How weird. My horoscope today is really relevant to all the things I've been writing in my blog lately.
"A stop-go kind of day so tie up loose ends that could trip you up and think very carefully about your next move. Career has been a prominent focus these past two weeks, and you're prepared to make some changes. It's possible you're thinking of changing jobs altogether. Honour your instincts, but don't make any permanent moves until February 8th."
And two days earlier...
"Devoting more time to creative pursuits helps you put your life into perspective. If your career doesn't afford you personal satisfaction, you've got to find it elsewhere. Ironically, the more time you spend on activities you love, the better your chances of finding a fulfilling job. Start procuring people to look out for something 'very you' on your behalf."
Reading my horoscope has become a daily ritual of self-examination - a three-way battle between fate, wishful thinking and reality. But lately the combatants are beginning to look more and more like one big grotesque sculpture in which limbs are so entangled the subject is not the participants, but the brutality of the fight. This unsightly convergence of possibilties has stirred the sedated beast of ambition within me. I've been thinking more and more of going overseas to seek my fortune as a writer, filmmaker, game designer or stock trader. I need some new stimulus in my life... some sort of great open-ended adventure... something I'll enjoy and be good at.
Right now I'm listening to Wong Faye covering "Thousands of Words" and having one of those auto-didactic moments. I just feel that I'm not sucking the marrow from the bone of life, as my good friend Huan-Tzin put it at my 21st... I'll never know what inspired him to say that about me, but it's become a self-fulfilling prophecy in many ways. I'm a glutton for life! So if you hear of anything that is "very me", please let me know because I'm very hungry!
An intimate scrapbook documenting the trials and tribulations of nereis, our intrepid nematode at large (and a somewhat inconsistent blogger)
Wednesday, January 16, 2002
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
Here's an article I wrote for yogi, who's editing the university ethnic mag... The jury's still out on this one... I'm not sure it's finished yet!
I Am, You Are, We Are Australians?
I’ve been asked to write about my ethnicity. But rather than write about my Malaysian-chinese heritage, I’d like to write about the part of my culture most often over-looked. My Australianess.
One of my university lecturers once told me I should call myself an “Australian of Chinese descent”, rather than an ABC, which he felt incorrectly put Australianess second after Chineseness. For some reason though, most of us born in Australia to Asian parents do call ourselves ABC’s; and like me, many feel it is a bit rich for white people to tell us we are more Australian than we are Chinese. Why is this?
For most of my life I have avoided any semblance of patriotism, as patriotism always seemed to be accompanied by the rhetoric of assimilation and racism. I have avoided speaking of my Australianess, because it has never needed to be nurtured. I have just taken it for granted, a by-product of being born here, and underplayed its contribution to my hybrid identity. But recently, as I prepare to leave Australia indefinitely, I have become more appreciative of the special qualities of this country, my home.
I love the immense, blue sky, and the expansive spaces unheard of in the crowded cities of Asia. We have access to cultures from all around the world. And most importantly, we have an enviable, easy going, no worries lifestyle. We’re damn lucky to live in a country free from all the shit that goes down in Africa, the Middle East and Latin America. Even the US and UK seem troubled in comparison to Australian society. Of course, we are far from perfect. I am ashamed of our treatment of refugees, our patchy environmental record, and the frustrating pace of aboriginal reconciliation. In these areas, Canada and New Zealand make us look stodgy and conservative. But despite these issues, there remain many reasons to identify with being Australian.
But is Australianess merely an easy-going lifestyle and pleasant environment, as described above? Is living here enough to be Australian? I think most would say it’s not enough to just turn up on these shores. Migrants should also understand the values that have come to define Australia. What values you ask? Well egalitarianism for a start – an admirable, if somewhat hokey concept of a fair go for everyone. This probably originates from our convict and migrant heritage. Most of us came here to escape class and racial prejudices in other countries. Hence many Australians have an ideal of society built on mateship and equal opportunity, rather than wealth, race or class. It shows up in our individualism and hatred of class distinctions, as displayed in our irreverent attitude towards politicians and other tall poppies. Australian’s would never accord the same level of prestige to the PM as the Americans do to their President. Even the Queen cannot escape our love of piss-taking and irony – this sense of humour is undoubtedly my favourite Australian quality. I also like the way Australians love and embrace all characters, regardless of ethnicity. We love the larrikin and the good sport. We hate whingers and those who can’t hack a bit of hardship – they’re soft!
Ultimately, I feel Australianess is still in a process of becoming. Thanks to multiculturalism, there are many faces of Australia to be discovered. Some find this ambiguity disturbing, but it allows cultural-hybrids like myself to call ourselves Australian with both pride and confidence. And that goes a lot further than a simple “G’day” or “She’ll be right”.
I Am, You Are, We Are Australians?
I’ve been asked to write about my ethnicity. But rather than write about my Malaysian-chinese heritage, I’d like to write about the part of my culture most often over-looked. My Australianess.
One of my university lecturers once told me I should call myself an “Australian of Chinese descent”, rather than an ABC, which he felt incorrectly put Australianess second after Chineseness. For some reason though, most of us born in Australia to Asian parents do call ourselves ABC’s; and like me, many feel it is a bit rich for white people to tell us we are more Australian than we are Chinese. Why is this?
For most of my life I have avoided any semblance of patriotism, as patriotism always seemed to be accompanied by the rhetoric of assimilation and racism. I have avoided speaking of my Australianess, because it has never needed to be nurtured. I have just taken it for granted, a by-product of being born here, and underplayed its contribution to my hybrid identity. But recently, as I prepare to leave Australia indefinitely, I have become more appreciative of the special qualities of this country, my home.
I love the immense, blue sky, and the expansive spaces unheard of in the crowded cities of Asia. We have access to cultures from all around the world. And most importantly, we have an enviable, easy going, no worries lifestyle. We’re damn lucky to live in a country free from all the shit that goes down in Africa, the Middle East and Latin America. Even the US and UK seem troubled in comparison to Australian society. Of course, we are far from perfect. I am ashamed of our treatment of refugees, our patchy environmental record, and the frustrating pace of aboriginal reconciliation. In these areas, Canada and New Zealand make us look stodgy and conservative. But despite these issues, there remain many reasons to identify with being Australian.
But is Australianess merely an easy-going lifestyle and pleasant environment, as described above? Is living here enough to be Australian? I think most would say it’s not enough to just turn up on these shores. Migrants should also understand the values that have come to define Australia. What values you ask? Well egalitarianism for a start – an admirable, if somewhat hokey concept of a fair go for everyone. This probably originates from our convict and migrant heritage. Most of us came here to escape class and racial prejudices in other countries. Hence many Australians have an ideal of society built on mateship and equal opportunity, rather than wealth, race or class. It shows up in our individualism and hatred of class distinctions, as displayed in our irreverent attitude towards politicians and other tall poppies. Australian’s would never accord the same level of prestige to the PM as the Americans do to their President. Even the Queen cannot escape our love of piss-taking and irony – this sense of humour is undoubtedly my favourite Australian quality. I also like the way Australians love and embrace all characters, regardless of ethnicity. We love the larrikin and the good sport. We hate whingers and those who can’t hack a bit of hardship – they’re soft!
Ultimately, I feel Australianess is still in a process of becoming. Thanks to multiculturalism, there are many faces of Australia to be discovered. Some find this ambiguity disturbing, but it allows cultural-hybrids like myself to call ourselves Australian with both pride and confidence. And that goes a lot further than a simple “G’day” or “She’ll be right”.
Saturday, January 12, 2002
Sun worshipping aside, I, like lots of people, have been wondering what is the meaning of life? Well I'm no expert but let me tell you what I think. Joy. Sounds ridiculous? I know it's not the deepest sounding theory around, but everytime I told people the meaning of life was pleasure they all thought I meant sex. So I've settled on the more holistic word Joy, by which I mean life-affirming moments of pleasure.
I believe pleasure is an evolutionary clue that you're doing the right thing. There's a quote from one of my favourite books "The Notebooks of Don Rigoberto" - "the truly essential purpose of human life, [is] in my opinion, to satisfy desires ... there is no other valid reason for selling insurance policies, or for building dams, castrating cats, or taking shorthand." Joy is the satisfication of one's desires... which isn't always easy, but I guess it's not supposed to be, otherwise we'd all be happy as cats and not asking ourselves such metaphysical questions. The logic of Joy gives us reason to whinge less and appreciate more - to live with purpose, even if you're a cynical agnostic bastard like me.
My little episode of sun-appreciation is just one example of a joyful moment in which the spiritual and sensual, the personal and universal, are united. I found this quote in a Hermann Hesse novel that describes a similar experience... "A refreshing laughter rose in me, and suddenly the forgotten melody of those notes of the piano came back to me again. It soared aloft like a soap-bubble, reflecting the whole world in miniature on its rainbow surface, and then softly burst. There was some meaning in my foolish life, something in me gave an answer and was the receiver of those distant calls from worlds far above. In my brain were stored a thousand pictures. There were ten thousand more unknown pictures and tunes there which had no dwelling place but in me, no eyes to see, no ears to hear them but mine."
Having a sense of your own mortality helps bring such moments to the surface, since beauty exists only to those who are aware that it doesn't last forever. And the medium through which this personal realisation of ephemeral beauty is expressed, is Art. Both Llosa and Hesse wrote about this, clearly inspired by Art's power to transcribe the powerfully personal meaning of life into something others could also derive meaning from. Art inspires others to live, despite all the grief and suffering! It heightens our sensitivity to life's beauty!
"And these men, for whom life has no repose, live at times in their rare moments of happiness with such strength and indescribable beauty, the spray of their moment's happiness is flung so high and dazzlingly over the wide sea of suffering, that the light of it, spreading its radiance, touches others too with its enchantment. Thus, like a precious fleeting foam over the sea of suffering arise all these works of art, in which a single individual lifts himself for an hour so high above his personal destiny that his happiness shines like a star and appears to all who see it as something eternal and as their own dream of happiness."
Hence Art is essential to Joy. These brief flashes of true inspiration, in which all desires seem satisfied, are for me, the very reason for living. But as Hesse pointed out, personal appreciation is not enough... Because Joy has an element of the universal, of something wondrous and so immense, it transcends any individual perspective or experience. Joy can only achieve its full meaning when it is shared with others through the Art of images, music, or words. And that's what I'm trying to do here.
I believe pleasure is an evolutionary clue that you're doing the right thing. There's a quote from one of my favourite books "The Notebooks of Don Rigoberto" - "the truly essential purpose of human life, [is] in my opinion, to satisfy desires ... there is no other valid reason for selling insurance policies, or for building dams, castrating cats, or taking shorthand." Joy is the satisfication of one's desires... which isn't always easy, but I guess it's not supposed to be, otherwise we'd all be happy as cats and not asking ourselves such metaphysical questions. The logic of Joy gives us reason to whinge less and appreciate more - to live with purpose, even if you're a cynical agnostic bastard like me.
My little episode of sun-appreciation is just one example of a joyful moment in which the spiritual and sensual, the personal and universal, are united. I found this quote in a Hermann Hesse novel that describes a similar experience... "A refreshing laughter rose in me, and suddenly the forgotten melody of those notes of the piano came back to me again. It soared aloft like a soap-bubble, reflecting the whole world in miniature on its rainbow surface, and then softly burst. There was some meaning in my foolish life, something in me gave an answer and was the receiver of those distant calls from worlds far above. In my brain were stored a thousand pictures. There were ten thousand more unknown pictures and tunes there which had no dwelling place but in me, no eyes to see, no ears to hear them but mine."
Having a sense of your own mortality helps bring such moments to the surface, since beauty exists only to those who are aware that it doesn't last forever. And the medium through which this personal realisation of ephemeral beauty is expressed, is Art. Both Llosa and Hesse wrote about this, clearly inspired by Art's power to transcribe the powerfully personal meaning of life into something others could also derive meaning from. Art inspires others to live, despite all the grief and suffering! It heightens our sensitivity to life's beauty!
"And these men, for whom life has no repose, live at times in their rare moments of happiness with such strength and indescribable beauty, the spray of their moment's happiness is flung so high and dazzlingly over the wide sea of suffering, that the light of it, spreading its radiance, touches others too with its enchantment. Thus, like a precious fleeting foam over the sea of suffering arise all these works of art, in which a single individual lifts himself for an hour so high above his personal destiny that his happiness shines like a star and appears to all who see it as something eternal and as their own dream of happiness."
Hence Art is essential to Joy. These brief flashes of true inspiration, in which all desires seem satisfied, are for me, the very reason for living. But as Hesse pointed out, personal appreciation is not enough... Because Joy has an element of the universal, of something wondrous and so immense, it transcends any individual perspective or experience. Joy can only achieve its full meaning when it is shared with others through the Art of images, music, or words. And that's what I'm trying to do here.
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