And it begins.

There have been so many changes in life. 

...

For those of you who aren't aware of it yet, I'm happily back at a place where I call home. 

Flying back to NZ was a tiring process. I had to transit at Singapore and Christchurch before taking another domestic flight to Dunedin with bags, cookies and everything in tow. Amused, I tried doing a calculation of how many hours of travel time I had clocked over the past few months. The answer was pretty startling, I'd say - there were definitely more than ten flights, and at least thirty hours of being on the road. Oh yes, Anne, you da traveler, so stick to dat and do what you like to do.
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Now this keychain below gave me a problem -

 They basically thought I was communicating in a secret language to other terrorists - or that I myself was a wannabe terrorist - or...I don't know, really. The keychain shaped as a gun was inappropriate (?) - or maybe they thought the keychain had secret powers. At any rate, I ended up being stranded at a side for fifteen minutes while they scrutinized me warily, consulting their senior officers for all that was worth. 

Tired from waiting, I told the officer, "You know what? You guys can have it. It's from the dollar shop anyways." 

Startled, the officer gave me this strange, weird look. Apparently if I was so willing in giving up, then that would mean I was not a potential terrorist, right? After all, the ones who acted all defensive and shit were the suspects.

So in the end, I was allowed to keep my lovely keychain. 

Drinks all around!

ANYWAY.

Living in St Margaret's College is probably one of the best things that could happen to me, ever. As I'm sure I've mentioned before, I first visited it at the age of nine. Or ten, whatever - I don't remember. I was immediately captivated by those flowers, that traditional-looking structure - and of course, the wonderful lifestyle. I remember putting all these personal pleas in my application, and badabinggg, wish granted. 

People have been really friendly so far, even though the segregation between Asians and Europeans clearly still exists in a certain manner. That doesn't mean you can't get locals to be your friend, though, I've had a couple of mates pretty quickly and everything seems to be working fine. It's quite common for us to greet each other on the hallway or strike up a quick, casual conversation at the dining table. 

Which quickly led me to the fact that I was the friggin' minority in terms of coursework and shit. Everyone was a health science student, I was one of the few doing Law and Arts - majoring in English and minoring in Politics, no less. It was difficult to talk about course stuff with others since we were all involved in different things, but people were quite curious as to what my two degrees entailed. 

Looks like everyone can be pals after all. 

The Inter-College Sports Day was pretty fun, even though I did suffer a minor sunburn after that. I'll remember that tight jeans and bad UV rays are a bad combination next time.

 GO, SMC!

Then this was something interesting I found on a library book I borrowed:

 I totally laughed at "Oh Dear". Someone was obviously not a diehard fan of the USSR. Dude probably had a shitload of jokes for Commies and Albania...or whatever country he was referring to at "bugger", I have no idea. 

Then there was the all-amazing toga party, where everyone dressed up in a toga just like the Greek eras in their bedsheets. It was like, a Dunedin tradition. Freshies did that, and thousands of them gathered in the stadium.

 Then there were the catch-ups with old mates. 

This little girl clung onto me incredibly quickly. She just refused to let me go, so I was like, "Heck, I'll just carry you around then."

Another feature of St Margaret's is the formal dinners they have. I signed up for pre-dinner drinks seeing as no one on my floor was that keen on doing so, and ended up being nervous in a whole bunch of people dressed in suits and dresses.

 We also had the Amazing Race. I might have twisted/tore something in the process, seeing as how much I suffered in the days after that. All in all, though, it was great fun.

 There are a lot of serious issues that I have to write about, though. 

First off, the study issues.

Secondly...I still haven't really gotten over the death of a close friend that I have just discovered recently. No one really knows what's going on, and even I have tried my best not to think about it. But the thoughts still come dead at night, after several tiring hours of looking over books. 

I don't know how to deal with it, but somehow I will. 

Till then, it's time for a Law lecture.

Yesyesyes.

"This is exactly what we're looking for."

"Welcome to the team."

I have never been so happy in my entire life.

Raindrops and flowers

The only thing that's constant is change. You get wrapped up in so many uncertainties - there's the urge to fling yourself out of the window, diving into the clouds and rainbows below - and yet you know, too, that you could land on something that may kill you. You fear the change since you're so unsure of the future, but at the same time you can't help but eagerly anticipate the things that are to come. It happens - your original goals sway a little, you lose sight of what's important for a second - you get confused on what's right and what's wrong. There are, however, no judgements from others - they can't pass any, not unless you tell them and allow them to judge you. 

It's all just a part of living - I say that to myself, mates, and others around me. They look up to me and listen - Anne, you are the voice of reason. You're so in control of your life that it hurts. There's nothing wrong about you, you're doing well in life - with a goal, a vision, a dream and everything you could possibly have. What more could you want? Are you possibly so fickle that you cannot even be satisfied with life's blessings? Why do you not appreciate the little things that happen everyday - why do you not love like you should, why do you not care? Anne, you are so fucking fickle. Get a grip! 

There are responsibilities, and Anne, you are responsible. You are responsible for every damn thing you do in life. People do not pity you for they know how headstrong you are in things, they know just how you are when you make decisions - rushed, irrational. There is not much to be pitied there - Anne, you are fickle. After wondering about this for so many years, you can reach your happy conclusion. You are as fickle as the many shallow-minded people out there and someday, the mighty you will fall. Perhaps it is best that you mentally prepare yourself for the day when your tiara goes out of place. You might've been a queen to them, but you're nothing without your pride. If it will be ripped to shreds, then that's how it is. There is nothing that can be done - nothing that can be salvaged. You took the gamble - now you fucking live with it. 

That is all - plain and simple. 

 

...

Thailand's coming up next week! The past few months have been hectic as hell. I envy those who have been lazing around, having nothing to do. For me, it's always going 'round here, there, everywhere...not that I mind, though. I'm the traveler - gotta love traveling, especially when it's paid for. Going to Singapore was great - more of a business trip, actually, but it was through that that I got to meet Kenji, an old mate of mine that I've known for quite some time. We had snacks, walked around Orchard Road, and just sat on a bench listening to cool tunes while we ranted to each other about our lives. I had expected it to be awkward, but it wasn't in the end. What would you know - we ended up bonding pretty quickly. It was nice to see him - got as many hugs as I could.

No positive responses from what I've applied to? Oh, well, at least I tried. I'll try and try and try until I die. Sure, it gets disheartening, but whatever. I'll do that shitty hairflip and just try again next time. 

I really should do a to-do list. Like, make an actual fucking budget, instead of some lame-o one that doesn't make sense. Must get parents to pay my fees soon. Must drive around more often. What else, what else...gotta send those new clothes for washing...gotta write more shit...update stories...keep applying for more of those writing jobs because that's probably the only thing I can do...pack for Thailand...hmm, I don't know. There sure are lots of things to do. Entertain boyfriend? I don't have the time. See, Anne, you're nuts.

How the hell can people be bored at home? It makes no fucking sense.

IT'S P, BITCHES.

I returned to Malaysia only for a few reasons, and one of them includes learning how to drive.

The experience sucked balls. Srsly. 

Anyway, it was just this Monday that I had my JPA test. I waited and waited, cursing smokers who puffed into my face. Time ticked by. I walked around, sighed at the sky, played Temple Run for the 5353233290th time, read Anne of Green Gables with a British accent in my head...

Yeah.

The QTI test went just as how I had planned it, so that was fine. 

The road test, however...

Again, waiting for my turn was another long process. I actually fell asleep while waiting. Yeah, on that stupid plastic chair. I've known all this while that I have a talent for sleeping in random places (lecture halls, bus stops, sleeping while standing - you name it, I've done it) - but this was seriously a new record. I had crammed Anne of Green Gables into my bag, tilted my head into a comfortable position, and slept in a strange place filled with strange people and strange, strange languages.

I did wake up after that of course - only to hear some boys behind talking about...me.

"Eh, memang tidur." 

"No, wait, she's waking up."

"Gooooood moooooorninggggg sleeping beauty..."

Those bloody wankers. How would they like it if someone slammed a heel into their balls, only to hear others gossip about it huh?

And then it was my turn for the road test.

My tester was a Malay lady. 

With sunglasses.

With a bitchy frown. 

The first thing that crossed my mind was, "I'm fucked." 

The first thing she bellowed to me was, "WHY'S YOUR EXAMINATION FORMS SO CRUMPLED?"

I wanted to say something like, "Well bitch, I don't see why the state of my examination forms should matter to you. JUST TAKE THIS SHIT AND WE CAN GET THE SHOW ON THE ROAD."

Instead, I humiliatingly swallowed my pride and said a small "sorry." I hated myself so much then. Srsly. 

I adjusted mirrors, the seat, checked whether those signal plus wiper thingies worked, pulled my seat belt on, released the handbrakes...and off I was, cruising to my doom.

I cursed, noting that the clutch and gears of this particular car were stiff and hard to be shifted. It was way harder to use that car compared to the normal practice cars I used, which...wasn't a good sign. Well, whatever. I had to deal with it. I signaled right and went slowly, knowing that there was a slope that led up to the main road. Cars were all waiting to turn out, so I got in line and crawled behind.

...

That was when the engine sputtered and died.

....

And that was when I knew I was truly fucked.

Strangely enough, I was as calm as some meditating tropical lagoon zen-man. The tester wasn't saying anything so I quietly turned the engine on, raced up the hill, and quickly turned out before I screwed up some more.

The rest of my driving was pretty much a wreck. I nearly got the gears mixed up, stopped ungracefully in front of traffic lights, and was generally on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Potong."

Cut? Oh. She wanted me to overtake the car in front. Pretty uncharacteristic for a test, but whatever. I heard her make a satisfied "hm", and was pleased with myself...

...until I saw the traffic lights up ahead turn yellow.

She urged me on impatiently. "GO, GO, GO!"

WHADDAFUCK.

I floored the accelerator like some madman.

AND THEN I PASSED THE JPA TEST.

Did I do the unmentionable? Yes, I did the unmentionable. Malaysians, I'm sure y'all know what I mean. I'm sorry for fueling the huge wrong that our country has, but I was under time constraints and had to get my P asap. As such, I needed an insurance policy. 

But whatever. I'm a P. 

Now I can happily head for a New Zealand driving license without taking too many driving lessons there. 

Mission: Learning how to drive

Passed

Crash and burn, baby.

This is how I feel while I go through my driving lessons.

I am so bad in it holy fucking carrots I don't even -

I want to learn how to drive using auto cars. NOT MANUAL CARS.

Not cars that sputter and die while I panic, flail and spazz in the middle of the road and the instructor screams like a lunatic next to me. Not cars that have heavy as fuck steering wheels that make me sweat and pant like a heavy gym workout just trying to turn that massive thing for four successive rounds. Not cars that need gear-shifting every single time I start moving after a traffic light. NOT CARS THAT ARE SO DAMN DIFFICULT TO HANDLE, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

I am not good in this. I acknowledge the fact that I'll turn out to be an awful, awful driver. I'm not a hands-on person. I know how bad I am when it comes to practical shit. I know other people learn at a faster pace than I do. I'm slow, I'm not quick in responding - FINE, I KNOW THAT. Apparently playing GTA didn't help at all, but whatever. I'm still trying, alright? No need to yell at me. No wonder you told me some of your students cried. I wouldn't be surprised. And stop asking why I giggle in an uncontrollable manner while I'm  driving. I AM NOT GOOD IN THIS, OKAY? And that is how I cover my nervousness and inferiority. I LAUGH. I laugh like I've totally snapped. It's absolutely enlightening. You should try it.

Beware - major caps lock up ahead like some whiny bitch. 

"FEET ON THE CLUTCH." 

"STRAIGHTEN THE CAR. STRAIGHTEN IT!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU REMEMBER HOW TO PARK PROPERLY?"

"I am fucking trying, dumbass," is what I want to say. "OH GOD BOLLOCKS STOP TALKING ON THE FUCKING PHONE WHILE I'M AT THE RISK OF CRASHING INTO A CAR IN FRONT OF ME AND STOP GIVING ME WEIRD HAND MOTIONS I DO NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND. I DO NOT COMPUTE. DO. NOT. COMPUTE." 

Yes, he seriously just expects me to understand what he's signalling with his hands while he blabs away on the phone with his friends. I understand speech, my dear, not gestures. If you make me panic, I will lose my cool, the car will die because it's a fucking manual car, and I will lose my cool even more. Not a good situation. 

...I'm really not good in this. This is pathetic. 

I don't even know how I managed to drive all the way from my house to the driving center's headquarters in Segambut, KL. I have no idea how I managed to get on the highway, cruising at a maximum of 60km/h, changing lanes without actually killing someone, dealing with the 4pm crowd we Malaysians are so familiar with, and even managing to execute some pretty decent gear-changing under such a shitload of pressure.

It must be a fucking miracle.

But then again, it was all by chance. Most of the time, I cursed, shifted to the wrong gears ("HOW CAN YOU GET TO GEAR FOUR FROM GEAR TWO? PAY ATTENTION!"), stopped when I shouldn't have had to, and had the engine sputter and die magnificently on me. 

I suck so badly that it makes me laugh.

In fact, I was so distracted that at the toll booth, I exclaimed a loud " 谢谢" to the Malay girl instead of "thank you" or "terima kasih."

What? Don't give me that fucking incredulous look. I was at China for a week, okay? I got China-fied. Just for a little while.

"NOT  谢谢!" The instructor roared, torn between sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. 

"Oh," I said, realizing my mistake. "Terima kasih!" 

My instructor couldn't stop laughing for two minutes after that.

...Fuck. 

How am I going to pass next month's driving test? I'm going to fail. Really badly. 

I don't even have the mood to blog about China anymore. 

  

My next class will be at 7am because the other times are full. GODDAMMIT AT 7AM I WILL REALLY KILL SOMEONE AT THAT TIMING BECAUSE I WILL BE DRIVING LIKE A DRUNK. 

I am certain of it. 

Wait for the news, my dears, wait for it.  

Moving Out

Shifting out hasn't been particularly easy, mind you. 

When I had confirmed where my new place would be at, I had initiated the extremely arduous task of packing. It was difficult - in the beginning of the year, I had thoroughly unpacked as I thought I would be staying until term was officially over. Things just changed, I guess. I wouldn't call myself the most tolerant person in the world, but I wasn't one that would just allow others to walk on me either. 

Besides, when your family actually supports your decisions, you'll realize that you're pretty much on the right track...well, sort of.

I grimaced at the amount of jewellery and nail polish I had to pack, including the piles of books which I had spontaneously bought from countless of NZ book fairs. And there were those bloody boots and coats. What the eff was I going to do with them? 

It was time to call in some favors - and the favors were done, oh yes, they were. I was grateful for the fact that I had some local friends who could help me out. I chucked the books and the female paraphernalia into various bags and brought them over, thanking my friend repeatedly and promising that I would always play Resident Evil with her after that. 

Then there were the waste papers and previous term text books that I no longer needed. I shrugged, chucking them into the recycle. Anything unneeded would be unceremoniously chucked away - no hard feelings.

The worst thing was that I had stepped into wet concrete while trying to empty my rubbish bin. My host mum had been thoroughly pissed, mind you. But it was a fucking accident, for goodness sake. There should have been an effing sign saying, "WET CONCRETE, DO NOT PUT YOUR STUPID LEGS IN IT AND CREATE A BLOODY HOLE." 

Anyway.

I chucked in all the clothes I had into the two suitcases I had, frowning when I realized my pajama pants were missing. My still pissed-off host mum explained that they weren't in the wash, and I had no fucking idea where they were. I was beginning to be frustrated as well - they were made out of wool, and replacing them would be costly. In the end, though, they were found...and I'm not going to mention anymore on that, because dear God, some things just shouldn't be remembered - this included.

When I finally shifted, I was glad to see my new place had a separate lounge which I could use with my other housemates. This was good, as it meant a semblance of privacy without being cooped up in my room the entire day. Second, I had the freedom to turn on the heater whenever I wanted, and I had an electric blanket too. The prohibition of having one in my first home stay was actually one of the main reasons why I moved out in the first place. 

Thirdly, LESS STUFFY PEOPLE. 

The third reason was totally legit, I swear. I love the fact that people are so casual over here in my new place. I can just appear in my sweatpants without attempting to look proper, and that was great - not to mention I could just rummage through the cupboards for anything I wanted to eat without asking for anyone's permission and whatnot. There were dishwashers too - no more slaving in the kitchen attempting to scrub oily pots and pans.

Next, the internet was much quicker than my old place. Amazing. It was even quicker than what I had in Malaysia, which was bloody brilliant. I could load stuff so quickly, watch youtube vids in seconds, and oh that was just a dream come true. 

So far so good, I guess. 

The sun's shining in on me right now. Wish the days would always be like this.

The wildies.

Pancakes are great.   

Have I ever mentioned that? Probably not.

My horrible, lousy way of making pancakes was just sad, so damn sad - because instead of being able to flip them in this magical way that all my other girl pals did, my pancakes made an odd squelching sound and folded itself into half instead of flip over in a complete, fluid motion like what I wanted it to.

It was discouraging, to say the least.

I just sighed and poured maple syrup onto it, more than what I probably should have - and downed them gratefully, wondering whether I should take up cooking courses.

Then there were the snacks, of course.

 The rest of the day was spent playing Resident Evil on Wii. Trust me, it has got to be one of the most fun things ever. Shooting, the gore, feeling frightened yet anticipating what monster would be bursting out next. It was even better having friends play by your side, screaming insults at the screen all the time.

Oh, yes - I fail in headshots, but I do pride myself at the fact that I could wipe that shit-eating grin off that evil dude boss' face with machine guns. Meh heh heh heh - and oh, have I mentioned that one of the Wii games I dislike the most is Cooking Mama?

Because...seriously, what kind of a game is that?!

And then, for the next issue.

...

"Li Anne," Willa called out to me hesitantly, "Are you drunk?"

Drunk? Who, me? Of course not.

Of course not.

Of...okay, maybe just a little.

But hey, I wanted to let off a little tension.

To be honest, I was pissed at getting a 9.9 GPA. The full mark was 10, and I wanted holyfucking10.0, but some little minor shit just had to fuck itself up and instead of 10.0, it was 9-point-fucking-oh-9 - not to mention there was competition out there, and dear God Anne, your perfectionist nature just demands more perfection. Whaaaaaaaaat.

So, technically, it was my fault that I got bottle after bottle of...whatever drink that was.

But granted, it was fun belting out "Numb" by Linkin Park at the top of my voice. And screaming Avril's songs while making obscene hand motions. And going "FUCK YEAAAAHH BI-ATCH" at 1am while jumping up and down like some over-caffeinated psycho.

Perhaps that was why my friends were looking at me in that funny way - I definitely do not act like that in my everyday life. But hey, I didn't regret that night.

I would definitely do it again.

And again.

And again.

One more week of holidays. Let's see what more fun would come up.

Damn, why am I not of legal age yet?

Life as it is, life as it was.

It's about time I updated a little with some photos to boot - because, heck, not updating for such a long time doesn't seem like me - even with such a busy schedule.

The exams are finally over. To be honest, it wasn't too stressful. I mean, come on. As a former CHS-ian that juggled with twelve subjects, how could five push me to the brink of insanity? I guess this is one of the benefits of coping with through the exhausting high school years - get screwed up with all the junk, and survive happily later.

But anyway. Five subjects or not, studying was still necessary. And I mean, studying with the food was necessary. Witness the chips. They're like, $2.20 for the medium and $2.60 for the large. And it's obtainable just by walking to the library's opposite shops!

 And if there's one thing amazing about the central library here, you can book group study rooms that have these boards here for you. The annoying issue is that during the exam season - everyone - and by that, I mean all the university students, want to use these rooms. Seriously, competition is intense during this period of time - it's like the season where there would be no places available for you in the library, and you'd have to arrive at 8am in the morning just to find a place to sit. 

But anyway, those are like, our fail Geography revisions on the board. My map of New Zealand looks like a potato.

And now...Renaissance Rapier. Much love, much love.

Hey, anything's possible. 

Strike a pose, fellas. Anne being the only Asian there stands up for friggin' Asian pride - and for being, like, the smallest there.

 ASIAN PRIDE - okay, that's probably more apt for Kendo or something.

Then there were the snow days. 

I had been expecting some snow, but not that early in June. Being in New Zealand quite often when I was younger made me know that snow just didn't come during this time. 

So when the weather forecast said it would snow, I smiled - my host mum smiled - all of us just did, because we didn't expect it to actually snow.

But in the morning, I drew the curtains only to see blinding white covering the grass. I didn't know whether to scream or cry. Buses just didn't come up to the mountain where I lived on days like these - but thankfully, in the end, bus services weren't suspended because the workers had done their best to shovel the snow away. Accidents were aplenty around the Christchurch region, though, and nearby my area there were cars that had slipped and crashed into each other. Basically, it was a crazy morning where there were police cars everywhere. How I managed to get to the city after that was a miracle. Thank you, bus drivers. 

Oh, and this is Patches looking at the snow. He's such a regal fluff ball. That's why I like him, and that's why I don't as well.

 Yeah, when I saw this I basically went wtf.

So now that the exams are over...there are a whole lot of stuff I need to do. Starting out with...entertainment!

I don't know what the fuck has been possessing me to rent DVDs from the video rental shop. Now that I look back at it, it's fucking crazy. I pay for it, and get back home to realize that three episodes aren't working. I mean, seriously. What, the, fuck? Anne, New Zealand may have been good for you, but some parts of it are really screwing with your mind. If not for the fact that I'm living off someone's wifi and that any legal charges will go to them, I wouldn't be doing this shit. 

But anyway, Code Geass is good. Seriously.

After that, I'll have to catch up with my stories.

And apply for that magazine writing job...because I think I actually do stand a chance.

And to clear out all those junk paper from my room. I'm planning to recycle all those lecture notes because - heck, not gonna need them for the next semester. 

And of course, I'm seriously thinking of doing something with my hair that would make my parents consider disowning me.

We shall see.

The exams

Never liked them, and never will.

If there's one thing I've found out, studying in a group doesn't really help. I thought that since I'm no longer in high school, things would have been different - but in the end, humans are just the same. You end up talking with each other instead of really focusing on what should be focused on.

Not to mention that when every single person brings snacks along, the consequences can get pretty - er - unhealthy. 

I had brought strawberry-flavored Pocky and candy. Zeneviive had brought along gummy snakes and fried rice. Christy had brought an entire bag of candy, with pineapple tarts and more candy. Willa brought along some candy - and Emma had brought an entire tupperware of blackcurrent-flavored jelly for everyone to share - not to mention that after two hours of basically not-doing-much, Christy and Willa went out to get chips and brought some back for everyone. 

Zeneviive claimed the food sent me into the 'holy' mode - which was basically just me praising the, well, holiness of chips.

It was an overdose of food and sugar. 

Fucking candy. Too much fucking candy.

I mean, we had one corner of the table dedicated to snacks, for goodness sake. 

As each person could only book a group-study room for only two hours, all of us had wisely cooperated and booked the room back-to-back - resulting in, like, an ownership of the room from 12pm until 10pm. 

Which would have been fantastic, except that I'm not interested into going for any group-studying from now onwards.

Sometimes the individualist method just works better. 

So, yeah - the exams will begin tomorrow and will end the week after. 

Not that I can say it's more stressful than high school, because it isn't. Nothing can beat slaving over twelve subjects in the CHS days.

I will be fine. I know I will. Sometimes all I need is some confidence, and the hard work. 

After that there will be a two-week break - which will give me lots of time to write about things I've always wanted to write - eg: the pros and cons of working in a group for assignments, more Renaissance Rapier stuff, stuff about family, friends and relationships, anime (because - bloody hell, it makes me happy) et cetera. 

And I could have time to write for TheFourLobes. 

And I would apply for a writing job on the Creme magazine - because, heck, let's face it, I need to start out somewhere. 

And I could watch anime for an entire day and write my stories. And draw. And hang out.

 I can't wait.

True story. Skip to avoid mushiness.

We both know that we're no longer kids - and that we understand the very things that have changed us, that made us who we are today. 

How did this come to be? Is it because we are similar and yet so different in many ways? 

 Gentle caresses, warm entwining hands. Laying beside you, gazing into those eyes - eyes with a colour which I can't properly describe. They're a striking blue under the light - but they appear to carry hues of green if I look closer - eerily beautiful, strangely disconcerting. That golden-brown hair of yours. Your head on my lap, and me caressing your hair. Those smiles. Those times where we played Street Fighter against each other. Those times where we hit each other with your pillows. Those times where we wrapped a blanket around ourselves and snuggled for a movie - because it was just too cold to do anything else. Those times where you laughed because my car racing skills were just awful. Those times where we shared secrets and just walked together on the street. Those times where you insisted on accompanying me to the bus stop, despite the fact that it was dark and raining. Those times where we traded drinks - I had the orange and you bought the blackcurrent, and it wasn't so bad.

Those times. Those times. I'll never be able to forget those times, and it'll be unfair if you were to ever forget them.

So what if you're stuck in a bit of a pickle? I've seen this situation before. I've been there. Not as deep into the mud as you are - but I've experienced a glimpse of it. I know how it feels. I can help - and I will save you, no matter what. You heard me. I will definitely make sure you continue living on and be happy - with or without me by your side. 

Those times were good, those times were sweet. Maybe we should live every day like it was our last - because you never know what would happen tomorrow. 

So let's just make happy memories together for now, shall we?

Renaissance Rapier

I had heard that there were always things to do in the university. The building of the Students Association was just at the library's opposite anyway - so I just went to check it out. That was probably a few weeks ago, where I was still fresh and new to everything around me.

Apparently there were a range of short-term courses available for everyone. From the basic basketball matches to the more sophisticated French culinary, coffee-brewing, belly-dancing or drumming - one could just pay and join for a few weeks. You wouldn't have to commit yourself for anything too long-term - not any groups, not any clubs, plus you would get to learn something new. 

That was all good, I thought. Now, if only there was something that could interest me here...

And that was when I saw it.

Renaissance Rapier.

The two words seemed to call out to me. 

(More like, the influence of Assassins Creed and the Three Musketeers.)

Oh, hell. I signed up immediately without a second thought.

...

Well, yes, today was the first session. Needless to say, I was nervous. What if I was the only one there? What if this, what if that? Buggar. I couldn't stop worrying. How typical of me.

Guess what? My worst fears came true.

Firstly, there weren't many people there. Thanks to the fact that Renaissance Rapier was a sophisticated sport that required a lot of individual attention from the instructors themselves, a small number of students was vital. In fact, only another girl, a tall guy, and myself were the newbies. The rest of them were either in the Renaissance Rapier club, or were quite experienced already. 

It didn't help that I was the youngest.

Or the smallest.

...Ffuuuuuu.

Still, I couldn't help but gape in awe when we were allowed to grab a sword each. The patterns were genuinely like something out from a movie, and that weight was definitely something. My hand felt like it was about to fall off just holding it, and the idea of me being able to swing that around seemed impossible. 

At least, that's what I thought.

But you'd be surprised what stubborn Anne could do under these circumstances.

I was genuinely enjoying myself. Footwork, thrusting with the sword, guard positions - that was funfunfunfun and it was screaming fun. I was effectively de-stressing, and that made it even more worthwhile. Thanks to the Taekwondo WTF days, I could perform the basics of basic stuff - like shifting my weight easily from one foot to another while moving forward, bending my knees for a long period of time, etc etc.

Good, clean, fun. 

In a few weeks time, I would have the option of participating in real combat. Lovely.  I've always wanted to fight with a sword.

Assuming if I can, somehow, y'know, hold a sword up without even feeling tired in the first place. That would take some time getting used to. In fact, my arm feels numb right now. I can't even...type properly without having shaky fingers.

I won't forget what the instructors told me.

"Now, assume you are unsheathing the sword..."

"In the next few weeks, we'll teach you how to fight with two swords...and even use things like batons and cloaks to your advantage."

FUN.

I went back home today with a bright smile on my face.

Yes, yes. I can't wait. Just this one session totally took all the crappy feelings I had away. It's even better than the gym. 

What can I say?

It's just about trying something different.

Can't help it, I'm a damn poet. Happy Easter!

Up until today, I have no regrets.

Autumn made its presence pretty well-known. It was almost fascinating to walk through piles of dried leaves, their colors ranging from bright red to ocher-gold, hearing the crackling beneath heeled-boots and laced-up sneakers. I hadn't really taken notice of it in the beginning, but it was impossible to miss by now - autumn was here. Daylight itself was beginning to grow pretty scarce, too - the skies themselves were grey by six, prompting drivers to turn on lights within the bus.

Sometimes the wind would pick up in the dead of night, rattling doors and windows as it went. And yet on certain nights, it would be utterly calm and still. Those were the nights where I would twist open the kitchen door, stepping outside just for a look. And I'd marvel over the beauty of the sky, with its stars spread across the night. It was just so different from back home - here, the stars were everywhere. Some were larger than the others, standing out amongst the crowd while the rest of them were fine-grained and scattered around - flecking deep maroon with spots of white. The moon itself would shine a pure white, sometimes leaving silvery shades on the lawn. 

Such beauty, I knew, never existed back home.

It was the simple things that made life so enjoyable. Life here was grumpily rising out of bed at seven in the morning, trudging into the kitchen and mixing yoghurt with canned peaches for breakfast. Life here was sprinting towards the building when you were late, ignoring the curious stares of onlookers. Life here was scratching the back of a cat's ears, listening in amusement as it purred and rumbled like a giant motorboat - then falling backwards frightfully as the claws swiped. Life here was walking along to lecture halls with the few people you were comfortable with, laughing and complaining about how darn freaking cold the wind was and how you didn't want to die while crossing the road. Life here was sitting in the library's chair, laptop and study paraphernalia all spread out before you. Life was shuffling through your iPod songs while you watched the bus pull up from stop to stop. Life was walking into tree branches, laughing at the most inappropriate things, and having the most ridiculous lunches because you were too darn lazy (or forgetful - it depends, really).

Life here was about being free to express yourself without being afraid of what people thought. 

Life here was the courage to start anew. 

Life here was the freedom to be who you were.

Life was just...wonderful like that. 

...

 Alright, on to some less poetic shit. Practicality ensues.

My host mum's grandchildren came over a few days ago, and my housemate (Haymarie) plus myself were in charge of hiding chocolate Easter eggs for the Easter egg hunt. Well, like, sure - we had no problem with that. Haymarie dropped hers off at relatively easy places, but I wasn't keen on letting the kids find the chocolate eggs I had so easily. No, no - it had to be more challenging than that. I stuck the chocolate eggs down bushes and fern trees, grinning gleefully as I did.

As predicted, the kids couldn't find the chocolate eggs I had hidden. I had to give them clues. And finally, their mum had to come in and join the search because my, uh, Easter-egg-hiding-levels were friggin' Asian.That so did not make sense, but whatever.

To my wtf-ness, our host mum had hidden some Easter eggs for Haymarie and I to search as well. The nasty glee faded, and I felt incredulous. But, what the hell - challenge accepted. I so did not come to New Zealand to be outwitted by some Easter egg hunt. But I couldn't lie - the childlike side of me was emerging, eager for a challenge. I knelt down and sifted through bushes, crawling through grass and getting stray pieces of vegetation all over my skirt.

In my haste, I had carelessly cut my knee. It was a wonder how my skin was torn and yet my black tights weren't. And they say clothing was lacking in quality nowadays...anyway, the result was that I had bagged some nifty Easter eggs - and had obtained a swelling, bleeding cut to boot.

It was still fantastic. Fuck adult logic, I loved the whole hunt. Period. 

The one-week Easter break was bloody damn anticipated. The mid-terms had been wearing everyone out, including yours truly. I had booked a flight up to Auckland not just to visit my brother - but most importantly, to also keep a promise to a dear friend of mine.

I could still remember the day clearly when she told me she would be moving to Auckland - that had been last year, when the two of us were seniors in high school. She didn't like the idea of leaving, but I had promised her - promised her, of all things, that I would definitely go to New Zealand and visit her at 2012's Easter.

And here I go. I shall fulfill that promise. Anne keeps promises. Everyone knows that. 

After that there would be more work. Group research - barely touched. Stories - barely updated. Lunch supplies? I suppose I'll have to do some grocery-shopping soon. Computing theory test (yes, there's one more mid-term subject) after the holidays? 'Dat shit be damned. Geography report? Kill me now.

Still, the whole thing will be worthwhile. This is life. It's just, you know, a path. A process. And in order to achieve what I want, wouldn't I have to go through all these hardships?

Yeah, let's go. Auckland, baby!

Sand, sea and rain.

Life has been going on, just like that.

No, I didn't do the dancing, lol. Just the warm hanging out stuff and all.

Haven't taken any photos with my friends from the Foundation Centre so far. They're not too big on being photogenic.

But life is good. It really is.

Will blog more next time.

In time to come.

People-watching is interesting.

Not in that stalking manner, mind you - but merely just observing how they act, what they wear, and the things they do. And these observations can turn into deductions quickly - they can be done in one simple glance. Sometimes people remind me of little experiments - it'd be interesting to approach them just to see how they think, and what their mindsets are like without being too close or proclaiming your friendship to them - because it'd just be awkward after that. 

There's always the few students with headphones/earphones in their ears, music blasting to their hearts' content. Heck, I'm one of them during long bus rides and walks to buildings - my hands would be shoved into my pockets, switching from song to song until I found one I liked. There would be some who would jog past in their sportswear, determined for the physical challenge; and there would be the girls who wore close to nothing at all. Well, not in that sense - but sometimes the things they wore practically screamed "impractical" and "impossible" to you. They would wear things that made you shake your head, watching as they laughed and shrieked, tossing their long hair and waving arms around.

Then there were the skateboarders. I nearly got knocked down by one of them a few days ago, since he was speeding onward and I didn't realize that I was in his way. But that's alright - there's something about skateboards that seem exciting and thrilling, and those who do the skateboarding are most of the time the vibrant people bursting with energy. Those people aside, there would be the ones who sat in the library, typing intelligently away on their laptops or flipping books for research material. Half of the time I'd be curious to what they were up to, but then I'd tell myself that I had my own jobs to do too. They were probably doing something way too profound for my understanding anyway.

And oh, not to forget those who traveled in pairs, trios, or groups. Some of them, I realized, merely met by chance. Many of them, however, were the socialites who stuck together - making plans and just being comfortable in their social circle. They would hold coffee, books, phones - all sorts of things that students normally had. Some of them would take a drag, puffing on the cigarette butt outside the buildings before entering.

Yeah, people-watching. That's how it goes.

I'd constantly wonder what kind of lives these people lived - how different it would be from mine, whether they had it easier or harder.

Of course, there are no answers.

Blue Sky.

 I didn't intend to compose a song on a Sunday afternoon.

Heck, I never knew I could even compose one. When I was younger, I played, slaved, cursed, throttled, and let off all the unwanted steam on the piano - but never did I even think about composing. 

But as I was just pressing random notes on the keyboard, the switch just came on and then it happened. The inspiration. It just came - abruptly. And of course I was surprised, because I never had any particular musical inspirations when I was younger. Ideas for a story? Sure. Thoughts for an artwork? Yeah, that too. 

But music? Never.

But I went with the flow and thus the song was made.

And it didn't have a title for a few hours.

I couldn't really decide for some time, really. But when I played the song...I felt that if there was anything I could feel from it, it was freedom. Endless freedom without any boundaries.

Art, music, language - they never have boundaries, do they?

Just like the sky. There are clouds, and the colors change from vivid hues of red and orange to the velvet purple of midnight. 

'Blue Sky' seemed appropriate, so up it went.

And to my happiness, a friend of mine who listened to it claimed that he could envision a blue sky and clouds floating across it peacefully while listening to it. Yes, I was happy - he was a close friend who appreciated music, and was also out to compose his own songs. I had a long chat with him about the technicalities of music, and then we were back to recommending good songs to each other.

I miss his singing. He was always amazing in that. 

 But the best thing of course was showing it to my mum through Skype.

I never had a great relationship with my parents during my teenage years, but after she listened to the song, she told me that she loved me. I was so taken aback that I froze in front of the computer screen for a few seconds.

I couldn't say those words back to her. I just couldn't. It wasn't like me to do something like that - I was you know, the one who was baaaad in expressing myself through real-life situations. I could write those three words in an email, yes, but saying it out...? I just couldn't. 

Damn you, Anne. 

Anyways, other than that, Monday was the usual. Pretty much the same.

With some snappiness to boot. 

But it's still New Zealand. The air still tastes like freedom, and I still like where I am at. And of course, I'm still waking up every morning without any regrets to having made such a decision.

It's not like I'm a faker. Or a liar. Or someone who just pretends.

It's just a desire to change. And it's not like I could change anything that has happened in the past.

Is that too much to ask for?

 

It's alright - it's okay.

The blue isn't everlasting - it fades fast, leaving behind nothing but dreary grey - with wispy clouds hanging in the sky and gales tearing through the roofs.

So far everything's been like...a story. A peaceful story with no endings - only beginnings that seem to go on and on - a peaceful story with warmth, smiles, and certain acts of kindness that I have really begun to appreciate.

I can't remember how long it has been since I felt this peaceful.

I recall several friends, even relatives, saying this to me - "You will regret going to New Zealand. Life will be so tough there, and you're going to suffer. Your enthusiasm is temporary. Stay here. Why won't you stay?" And as much as I'd like to politely explain a long-winded way how wrong they were (and still are), I'll just sum it up in one simple sentence because I'm so sick of trying to justify myself again and again.

'Stuff it in, live your lives without interfering in mine, and God forbid - just shut the hell up.'

I wanted to leave my home for a reason. I didn't come to Dunedin just for the heck of it. 

Reasoning, reasoning, more reasoning.

Life here is pretty much gold. From time to time I remind myself the few reasons why I have come here - not just for the education, but for the other stuff as well. 

To give myself some time.

To be a better person.

To start out anew.

To stop being so defensive. 

To forgive, learn, and forget.

To be kinder. 

To remove the old version of myself.

To sort my thoughts out. 

To...to...what? All of the above, as well as to change. Just...to change.

Perhaps that's why I've been trying so hard to prove myself. It can get incredibly exhausting, but not once do I want to pause, slow down, or give myself a long break. I have to prove myself - because I just have to. At times I have to tell myself not to overdo it, hence past events occur. Being motivated is good - but over-pushing isn't. Anything that leads to extremities is basically unhealthy, I'll say. 

Shitty mindset of mine. Anything lower than perfection, and I'd be cursing my uselessness.

It's odd. Whenever I see Asian girls squealing in that typical fashion, I would automatically fold my arms and sulkily say lowly, "Ugh, Asian girls." And then I'd want to facepalm because for goodness sake, I am an Asian girl. Don't get me wrong - I love my heritage. I'm proud to be a Chinese, and I'm proud to be able to converse with others in Chinese, even being able to speak and write. 

But what had happened to the general mindset and perception of the population? Where had the depth people once had gone to? Things are just so shallow nowadays that it hurts and aggravates. It was like they were wiped off the face of earth, and all that was left were the people who only knew how to judge and criticize.

Perhaps underneath all the major reasons, that was one of the reasons why I was struggling to get out of Malaysia as well. I wish I could tell my IS lecturer that I could remember all the meanings of the symbols on the Malaysian flag not because I was patriotic - but because I was a damned overachiever that scored well in History. 

But things will get better. They are getting better. 

There are wonderful people here. People that...I really would like to get to know better. 

Because I think that maybe, just maybe, they'd understand how I feel too. 

If this peaceful story could go on for a little longer - if it could progressively go well until the end of the year - then I'd be happy. I really would be. A fairytale it would be, because I'm a damned dreamer who doesn't appreciate reality well enough. If I could continue enduring and stop reverting to the reserved, moody, volatile high-school Anne for good - then that would be one part of my goals achieved, no questions asked. 

But who could help me achieve that? Who could help me?

There's no definitive answer. I came here to discover them on my own, didn't I? 

But for the most part, I do know that I don't want anybody to turn out into someone like me. Perhaps that's why I've been helping out others as much as I could - because I want them to experience a happy life. I want them to smile and laugh as much as possible, as well as gain lifelong friends - the ones who would go to great lengths in supporting them. I want them to gain genuine friends through honest means - not through slyness and dark thoughts of merely wanting to use them. I want them to be positive, honest, and caring.

And most importantly? I don't want them to be alone.

I still do not regret coming to New Zealand. And I never will.

I am not freaking homesick. In fact, I love it here so much (despite the fact that I freeze my ass off every morning - every house should have a toilet-seat warmer I swear) that I don't feel like returning.  

Despite the flaws in myself (which I can't really change for now), I love the place I am at. I admire the people around me, and I'm comfortable (enough for me not to hide into a corner and subdue myself with a book) around the people I hang out with, which is already a huge step for me. 

There's nothing that I regret. 

 Nothing at all.

And I will sleep tonight and hope I'll see a blue sky tomorrow - because it makes me smile, and I know that it will make others smile as well.