Artificial Sacrifice

*this post edited due to grammatical, vocabulary, and overall presentation error due to the influence of heightened emotions in a public place*

I'm not sure why some people can describe me as friendly and out-going when in all honesty, I shrivel with dread whenever my phone rings. A couple of my friends asked for a Skype chat or a normal phone call recently and I gave all sorts of excuses...no, I didn't want to avoid them. Alright, in essence I was but couldn't Whatsapp or Facebook essay-like messages suffice? Why put this poor misanthropic sod through such a social ordeal?

Its just that I have this thing against phone calls.
I. DON'T.LIKE.PHONE.CALLS.BECAUSE.I.CAN'T.SEE.YOUR.FACE.

Plus, I hate it if the reception is extremely bad and I'm totally against saying 'hello' more than thrice. The standard polite hello-ing to determine reception quality is three times, ask Michael McIntyre. Repeating of sentences and questions is annoying to myself, and potential eavesdroppers; emotionally-charged statements and punch lines should only be vocalised once, and only once.

The introverted extrovert.

I read back with regret on some articles about joining clubs in university in order to do well in networking for the future. I didn't, albeit having all the freedom in the world. I wasn't being held back from joining clubs or other extra co-curricular activities like I was during school due to 'no transport' or the usual Asian Parenting Excuse: It's taking too much of your time from studying (but my sisters went on to join the choir, library, taekwando AND dancing classes - to relieve stress, konon - which made me to believe there is no justice in the world).

Perhaps money was part of the reason I didn't join the white water rafting or rock climbing clubs in university - the exchange rate...

Even so, I ended up dropping out from other fee/expenses-free societies like the Catholic Student Society when Father Michael Tate started to know me by name and gives a friendly wink during Communion. Oh, does that clue you on to the fact I get 'upset' when I'm recognised or remembered? Even the free pizza after every meeting couldn't entice me to stay; my excuse was that I don't like walking in the dark (and it gets dark after 4pm in winter but the excuse continued on in summer when it stays light until 9pm), with a valid reason since a few racially-influenced assaults had happened then.

I did get involved with the university's Mentor Program and was awarded with a mentor who was with the Tasmanian Forestry Department and not only had a 10yr-long part-time PhD about eucalyptus genetics under his belt but he was in his late 40s, pursuing an MBA part-time and read law books in his free time. Very mismatched but what am I to say when he was the only candidate for the (Plant) Science faculty? He was very, very well-connected and I felt quite intimidated and shallow around him. I needed the connection in order to land a decent job in my field when I was in the assumption I could pursue a career in that country.

Alas, the requisite was a year's working experience before I could apply for a job or PR in Australia under my field of zoology or life science related fields.

I had given up societies and clubs in university to dog PhD students in their research. Following them in their fieldwork (and some laboratory work), thinking it was the pathway for a National Geographic-esque job. That accumulation of experience in different sorts of fieldwork made me...over-qualified in a way. Especially in my current position. Some vacancies want a graduate with first-class honours or something but that sort of thing wasn't recognised in Australia and I don't even know my CGPA.

I had an offer, twice, to pursue a sponsored Masters' degree but after the initial interest, it was clear I never had the aspiration for higher education, although a higher certification would allow me to pursue a better job with better salaries - but that has never been the goal, although I would rather not be paid lower than what I got from McDonald's in 2006.

No, I wasn't after the usual rungs of BSc->MSc->PhD and landing a post-doc or lecturing job. Never. I wanted my hands dirty and I wanted to wash them in scented water after. *vanity*

I truly don't mind the wilderness (leeches, mud, thorns) but currently, my return to my lodgings in Lahad Datu, with proper (billed) electricity not generated by constantly-droning generators and water that come out of my pipes that are not pumped from the river or collected unfiltered rainwater, is a miserable affair. A never-ending battle with termites' shavings, rodent rave parties in the roof, and lizard anal deposits on every clean swept surface.

What I would truly want to do is spend a few weeks or months doing field work and then an equal, no less, amount of time in proper civilisation, but at this very moment, I want to ditch it all.

I cannot look to apply to Singapore or Australia because of love. Yes, scorn all you want. I did, to others and no myself. I've always prided myself as a strong, independent woman. Those parental warnings of not getting involved until you have settled down after your degree, a stable job etc? HEED THEM. They have a point. Now, my only goal is to return home to Penang (because there is no other choice nor any other option or possibility) but unfortunately such similar jobs in my over-developed hometown is non-existent to much of my knowledge. I don't blame my kareshi the slightest. I blame myself, and the economy (hah!).

Other than my expertise in fieldwork, I have no other certifiable skills to speak of.

 I don't have a writing portfolio to show that I am able to write for mass media or even teach English - I can't teach my own mother to use the computer properly without tearing her head off and frankly, head-stitching is such a pain.

I don't have entrepreneurial skills to create a start-up,no pro-active sociable skills for sales nor travel guiding (have I mentioned how misanthropic I am?), can't really draw an even if I could I don't have a portfolio (again) to overcompensate the fact I'm no designer graduate, not much of a proof that I can do administrative duties more than just data entry.

I can't even be a nurse in veterinarian clinics because I'm not certified and it's not something I can take up a course for like animal husbandry. Besides, tell me of any animal rehabilitation centres in Malaysia that you know of, and no, that man and wife with 84 or 120 dogs doesn't count. I can't work in zoos because there are no vacancies. Look at the job market. Unless you have a stethoscope around your neck or have sat for a bar exam (no, not the fancy alcohol kind) or have an ACCA certification or have done engineering of any sort, you're left with 'salesgirl' or 'driver' jobs.

Gee. All those years of tooth and nail fighting for the thing I loved most for what?

Jump on the Bandwagon

So I mentioned an ex-classmate and an ex-university mate got married in the same day. I found out,  after extensive periods on the internet, that another ex-high school mate and someone else from university as well got married very recently too.

Jump on the bandwagon? No thanks.

But this is age where everyone my age starts tying knots right?

Yes.. but no. I'd hate to think I got married just because someone else did as well. Have I demonstrated how insecure I am yet?

I'm not skinny enough.
I've got stretch marks that he wouldn't like.
I'm not financially viable.
I'm fat.

You thought I was a very confident person? Sorry...no refunds.

I've had evil thoughts...like:

>Gosh that woman's so fat and has a bulbous nose and she's got kids, so fat people do have sex so there's hope for me yet.
>Yes, but the man only needs to close his eyes, slather on vaseline and find the hole.

My mom is quite keen on me getting married as well I think, from what she (and dad) has been hinting everytime I go home for the holidays.

In all blatant,  soul-baring honesty,  I never thought I would.

I so love my kareshi very much and yes, I've entertained fantasies where I have his babies but therein lies the problem; I treated them as harmless fantasies.  I expected them to remain as random thoughts of a society influenced person like many others.

Marriage
Sex
Babies
Family
Life
Travelling

All that for other people, not me. Don't talk to me about FOMO. I have friends with pictures from Bali, NZ, Europe, Vietnam, fucking Italy and all I had to compare was a lousy picture of me and a baby echidna about to projectile pee. I never had a clique in school.  I spent half my recess in the canteen with those in science classes, and another half with other friends in the arts stream. There's no one I grew up with or went to school with before university that I could talk to about what I've been learning with the same commiserating empathy. The new acquaintances I had didn't have the comfort of history.  They had their own cliques from college or pre-U or local school. How do one integrate into an already seamed-up fabric? I can't even hold long, meaningful conversations, either face to face or on screen. I avoid eye contact when I'm out and about even with neighbours I don't have a feud with. I don't like striking up conversation with strangers unless there's no chance it'll be more than a one liner to diffuse a tensed situation.

Talk about misanthropy

People in the same field, the same line of work with the same experience and education are mostly pursuing higher degrees I have no intention, inspiration, nor interest to despite the possibilities. We can discuss the banes and boons of wildlife research now and then but for something that I've been pursuing with the utmost intensity for 15years,  I can't continue those discussions or conversations without it turning to statistics and politics, things I don't have the nerve for.

I am trying to explain that those six things doesn't seem to be in my deck of cards. I'm tired of forging my own path that I can't share with anyone. I'm sick of being left out, forgotten, misunderstood. I'm not that different from anyone else so why am I left behind?

I can't jump on the bandwagon. I didn't miss it. I just didn't have a ticket in the first place.

Growing Pains

The title seems more appropriate for a blog by a teenager, doesn't it? Well, fuck you, I have problems as well.

Recently, I started to notice in newspapers that victims above 18 years old were described as women, which seems a bit weird because when I was that age, I sure don't feel like one. In fact, it surprises me all the time that I've left school for six years (and a bit) now and it's disconcerting because I've been waiting for that moment for so long - as in to get out and make a mark in the world - and it's been that long, yet I don't think I've even started on something meteorite-ical.

My life since I gleefully left high school may be a little hazy (hands up if you still feel like you left school last week) but I still feel like a 17 year old without the exams-for-11-subjects stress. I was introduced to a bigger world during National Service in Perlis where I learned whatever I learned in school on a little island I barely left, is nothing to shout about. Then a stint in INTI college (yes, I'm calling that year and a half, a stint) broadened my horizons where I got to know more about other people in other states or countries. Three and a half years of doing a zoology degree in Australia was not just an eye-opener on how little I knew, or how ignorant and sheltered a life I had, it was an eye-gouging,  eyeball-flogging experience that shoved my face in the slurry pit that was my shitty attitude on how arrogant I was, and probably still am.

I swore to never have a job I would be reluctant to get out of bed for.

Well, I have a job that everyone gushed on how unique it was but I still am not finding myself hopping out of bed in excitement like OMFG SANTA IS HERE!! The problem was: I never liked getting out of bed. Ask the kareshi...he has been trying to literally drag me out of bed a few times already and if it wasn't for true love, I would have flogged him like a Bolton (Game of Thrones reference if you are that retarded) during that time he talked me into joining him for a bootcamp. Yea, you read right. A. BOOTCAMP. Where they scream and shout what is presumably words of encouragements but I strongly suspected they were actually words of abuse...which may work better in all honesty.

I read too much into women's magazines articles on how sometimes we don't keep all our friends forever and that's ok.

That's not ok. I was hurt when an ex-classmate for at least six and a half years got engaged and married and didn't even tell me nor extended a courteous invitation when everyone else (even Prince George) had got one. Then I thought it was because I wasn't close to her so I wasn't even thought of. Until I found out an ex uni-mate got married on the same day (the double valentine's day of 14 Feb) and I was so excited and cooed over her wedding pictures (and Emma was only in a couple of courses and a group project). Very unlike my expression(s) when I stalked (unashamedly) the said ex-classmate's fb page and whoever else that went to the wedding (I'm sure Prince George had to decline due to not being able to take malaria tablets at that age).

It's not ok when I realised I haven't spoken to my best friend in a year, not since I wished her a happy birthday, without the prompting of facebook, and she didn't wish me back on mine. I took my birthday notifications off to avoid the flood of forced-by-facebook obligatory wishes but still, your BFF forgetting your 25th birthday? So very not ok. But now the kareshi carries that BFF title on his already burdened shoulders (he has other titles other than 'HRM', such as fix-anything-electronic-coz-he's-an-engineer, movie/song downloader...) without the pinky swearing and blood mixing on slashed palms. In fact, I don't think he knows I've added another glory pin on his (sexy) chest of medals.

Making new friends at this age is harder. I can't just share my crayons anymore. People find it hard to believe I'm shy but I grew up learning not everyone likes blatancy. It's not very nice to traumatise people as a first impression. There are varying degrees of tolerance and being bashful at first is the best, and only way of sussing out each individual's immune system.

Like a virus with ambush tactics.

I find it extremely difficult to ask for help.

Like when after I was moved to a different university dorm (after finding a naked, drunk guy in my room and received a very disturbing love letter from someone else living on another floor a week later) and lugged 5 tonnes of stuff up and down stairs and steep slopes all by myself. The director of the dorm, who was still very worried that I had such a steely personality during my harrasment reports, found me huffing and puffing and refusing help, said these magic words: no one can be too independent. 

My mom 'proudly' describes me as a hardheaded person @ bulldog whereupon I refuse to let go of something. Namedly my independence and love for animals. I probably screamed the house down at the age of 9, declaring I was old enough to cut my own fingernails (and hair) and when I wanted a pet dog, the house was still in shambles. I cultivated dreams of buying my own diamond ring at the age of 21 and possibly my own place at 25. Who knew I didn't have the same financial savings mentality like Rosmah's?

A few days ago, I broke down, sobbing to my mom that I was fucking 25, earning shit money (with no possibility of increment like her own job when she started at the bank with the same amount) with no credible skills (I can't even juggle) and still accepting parental allowances *shudder*. It's not just the Asian mentality of getting a well paid job after graduation and caring for your parents but the financial dependency I still have at this age. You'd think 25 is not so bad but I had high expectations of myself but I found out I didn't learn to prepare properly for it. They don't teach you that in school.

Duhhh.

I have a hummingbird mentality

I fleet from thought to thought with no real weight or substance or seriousness. I can lose track of a conversation midway no matter the topic. Attention Deficit Disorder? Probably, if you could provide the funds to get an official diagnosis. My nose is always in my tablet where there isn't just oil smears on the screen but a dentation. The reason: I can do so many things at once I'm afraid the battery may not last its warranty. I've got notes to myself written down in so many places that I read in the papers that paleontologists in Egypt found them clutched in the paws of a mummified cat.

But hey, there you go. Life.

The Resurrection

If you think this seems familiar,  like you've seen this before,
Feels like deja vu, doesn't it, my dear, thought you read it all,
Well, this is not self-plagiarising,  nor am I reinventing,
I'm just restarting my passion,
This is a resurrection. 

I've opened and closed a total of three to four blogs now in the span of a decade. I'm reusing this blog title because I think, and feel, it's the most accurate, and precise self-description. Yes, it used to be all dark, moody, and so-called (once described by someone else) 'satanic'. Before you go all "ARGH!! JOCELYN'S GONE ALL PINK AND CUTESY!!!", let me show you how I'm still the same person, and then let me show you I'm not the same person anymore.

I spent 2013 avoiding people. I stopped blogging, gave up the pursuit in photography and drawing...all the things I loved to do when I was still in school. I barely read anything academic, I shunned new social media sites and unfollowed friends on Facebook - if I hadn't already deleted them. I didn't make any goals or resolutions; I expected nothing. 

Ended up like buoy in a maelstrom. 

I got seasick

So I spent the entire of January, and a little bit of February doing a little soul-searching and didn't find a lot of nice things to be grateful about, to be thankful for. That wasn't what I had expected, or anyone would have expected, from someone who is a quarter of a century old and with no extraordinary hardship in her life, a woman who always knew what she wanted, who (thought she) knew right from wrong. But I guess the growing pains of a teenager is incomparable to those of a young adult with a license of responsibility, a certificate of independence, a diploma of capability, a (certain) degree of trust and worth. 

Fake it 'till you make it, they say. 

I lost friends. I lost contacts. I lost part, if not all, of myself.  They had warned that adulthood is like another shedding phase and it's ok, people grow in different ways once out of the conformity of school, but they didn't mention that it hurt. My blacks and whites merged into fifty shades of fucking grey with streaks of stormy purple, dusted with the midnight blue of the past, and long gone pink of innocence, and green of fresh enthusiasm, and yellow of hopefulness...and you know that I've already gone off the rails at this point. 

Just let me...come back.