Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Can't be undone

I supposed after making a big hoohah about it, I should follow through.

Right. This is difficult to write. So here goes.

My so-called parents went for their little delightful spot of European sun on May 29th, I got the text message the day after. The date is important to the flow of what happened. So it took me bout 5 days to come to terms with it and be all sad. The thing is, ever since I came to Australia I have not cried at all for homesickness or loneliness. I know some people who went into some sort of funk while they are here and have super emo FB status updates about “Boo hoo I wanna be back home in Malaysia”. I never had any of those. The first time that I ever cried in Australia was 5 days after I realized what my parents did to me. I’m not a big crier, I detest it. I think girls who cry are weak pansies and should be smack silly. That being said, my parents have rendered me to that weakling pansy that should have been smack silly. Multiple times at that.

The thing is my parents and I, we speak on Skype, before this anyways, about like 4 or 5 times a week. Sometimes hour long conversations, sometimes a 2 minute thing that goes like “Mom I can’t talk to you now cause Glee is on”. That kinda thing. Right after the text message from my dad, they didn’t even text or call me from their little lovely European getaway. First you lie to me, then you didn’t even acknowledge my existence? Thumbs up on parenting there. It was like they know they fucked up and they were running away from it.

Then on the 11th to the 21st of June my cousin came over for a visit. I mean that’s a long holiday and I was basically very busy and tired taking her around Brisbane and the Gold Coast. At this point, there were still not a beep from my parents as they frolic around in the European sun. I was feeling better by this time cause I was having so much fun with my cousin here. We’re very close, me and her. She’s one year older and we practically grew up together so it was really, really fun. That was until I mentioned what my parents did and she went all wide-eyed and went;

“Holy shit. You didn’t know that they were going for holiday in Germany with your sister? Really? My family and I know since March dude.”

The. Fuck.

And then just to fucking rub it in, I went on Facebook and the first thing I saw on my homepage was my sister’s status update. “Oh just got back home to Finland! So much fun with mom and dad in Germany” or some bullshit along that line. See, initially I wasn’t even upset with my sister. Parents have a tendency to fuck things over between their own kids but ohmyfuckinggawd, that shit hurts. And it pissed me off….and then it hurts some more. Again, it’s not the Europe thing. It’s the deceitful sneaking about. Put yourself in my place. Living abroad alone, parents fucking withheld information from you and apparently the whole fucking world knows about it BUT you, the fucking family member itself. Put yourself in my place and see if your heart doesn’t feel like its being stabbed again and again with a jagged dagger forged of ice.

So I reacted. Not very gracefully. I blocked my sister from my Facebook. Then I went onto Skype and blocked both her and my mom, as well as on YM. I figure they been at it since May 29th and its like fucking June something and neither of them have made any contact with me. So fuck it.

My cousin left Australia on the 21st and so did my parents, from Finland. And then suddenly, when they no longer frolicking around in the European sun, memory came back-a-knockin and they were like “Omigawd, don’t we have another kid in Australia?” Suddenly my dad is sending me text messages of feigned concern:

“Oh you mother said to make sure wear thick clothes so that you won’t get sick cause its winter there now right?”

“Have you eaten yet Sweetie?”

“Your mom and I were wondering if you be on Skype today?”

“Where are you? Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering?”

“CD, are you okay? Where are you?”

By this time there were 5 times text messages a day and twice the number of calls. You see, at this point I was plain ignoring their message and I auto reject any international call made to my phone. To quote Sonia; “Wow, hardcore”. My parents thought they know me so well that they assumed they have to lie to me or else I throw a bitch fit. Well then, if they know me so well that they should have know that I have always been a vindictive bitch. They withheld information. I withheld information. Perhaps it’s genetic. We should look into making it a family business venture.

At this point I was ignoring them for about 10 days until my dad sent me a text message that was scary as hell:

“Are you okay? I am getting a plane ticket and sending your mother there.”


Fucking hell that was scary okay. I felt like I could have died on the spot. I went into full panic mode. I mean the fuck, I don’t want to wake up and my mom is there standing at my fucking doorstep. Are you fucking insane? I went into full panic mode. First shit I did was hid my bunny in a safe place. And then I fucking told my housemate to move the house’s minibar into his room. People would get their asses kick if my mom would even know the existence of a fucking minibar in the house okay. And then don’t get me started on all the other shit that I have and will not discuss on this blog. Fuck!

But still, I had to play cool. Waited for like a couple of hours. And then I sent this message:

“I’m fine. No need to care. Been busy. I’m going to sleep.”

Very curt. My dad called, auto reject. I didn’t call back.

But that wasn’t enough, I’m still angry. You see when I come here my dad gave me a credit card, to be used only in emergency. The first thing I wanted to do was to go shopping and max out the card but I figure that would not serve my purpose. That would just highlight how fucking immature I am. But I’m pissed. I need to hurt them. So I figured out what could hurt them financially, but won’t let me come across as immature. It somehow had to be a “mature” form of spending. Going to Harbour Town and cleaning out Nine West is not a form of “mature” spending. What could be it then? And then I got it. Since last year I have been taking 3 sets of boxing class. I’m already at the third level. I enjoy the classes, but I always wanted private, one-on-one lessons. However those are too expensive and I always figure to myself “I’m sure the classes are just as good as the private ones. And it’s expensive.” But since they pissed me off……….I went and enrolled myself for an 8 pack of private boxing classes that happened to be…….expensive. It’s spending, but its “mature” spending.

Do I need it? No.
Is it expensive? Hell yeah.
Does it make me come across as immature? No. Cause its self-defence and exercise, and that ladies and gentlemen is always a good combo and a completely “mature” form of spending.

WIN for me.

And then about like, 9 days ago my brother text me and told me that he’s gonna call and answer the phone already. At this point, he is the only one left that I am not pissed off so I answered his call. It was like an hour long call where he was like “I totally told them to tell you but they wouldn’t listen to me.” “You know how they are.” “I know this shit would hit the fan, bigtime.” “Talk to them, what they did was wrong but they’re still your parents.” Bla bla bla. Reverse psychology galore. I figure they, they being the deceitful and treacherous ones, must have been pretty desperate as to get my bro to call and reverse psychology me.

They sent a middle man.

So to be completely anti-climatic, I called my parents about 3 days later and we talked. Germany was not mentioned. It never happened. In fact, the country of Germany doesn’t even exist. They didn’t apologize. I didn’t mention it on the phone. The last thing I wanted to do was to pull out the hurt and break down over the phone. So we spoke. It was tense and forced and all that good feelings of talking to your far-away parents were missing. Since then I had another 10 minutes phone convo with them, and another maybe… 10mins mins Skype conversation with them. When my dad called to speak, I told him I can’t cause I’m running for the bus when I am in fact at home watching Hung.

I don’t get on Skype anymore. My Skype account is all but dead. I reply their messages in short sentences. I’m always “tired” when we talk on the phone. Or running for the bus. Or cooking. Or anything else that involve me not-talking-on-the-phone. Call me a Drama Queen, cause I am but I no longer want to share my life with them. I did and I wanted to two months ago but I no longer do anymore. Things will never be the same again between us. I know this. They know this.

And it doesn’t change a damn thing.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


This one time, years ago, I got on onto an elevator with my brother.

I absentmindedly pressed a button, assuming the button I was pressing was for the “close door” button. And the damnest thing happened- the door won’t just shut. The more I pressed it, the longer the door won’t shut. I totally freaked. I was all like “Holy shit! This elevator is broken! OMG!! WE ARE GOING TO PLUMMET TO OUR DEATHS!!!!”

My brother then calmly reached over and pressed the “close door” button. It turns out that for the last half a second or something I was pressing the “open door” button and freaked out for no apparent reason. My brother then looked at me dead in the face and said ;

“And to think mom and dad have such high hopes for you….”


This story has no point really other then fact that I miss him.

That’s all.