tank man, tanked woman

A not-overly-Chn of-Chn-descent associate of mine caught a documentary on SBS last night about the "incident" that took place at Tian'anmen Square in early June 1989, and asked for "my thoughts on it". As with all things remotely "political" (in the conventional sense of that word at least), I don't have an opinion on what-happened or what-it-all-meant. I can only say a little about what-I-thought-happened and what-it-meant-to-me. (Yah, stark distinctions there.)

I was six years old at the time of the tank man. Even with my astounding perceptiveness and unparalleled memory, little of the initial impact remains:

People talked about it even where we were, on the other side of the country. So whatever media blackout that'd been implemented wasn't an entire success. How could it be, in a land of twelve-plus billion.

There was something about a highly esteemed (until then, that is) newsreader getting the sack (as well as having more nasty stuff happen to him) for refusing to ... follow the auto-cue, basically. I think it's stuck with me because it was the first, maybe the only, different thing that I noticed anyone (meaning the anchor; not whoever took care of him) do.

Phrases like "reactionary elements", "counterrevolutionaries", "restoring the peace" got bounced around in the media, as can be expected. But "delinquents", "troublemakers", "crowd control" seemed to be more user-friendly alternatives around the dinner table; and even these came up only occasionally, with ambivalence.

Whatever its global/historical significance, the "incident" touched my tiny unremarkable life in a tangible way: it made it more difficult for my father to leave the country. (Haha y'all were expecting something more dramatic/traumatic, weren't ya?) If my family hadn't been stressing over dad's visa application, they'd've had even less reason to touch upon the subject.

I remember having questions, but not what they were. I remember having them dodged by the grown-ups I'd asked, but not how. Not that I asked many questions growing up; I preferred to speculate and theorise. My people (take that however you like) are not the communicating kind.

Cut to high school. I discovered docos on SBS like the one my associate did last night. I researched a bit. But my stamina waned when I realised that I wasn't all that interested in finding out what-really-happened, nor did I care for anybody's take on the matter. Whatever happened happened, and it didn't work, however much awakening/upheaval/coming-of-age spin you put on it. And that was what, if anything, I took from this page in the history books.

Nature or nurture, protest in all its marching/chanting/petition-flogging/hunger-striking/... glory, isn't in my blood. I don't follow the news (I'll need to once work starts, but only with considerable discipline and feigned enthusiasm). I admire people who have politics and are able to articulate and advance them, even the ones with stupid ideas and stupider ways of expressing them; but I have no similar aspirations. You could say that I'm big on Control, and try to avoid getting worked up over things-I-can't-do-much-about.

Such is not the mentality of a future world leader, I suspect. But does it necessarily make me feeble-minded / near-sighted / globally irresponsible? Fine, maybe it does. But I have my way and I'm stickin' to it.

Time may be infinite, but my time on earth isn't. Human suffering may be boundless, but that of those around me might be abated, but only to an extent directly proportional to the amount of time I don't squander on contemplating Higher Truths and formulating Abstract Solutions. I'll still indulge in the squandering from time to time (unfortunate and inadvertent pun), but purpose is to be found elsewhere - somewhere more conspicuous and less convoluted, I hope.

I am acutely aware of the infinitesimal ripple that my existence could foreseeably cause in the giant stale pond of all-that-is-wrong-with-the-world. However, what is faith but belief in the Interconnectedness of Everything? Do no harm, and a little good each day, everyone - and the world shall keep spinnin' nicely ... until it doesn't, obviously, but that's nothing us homo sapiens should lose sleep over.

me me me

It is your birthday, and I have something special for you, something I wouldn't give just anyone: a plain English, un-cryptic, glimpse of... me. Ha!

I blog because I have an over-inflated sense of my literary ability but am not creative enough to tackle anything more sophisticated. I have this blog because it's a less stressful alternative to emailing. Email is so, 1-on-1, I can't help but wait for a reply. Not as in demand it; more like the same way I don't say something to someone without expecting some kind of reaction howsoever minimal. Whereas here, feedback is strictly icing-on-the-cake, as opposed to end-in-itself. (BUT do not tell me that you'd-comment-except-that-nobody-else-has. What is this, primary school? Yeah, you know who you are. *death glare*)

How was that b'day girl? You think the Doc will take the hint and help me honour my pledge to you? :p Anyway, moving along...

I am ready to leave home. Physically and (I detest this word even if I do embrace the concept) emotionally. To sever that invisible umbilical cord. I'll always want to do more for my family than is within my means or my will. But what I want for them is not necessarily what they want, or need. And in all fairness they ask very little of me; it's just that, of that which they do, I am largely incapable of delivering. So there's no point trying too hard. <= If that sounds negative it's not intended to. This attitude is best for everyone.

My world is very small at the moment. I can count with my socks on the number of people I have regular contact with. Beyond that I'm neither able nor willing to make an effort. It's pathetic, I know, and I hope it's only a phase - 'cos I'm getting bored with the lot I've been hangin' out with... Seriously though, unhappy ppl depress me, happy ppl embitter me, stupid ppl annoy me, intelligent ppl intimidate me, lazy ppl aggravate me, ambitious ppl frustrate me, etc. you get the picture. A no-win situation if you ask me, this socialising business. So I'm laying low.

I have the services of 1 or 2 toll-free, on call, albeit unlicensed, therapists. I feel blessed as anyone would to have someone put up with my endless repetitive BS. But more than that I am worried and scared. Because said therapists happen to be people I love and need, and I don't know what I'll do when at last my BS drives them away. How to not give my worst to the ones who matter the most, is by far my greatest dilemma.

I am amazed that I've liked (for want of any adequate yet un-melodramatic word) someone for this long (longer than I've had any job or serious hobby) and with an intensity so out of proportion to my limited knowledge and understanding of the person. In spite of everything, it is a good thing what happened to me. Comforting, for one, to know that contrary to previous suspicions I too am possessed of the full spectrum of human emotions. Not a day goes by that I don't think about what I could've done differently so that things wouldn't have turned out as badly as they have. But since time travel is unlikely to become commercially available in our lifetimes, I can but take my lessons and move on. I don't know when or where or for whom I'll feel this way again, but I look forward to it all.

unsolicited

Purport: spin-doctoring for a spun-out doctor-to-be
Substance: the usual head-in-ass self-aggrandising crap
Premise: don't worry be happy

not liking everything about yourself?

• you're a rational, perceptive, conscientious individual who always strives to better yourself.
• keep your perceived inadequacies to yourself. bluff, and the world will laugh with you.

all work and no play make for gloomy days?

• fun is a state of mind. conceal well with a stern, studious exterior.
• work now, rule later.

contemplating infidelity?

• see above.
• for a member of the Developed West (be it nations or suburbs), you have attained a level of Enlightenment which most never will - namely, that of Heart Over Head.

experiencing alcohol withdrawal?

• good. maybe your liver will have a chance after all.

having difficulties meeting like-minded people?

• you're fiercely individual, and should shun anyone who attempts to stifle your essence. Woody Allen put it best: never belong to a club that would have you as a member.
• besides, more friends => more drinking/whining/infidelity => less time for introspection/world domination/rehabilitating your liver. not worth it, I say.

unsure, anxious, scared even - about the direction your life is headed?

• congratulations. at last we have proof that you're human.
• forget the destination. remember the scenic routes.

sense and insensitivity

If you happen to read this, and work out that it's about you - apologies in advance for such indiscretion and for any offence taken however unlikely the event. I reiterate my gossiping policy which appears on the cover page. Moreover, not that I'm scraping for excuses, nobody else reading this has met you and if they ever do I know they'll adore you as much as I do. Trust me - I may have poor taste generally, but I have great taste in people.

For a decent part of Honours year I half-heartedly nurtured a healthy-sized crush on this guy. Half-hearted for it was a love affair doomed from the start. Among the obstacles standing in our way were:

1. our comparable lack of basic social skills;
2. his utter oblivion to the whole thing, for the most part anyway (as is usually the case with objects of one's hidden affection); and
3. my concurrent and seriouser crush on some girl halfway across the world (and otherwise quite unattainable), which crush was forcing me to confront my previously realised-but-ignored fluidity/versatility/diversity/whatever-else-you-wan2-call-it.

At the time I was highly dismissive of the crush in question, putting it down to a manifestation of my denial of, and/or an attempted solution to, the crush referred to in point 3 above. In hindsight, however, I am more convinced that there might've been some substance to it. I mean really, why wouldn't/shouldn't I like a guy who sings, writes, makes tiramisu, and has good dress sense?

I'll tell you why. Because guys like him simply don't go 'round with gals like me. They belong with... guys like themselves! Though I can't be 100% sure, that was the gist I got from our last virtual exchange. Dude, I don't care how stupid or daggy this sounds, thanks for sharing - in such cool understated fashion, to boot.

With each discovery of this kind the world makes a little more sense. (Not a word from yous about my taste in men.)

three's a crowd

Two VIPs (does not stand for Vasoactive Intestinal Peptides) in my life have their birthdays this week. 'Tis appropriate, if not imperative, that I inflict a little of my unabashed affection for them upon the rest of you. Just a little, I promise.

(In order of arrival on this planet - )

Other Mother
[This alias I prefer to 'Adopted Mother' for the latter seems to imply, quite misleadingly, some inadequacy on my birth mother's part.]

People need older people (for guidance, inspiration, and proof that there is life after youth). Unfortunately of these I have few. Fortunately however, this one's as value-packed as they come. Some of the most at-once-traumatic-and-beneficial things ever said to me issued, wittingly or not, from this woman. Like:

• Oh it's too late to save her. [referring to my birth mother]
• Me: Hey, don't feel sorry for me. / OM: Who feels sorry for you?
• Don't sign anything!!!
• If I didn't know better, I'd have thought it a below-the-belt one from a pathological attention seeker. [in response to one of my periodic whiny emails]

Dr Prozac - Being the only person who:

• has seen me throw up / pass out from alcohol over-consumption (well, she and whoever walked past our park bench on Matilda Bay that night);
• has come to my rescue following a motor vehicle collision (unrelated to above);
• knows (nearly) every skeleton in my big dank closet,

she cannot seriously hope to escape my surveillance in this lifetime. There is simply too much incriminating evidence at stake.

Talk about intense intimate sexless relationships. Truly, it is as enormous a wonder as it is a relief that I do not feel romantically afflicted with this woman. If she ever tries to jump the fence I would expect to be left well alone except to get blind-drunk with.

The secret to our success, IMHO, is our common penchant for laughing at ourselves, at other people, and most importantly at each other in that special nurturing way that only we have.

happiness is ...

(In reverse chronological order)

Midnight snack with mum, shoulder-to-shoulder on barstools (no alcohol involved but, sadly), hearing about her newfound passion for line-dancing, celebrating the beginning of Lodger-Free Fortnight, and deconstructing English grammar.

Handing in assignment 22+ hours ahead of deadline saving inter alia a trip to uni tomorrow, and rewarding yourself with an evening nap and a little reality TV.

Having a wonderful man offer to cook you dinner on long-weekend Sunday before taking you out to 'the shabbie trashie old pubs of this beautiful city in which we live'.

Surprising yourself with unprovoked and insightful-sounding contributions to Employment Law tutorial despite having done no study all semester other than listening to recorded lectures.

Catching up with a bunch of Science comrades over a long dinner in an Indonesian-run western cafe (a few of those around!). We ... er, fine they, have gone on to bigger and better things, which can but fill me with tremendous hope. [Sidetrack: slightly amused that these folks from my pre-fall days (insert own interpretation), many of whom good Christians and some having been deliberately put in the know, manage to avoid reference to my deviant ways in all manner of communication.]

Pondering the endless possibilities of When Harriet Met Sally.

Kicking off the week with someone else's mum's cooking, chardonnay (not the mum's), Desperate Housewives, and one of your dearest (who, like yourself, dreads the day that the foregoing fuse to define the bane of her existence).

Realising that who you once mistook for the girl of your dreams has become so much more. Spoil each other with cook-ups and impromptu visits. Get to know your respective significant others. Wander through mainstream entertainment venues looking thoroughly out-of-place and equally indifferent. Punctuate terribly highbrow conversation with gossip, misused legal jargon, and juvenile musings on anything from cosmetics to STDs. Stay in touch across continents.

Sunny Saturday arvo, in the city apartment of the Amazing Girl Engineer (AGE), Tipping the Velvet. [More about AGE later, when the opportunity presents itself.]

...

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