Perspective.

I’ve always loved Chinese New Year because wherever you go, people will always have food welcoming. The lovely little pineapple tarts and the sugar-induced madness! Goodness, I am still trembling uncontrollably from the sugar! Exclamation! I must have eaten at least a dozen in each house, and OH MY GOD MY HEART. It can’t take so much sweet, sugary love. But I was so happy! So happy, that now I am trying to find the right keys on the keyboard thing but it’s hard because my hands are a blur! This shaking... It'll burn calories though, right? Right.

Could you tell I was overly nervous meeting my relatives? The night before judgement day, my heart was racing. I kept thinking of my cousins, and how we could never be friends. Like Japan and the whales! Frodo and the One Ring! Rugby and the Superbowl! I was fighting off sleep so they wouldn’t come and steal my brain. About an hour of frantic worrying later, I accidentally fall asleep. Only to be awoken at eight by my heart racing at breakneck speed. My parents were concerned (just because), but I was furious. You don’t get it, I shouted! I’m going to crack under their severe scrutiny!

Finally, after much weeping and cursing and demanding that God explain why I had to go, I was swept off hither to their houses. And lo! They took one look at me and said, well, hello, distant relative! You’re early! (That may not have been their exact words. Maybe.) My cousin Sarah started the “How’s Australia?” initiative, which was nice. And they watched me inhale their pineapple tarts with general wonder. In any case, I have never been so relaxed around them. Sarah is taking Sports Medicine at UWA, Andrea is in Perth volunteering, Esther wants to be a Child Psychologist, David plays the bass, and even Uncle Paul’s speeches on the nefarious nature of gambling did nothing to lessen my mood (which normally would probably have made me incoherent with rage.)

And because I was so wired from the sugar, I couldn’t sleep that night, and I wondered if it’s time to wind up this little ditty of a blog. There’s nothing much to talk (or bitch) about, except maybe my cookies (you’ll be surprised how many ways a cookie can go wrong. You would think that as long as you don’t forget the sugar, or replace the butter with petrol, everything will fall into place obediently. HA.) But sometimes, I find myself narrating my life like an inner monologue (in third person!) “She lay in bed bitching about the sorry state of her life, while imagining falling asleep on millions of scurrying tiny bedbugs.” Or “occasionally she feels like she’s too selfish to ever love anyone more than herself.” I don’t know, blogging has made me aware of how I always seem to be on the edge. Maybe it’s just the cupfuls of sugar coursing through my veins. We’ll see.

It’s one week from my departure day to Aussie, and I can’t help feeling a little excited. Not so much for that hateful, hateful plane ride, but being by myself again, and actually getting something done. I’m exhausted. But you know what I could really go for right now? A pineapple tart.