Humanity

Isn't it heartbreaking that our world only unites when something atrocious happens? What about the quiet days where no shots were fired, the days where no bombs were set off, and the days where innocent lives still lived?

What were we doing then?

"United as one people"?                  Hah. Piss off.

We were judging, stereotyping, accusing, insulting, bullying, dividing
the people whose colour were different to our own
whose belief were in a different God.

And what different God?
When all along preachers sang the same song
in a different tune
at a different place.

Why only when lives are lost that we suddenly come together and claim that we want the same thing that is peace?

Especially when on good days we speak of everything else but that.

Why do we only utilise the word peace when guns are firing and bombs are ticking?

Why do we only speak of equality when injustice takes over?

Why do we only condemn weaponry when we become targets of mass murder?

This is our fault.
You and me
Our wrongdoings that cost us the
Lost lives, lost homes, lost families, lost children, and lost hope

My BBC Work Experience

Right, this post has been a little late since I ended my work experience last Friday, and the reason I've been contemplating about blogging this is because I feel like no one would care or even bother to read about the things I did in the three weeks that I spent working for the BBC? Honestly, I have no idea how to go about writing this without boring anyone. The original plan I had was to make a video diary every night and post that instead. I did keep it up though but unfortunately (or fortunately should I say) my video editing skills are shite and I'm sure no one wants to hear me talk for over an hour.

So let's start from the very beginning.

In my previous blogposts, I've mentioned how excited I was to have received a call from the BBC and how it felt like a silver lining because I was in a terrible state at the time. So on my first day, as expected of anyone in my position, I was so nervous that I kept waking up every hour in the night and I was practically sweating in my sleep. It felt like getting ready for the first day of school except this time it was very different because the BBC has always been a huge deal for me since I was a teenager and getting to do it in reality felt all too surreal to me. It still didn't quite sink in that I was working for them even after I entered the building. The first thought that entered my head when I walked in was that everyone looked really creative. Like every person who walked in that door had this confident, outspoken aura about them and they were each individually unique in some way. And looking at them I felt intimidated immediately because I am obviously worlds apart from them. At least in terms of first impressions, I don't think I radiate confidence as well as they do. So anyway, after I was given my entry pass, I was taken to the BBC Learning department where I would be working for the three weeks to come.

The reason why not many people has heard of BBC Learning is because it is considered a "silent brand" in the sense where they do more community work rather than creating content for TV. And why didn't I apply for the TV one? Well frankly it was because I figured it would be easier for me to get in and plus I didn't think I was qualified for the TV departments when I was applying. So BBC Learning, as the title entails, revolves around education, and helping audiences learn through different mediums. When I got the call, I was told I wasn't going to be creating content like I hoped to but instead it would involve a lot of interacting with the public and so on.

I was glad to do that too quite frankly because if I did want to create content for TV in the future, I guess I need to know what the audience wants to see. Plus, to be able to represent the BBC was such an honour for me anyway.

From past experiences the first day at a new job will always be slightly uninteresting because there will be nothing much or immediate to do, but surprisingly and very luckily, I was given the job of writing short biographies on my first day. (Yay, more writing!! As if I'm not sick of it already) ((Haha, just kidding)) But yes, I was told to provide a short write-up of a list of guests that were attending the Q&A sessions we were holding during the event. And it had DJs, singers, sports presenters and entrepreneurs, all of which I have never heard of. But that was okay, because I didn't mind looking up strangers and reading their entire life story, like I don't do that on a daily basis too haha.

Also, on a side note, having been a fan of talk shows, I always wondered how on earth do they manage to know so much about every single person that comes onto their shows. It wasn't a burning question but I've been under the impression that all these talk show hosts have genuinely seen every film ever made and followed every celebrity on Twitter but it was only when I was researching did I realise that they have a team of researchers to dig up information for them. Hah, the more I know.

Okay back to the researching, I must say that I enjoyed this task quite a bit because I am a total pro at it but it was still a little challenging because most of the guests didn't have a Wikipedia page so I had to be looking at their Facebook and Twitter to source facts about them. I even watched this one guy's reality TV series to know more about him. ( I went a little overboard with that lol). Thankfully, this task more or less occupied me for the entire first week.

As exciting as that sounds, the continuity of work kind of ended there. Everything else I did after the first week wasn't as important or "cool" to brag about but again, I really did not mind at all. I read in the orientation pack that I should be prepared to be bored because not always will I get work to do. With our project it wasn't the case of not having enough work to do but instead it was because everyone was super busy in the lead-up to the event and no one really had the time to sit down and explain a new task for me and I totally understand that. I was a little disappointed at first but then I started approaching people and asking them if they needed an extra pair of hands which definitely helped because A, I was no longer sitting in boredom and B, I got to speak to more people. See, this was the issue I had from the very beginning. I know that my social skills are crap around new people and that needed to change ASAP. It took a bit of courage at first, but I felt more comfortable around the people I was working with gradually as time passed.

The second thing I had to do was rather interesting and I'm sure most teenagers my age would enjoy doing but I was just completely thrown out of my element, and that is looking for DJs to play at our event. I don't listen to Radio 1Xtra so I have no idea what sort of music they play but I tried so hard to look like I knew what I was up to. I basically spent a day on SoundCloud and Twitter looking for undiscovered DJs from the north and believe me, my ears did not enjoy all that house music. But thankfully, one of them was called to join us at the event. You're welcome, mister.

This is completely off topic but I feel is relevant to what I did during this work experience. After I was done with my list of DJs, I literally had nothing to do. Like I just sat at my laptop and stared at the screen for about a good twenty minutes before I decided to look up something that's been bothering me for ages now. I went into a serious research to find out whether Tupac was still alive. Lol. I know it sounds dumb, but you can imagine how much I hate being bored so I had to.

Luckily, the production coordinator started to give me small tasks to do like collecting stuff from the printer, making signs, sorting out stationery etc. I must say though, doing all that is so much better than reading on Tupac's family tree and fyi, it's complicated as hell. And I also spent about two days laminating hundreds of signs that I made for the event. Prior to this, I had no clue how a laminating machine worked but I can confidently say that I'm a total expert now.

The overall experience up till then was incredibly diverse and I didn't realise it until the event itself. Initially, I presumed everyone who had a chance at the work experience would get the opportunity to participate at an event like I did. But it was only until I spoke to more people did I realise my work experience was truly very different from what other people had. From making coffee to printing and to researching, I caught a glimpse of several aspects of the department whereas some might only be typing away at their laptops for their entire work experience.

Finally I'm getting to the point of what I really took home from this experience. Most of the people closest to me know that I have a slight phobia of speaking to white people, I'm sure it's all just me exaggerating things in my head but nevertheless it's a problem. It's such an irony as well considering my own father is English. I feel like growing up in an Asian community, white supremacy has affected me in certain ways and because of that I always felt a little inferior to them. And since a young age, I was never confident with speaking to older people either. So know that if you're older than me and I'm quiet around you, it's most likely because I'm intimidated by your life experience. (Yes I have a lot issues) Especially at my last job, I was only seventeen and obviously everyone had to be at least five years older or old enough to be my parent. Even in that job, there were multiple occasions where I felt like my opinion didn't matter because of my age and how inexperienced I was. If I didn't sound intelligent enough, people would look at me weirdly like I don't know what I'm talking about even if it was a legitimate concern. When I agreed to this work experience, I knew I would land myself in similar situations, and because of that I became hyper-aware of the things I said and the interactions I had. For example, if a conversation wasn't going well, I would blame it on my inability to socialise and if no one spoke to me for the whole day, it was because I never made an attempt to speak to anyone. (It sounds lame but I have insecurities like every other human being, except it was never with the way I look, but rather with who I am inside) This simply couldn't go on. I can't walk into the BBC, spend three weeks there and not leave an impression. I actually laughed when in the orientation pack it said to "make the team miss you when you leave". I'm not capable of making people miss my existence because I've always been known as the "invisible" friend in the group. But then there was this one night when it occurred to me that I shouldn't be so hard on myself. (YES, she finally stops dwelling in sickening self-pity) The reason being is that I'm only eighteen and I haven't lived long enough to have funny stories to tell during lunch break. The people I've worked with so far are older and therefore will have more experiences to share. By the time I reach twenty-five, hopefully I, too, would have interesting episodes to share. Right now, I'm perfectly content with listening and laughing along.

On that note of feeling invisible, I also figured that there are more ways to be noticed than to just be funny. Being talkative in a crowd is something I'm not good at but on the other hand, I'm good at being honest about shit because that's just the way I am. I found it funny that some of my friends couldn't appreciate that trait about me and saw it as a flaw whereas while working at the BBC someone pointed it out and liked that about me, which was a whole new discovery for me. And another thing I realised that, in any work environment, be it an ordinary sales office or Facebook, if you're an intern or in a "low" position, you should say yes to everything and try to help out as much as you can, even with the tiniest things because people notice that. It's when you least expect it that people are watching and listening. Now that I think back, a lot of the things I got to do was because I said yes to everything that was asked of me and tried my best at them and it feels damn good to be appreciated even if it was just lifting boxes and laminating "Staff Only" signs.

The third week flew by the quickest because we spent the four days in Bradford for the event. I honestly felt rather grown-up when I entered my hotel room. The first thing I thought of was my dad and if he felt the same whenever he went on business trips. I've never travelled on my own before so this was all very new to me but what an exciting experience it turned out to be. Throughout the three days, I sat through around ten workshops and although I wasn't there as a participant, I got to benefit a lot from it. More than anything, I met great people and these were the people that could potentially help me in the future. Networking, I've realised, is so important in any industry because we all know the sad truth that rubbing shoulders with the correct people is partially the key to a successful career. And I think this is why I'm so proud of myself. I could only be making tea for three weeks and still be content because I manage to get my foot in the door of the BBC. I was there, in the moment, and what I experienced was something I couldn't get out of a university lecture. To some people this may not seem like a big deal and all that I've written could be a load of rubbish but this, this is important to me because it's going to change my future completely. Having the BBC on my CV is opening so many more doors for me and it's something people cannot ignore.

I was a girl from Malaysia that casually said that I wanted to work for them because it was the only broadcast company I knew at the age of thirteen. Five years later, here I am blogging about it. It doesn't matter if I wasn't paid nor was it a permanent job but it's good enough because it's the perfect stepping stone to many more things in the years to come.

When the event ended and I was on my way home, I felt this enormous sense of gratitude for my parents mostly. I wouldn't even be here if my parents hadn't worked so hard to give me the life I have. Many people thanked me for helping out but frankly, I should be the one thanking them for even giving me the chance to do this. My whole summer break was filled with rejection by so many places when all I wanted was a simple part-time job. Thanks for turning me down though, because it gave me this amazing opportunity. ((Screw y'all either way))

This is one long post that I've done and I shall stop now. The links to my video diaries will be posted up somewhere soon but for now here are some pictures.

I sent this to my mom when I got into my room, to which she replied "Don't eat too much". Haha, oh mom.

The i woke up like dis selfie. hashtag flawless. Lol I was actually super late that morning but still had time to take pictures. oh kimmy.... tsk tsk 

One of the workshops - Learning how to make beats for radio

This pic just looked dope 

One of the Q&As - Cast of Humans

Couldn't get a full group picture or selfies with everyone :( Oh well. 

You could probably tell by now that I loved every minute of this experience and wouldn't actually mind dropping out of uni to do this. (I lie, too much money has gone into getting a degree so maybe after uni) But it was fun, amazing, and definitely something I can tick off the bucket list.

SNL, you're next.

One Year Later

Two days ago it was my mother's birthday. Coincidentally, it also marked the one-year anniversary since I moved out from my parent's loving care. Holy moly, it's been a year already. That's three hundred and sixty five long days without the warmth and comfort of my family and home.

You probably wouldn't understand the big fuss I'm making over this one year but this means so many things to me. First, it is officially the one year of independence. Well, independence is a slight overstatement considering how I'm definitely not earning enough to support myself. But I'll call this "funded independence". Haha.

So what about this one year? In this short but long space of time, I've learnt a lot about me, and more so about other people. I'll get to that in a bit but let's talk about me first (obviously).

I would say that at the beginning of September last year I was very afraid mainly because I couldn't get used to the culture, and I struggled a lot with my self-confidence. Being the only foreigner in my course, I felt my confidence drop because I thought coming from a non-English-speaking country, my English would be somewhat worse than everyone else's even though I have never felt that way before. It was the first time I took a step back and pondered if I was going to be good enough to survive through this degree. A year later, I would definitely say that my English and writing skills are not the best but they aren't the worst either. I took me a lot of convincing myself to finally understand that although I may have started out differently from other people, I, too, have something to bring to the table as opposed to what I believed a year ago. So that's quite comforting.

Another thing I'm proud of is my new place. I was meant to complete the Moving In Part Two blogpost but I never got round to it so apologies if you were curious as to how my place looked like in the end. We can always do a house tour on Skype or something. A year ago, when my parents proposed the idea of a brand new apartment, believe it or not, I strongly objected because I knew I couldn't do it all on my own. Also, having my own place has a sense of permanency to it, which I didn't want because I have plans to move again after I graduate uni. The point is, I was very reluctant. I dreaded the day where I had to buy furniture and pay bills. Grown-up work is ew. But very surprisingly, I managed. I totally did. It wasn't easy and there were days where I pulled an all-nighter trying to come up with a feasible layout in the bedrooms. I have never stayed up all night to rush assignments before but there I was, sacrificing precious sleep to find the perfect-sized study table. The moment I felt completely relieved was after I paid my first utility bill for the month. Before that, I was pretty much walking on ice. I didn't know what switches not to touch so I won't foolishly cut off my water supply or heating. I was afraid if I cooked on high heat, the fire alarm might go off and what do I do then? What if I electrocute myself because my wet hands touched the towel heater? And what time does my mail arrive in the morning? It was just trying to figure all that out. And once I did, it then hit me that I actually am living in this place. I can leave my books lying around in the living room and no one can tell me to pick it up. I can now sing beautifully in the shower without breaking someone's eardrums. I can eat to my heart's content and no one will judge me!! THAT IS FREEDOM MY FRIENDS. AND IT FEELS GOOD.

(I can't now lol because I'm overweight. Damn it)

To think that my parents were so worried that they wanted to come over and help me out. Psssssshhhh *flips hair* Other than it being the most stressful three months of my life, I'm doing just fine thank you.

Here's to the amazing me for assembling this table I'm typing on now. Yay Kimmy!

Although there were desperate times where I really needed the comfort of home and couldn't because they were so far away, I'd like to think that this distance has brought me closer to my dreams. My goal at the end of the day is like a big puzzle. Every small piece is a goal I intend to achieve which will help complete the bigger picture. I know it sounds really corny, but it's very true. In the one year, I've seen my thoughts change so much. I used to wonder about how great I would look if I was skinnier or how much better I would look if I wore make-up more often or when I would ever have a boyfriend. Truthfully, I still do but not as much as I used to. Nowadays, all I can think about is wanting to achieve those goals. Perhaps being in this environment has made me more competitive and helped me realise that my goals are actually plausible. They're not as far away or as unrealistic as I thought they were a year ago. When I was thirteen, I remember having this conversation with my dad in Pizza Hut near our house. I said to him, one day I want to work for the BBC. I didn't mean much of it at the time. My dad even replied, "Really? I don't think they pay much." Turns out he was right, my work placement is unpaid but who cares because that's a bite-sized dream happening right there! I can look back at that conversation now only because I did manage to secure a work experience with them despite it only being three weeks and unpaid.

Speaking of jobs, I've written about how difficult it has been for me to get a part-time job sometime ago. This experience of constant failure is quite new to me because my last job back home I got within one try. Over here, it's a completely different story altogether. I won't go into much detail but let's just say I've learnt a lot. When I was at my lowest and feeling incompetent, the call from the BBC felt like a silver lining. Personally I think if I didn't fail as hard as I did, the BBC wouldn't have given me this opportunity. So to whoever that is looking out for me up there, cheers mate.

Anyone who's lived away from home will understand that trying to settle in with new people is extra difficult and for the newcomer who misses home all the time (me), I always felt upset if I couldn't talk to my friends back home because of those stupid timezones. I remember when I first made new friends, I would compare them to my old friends and see if they "make the cut". I realise by doing that I was limiting myself to certain groups of people and also if new friends don't react the same way my old friends do, I would miss my old friends even more. Does that make sense or am I just rambling now? I guess all I want to say is that I might have wasted my one year hung up on my friends from back home. I always needed their comfort and I would feel insecure if we stopped talking for a while. To simply put it, I kept having doubts and that really caused unnecessary overthinking for me. It was only recently that I discovered what an amazing bunch of people I have around me right now. If I needed comfort, I wouldn't need to wait for my friends back home to wake up to tell them. I can just tell them when they're free to listen. Now, I have good friends who I can tell my problems to. I have friends who share my same views on some of the weirdest things that friends back home couldn't ever understand. It's strange how being further away from people can give you a whole new perspective that you were too blinded to see before. With that being said, friends from home are still awesome, and luckily I've found my people here too, which makes everything even better.

I feel like if I keep going you will be bored to tears so I shall stop now. Plus, I don't quite know how to conclude this post. Hmm. Oh well. If you've read all that junk, thanks man.

One year later, I think I've done pretty well. *self high-five*

Love,
Kimmy xx

Gaining And Losing Friends

I know hate is a strong word, but if there's one thing I absolutely hate in this world, is feeling like an option to other people. It doesn't necessarily mean I must be all my friend's number one priority, but it would be nice to at least be one person's number one priority. I guess I might be feeling this way out of loneliness or if other people feel this too, but sometimes, when you're all alone with a bottle of wine, it is possible to wonder what might happen to your circle of friends ten years from now.

I can only speak for the female popularity because most of my friends are female and as girls, we tend to be quite clingy towards our friends. When we have friends whom we can connect with on a deeper level, immediately we like to label them as best friends. And the definition of best friends is that we will, no matter what, stay as the way we are for a very very long time.

It's only after I've moved here that I realised how untrue that is. And although the realisation that some of your friends that you previously considered close are no longer in contact is painful, we still have to accept the fact and get on with life. I've come to learn that at different point of our lives, our number one priority shifts depending on the people we're with. And it is also impossible to designate the number one spot to a single person because each friend caters to a different need of yours. For example, we all have that one friend who's just hilarious and a no-brainer to have at parties. But this friend might not be the right person you want when you need to get some stuff off your chest, which is why you have the listener friend who is full of wisdom and your life saviour in tough situations. All your friends, including you, play a different role in each other's lives.

I'm starting to digress again.

When I was in primary school, I had one friend whom I told everything to. We were literally inseparable. Then, for some reason, we stopped talking after I studied in Singapore. I guess if I stayed we could have been closer. In secondary school, I had loads of close friends. Again, three quarter I don't speak to anymore after I entered college. It's safe to say that thanks to my friends I met in college, I had the best time ever. It lasted about a year, and half of them I don't speak to anymore. I had two close colleagues at work whom I treated like older sisters, occasionally they would check up on me, and the last time I heard one of them is pregnant. Now that I'm in university, I spend most of my time with Lori. We don't do loads but when we do, it's never dull and if it is, we're really comfortable just hanging out and doing nothing special. Our friendship works that way and surprisingly it can only work with her. The dynamic between my other friends is slightly different but nevertheless they're all good company,

What I fear the most is that, ten years from now, inevitably, things will change. And as much as I look forward to that change, I'm not exactly prepared for what might happen to the friends I have now. Will it decrease even more as I grow older? Will I lose contact with half of my friends in the UK because I plan to move somewhere else again? Will I, at the same time, meet newer friends who might become my number one priority?

As I say that, I can hear in my head some of my friends saying "You'll always be my best friend" or "You're overthinking again." Yes, yes in fact I overthink a lot. Mainly because, after experiencing it once, I have this lingering fear that my friends might leave me.

And you might be thinking, yes friends leave, it's all part of life. But do you know what really sucks? This is me sounding rather selfish right now, but all my social skills would have been wasted! I don't want to be investing time and effort in a person when two years later, they might have completely forgotten about my existence. That isn't fair at all, is it? I don't mean to be calculative, and I suppose true friendship means doing something for the other party without expecting something in return. Fair enough, it's not good to expect from others because it only leads to disappointment but if the effort doesn't pay off, then this is no longer a true friendship, it has become a sloppy one-sided friendship, which is not beneficial to anyone.

So I've promised myself that from now on, I shall not label anyone. There shall be no list in my heart designating each spot to a different friend. Because in doing so, I will always be left disappointed if number one stops talking to me or feeling guilty if I replace number one with someone newer I've met. And also, if so-and-so stops talking to me over time, it is never anyone's fault. I need to stop blaming myself for the friends I've lost in the past and stop wronging others because they replaced me with someone else.

Your true friends are people who will check up on you whenever they see that you've tweeted something frustrating. Your true friends are the people who will talk to you despite their hectic schedules because "being busy" is one lame excuse for "I'm no longer interested". Your true friends are the people that you've never doubted because you know in your heart that they're there no matter the circumstances. If there's one thing I've realised with growing up, is that not only do you lose friends, you also begin to recognise and appreciate the real gems out of all the fake ones.

Also, don't cling onto people for the sake of just being friends. If it makes you unhappy, it's alright to head for the door. I mean if we're talking about rankings, the number one spot in your heart should always belong to you and you only. At the end of the day, your happiness matters a billion times more.

crushed.

Hi, today's post won't be about anything special, I just needed a place to vent all my anger and frustration out. (oh god, i've been having so many bad days recently I've pretty much lost count)

* sigh * let's begin.

So ever since my last post, not much has occurred except that my former roommate Lori has moved to her own place now which leaves me living in this place all by myself. It isn't too bad actually, considering I have done this before whenever my dad was overseas for a few months at a go. The occasionally creak does freak me out though but anyway,

Because I've been unsuccessful with job-hunting, I came up with a list of things I wanted to do with my free time this summer. I wanted to use this time to do more things I otherwise never would have tried, for example, attending an acting workshop. To be honest, I've always been passionate about movies and if you know me, my brain is like an Encyclopedia of actors and actresses but it never occurred to me to give acting a try, especially since I've always had bad encounters with drama students or dramatic people in general. So bottomline is, I went for this acting workshop for a week and it was completely, unexpectedly so much more fun than I imagined. We had a showcase at the end of it and it all went superb. In the same week, I got a call for an interview at this call centre I applied for. And I was obviously overjoyed. I mean, that's the first call after 42 job applications. For once, I thought to myself "my life is finally coming together. I'm having fun at this workshop, I've got a nice place, I have an interview next week, all is well with the world." That thought lasted for three days before everything crumbled again.

*sigh*

Before I went for this interview, my mom said to me to be honest with them. As you know, my family values honesty above everything else. And that's what I did. The interview was going great and I asked the lady about leaves and such because I wanted to clarify my concerns before fully committing myself to the job. Based on my last job at the hotel, I wasn't guaranteed any leave because I was only a temporary staff despite working there for eight months. Every leave I took had my pay deducted so I didn't want the same for this. Plus, I go home during Christmas break for just about three weeks before uni starts again. The lady said two weeks was the maximum they allow at any one time and she said it can be worked out if I really needed to go home for three weeks. So I didn't think it was a problem but obviously it was because I failed the interview and didn't get the job. I called my mom after the interview to tell her what happened, and she told me off for telling them about my holiday plans. In her opinion, I should have taken the job and quit right before Christmas break, which in my perspective, is an even worse solution. Anyway, by this time, I was too frustrated to do anything else. I came home, sat down before my laptop, and unknowingly burst into tears because I just couldn't do it anymore.

Even I was surprised by this. Knowing me, I don't cry when I fail. To a certain extent, I get angry at myself and I'm done. But this time, I just couldn't anymore. It felt like the burden on my shoulders got heavier and I was just crushed by all this pressure. I get that this is all part of growing up and learning new things but I don't want to do this anymore. For the first time, I heard myself say I want to give up.

What made all this even worse is that even my parents didn't seem to care that I was upset or disappointed. My mom desperately blamed me for mentioning my holiday plans and my dad, unexpectedly, said that if I can't go home because of my job requirements then I should cancel my plans and not go home at all. I don't mean to shame my parents but this is the situation I have had to deal with. How is it fair that my friends get to spend the whole summer with their friends and family and I have to be scolded for wanting to spend three weeks back home. I get that life is unfair but is it meant to be this unfair??????????

People always say that life is meant to be terrific when you study abroad. People expect my instagram to be filled with pictures with loads of friends all getting drunk at clubs. Well, I'm here bogged down with responsibilities and all I want is to run away to a cave and never come back out. All my friends get to hang out and get drunk and make memories that they can't remember the next day. I want that too, I want all of that and none of this. I don't want my own place, I don't need an apartment, I was completely contented with living in a place that was the size of a storeroom. I WAS FINE WITH ALL THAT. I WAS VERY HAPPY. How can you expect someone as inexperienced as me to know what to do and survive on my own. HOW!!!!!!! URGH.

*sigh*

I don't fish for compliments at all but sometimes it would be pleasing to hear my parents say something nice about what I'm doing. Like well done for coping this much on your own, it must have been difficult on you. You're doing great etc etc. But no. All I keep getting is blame and criticism for not being good enough, for not knowing better.

*sigh*

I'm not the best out there and I really am clueless about a lot of stuff. But I am trying my hardest and honestly, I'm just mentally exhausted and completely crushed.

Can we stop this now, please.

Racial Rant

Two years ago, I was so so so desperate to be considered "white". My whole life up till now, has been a journey of trying to figure out where I fit in and belong. I remember back in primary school, I tried to change my name because I wanted to be ordinary, I wanted to be like everyone else who had a 3-letter Mandarin name, my worst nightmare was having to introduce myself and having them laugh in response to my hideous name. That was when I was 7. When I was 13, I was so obsessed with trying to be "white". I figured if the Chinese-side of me didn't want to fit in, I might as well give the Caucasian-side of me a go at trying to blend in. Even up till college, if anyone immediately recognises me as Chinese, I would feel so offended. It's as if I was just waiting for someone to come up to me and treat me like I'm a "white" person.

Back then, was I really wrong to want that? We live in a world that look up to white people like they're some sort of specially gifted race. White people as a whole have better features than any other race; superficially speaking, they have pretty much won the goddamn lottery. And the fact that we live in a world that's driven by looks and impressions, it makes them seem even more worthy than everyone else. I have lived among Asians my whole life, I've seen how we react when there's a white person in the room. We literally worship them.

Think about it. We dye our hair a lighter shade because we want their chesnut brown hair. We wear coloured contact lenses because we are so sick of our boring dark brown or black eyes. We imitate accents from any American TV show because our own is just too painful to listen to. We invent fake eyelashes because we want longer lashes like them. From fake lashes, to nose jobs, to lip injections. Everything they do, we just follow along.

As an Asian, you'll know that having even just an ounce of white-ness in you, you'll suddenly be considered so much cooler than everyone else. Till this day, an Asian woman in a relationship with a White man is still something worth bragging in any Asian community, but not the other way round. A white person living in Asia is considered an expat while any other racial person living in a pre-dominantly white country is considered an immigrant. Why is that? Why are we so obsessed with white people?

To be entirely honest, one of the many reasons I decided to move to the UK was because I wanted to somewhat regain the caucasian side of me. I thought perhaps living here would change the way I sound, or living here would change the way I behave, maybe living here would once and for all prove that I'm white again. But the second day I arrived, I witnessed this scene that I, till this day, won't be able to forget and has ever since changed my perspective completely on wanting to be white.

I was on my way to school and it was a Friday morning. I had to walk past the back of this building to get to the main road, it's usually pretty quiet and that morning I saw two black persons (one male and female) in what seemed to be a heated discussion. The first thing I thought was how to avoid them, because my immature brain had me thinking that I need to evacuate every time I see a black person. But I couldn't just turn and head the other way, it would have been awkward for them and me. So I went past them and pretended like I wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation. What I assumed as compared to what actually happened were worlds apart. The black guy was upset, angry even, because he was discriminated, and he was complaining about it to his female friend. I remember he said "Why do they treat me this way? So what if I'm black? I'm still a local, I was born in the UK!"

I didn't get to hear the rest of it because I'm not a creep.

And that changed everything for me. I no longer looked at white people with envy like I used to. I no longer had the same respect for them like I used to. I no longer wanted any part of me to be like them.

This racist situation I encountered didn't even stop there. I believe it was two months into living in Salford that I was being catcalled one evening. I was wearing jeans, my coat and a long scarf, like any other normal person would during freaking winter. So I was on my way back, baring in mind this was about 4 in the evening, it wasn't dark but it was slowly starting to. I had my headphones in (thank goodness) and these bunch of guys walked past me, I couldn't tell if they were drunk or just plain stupid, but they whistled at me and said "Konichiwa bitch" repeatedly, REPEATEDLY, until I was further away enough to not hear them. I was frightened, obviously, but I remember feeling more raged with anger because not only was I catcalled, I was fucking insulted for being Asian. It got me thinking, if it was someone else, someone white perhaps, would they have done the same? As a female, it's tough enough to live feeling defenceless especially in situations like these, but to have to feel sorry for being Asian as well? Fucking hell.

A couple of weeks after this incident, my dad came to the UK for a business meeting but took a few days off to see me. When he came, I told him about the situation I saw between the two black people but for some reason, I didn't want to tell him what happened to me because I didn't want him to worry. And after these series of incidents, I came to the conclusion that any white country will always be racist, or at least will have the hardest time learning to tolerate other races because their land was monoracial to begin with. Unlike Malaysia or Singapore, we were always taught, from a very young age, the traditions and customs of other races. We always knew how to accept each other because as a nation, we have always been multiracial. I'm not saying racism doesn't exist in those two countries, it does but it is not as severe, at least that's how I view it from my perspective. But surprisingly when I said this to my father, he tried to disagree with me and said, with no supporting evidence at all, that white people aren't racist.

I've thought about this for quite some time now, I've even spoken to my white friends about it and we agreed that white people can't see racism because they have never experienced it. Have you ever seen a white person being discriminated for being white? White privilege is so obvious that even we're fooled to think that what's white must be what's normal. It's total bullshit. White supremacy is everywhere, especially in Asia, that we've all calmly accepted it to be the way it is. Why are we so embarrassed of being ourselves, why can't we seek to be more diverse instead of just blindly following white traditions, white perspectives and white opinions?

In a time span of less than ten months, I have changed completely from being this white-girl wannabe to just being me, regardless of what I'm made of. My dad will always be my dad and my surname will always be Walker. But truthfully, that doesn't count for anything because I like the fact that my name doesn't correspond to how I look, I like the fact that I'm pretty much Asian inside out, I like the food and the humidity of Malaysia, I won't trade any of that to living in a country that marginalises people based on their race.

Being Proud of Singlish

Hello hello, I don't usually write another blog post in the same week, but something occurred to me recently and I feel this incessant need to pour it out before I forget about it for good.

This is all very much my own opinion so we can agree to disagree if necessary.

I've pretty much lived in Malaysia and Singapore my whole life so in a way, I can say that I know these two countries' cultures very well (and also mainly because there's not much difference) but if you're an outsider who has never been to these places, I doubt you have heard of these term called "Singlish" or "Manglish". What they are basically is English combined with the local languages and forming a slang that everyone uses out of convenience. Just to clarify, schools don't actually teach these slangs, we just somehow know it.

Recently, I've been volunteering at the Manchester International Festival and I've been meeting a whole range of interesting people that say some of the nicest things when I tell them that I'm from Malaysia.

Just today I was speaking to this lady who is studying English but instead of learning about the actual language, part of her coursework was to explore how far English has travelled over the past few centuries and how much the language has evolved. It was a pleasant conversation and all, until she mentioned Singlish and instantly, I was like "Yay you know Singlish! But oh shit that's not good."

There are many reasons as to why I say this because number 1, Singlish, in my opinion, is a disgrace to English itself. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but Singlish is mostly broken up English with possibly the worst grammar ever, plus an added expression at the end of each sentence which has no proper explanation for its existence whatsoever. And number 2, I can't possibly be the only one who feels this, but I am so embarrassed when a white friend (or anyone unfamiliar to the language for that matter) has to listen to Singlish and try to decipher what it means. It makes me cringe so much when my brother accidentally says something to my dad in Singlish because my dad usually looks back with utter disappointment that his kids don't take after him. Anyway, it's just extremely unflattering.

But what really surprised me the most was that this lady said that as a country whose native language isn't English, we should be proud that we've managed to put a stamp on it and make Singlish truly unique to call it our own. With English being the international language that everyone all around the world must learn in order to communicate, it's easy to forget or neglect our mother tongue, which could be either Mandarin, Malay or Tamil. And I've seen so many locals in Malaysia and Singapore, who can't speak their mother tongue because they've spent their whole lives under the influence of English and nothing else. It's a shame, really. On one hand, English is a necessity but on the other, we're slowly losing touch with our roots. I remember a time where I was so angry at the fact that English has taken over the world because even my grandparents, who are close to being 90, are trying so hard to learn simple English sentences when we, the younger generation, should in fact be the ones who are learning our native dialect to make communicating with them easier.

I have to say though, even after coming here, I still can't get rid of the Singlish in me and I don't want to either. Whenever I go home or even when I'm chatting to my friends back home, all the la's and leh's just spill out like beans in a beanbag. I mean, even when I'm skyping with my mom, if I speak proper English, she'll do the same, and five minutes into the conversation, we'll both burst into giggles because we can't take each other seriously. Last year during Christmas, I met up with a couple of friends and they asked me how I managed to not get rid of Singlish or why my accent didn't change. And the minute I tried to speak without Singlish, I just couldn't do it at all. It was so odd.

But my point is, I know it's not just me, but a lot of people who leave Singapore or Malaysia to go abroad to some white country to study, will tend to feel embarrassed about their weird and uncommon Singaporean accent and will hence try to imitate other accents to fit in. I've seen it happen so many times especially when my friends or teachers meet my dad on Parent's Day. Honestly, you don't have to do that. Sure, it would be helpful to take out the unnecessary swear words every now and then but there's really nothing to feel embarrassed about. The lady I spoke to was a prime example of how white people can be just as fascinated with Singlish as we are with their thousands of accents.

My dad absolutely hated Singlish but that all changed when he saw Kumar perform and he now thinks Singlish can be equally or if not funnier than just plain old English. You know how comedians always swear just to make a joke funnier? It works the same with Asians, you can't tell a joke unless you include the phrase CCB, which in my grandparent's dialect means smelly vagina.

(But don't ever go up to an elderly in Asia to say that unless you want their whole family coming after you with feather dusters and wooden canes ready to beat the shit out of you)

The Luckiest Person I Know

With all that’s been happening right now, several people have came up to me and told me how lucky I am to have a place of my own. Apparently, the average age to be living in a house of your own is thirty-two and I am not even twenty. When I learned about this scary fact, I can assure you that I didn’t feel good about it at all mainly because I feel like I cheated. 

Yes, half of this entire experience feels like I'm cheating my way up in the world. 

Call me crazy but I actually want to live in rented house, paying the landlord every month with the money that I earned on my own. Call me insane but I don’t enjoy it when people give me expensive gifts. I don’t bask in branded goods like other wealthy kids because although I grew up in a well-to-do family, I was always raised to be prudent. Therefore, when my parents told me that I was going to be living in a brand new apartment, I cringed because this luxury was something that I didn’t deserve.

I am an ordinary person, like everyone else, trying to get a degree to better increase my employability in the future, so that one day, I too can buy a house of my own without feeling guilty whatsoever. There are also billions of other people with the same purpose and what makes me so different from them that I get a house and they don’t?

When I told my parents about how I felt, they coolly replied, “this is not about buying you a place because we think you earned it,” which I think really helped me gain a new perspective.

This isn’t about me because I’m just like everyone else, so when people tell me how lucky I am, I just have to say it’s because of my parents.

With that being the best answer I can give, I don’t like it very much because it makes me sound like a stuck-up. I don’t want to be that person that grows up to be successful because of my parents. Yes, I have always had their financial support but I don’t want that to be the only reason I have what I have. Although their money plays a crucial part in getting me where I am today, I’d like to think that I have worked hard too.

Sometimes I look at the Kardashians and I think, well they’re only famous and rich because of their family, which I now realise is a terrible accusation because I don’t know or see how hard Kendall Jenner has worked to be a stick-thin model. Perhaps her success can be credited to her family, but she deserves credit too for seizing that opportunity by using her family’s wealth.

I guess I could relate to a small extent. Sure, without my parent’s help, I would never dream of being here. But because I know there are opportunities thanks to them, I can take the chance and do something useful with my life. I mean, wouldn’t it be a pity if your parents were millionaires and you just sat at home all day wasting your life away?

And about being lucky, yes I am very lucky indeed and so is everyone else. Just because I am lucky doesn’t mean my life is any better than everyone else's. I’d like to believe that we’re all lucky human beings and we all have luck in different things. I have a great life, but I also lack in other things too, like luck in getting a job. Maybe you don’t have a place of your own, but you have tons of friends. Maybe you only have a few friends but those friendships are irreplaceable and they are the best things that has ever happened to you. See, luck changes for everyone. And what really matters is that you’re able to realise the luck you have and treasure it even more.

I thank my lucky stars everyday that I come from a family that provides me with ample of opportunities. I don’t know how long this chain of luck is going to last, but I’m sure that when it stops, I’ll be ready to work hard enough so that I won’t ever need it again.

Moving In - Part I

It's been a month since I last blogged and it's because I'm currently held up with my new apartment. Sounds posh, doesn't it? Believe me, it's not. In fact, I can confidently say that the past month has probably been the most stressful period of my life so far.

As you might have gathered from my Twitter and Instagram, you would probably know that I'm moving into a place of my own. Sadly, I didn't single-handedly buy the place, my parents did. But before you start to think that I'm one of those kids from MTV that gets a BMW on their birthday, I'm really not. My parents bought that apartment as an investment and to put it simply, I'm sort of renting it from them.

Except instead of moving into a furnished home, this place was pretty much an empty white box and I had the responsibility to turn it into a home.

I have to say, at the beginning of this "project", I felt both excited and lost. Excited because I couldn't wait to have my own place that I can decorate and live in, lost because I had no idea where to begin.

Having only just moved here ten months ago, I was still clueless about many things. Things like how do I pay bills, or how do I set up wifi and where do I buy a TV? But before I get to that, let's start from the very beginning.

Some time in May, a wonderful lady called Paula who was in-charge of the new apartment emailed me to come for an inspection. At the time, I had no idea what I was supposed to do during an inspection. My parents, who guided me along the way, gave me a list of defects to look at. Stuff like scratched walls, loose cupboards etc. Forgetful Kimmy obviously did not bring that list with her and went completely unprepared to this inspection.

What I did end up doing was opening cupboards and looking at empty ceilings and taking pictures. In all honesty, I really did not know what I had to be looking for either, I just pretended to know what I was doing.

Super cute kitchen

The living room with a balcony!!!

My room. Look how tiny that window is. 

I never understood why the second bedroom had a much larger window. 

This is where I'll be if I don't respond to texts, hiding away from life. 

A couple of days later, Paula emailed me to say that I could collect the keys and move in as soon as possible. After hearing this, I was so so so happy because everything was going smoothly... or so I thought. I signed the handover form, got the keys and went up to see my new home. What I saw truly disappointed me because all the defects were unfixed, the door was broken, and for some reason the place was dustier than before.

I didn't really know what that meant or what to do so I left it as it is. My mom found out that the defects were still there and had a go at me for being so careless because what I should have done was to check the place before even signing anything. Once you sign the handover form, any broken items or cracks in the walls will become your responsibility and you'll have to fix it on your own. To think about it now, it seems like common sense but my brain was too slow to figure that out.

I feel like because I'm severely under-qualified to manage my own place, adults kind of take advantage of my innocence and cut corners sometimes. I didn't know any better and almost had to be fixing door knobs on my own if my mom didn't warn me beforehand. I remember receiving a text from her saying that I was too inexperienced to handle these situations in which I angrily replied, "Yes I AM TOO YOUNG. What the hell were you expecting from an eighteen-year old??!!"

In the end, everything was done properly and I got the keys to a defect-free apartment, all thanks to my mother's persistent effort in forcing me to check every inch of every wall. Haha.

The next thing to do after getting the keys was to buy furniture. God, even saying it sounds so mature. Anyway, I thought it was going to be fun. I mean every kid loves IKEA and dreams of having one of the showrooms as their own bedroom. Plus, who doesn't love Swedish meatballs?

It turns out that furniture shopping can be a bit of a nightmare for someone who loves black and wants every piece of furniture she sees. And also, because I have lunch before I shop, I am always too tired and too full of meatballs to properly concentrate. Hahaha.

448 pieces of furniture that I want

Felt so old taking notes in IKEA. Hahah

In the last month, I have been to IKEA five times and stayed up for days trying to figure out colour schemes and what not. The thing about me is that I don't have a specific style or aesthetic because I love everything and anything that is nice. I love prints and glitter and rich colours and black and cereal and Beyonce. Trying to combine all that in one small space is literally hell for any interior designer. At one point, I even had about 7 different sofas on my shopping list because I was so indecisive. My lack of colour coordination was so bad but luckily I had artsy friends who helped out tremendously (thank you Alp and Jolene <3)

And because I'm a student, ALL my furniture was from IKEA and I must admit, the final price came out to be a lot less than what I expected. (IKEA ftw!)

The next day, most of my furniture arrived and the delivery guys had such a hard time moving everything, which I obviously felt bad for but hey they're being paid. One of them even joked that my house was like an IKEA showroom, which I admit is quite true haha. Apparently in the UK, IKEA delivery doesn't assemble the furniture for you, which was another problem because A, I'm not exactly fit and B, I'm terrible with instructions.

This was only half of the furniture. The rest of them were in another room. 

I remember one of the delivery guys, before he left, asked me who the lucky guy was. And I laughed and said, "there's no guy, it's just me doing all this." He sort of looked at me half surprised and half confused because he didn't know if I was being serious. For some reason after he said that, I was really motivated to do it all on my own, just to see if I could. And I thought to myself, if I really could manage all this, I can pretty much do anything.

So after they left, it was just me with all these boxes and a handful of tools and I got cracking.

There's two things I discovered that day which were 1. Assembling IKEA furniture is a piece of cake. Sure, they were bumps along the way, but that was because I didn't read the instructions properly. Pfft. 2. The reason women don't carry furniture is not because we don't have the strength to but because our boobs get in the way. WHY BOOBS WHY.

Coffee table and study table, check.

After assembling the TV bench and the armchair I was sitting on. ⌗Proud

Besides the beds and the wardrobe, I can proudly declare that everything else was done by me with a little help from Lori on the sofa. The point is, I FELT INVINCIBLE and badass and I will not be shy about it. 

I finally went with a dark blue sofa.

Lori being shy.

The living room slowly coming together. 

My bedroom in it's glorious mess, just like my life.

The second bedroom that is filled with boxes at the moment. 

Selfie with my new bedding that I really love. 

Oops. Moving on... 

Anyway, I'll probably upload the final "look" after everything's completed but for now, that's all I have.  I have less than a day left at Bramall before they kick me out and I still need to pack which is why I'm going to stop blogging now and actually get some work done.

So that's all for today's post and if you've read up till here, I'm really thankful that you're interested in my life. And because my place is still a mess right now, I will be writing Part II on another day.

(Also, do excuse my crappy writing, I had no time to properly blog about this so I just wrote it in a rush. )

Ciao for now.

Love,
Kimmy x

End of First Year

This post is rather belated considering my first year ended on the 20th and it's the 30th today but anyway let's get on with it.

I can't properly articulate my emotions right now because I am literally still in denial that the first year of university has ended just like that. For some reason, I have never felt this "shock" with college or secondary school, but for university, it's an interesting revelation. On one hand, I'm glad it's over because here's to the three months of summer that I can do nothing with, but on the other hand, it means two more years of university and I'll be forced out of education and into the adult world. While two years is still a lot of time, that thought of finishing education for good still sits at the back of my mind and from time to time it's quite scary to think about.

This past year has opened my eyes to a lot of things. First of all, I never realised how uncertain I was with myself. Growing up, I have always been very clear about what I wanted, including my career, my dream car, even my dream apartment. I pretty much had everything mapped out and all I needed was money so I could go ahead and pursue them. Even when I faced difficulties in the past, I would cry about it for an hour or so and get on with Plan B. I was very certain with everything. Now, I just don't know anymore. In the past year of living independently, I have cried a lot and I have also pondered a lot. If anything, in the past year, I have doubted myself the most.

If you knew me before, you would know that I don't doubt myself, ever. I am the kind of person who knows what I'm good at and I go at it confidently and ambitiously. So this uncertainty I feel comes as a surprise and to be honest, I absolutely hate feeling incompetent. But in my case, it's so difficult to be confident in what I do.

To begin with, I am in a Creative Writing course for goodness sake. The me last year would never have pictured this, not even in a million years. And what's worse, being in an English course, my future prospects are either teaching or a best-selling novelist, there is literally no in-between. Teaching is a future I want to avoid and a novelist? Are you kidding me? I'm no Stephen King for crying out loud, where in this future do I stand? Do you see why I am constantly worried? In a course of about a hundred people, I am the only Asian and that puts me at a great disadvantage already. Among those hundred people, we all want the same thing but how many out of all of us will eventually become the greatest TV writer ever? I know for sure the possibility of that being me is tiny because miracles don't happen to me. For my whole life, I have only depended on hard work because talent is not something I possess. With that being said, hard work can only carry you far in life to a certain extent. There are thousands of people out there who write their butts off and still don't get noticed. This is ultimately my biggest fear. Unlike engineers and doctors, a career in writing is completely undecided.

If I'm honest, I have been living everyday questioning my purpose and praying like nobody's business that one day all this hard work will pay off. As I've said before, not living the life I imagine is going to be my biggest disappointment and it's something I will never forgive myself for.

As human beings, I feel like we are hard-wired to dwell on the worst case scenario even when the odds are probably in our favour. At this point, the chances of succeeding is bleak but there's a part of me that still wants to believe it's possible. My teacher used to say that taking a leap of faith means believing in something completely intangible. Being passionate means pouring your heart and soul into something while fully acknowledging the worst case scenario. I'd like to think that this is what I'm doing. At the end of the day, if I do become a teacher, I'd like to say that I tried my best pursuing the career of my dreams. After all, a one percent chance is still a higher probability than a zero percent and gambling on that one chance is going to be worth it if I'm willing to bet on myself.

That is my only comfort when I'm upset and when my pillars of support are on the other side of the planet. Living away from my family is, without a doubt, difficult, but it taught me how to stand on my own two feet. I guess in its own way, it's rewarding. But yea, if I could sum up first year in a word, it would be rewarding. Everything that I have learnt in university, from scriptwriting to using theories like feminism and marxism etc, it's been one hell of a school year.

Here's to three months of summer and two more years of assignments and exams. Yay.

Love,
Kimmy

LOVE MORE, PEOPLE.

Ten minutes ago, I read an article on Thought Catalog about how, as people, we need to be more caring. And I absolutely loved the piece because I agree a 1000%. 

I don't know how long this has been happening but I realised it became a trend to be mean to people, to see yourself as more superior than others because it makes you feel cool. When did society become a competition to see who's cooler? Huh? We don't need to live in anxiety that if we're not deemed cool enough, we will be considered outcasts. We don't need that kind of shit in our lives. That's nonsense. And when did caring less become the new "cool" thing to do ? It's stupid. Being mean may have been cool when you were twelve and you idolised Sharpay Evans. But when you're almost twenty and entering adulthood? No. Being rude to people is just not nice and generally unappreciated so please cut the crap. Just be the person who cares more. Just be that and your life will infinitely be better. 

I know in relationships the one who cares more will always have the hardest time moving on and out of fear of heartbreak, people decide to shut themselves away from feelings. (Guilty as charged lol) but I've always told my friends who were/ going to be in relationships that it's fine to care more. It shows you have a heart that feels and I don't see anything wrong with that. I know girls who don't text guys because they don't want to seem clingy. Here's a solution, do it anyway. Be clingy because you know what, fuck what other people think. For all you know, the guy probably likes that you text often, because it shows that you care and WE ALL LIKE TO BE CARED ABOUT DON'T WE? 

Text them anyway. Part of what makes being alive so exciting is the ability to feel the full spectrum of human emotions; from the dark pits of sorrow to happiness that literally makes you feel like flying over the moon. Feel it anyway. Be in touch with your emotions. Being able to express how you feel is NOT a sign of weakness and it certainly shows bravery. I used to shut myself away from people and bottled up pretty much all my feelings to protect my pride and ego. And to only realise now that it was extremely foolish of me. If anything, life was duller and more disheartening. 

Learn to let go and be honest with life. If you're upset, go cry and eat ice-cream. Whatever. If you're happy, say so and embrace the moment. Take a selfie for all I care. If you're angry with someone, tell them and go grab ice-cream afterwards. If you're starting to like someone, tell them anyway and you can plan future ice-cream dates. Be bold enough to be the first one to reach out. Don't wait. Don't ever EVER sit around and wait for things to happen to you. Because when it doesn't, you will complain about how much life sucks. Life doesn't suck if you know how to live it properly. 

Don't wait for your friends to text you first because you don't wanna look desperate texting first. Honestly, just be kind and open. Be excited about everything, every little thing even, no matter how irrelevant they are. Take every opportunity to be happy, as often as you can. Laugh at everything and with everyone. Have a hella good time with your buddies. Stop hating people and love more. Stop gossiping and just shut the fuck up unless you have nice things to say about other people. 

You are capable of being kind and nice. So drop that bitchy attitude and smile for once. Fuck what people think. Stop caring less to protect your pride. 

Care more, love more, and live more. 

Love, 

Kimmy x 

The Real Deal with Studying Abroad

Whenever I used to mention to people that I'm going abroad for university, everyone would react the same way. They were all very envious.

Now although there are things to be jealous about like the experience of a whole new culture, the prestige of going to an overseas university etc, but let me put it straight to you that everything is not as glamorous as it seems.

Just before I go on, I would like to mention that I am eternally grateful for this opportunity and all the other opportunities I've had in my life thanks to my wonderful parents so please don't get the wrong idea that I am an ungrateful person.

1) It is literally a whole new world.

Before I came here, I was always very proud of what I know. In terms of general knowledge, I would say that I know more than most people do. I have a British father who has travelled to more than a hundred countries, and I learnt things based on the stories he told me. So I thought adapting to life in the UK was going to be a piece of cake. WRONG. It was just as terrifying.

This is what going abroad teaches you, that no matter how prepared you think you are, (based on what you know from stories and movies etc) you will never be prepared enough. It literally feels like someone threw me into the middle of the ocean with nothing to help me stay afloat.

And you'd be surprised at how even the tiniest of things can fascinate you. Like for example, people wearing shorts with tights. I have lived on the equator and tights are only worn by crazy corporate women along with their stiletto heels and not as a day-to-day clothing. Crazy right? Well for me, at least, this was shocking.

I can go on about the differences but that's not the point. The point is that, studying abroad is nothing similar to going to a country on vacation. It is an entirely different world that you get to experience first hand and believe me, there's a lot more going on behind what you see from pictures in travel magazines.

2) Adapting - making the 'new' become 'normal'

I remember the panic I felt on the day that I landed because I noticed that the road signs were all written in miles instead of kilometres, which I wasn't used to. And I remember being so scared because it was the first instant where I felt thrown out of my comfort zone. And if you're planning on going abroad, that is how you're going to be feeling for at least the first three months. Unless you have been moving to different countries your whole life, I can't imagine culture shock being any easier to get over.

The first three months I was here, everything felt temporary. It was as if I was set on a vacation for three years or something. My flat felt like a hotel, and the view I saw everyday surprised me. There were times when I was on the bus, staring in awe at Manchester's architecture that I have to tell myself to snap out of it. I will be looking at the Piccadilly wheel for the next three years of my life, why am I acting like this is a holiday??? 

When my friends were starting to refer to Manchester as their 'home', I was still very reluctant to believe that this is my home. It's been nine months now and I am not entirely convinced that this is going to be my home for good. Although that is the case, I think it's safe to say that I don't feel as scared anymore. 

The fear you feel initially will disappear over time because you'll wake up one day and realise that the view is the same and it's boring because it's now the new normal.

3) Money problems

Despite saying that, some things will always remain as a shock. Like when I convert all the money I spend into Malaysian Ringgit. It's like a mini heart attack whenever I look at my tuition fees. As if it's not scary enough to see it in pounds, and then I have to multiply it by five and BAM mini heart-attack.

That is how I feel about EVERYTHING I spend my money on. It's like when I buy a bag from Primark that's £10 and my mind just thinks 'meh it's not too bad. Quite worth the money if you ask me' and my conscience basically screams "FIFTY RINGGIT FOR A TINY BAG. KIMBERLY SARAH WALKER ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MIND?!!!"

£12 for Nandos though? YES PLEASE.

That sums up my student life.

Sorry, I digressed.

But when people call me a cheapskate or say that I don't 'treat myself' enough, it's not that, it's because I have an enormous sense of guilt.

Let's be honest here, to be able to afford the life of an international student, your parents have to be considerably rich. I am not boasting, these are the facts. But so what? I can speak for all the international students out there, that are NOT spoilt brats I might add, that no matter how financially stable our families are, it doesn't take away the guilt that we're spending their hard-earned money trying to seek an education that they themselves have never experienced. (My parents didn't go to uni)

Studying abroad is truly a privilege. And it also means your attendance has to be 100%, you kinda have to ace everything (talking 70s and above here) and try to live as poorly as you can. The word "SALE" will be your new favourite word.

No pressure.

4) Long-distance friendship

I think I've written a post about how difficult maintaining a long-distance friendship is before, but I'll do it again because in my opinion, this is honestly the toughest part with studying abroad.

When you meet a friend or friends that you instantly have a connection with, you would obviously want that connection to last as long as possible. So we make promises. Like how we're going to be best friends forever and ever and ever and who's going to be the bridesmaids at who's wedding. Stuff like that.

I'm not saying going abroad is breaking those promises but I'm here to tell you, it's very difficult holding on to them.

Because distance really does play a part in how friendships unfold eventually. Yes, you may say that you'll stay in touch using Skype and Whatsapp but it's not the same. With the pressure of assignments, not to mention timezones getting in the way, it's really hard to keep up with each other.

My best friend from secondary school only texts me once a month. Sometimes we go on months without speaking to each other, I haven't seen her in one and a half years now, or perhaps more, but who's counting? See, that's the thing, you get so tired of keeping up that you eventually stop counting. (We've known each other for six years now, at least we're still counting that hehe)

When I'm upset or I just need someone to talk to, my first instinct is to go to my best friend. I would call them and if it was back home, we would probably meet up and cry over a tub of ice cream. But being abroad, you can't do any of that. Sometimes all you really need is a hug but you find yourself desperate and alone, and it's just the worst feeling ever.

And there are days where I just want to have a good rant about something but my friends can't reply because they're asleep. It isn't their fault at all but it just is very frustrating to have no one to listen to you.

Not being there for someone physically changes a lot of things. My best friends, for example, were not the same person they were before. And just to be clear, it is NOT a bad thing. Change is inevitable, and it happens to all of us. Humans need to change, we need to move on and progress. I've been told that I have changed drastically ever since I came here so it's fine. It's the fact that I was not there to witness my friends change and be a part of what made them the better person they are today that is upsetting. My friends just celebrated their 20th birthday last month and I wanted so badly to be there with them but it's impossible. It's scary to think that this is going to be the new normal, that not being with each other on special occasions is a common thing, whereas before the possibility of this was unimaginable.

Sometimes, actually most of the time, being abroad will make you feel left out on a lot of things. And no one likes feeling excluded, but it's just one of those situations where you have to tell yourself to suck it up.

5) Homesickness 

I have this terrible luck that before every lunch or dinner, I will stumble across food posts from Buzzfeed describing in detail how great it is to live and eat in Asia. For me, personally, homesickness only ever occurs because I miss home food (hahaha sorry parents)

No but in all seriousness, food is the main problem. I love Indian food with a passion. Anyone who knows me knows that I will swallow spicy hot curry even if it burns me. And indian food here, doesn't meet my expectations. I'm not complaining at all, these are, once again, facts.

Asian food that is outside of Asia will never taste as good or even similar to the ones you get back home and you have to live with it. Truth is, there is no cure to homesickness. You just have to sit tight and let it wash over you. My way of dealing with it is attempting to cook an Asian dish myself. Ten out of ten times, I have failed miserably.

Because I'm Malaysian, I obviously love Milo. In fact, I think I eat Milo more than I actually drink it. (No shame at all) But because it's scarce and expensive, I only have it when I'm really really homesick. Recently, I tried to cook soupy noodles like the ones my mom make but it turned out all mushy and ew.

(what a great description coming from an English student - ew. 'The noodles looked unappetising')

6) Living Independently

This coming June, I'll be moving out of my student accommodation and moving in to my new apartment. Sounds glamorous, doesn't it? Well, no. There are a long list of things I have to do before moving like listing and getting furniture, comparing prices, inspecting the place for any damages, sort out rent prices and it doesn't end there. After I move in, I have to deal with paying for the bills myself. See, it's a lot of work. And keep in mind, I'm only eighteen and trying to navigate my way around all these issues in a completely foreign country is a big big challenge.

On the other hand, it's exciting too. Because I get to decorate and do whatever I want with the apartment and even though I don't enjoy this grown-up life, I'm looking forward to having my own place. There's so many things to figure out like where and how do I pay my bills, and how do I get a TV license and more importantly, how do I set up the Wifi??! (first world problems) But I have realised the longer I live here, that all these are minor issues and with the help of the internet and friendly people, I'll be able to figure these problems out in no time.

This is what living independently is all about. Taking one step at a time to face these problems head on. And you'll realise that after every challenge you conquer, you start to feel less afraid and more daring to do things.

I went for my first job interview in the UK last week and it turned out so well that I no longer feel inferior to white people like I used to. I went to the post office the other day and I successfully sent a parcel to my friend (YAY) and I was overjoyed after that. See, it's the little things that guide you along the way.

Most people give me looks of pity when I tell them that I'm not allowed to go home in the summer. My mom's argument was that there is no point to living independently abroad if I'm going to take every opportunity to come home. And I totally agree with her. I'll get a job in the summer and earn my own money. I don't know how yet but I'm getting there.

The important thing is to remember that no one has it all figured out at this age and that you're never alone. Studying abroad terrifies the living shit out of a lot of people, myself included, but with help and guidance along the way, you'll find yourself surrounded with good people that are helping you build a ship to stay afloat in this wide ocean of adulthood.

Love,
Kimmy x

P.S I'm looking for a flatmate in my new place. If you have nowhere to live next year, please drop me a message and we can meet up and be friends.