Tracing letters along my back

Today Annie and I went to the uni library again to do research for our final essay. We thought it would be straightforward like it was for Asian PR, which we did a week prior.

It wasn’t.

We didn’t realize it when picking the topic, but the ambiguity of our research question drove us to near madness. We shuffled through the pages of our books hoping that something would jump out at us, or the jumble of quotes that we were slowly compiling would fall into some sort of essay structure.

Thank my stars Mela came just in time. She sat with me and calmed me down when I had my – and I never have these – attack of pure hopelessness. And it was a good thing she was there to do so, because otherwise I think I would have taken it out on Annie to the point where we would have had a massive fight.

While I was buried in my book and trying to make sense of the confusing language, Mela was watching a movie – tactfully turned away from me – and tracing abstract shapes and letters on my back. I don’t know if in her past this had worked, but I sure never told her that this was something my grandma used to do to lull me to sleep when I was very young. It calmed me down a lot and made me feel a bit better about my situation.

Sure, if I think about how much time I have left compared to the workload, I get scared again. But I’ve seen my ability to write even the most confusing and unresearched essay in a short period of time before. I’ve done the maths – I know that I just need to pass these essays to pass those classes, and even though that’s not the kind of mark that would make my parents happy, these are difficult and dry classes, and I doubt anyone would be having a good time in them.

I took a long hot shower when I got home. My skin reacted slightly to Mela’s sunscreen, so I let it soak a bit in the warm water. It feels better now, but it’s still a bit flaky.

I am going to go take some more notes before going to bed for a good solid sleep before doing as much as I can tomorrow.

And I love Mela, so very much. Not just because she came into the city today just to sit with Annie and me while we freaked out. Not just because she let me squeeze her hand whenever I felt overwhelmed. Not just because, even though she felt a bit ill, she still agreed to stay out a bit late. Mostly because she did these things willingly even when I didn’t realize the inconvenience it placed onto her, and never voiced my guilt when I did realize. Mostly because she looked into my eyes when I was going to just give up on the essay, and told me that I’ll be fine.

Alex.

We Started At Zero

In the past month or so, more than 4 youths in America killed themselves because they were bullied at school for being gay.

This is Ellen Degeneres’ message regarding the matter. I’ll let you watch this first.

When I heard that the youngest of the boys were 13, I felt that stabbing pain of heartbreak – 13!

The oldest of the boys were younger than me.

When I read the news article, I actually sat there, shocked, for a few solid minutes. I could only stare at the faces of the boys, smiling back at me. I tried looking for any sadness in their eyes, and shadow in the curve of their smiles, and I couldn’t see any. These boys who, when the shutter clicked, had so much happiness, had been pushed to end their own lives to escape from the teasing. And for what? For being exactly who they are, and liking people that they naturally are attracted to.

When I was 13, I was in my first year of high school. My worst problem was that my closest friends in primary school all went to different high schools from me – I had to make new friends. And I did make new friends.

The THOUGHT of killing myself – or even HURTING myself – because I’m upset, didn’t even occur to me at that age.

Being different to other people is hard, but sometimes it’s easy to change it, even if it makes you a bit upset. The skill of fitting in is crucial in the early years of teenage-hood, I won’t even sugar coat it, I did it, you did it, I know that everyone did it at times. Maybe you’ll even realize that changing yourself a little to fit in actually pushed you onto a path you feel better with – or led you to that path, whatever. I know that I really wanted to make friends with Dani, so when she recommended music, I listened to them (oh, Dani, don’t see any less of me). It was a good thing that I did that, because I ended up loving the music in my own right.

However, there are things you just can’t change. You can try to deny it, but there is no way you can change it. Things like being attracted to people who are the same sex.

So, there you are, being very different to people around you, and you can’t change it. You’re not at the age where saying “fuck it, I am who I am” does anything. At these times, having at least someone on your side is crucial. The sad part is, and I know what this feels like, with things like being gay or bi, you actually feel like there is no one who would really be on your side. Even your closest friend might turn their back on you in your imagination of how events might go.

Even if you are brave enough to tell someone, then it becomes that THING where it needs to be kept secret, because you just KNOW there is gonna be an asshat out there who would make your life a living hell if they found out.

For these boys, the asshats found out.

I’m pretty sure this is the first time I made a direct reference to it here, but yeah, I am bi. I know quite a few of you will probably already know this, or guessed it by implication, but this time it’s written down here. (By the way, if you know me or my parents personally, can you please not tell them? Both of them are rather homophobic and I really am not ready to tell them yet. Don’t be that asshat and screw my life up.)

I am incredibly lucky. From the first person that I had the courage to tell, and all the subsequent people after that, all of them have been fine with it. I wouldn’t say that they’ve all embraced it with open arms, but I haven’t lost any friends over it. I won’t kid myself – there are very likely people who have sad bad things about me behind my back, and I’ve had a few say un-nice things to my face, but I have enough love from all my friends to help me pass that. And that’s why I say I am incredibly lucky. I would be count myself blessed if my parents could accept it too, but I’m not looking for miracles ha.

I honestly feel the utmost sympathy for anyone who is suffering because they don’t feel that luck and love that they need. I would be willing to talk to anyone who needs a pair of ears to receive their problems. But I wish I didn’t have to say that – I wish that kids don’t need a complete stranger’s support to be okay everyday, that if they need someone to help them, they can do what I get to do, and call up a friend to unload onto them.

It’s just plain wrong that these boys felt like they didn’t have a single one of these friends to talk to.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with them, so why were they made to feel like they had to end their lives?

May their souls rest in peace in, if they so believed, heaven. Yes, because even if I am not religious, I don’t think that an all-loving God would bar a 13 year old boy from having eternal peace.

If you’re feeling upset about something, please tell someone. People have a habit of surprising you in the amount they can care.

Alex.

Tap On My Window, Knock On My Door

[She Will Be Loved – Maroon 5]

Day 4 – your siblings (or closest relative)

Well, as bad as I feel about this because both Julia and Lisa are great cousins, but I haven’t seen any of them for a small part of a decade. So, I suppose this goes to…

Dear Fa,

I think I might skip all the “you’re an idiot who wears shorts that are too short” jokes and actually get to the nice gooey bits.

I am grateful for you, firstly. Not only did you give me motivation to try harder last year with the 2 subjects that I shared with you, if anything, just to beat you – I still failed miserably but still – but you didn’t fail to be on my side consistently for every problem that I went to you for, even after all the jokes I made of you.

And I’m glad that you come to me for support and a whinge because it made me feel useful – even though I really shouldn’t agree to keep booking you into hotels…that’s just irresponsible.

Finally, I know this sounds cheesy, but I can foresee a great future for you. I don’t know what you’ll do, exactly, but I know you, and you’re going to work your ass off and beat the crap out of your competition no matter what, so I have no worries that you won’t be able to “make the cut”. I just hope we don’t end up saying this in the context of…street corner work.

Please keep me young and sane. I’m starting to turn into a traditionalist old fart.

Love,

Your BIG cousin who was BIGGER until around 6 years old you fat-ass.

Ode to Catherine

I suppose I really should write something sentimental about you, Catherine, seeing as I owe you a big one.

Mm but what usually goes into mushy crap like this?

I’ve told you already, but my first clear memory of you was that time for Julia L’s 15th (it had to have been) and it was a really hot day. I had a Legal project due soon, about graffiti, so I was walking around the Glen area taking rather pathetic photos of the graffiti. Then I was walking past the train station and I saw Julia and I yelled out. You were standing there as well, with Eunice in tow (for other readers, it’s a different Eunice to the one I mention frequently). I remember seeing you and thinking, “God she’s thin.”

Ok I’ve done the “when we first met” bit. What else?

But we weren’t friends then. We weren’t really friends throughout 2007, either, apart from the occasional word we’d exchange whenever Eunice is around. I remember constantly mistaking you for Tooronga Girl instead of your actual title, Kooyong Girl, and of course never remembering your name. I think I always asked if it’s Lisa or Jenny.

No, we became friends when you came to me for my Legal textbook at the end of 2008. As the requirement of such actions, numbers were exchanged. On a whim one day, I called you “just to chat”. To my surprise and definite pleasure, you were very easy to talk to on the phone. And despite your insisting not to buy my book as it would be an outdated edition, we’d established communication.

Okay so now I’ve done the “how we became friends” bit. I think it’s time to get to the nitty-gritty-Kleenexy moments.

After that, we really didn’t speak much again, until one day in early March or late February, I texted you after having taken the train with you (at least, I think that’s what’d happened). We struck up conversation again, and apart from a negligible hiccup of about 2 weeks, we’d kept in reasonably constant contact over the phone.

But I never realized the amount of importance you’d be to me until only about 2 months ago.

I opened up and started trusting you, sometimes to the utmost extent. And it was a huge gamble on my behalf, and it was a gamble that, for the lack of a better cliche, paid off big time. You’re such a small person (yes, but taller than me I concede) but you are able to help and support so much without actually receiving that much back. I mean, you received maybe a free meal once and a cheap laugh every now and then but apart from that what do you ask for return? Probably to leave you alone on the eve of SACs.

And of course this morning, so selflessly you skipped Methods for me.

I do love you very much, Catherine. And I hope all works out well for you. I’ve made it sound like I’m going away forever, I’m not. I just made it sound like that.

Alex.

P.S. In other news, Eve came up to Carmaine and I today in Methods (well, really just Carmaine but I was right next to her) and said, “Look I have a burning question I HAVE to get the answer to.” And Carmaine and I got a bit interested. “What…WHO is the “U” in BRuCE?”

Wow.

Like a marathon

I’m a pretty huge fan of talking and writing in metaphors and analogies and whatnot. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it. A lot of the times when friends come to me for help, I’ve tried to put their situation into an analogy so they can sort of see how to get out of it. I guess in a way I’m like a nicer and…slightly less intimidating version of S- Sensei.

What had happened was, and I hope it’s okay for me to share this story, Sensei would give us analogies of what was happening with our schoolwork. So once when I wrote an essay too long, and wrote a criteria out of range, he told me that by doing that I’ve basically received 2 black eyes. A double knockout. Because not only did I get marks taken off for going over the limit, I’ve also not filled in the criteria because they don’t mark what is out of range. Anyway, there was the one memorable one. A student was struggling a little in class, and went to Sensei to ask whether she should continue Japanese for Yr 12. His response (my closest recollection to her paraphrasing of what he said) was this:

“Imagine that we are all playing a game of basketball, but you are really fat. So even if you run around a lot, and you shout ‘pass me the ball!’ and you do this and you do that, you’re still fat, and you’re going to be very tired after the first quarter. Everyone else is skinny and healthy, so they can keep running but you’re fat so you’re going to die by halftime. This is you in Japanese. You are the fat basketball player.”

So, basically, I think he wasn’t so hot on her continuing Japanese. I thought he could’ve said, “Look I know you’re trying your best but the workload in Yr 12 is even harder so many this isn’t the best choice for you.” or something along those nice lines that teachers are made to say. Kudos to him though, for voicing it in a humorous way.

I think there was a time when a friend of mine was having relationship problems – or rather, problems with getting over it – and I said something like, “Ultimately, this is a bridge that you have to build alone, to get over. I mean, we your friends have given you the materials and the support and all that, but you’re gonna have to build the thing. It’s tempting to just stay on the side you are now, but I think to move on, you’d have to build that bridge.” I think she’s really on her way to doing it.

Okay, but the metaphor/analogy (I’d say metaphor) that made me smile today was this:

(I had to edit out bits that would make it personal)

“Think of your relationship as a marathon. You start off a little jerkily then you settle into a rhythm once you get into it. Sooner or later though you’ll hit a curve or an obstacle and you have to deal with it, If you don’t your [sic] stuck there not going anywhere. But once you get past it you’ve gained that much more and it means something, even if it’s small. Then you keep going. “

And the more I thought about that the more right she was (whoever the hell you are, you crazy thing). At the start of a friendship, you’re so energized, you feel you can sprint the whole way. Then you slow down, maybe tire out. It’s once you settle into that rhythm, and time gets its claws into you, that you can really test out your endurance. So many runners fall out, they give up. But if you last the distance, that feeling that you get when you cross the finish line, it’s like you’re “on top of the world” as I was told recently. And yeah, on the way you’ll meet potholes, snakes, hobos, whatever, but they’re mere distractions. They’re not world-ending.

I’m interested in making a VCE metaphor that includes piranhas and Tasmania Jones (OH NO I DIDN’T!)

Keep Cool (and runnin’)

D.F.

P.S. Yeah I actually just thought about signing off with “Keep Cool” and then something to do with the blog I just wrote. Let’s see how long I can last doing that.