Christmas essentials

I can't believe it's a week till Christmas. TIME. FLIES.

I've been feeling super festive this year. Probably because I've been following vlogmas on YouTube, and I've got 3(three! can you believe it?!) literary advent calendars going on. So yes. Ever since the 1st of December, it's been Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! for me.

But, life throws pesky things like exams and stuff at you. So I haven't been able to go all out Christmassy and basically make my apartment look like an elf threw up in it (in a good way!) but things are slowly but surely coming along nicely. Emphasis on the slowly part.

Nothing gets my creative juices flowing like when my brain is procrastinating. Which is what I did today. Procrastinate. (Besides, nothing's a bigger incentive than last minute panic to really get the work done!)

Christmas essentials. TA-DAHHH! These are my personal "essentials" this year, and I'll just go through them from the bottom left corner in a clockwise direction.

Flat Lay All Day Err' Day!

Christmas jumper. It's the first one I've ever bought (yeah can you believe it?!) and I'm making everyone in my apartment wear a festive jumper for our Christmas dinner. (Because I can and so I will and so I did.) I just love the deep maroon and dark blue on this white one. Can't get over this jumper. It's festive-y but not too Christmassy so I can continue wearing it throughout winter if I want.

Pointe shoes, tickets, binoculars. Because what is December without Ballet season? (Actually it's ballet season all year round in Moscow, but there's just something a little extra special about going to the ballet at Christmastime.) Or go to the orchestra. Whatever floats your boat. Nuff' said.

My trusty old MacBookPro, because how else am I supposed to keep up with vlogmas, amirite? Plus there's all sorts of Christmas films to watch. (Side note, film rec: Arthur Christmas. Watch it. You will love it.)

Make up! 
Got some from my set of Stila brushes here, and a couple of face brushes from Real Techniques. They are amazingly wonderful to use, especially considering their price. Best. Purchase. Ever.

Got the basic powder, eyeshadow, blush, highlight, eyeliner and lipstick here, but I'd like to give a shoutout for my absolute favourite recent discoveries/products.

For cream eyeshadow/base, I cannot recommend anything but Maybelline's colour tattoos. It's so easy to apply, I just pop them on with my fingers and blend it out, dab eyeshadow on top if I'm feeling fancy, and I am good to go.

Nest up, blush. I've been really loving my Milani Baked Blushes. I've got quite a few, and I really love all the colours I own. If I'm too lazy to use highlight, I'll just slap on Luminoso or Rose d'Oro, and I swear they. give. you. cheekbone. goals.

Finally, I can't stop talking about my Rimmel 107 lipstick. It's from the collection they collaborated with Kate Moss, and it's just the most gorgeous deep, berry colour. Plus it smells yummilicious.

Perfume. These were a present from a few Christmas back (if I'm not mistaken these are from Dior), and I love these rollerball types because you can bring it along with you in a purse and just touch up whenever necessary.

Journal, Candle, Tumbler. Winter nights in Moscow are cold. Real cold. How can anyone say no to hot coffee or cocoa (or neslo) in a tumbler, candles burning (this is one of my favourite scents - Mahogany and Teakwood from Bath & Body Works) and a journal to pen your thoughts (or doodle) while you're snuggled up in a cocoon of cosy perfection?

Jewellery. I've taken to wearing multiple rings ever since I pilfered a bunch of midi rings from my sister, so I'm normally either wearing one, four, or more rings at a time.

So there you have it. Happy holidays and I'll see you on the flip side!

ponderings, musings, and basically rambling thoughts

So I just copied out some song lyrics on a piece of paper, and because I was in a mood, I decided to write it out the oldey-chinesey style(?) that being, Top to bottom, Right to left. And because of my mood, I also decided to do it in 繁体 instead of 简体, ergo the need to write it out in pencil. Because of course there were going to be mistakes and weirdly proportioned parts of unfamiliar words. ;p

Anyway, that's over and done with, but I'm left with a pencil smear along the lateral side of my right hand, something my left-handed friends are all too familiar with. Right handed people would get it too whenever we had 抄作文 homework or basically any work that involved pagefuls of words.

And it got me thinking: how in the world did our ancestors do it with ink and brush? Write such complex words with an unruly brush AND making sure those words don't smudge out as they move on. Calligraphy is hard enough when we write the sentences (or 成语s in most of our case,) Left to right, Top to bottom. And they wore robes with giant billowing sleeves. I guess that's why the left hand always supports the sleeves in movies/dramas that I've seen. (There's always some grand, swooping gesture, amirite?) But what a hassle that must be!

Then I realized it would've been easier for left-handers in that case, since "we" are working/writing the words from Top to bottom, Right to left. They wouldn't have a problem with smearing ink as they write. BUT, another thought then occurred to me. The structure of individual Chinese characters are generally written in parts, and we generally write those parts of the words from right to left then top to bottom. Left-handers would face the same problem all over again.

Why so hard, calligraphy?

But I guess the main question is, why so random, brain? Why do you always wonder about the weirdest things?

Side note, I remember a friend jokingly telling me she gets a full neck workout when she reads English and Chinese novels one after another, because her head would go side-to-side (English novel) and then work up-and-down (Chinese novels). And sometimes she just goes round and round confusing herself. Silly girl. 

Shame.

Let's talk body image issues.

I think all Chinese girls who grew up in a city in Malaysia has faced body image issues at some point in their lives.

You're never at an ideal body weight. You're always either too skinny or too fat. When I was younger, my aunts would say to me: "Have you eaten?(<- that right there is the most Chinese line ever) You should eat more, you're too skinny, it's not pretty." And then one day in my late teens it just flipped and suddenly my aunts were all telling me: "Have you put on weight recently? You look fatter, you should go on a diet."

Growing up as someone who took ballet classes, I had a surprisingly well body image. You're constantly in a room full of mirrors, wearing skin tight leotard and tights, surrounded by other (mostly) skinny girls. We'd get a lecture from our principle to drop 20pounds whenever exam period rolled around, but as long as I could get a flat tummy when I sucked it in, I was fine, I was satisfied with my body. I disliked how I was vertically, but rarely horizontally.

Fast forward a few more years, throw in living abroad on my own for the first time and take out the dance classes. This is where I was the past few years. I wouldn't say I hated my body, but I definitely disliked it. Do I get uncomfortable when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror? Most of the time? Yeah. Did I have occasional good days? Yes, but those were far and few in between.

Am I taking steps to get back to a body shape I'm more comfortable with? Yes.

Am I watching what I eat? Yes.

But, that doesn't mean I cut out eating all that I love. I allow myself indulgences and the occasional binge. But, I watch what I eat not in terms of counting calories, but because I genuinely want to lead a healthier lifestyle. That's my main goal, and if eating healthy and feeling healthy helped me drop some pounds along the way, all the better.

I don't want to crash diet and work out like crazy to quickly shed weight, only to rebound in the near future. I'd like to think that what I'm doing now is a commitment. I'd rather take the slower and longer journey to get where I want healthily and in doing so, create a lifestyle whereby I can maintain it for the long term.

It's hard to feel motivated though. A year or two (or three) ago, I hit a really low point. I was genuinely fat, and the heaviest I had ever been (59 or 60kg, I believe). I couldn't even use the excuse of muscle weighing more than fats, because by this point most of my muscles had converted to fat from disuse. My attitude at this point was basically fuck it. There's no more hope for me, I'm fat, none of my clothes fit, nothing looked good on my body, why bother with anything, why bother trying.

But somehow, I got over it.

It's a tough and uphill battle though. Your metabolism starts doing shit to your body and you refuse to accept that you're ageing and there are consequences whether you liked it or not. You actually have to consciously work hard to get something that you took for granted for years. Years.

I miss my childhood days even though I looked like a malnourished African kid. Oh to be skinny despite what you ate.

Eating is another issue, isn't it? It feels like every single female that I'm surrounding myself with (in Moscow anyway) is obsessed  with what they put into their mouths. And I'm just so sick of it because it feels so unhealthy. Essentially, by not (extreme) dieting, you're the odd one out and everyone else (passive aggressively) shames you into feeling guilty. It personally feels like a toxic environment to me and I don't like it. Unfortunately, my best friends do this, my friends do this, the people I live with do this, everyone does this.

While it is easier for me to try and stay above said toxic environment, I find it harder to avoid pettiness as a downfall. I recently saw a few pictures of friends from way back who recently had a reunion of sorts. I haven't even seen pictures of some of them in years. So imagine my surprise when I found out most of them had put on weight. I'll admit, my first reaction was glee. I felt relieved I wasn't the only one who had put on weight! And they looked like they've put on even more weight than me! It is a terrible thought to have, but that was my genuine reaction. I blame this on the body-shaming brainwash I've been living with for the past few years.

Another acquaintance of mine recently came forward to discuss the body image issues she faced and how she came to accept that she had gone into an unhealthy zone with the help of her friends and family, and how she was now working towards getting to a healthy weight. It was a great message, one we've seen all too often. Fat girl loses weight, gets to ideal weight and looks hot, gets obsessed with losing weight and veers off into unhealthy zone. I saw her pictures, and damn, she looked Hot. I'm not sure if those pictures were from her "unhealthy" period, or if there were from a more recent time when she was trying to get back to a "healthy" weight. But my main point is, I admire her for being able to accept that she was in an "unhealthy" phase (because she looked good), and it would be so much easier to just maintain said unhealthy weight because everyone would constantly gush about how they wished they had your body etc etc.

Body image played a rather small part throughout my life, but in the recent years it seems to dominate most of my life and my thinking. There have been times where I wished I had an eating disorder just because it would have made it easier for me to lose weight. Those are very toxic thoughts that developed within a few years of moderate level body image issues. Can you imagine the type of psychological damage that would have developed in a person who grew up their whole life with body image issues? Yes, there are plenty of campaigns out there encouraging a positive body image, but society as a whole needs to change it's mindset.

Because I'm sick of seeing girls who stand up for loving their bodies getting quickly shot down by guys who tell them "Yeah but guys go after girls with hot bodies, not healthy bodies or real bodies."

An evening of fangirling with Maksim & Nikola.

Tonight was mind blowing. It was amazing. It was an assault on my senses. I. Died. And it was awesome.

So the girls and I went for a Фортепианный Концерт at the ММДМ. Basically it was a piano concert in two parts. Никола Мельников(Nikola Melnikov) in the first part of the program, followed by Maksim. Yes, That Maksim. THE MAKSIM. (Even my mom was jealous when she heard about this, LOL.)

To be honest, I was there for Maksim. I didn't know who the other dude was, and by reading the program booklet, I found out he was doing a presentation of his album, #22. Zi tells me he's a rather famous and popular Russian pianist, but frankly speaking, I wasn't expecting too much.

Boy was I in for a shock.

Nikola was amazing. The first song, 635, didn't exactly blow my mind away, but his second song, Inception, was my favourite piece. The third song, Delicatesse, was a complete audio-visual experience for me. I literally had visions in my head, scenes unfolding and images flashing by as he played. I've never experienced something like that, ever. What he had evoked via his music was so strong, I felt utterly compelled to pull out my pen and jot down notations in my program booklet. It was a frenzy. So basically I was scribbling away furiously whenever he paused between pieces, trying to cram my words into the tiny space and jot down what I felt with each song, or what my interpretation was for each piece.

Some pieces were very moving, some were visual, some created stories in my head. But not everything was deep. One piece merely had two words commented beside it: Them fingers! Because seriously, I know he's a pro and all, but his fingers are so light and precise and controlled. No lazy notes, no rushed notes - Zi commented that it felt as though he was "caressing the piano". She's right. He was caressing the piano while creating the most amazing sounds without compromising technique or quality.

The last song on his program(barring the encore) was Together We Are and this was my second favourite piece because of how complex yet intricate it was.

All too soon, it was time for intermission. They made an announcement in Russian, and I immediately got excited because if my Ruskii boleh pakai, i.e. if my comprehension of the Russian language was accurate and correct, there would be an autograph session at the end of it all. Unfortunately, Zi, Elise and YX basically tuned out the announcement because it was in Russian so I couldn't double check with anyone if what I heard was true. Guess we just had to wait for the end of the show to find out. (We were tentatively excited anyway.)

Part two. Maksim.

Let me just say he looks super leng zai in the program book. Totally my type. He came on stage, and I kinda had a brain-melt moment. He was so HOT. And superrrr tall. Like, I've seen his MVs, but I never expected him to be so tall.

His first piece was Nostradamus. The whole hall was silent throughout his first performance, probably because we all just kinda died and went to heaven. From the get go, Maksim grabs you by the heart and blows everything clear out of the water. He is a Performer. With a capital P. He is in your face. Loud, confident, melodramatic. I was equally torn throughout the first piece. Because on the one hand, I wanted to kiss him for the ear orgasm. But on the other hand, I also wanted to slap him because I beh tahan him. He bermacam-macam sangat. Pattern-pattern sangat. He is a Drama Queen. And we love him for it. His performances stand out for that very reason.

I was constantly at the edge of my seat throughout his whole program. I didn't dare to move, I couldn't breathe until he paused. He's so dramatic and amazing. His facial expressions are to die for. I cannot reiterate enough that he. is. a. Performer. He belongs on the stage, he's at home when he's in the spotlight. I'm really impressed by the coordination of the accompaniment too, especially when he cues for the track to be played, but the accompaniment parts only join in somewhere in the middle of the piece. Their timing and precision is quite a feat!

For his encore piece, he played the cartoon theme song from Sonic the Hedgehog. I would willingly watch him perform this over and over again because his facial expressions are absolutely priceless. You know how some musicians feel their music? Maksim feels the music and plays with it too. There's a very playful banter sort of energy throughout his performances.

After the performance, we filed out and collected our coats. After a round of taking pictures, as seen here,

And here,

We got in line for the autograph session. I was mildly panicking at this point, because my program had scribbles on Nikola's page. And then Maksim walked by and we were like EFFFFF He's so damn tall. Like seriously tall. (Side note: he looks a lot older than I expected. Like I know his debut was more than 10 years ago, but I wasn't expecting him to age quite that much. Still hot though. And his eyes. So Blue. OMG. *fans self*)

We finally got to the table, and Maksim signed my program, then it was on to Nikola next to him.

I handed him my booklet, and Nikola picked up his pen.
Then he paused.
I mentally cringed as he tilted his head and signed my program. And then he squinted at my scribbles, looked at me (he's like really young and cute), then asked, "Are these your notes?"

Ahhhhhhh.

I was equal parts mortified and fangirling at the same time. Because. Hellooo. Like. He just gave an amazing performance. And he saw my notes. And asked after it.

So obviously I word vomited on the spot. Blabbering on about how I couldn't help it because he was just so amazing. Basically I went straight to fangirl heaven. He was such a great sport about it.

I ran away after that and met up with the girls, reliving my embarrassment and fangirling over and over again.

After the crowd kinda thinned and the line disappeared, we headed back to try and get a group photo. YX gets all the credit here. She handed my phone to a lady who had a DSLR so we'd have someone who knew how to take pictures for us. Then, she caught Nikola's attention, who then got Maksim, and we quickly got into place for our photo.

The crowd literally parted for us in a semicircle. So that was pretty awesome. The four of us girls stood in front with the two pianists in the back.

So none of us girls are particularly tall. So we're used to standing in the front for pictures. And like all considerate people, we're used to checking behind us to ensure we weren't blocking anyone's faces. Elise and I ended up in the centre, and we both turned back at the same time. All I saw were buttons. I looked up. Where I had expected a head, were Maksim's chest and shoulders. I looked even higher, and Maksim was staring down at us (both Elise and I looked up at him at the same time. It was a funny coincidence) and he had a peculiar expression on his face. I think it was amusement? Because he was literally LOOMING over us. Both Elise and I immediately turned around and looked at the ground while trying to control our laughter. Did I mention most of us were already wearing wedges? Didn't help with the height issue at all. Anyway, we got our pictures. :D

As you can see, Nikola was a head taller than all of us. Maksim is almost comically two whole heads taller than me.

So there. My first real celebrity autograph and picture. (And by real celebrity, I mean a celeb I'm genuinely excited to meet. Sorry Nic Teo and Lin Yu Zhong and Juwita etc.)

Kak!

A friend recently shared an article comparing how well mums and maids knew the children. It made for an interesting read, and since I've also been discussing maids with my friends in the past few days, I thought I'd blog a little about this topic.

Foreign Domestic Workers a.k.a. maids a.k.a. kakaks a.k.a. mbak

I know having a full time, live-in maid isn't something common in the West, but my mom grew up with maids, my siblings and I grew up with maids, my younger cousins grew up with maids, almost all my friends grew up with maids - it was just the norm for us. And the few friends that I knew who didn't grow up with a maid had a mom who was a full-time housewife.

Obviously, I knew that not every single family could afford a kakak, but it wasn't until I went abroad to study that I met Malaysians who grew up without a maid (and their moms weren't housewives either!) My first question (after getting over the "culture shock"), was: "but how do you survive?!"


Growing up, I was definitely close with my maids. Not that I wasn't close with my parents - it's just that while they were away at work, it was basically the maid and my grandma (and the occasional relative) at home with us. And because I didn't have a penis, I didn't have a lot of relatives doting upon me or giving me attention (she said, without a trace of resentment in her tone.) So, I looked to my kakak for everything. I was definitely very attached to our maids while I was young.

I spoke Indonesian and English as a child (communicating in Chinese or Hokkien was a nightmare); I cried when my kakak cut herself (i didn't exactly shed tears when my aunt cut herself the next day); I picked up Cantonese watching Hong Kong dramas with my maid; they tied my hair and dressed me up; they came on holidays with us; they wiped away our tears after my parents gave us scoldings and thrashings; they cooked late night suppers for us; they located things we misplaced/didn't put away properly... They did everything. And whenever they went home for Hari Raya holidays, we would tread water (rather miserably) and try to stay afloat until they came back.

I believe we had our very first maid shortly after I was born (Yani), and went through a few (Ani, Isa, Yuli, Tina) until our final one (Siti) who left when I was around 22. The first thought that came to my mind was: but who's going to prepare my curry and rendang bumbu and sambal to bring abroad? 10months being independent and shit in Moscow and I can't go back to enjoying my 2 months in Malaysia with a kakak who would do everything and cook what I wanted to eat? What is life??

As you can probably tell, I'm definitely very pro-maid. My family has been lucky enough to have had good maids and I believe part of it is because my parents were good majikans/employers. Yes, there are maid related horror stories out there, but I believe for the most part, if you treat them well, they'll treat you nicely too. Unless they are genuinely disturbed.

One of the criteria I've set/ my life goal is to be able to afford a kakak before even thinking about having a kid. Unfortunately, maids are getting harder to afford (agent fees are going up - I believe maids are grossly underpaid for all that they do) and Malaysian laws are getting more stringent. Which sucks. Apparently you have to prove that you have kids (under a certain age) or elderly at home that require additional care from a maid. What nonsense is this?! What if I just suck at being an adult?! D:

My oh my...

How does one cling on to such ridiculous assumptions? I've come to accept that our society is ugly and toxic and a cesspit of nastiness, but shouldn't we, as medical students, or one day, doctors, draw a line somewhere?

Who are you to judge a patient's social history? Who are you to make assumptions on how a patient acquired a certain disease, before you even speak to them?

You would judge someone based on the way they look?


You think you're so smart, walking around all high and mighty, assuming everyone else is beneath you - socially and intellectually.

Look at that patient. He/she is here because of a CVD. Obviously he/she ate her way to this disease. It serves him/her right, right? Who cares if it might have been an inheritable condition? No one bothers to learn if his/her societal background might have played a role in the development of this disease. Maybe he/she is already doing his/her best.

Or here's another scenario. You've been told you're meeting a HIV+ve patient. Your first assumptions are that he/she is a drug addict or has multiple sexual partners. Obviously. Good job there. What about the possibility of him/her inheriting it from his/her mom? Or what if their partner cheated on them and gave them HIV? Or what if it was a fuck up at the hospital by an incompetent nurse/doctor/medical student just like you?


We are an ignorant society who rants and raves on the world stage.


And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. 

Heart vs. Brain

Decisions, decisions…

So I’m at a personal crossroads of sorts. I’m thinking of staying in Moscow over the coming summer.

I mean, accommodation isn’t an issue because I’d have to pay rent for my apartment anyway. And I save approx. RM3k on flight tickets. (Ooooh I could use the money to backpack around Europe. :D)

I return every year for two basic things. Food and company (family and friends). The food I can honestly do without. I’m not crazy for local food. I can eat something once in the summer and it’s enough to tide me over until the next year. In fact, I lose weight every summer when I return home. Without even consciously trying to do so. “Missing” Malaysian food won’t be an issue for me, I guess. On the downside, if I remain in Moscow, I’d likely end up maintaining/gaining weight. Drat.

Most of my friends have started working anyway and we rarely meet up anymore. Besides, most of them are back for good so I’d get to see them when I return in 2016(?) anyway.

Family.

Call me a coward but I can foresee my family’s finances getting tighter in the coming year and I’m a shitty human being for even thinking like that, but it would be so much easier for me to stay away. I won’t have to deal with family drama or nagging relatives. If I miss them I could always Skype home. Right?

But I am subconsciously distancing myself. Or so my family has told me. Repeatedly, over the past months. Maybe the past week has been especially tough; maybe the past months were difficult, but I’m kind of afraid if I don’t return, it’d be like I was turning my back on my family. After all, I chose to stay away, I chose to not put in the effort to keep my family together. I chose the easy way out.

That guilt that I would bear is the only reason I haven’t spoken to my parents about staying back in summer.

Everything else is rational and seemingly easy to decide. But the heart is an ass of an organ. Despite behaving like a thinker most of the time, deep down, the feeler in me always puts up a good fight and mess up all my meticulous plans.

Eye is for Inspiration.

So, what drives you? What keeps you motivated to open your eyes every morning, get out of bed and get on with your life?

I’ve been stuck in-between, a limbo of sorts for the past few months. Not exactly a Uni student, but not yet a proper, working adult. I’ve been working at my parent’s office in the meantime, but being the boss’ daughter = flexibility. So while there are days that I don’t have to go into the office because I’m my mom’s driver while she runs errands, there are also days where I bring work home and continue well into the evening/weekends.

But I digress.

Most of the friends that I know before I went to Moscow have been working/will begin working soon. I’ve been hanging around with them the past two months and it definitely took some time to change out of my Uni-student gears, and got me thinking.

Say you don’t have to work because you have a hypothetical trust fund that goes on forever and ever. What would you do with your life if you didn’t have to wake up at 6 or 7 every morning to go to work?

Do you just regress back into the Uni student lifestyle minus the classes and exams?

How do you find something that you can enjoy doing/pursuing for a long-ish course of time?

I get interested in little projects but they’re mostly of the hangat-hangat tahi ayam variety. I bury myself into a project for days/weeks, and when I’m done I close the chapter and just move on. My passion for things are normally just spikes. Sporadic, jumpy, spikes.

The only thing that has been pretty constant for the past few years is my writing, so I guess that’s the only thing I’ve been using to measure my “growth”. Writing was the primary outlet for all the angst I had inside me, and while I like to think I’ve slightly mellowed out, writing is still my go to outlet whenever I have these angsty flares. But over the years, I’ve dabbled into writing different things. It started out with fanfiction, but I’ve tried my hand with writing a love poem back in summer, and more recently, I’ve been working on haikus.

Most of the time I’m rather iffy with what I’ve written/created, but sometimes I find a line or two that I still love after all this time, and it inspires me somehow, in different ways. It’s like every time I visit it, I add a new layer of meaning to it, or I interpret it differently, and that’s what I want to wake up to.

Finding new layers to our everyday life, discovering the little magic in plain things.

Who needs haters...

...when Chinese families do a darn good job of tearing their own kids down?

Here’s something I’ve never told anyone before. While I was growing up, I’ve always seen myself as less than useless to my family. Feeling like I was useless would have been a treat because the only thing I felt was that I was worse than useless – I was a burden to my family. Being female is sin enough (my parents never made me feel this way, but I had more than enough relatives “subtly” hinting at it) but to make things worse, I had nothing to contribute to the family; I was just another mouth at the table for my parents to feed.

So that might have messed my mind a little. Which is why I absolutely loathe this next part.

I’m sure my family wasn’t the only one who did it. I had friends who experienced it as well while we were all growing up. You know, the kiasu competition of “No la, your child is so much better than mine, my child always <insert various complains here>.

It was like a fucking sin to praise your child. 

If you get 97 on a test, your parents ask why you didn’t get 100 instead. When you do get 100, you don’t get a “good job” or “keep up the good work”, it's merely “other students in her class also get 100” or "but she only got 94 for another subject".

When Chinese parents meet, it’s like a bloody competition of lets-see-who-can-out-praise-the-other-kid-while-putting-down-our-own-kid.

Exhibit A:

-Wah, Mrs. X, your daughter so smart, I hear she got a trophy for the storytelling contest.

-No la, she was lucky. Second place only la. Even her teacher says she’s too playful to focus properly. But your daughter also very talented, she’s taking piano exam this year right?

-Aiya, grade 1 only la. Everybody also learning piano, nothing special la. Her teacher also always complain she don’t practice enough. Too lazy. Don’t know if she can even get distinction or not.

Exhibit B:

-Eh Mrs. B, how did your daughter do for her PMR? She so clever, sure straight A’s no problem wan right?

-Oh no la, she’s not as clever as you think la. Her Mandarin is terrible wan. Everybody also say she like banana. She got B for Mandarin. How about your daughter?

-Oh, B for Mandarin. I hear that subject also very difficult. My daughter got straight A’s but only 7 subjects la, she never take Mandarin because too difficult. Mrs. C’s son also got straight A’s but he took the Mandarin paper as well la.

Ps. Pardon the broken English. It's like, a must when these aunties talk to one another.

Honestly. Can Chinese parents never just come out to their kids and say “You did okay/pretty well” or even a simple “You’re on the right track. Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing”? I'm not even looking for a praise here!

My parents were never really into comparing us with other kids but I SEE YOU, “caring” relatives and “concerned” parents of our friends. I don't mind healthy competition, after all, it pushes us to excel, but I see through your guise. *squints and points finger at you. Yes you, the one feeling guilty/self conscious. I'm talking to you* What is with your circle of toxic? Keep your hating to yourself and if you gossipy hags want to spread something, spread the damn love.

Back in primary school, I’ve only ever felt like I wasn’t ever good enough, but as I went into secondary school, I slowly learned about politics and disguised boasts. But I beg all parents to stop with the unhealthy competition. Because everytime you mention 7 A's and 1 B for Mandarin, I only hear the “1 B for Mandarin" part. Whenever I hear 10 A1s and 2 A2s, I only hear “2 A2s”. It no longer mattered when you would later on assure me you’re proud of all the A's I got because the only thing that I can think of, are the things I didn't do well enough. It’s already ingrained in my system to look for my own faults even when no one’s looking anymore.

Tonight, my mom told me she liked who I had become after I returned from my 1^st year in Russia. I learned how to appreciate things, cared for my family, and became more thoughtful, helpful, and economical, yadda yadda yadda. (There was obviously a big, fat "But" at the end of her sentence.)

Yes, she’s right. I did change for the better. But you’re acknowledging this 3 years too late, mother dearest. This acknowledgement would’ve been useful back when I was trying to help my siblings change, when I was trying to teach my siblings to be more grateful for what we have.

Instead, I felt as though I was speaking to a wall and my good intentions were ignored/no one even realized I was trying.

Which was why I slowly gave up over the years. The girl who cared too much became the girl who DGAF.

I stopped caring because all my efforts felt futile. If someone had even acknowledged my efforts back then, told me that I was on the right track, maybe I wouldn’t have given up so easily. On them, on myself. Who knows?

If my mother could’ve just opened her mouth three years ago instead of three years too late, maybe, she wouldn’t have to call me selfish today.