd had it, and b. who else would I root for the ethnic boy with?).

Ahh the Albanyan. To think, this time last year, I was convinced we'd never speak again!

Lovely to meet Suga's friendly good-looking successful all-Azn posse. Much as I relish my one-on-ones, I find myself sporadically envious of people with groups of friends who know each other and enjoy quality group-time.

So next up is dim-sum with her folks, whereupon I shall be officially inducted into Suga Domain! Hohoho... Spreading rumours is fun.

Beauty her name

It is. Literally translated.

You've all heard me whinge about her aplenty. A privileged few have suffered her first-hand. But did I ever mention that -

One of my earliest memories is walking with her, head barely up to her hip, arm sore from reaching for hers, and straining to keep up as well as in sync with the click-clack of her heels.

Everytime I saw her emerge from the classroom, chalk dust all over her shoulders and hands, surrounded by adoring chittering students, I thought to myself: Woah, my mum's superhero.

When I was old enough to not deface documents at will, she let me help with marking. It must've taken her longer to prepare a marking guide, supervise, and double-check - than to simply mark the lot herself. But she knew I liked 'working with' her.

She speaks like she's singing. She sings.

Her noodle soup is DA BOM. Before I learned patience and rationing and digging, she'd bury the goodies (fishballs, egg, meat, internal organs, etc.) underneath the noodles, so that I finished with goodies rather than plain noodles. Now there's a lesson for life.

She did all her clothes-shopping with me, and always gave me the final say.

We had the odd visit by vermin (no metaphor; that's a whole other post); show me a household in all of Middle Kingdom that didn't anyway. She had such a knack for cornering the speeding fur-ball and putting it out of its misery with various household items.

...

On this day, to the first woman I ever loved.

mercenary

No idea how I survived last year working 40+ hours a week plus uni plus living with my parents. Tried easing myself back into that nolifestyle by going half-throttle this week (20+ hours' work, ignoring the 2 units with no mid-year exams, dealing with just one parent).

So, lab.

Minuses

• Stuff smells / is radioactive / hides from me
• Regular visits by Azn-wannabe (a politer alternative to 'Asiaphile'?)
• Showing up to tutes afterwards in odourous/radioactive attire
• Being reminded of one man's undying devotion to me whenever I ask him for a work-related favour

Pluses

• $$$ obviously (one of the Honours students asked whether I did it 'voluntarily', whereupon I visibly choked...)
• Internet access 2m from where my gadget is set up
• Getting more study done during the waiting periods than at home (where there's always some matter to attend upon) or in libraries (which categorically put me to sleep)
• The nerd that I am, I get a small kick out of knowing what I'm doing (which kick my legal study seldom provides)
• Did I mention the $$$?

On balance, albeit by a margin, a worthwhile pursuit.

There are prospects of working for this Asian lady lecturer (bugger political correctness) next door. Couple of reservations about the proposal: 1) a general reluctance to work with Azns (I know how hard we work ... our subordinates!); 2) a preconceived inability to maintain sterile conditions (incompatible with any tissue-culture work).

yesterday all my troubles

Wore all black to mourn the passing of timetable-less days. 1 dodgy family business abroad + 2 fauna species on the hit-list + 3 exams 'round the corner = 6 insane weeks to come.

Took preliminary steps toward turning what was once someone else's lab space into my next dungeon. There's a window but, to remind me that outside, day and night just keep on rollin' by.

Detoured on the way home to Find '30 along the river, at nightfall. A small indulgence which has overtaken semi-napping-in-car (whilst car stationary) and composing-incoherent-dribble as Preferred Me-Time. I'd say more about the breathtaking simplicity of Being-Not-Doing etc if I could come up with anything remotely original.

two kids in a rotten candy-store

... would be more impressed than we were at Sexpo '06. Still, conscious of the kinds of activities which we at our age ought to partake more in, Dr Prozac and I garnered enough enthusiasm to check out every stall, take the token amusement ride (if only it was as seedy as that sounds!), and wince at an instructional video about exfoliating the male's nether region.

The above notwithstanding, Saturday nights out with the Doc rock my world. And no amount of overpriced entrées or cleanskin wine could ever make it otherwise.

Dr McDreamy-to-be

We run into each other for the first time in 5 months. He remembers my name (his returns to me 5min later) and notes my protracted absence. I am easily coaxed into gatecrashing the Pharm sundowner with him. He volunteers reflections on his experience in the current surgery rotation. I am almost ready to gatecrash the ward where he's headed afterwards. He moves closer ostensibly to get away from the shrieking girls behind him.

The whole encounter is dampened somewhat by a handshake goodbye... Like, wtf?

Next time I'm asking him to coffee and showing him what a proper friendly gesture looks like.

varicella-zoster virus

Sounds nasty huh. N's been kicked out of school indefinitely for carrying the bugger.

Don't panic it's just chickenpox! Well, not 'just', as it looks positively uncomfortable.

Not many people who've raised children will readily admit to it but that doesn't make it any less true: the little ones at least double in adorableness when drugged up!!! Sedatives take the edge off 'em and release the angels within. *evil laugh* N is sooo cute fumbling about the house all groggy and top-heavy. And she does this incredible weary almost-smile; for her age anyway.

Upon learning that I may not have had chickenpox yet (my superb memory obviously didn't come from mum) and that grown-ups who get it suffer way worse than kids ('cos then it's even more herpes-like!), N promptly issued a restraining order against me in respect of her. Oh she's my darling. More than once she stopped dead mid-motion and retreated, after realising that she'd inadvertently come too close.

Gonna miss our cuddles terribly for the next 2 weeks.

ad(verse)venture

I reserve judgment on this matter, save to observe that last time the guy dabbled in business, he ended up fleeing the Motherland and disappearing from my life for 6 years.

I should be so lucky again... but no. Must engage, lord help me. Being an accomplice in the farce, howsoever unwillingly, 'tis incumbent upon me to minimise the damage. So: mediate, diffuse, facilitate - but mostly sabotage. Ma has taught me well and the fine family tradition (of bailing-him-out) is proudly passed on.

A commission perhaps?