I have a feeling I’m one of those people that are just too hard to please. I don’t like it when it’s winter and I don’t like it when it’s summer. It’s too bloody cold. It’s too stinking hot. I’m not even sure if I like autumn or spring – the archetypical seasons-in-the-middle for fence-sitters all over the world. In fact, I strongly doubt that it’s got anything to do with the season at all – i just don’t like It. One may reference my heritage – I am of Malaysian/Chinese descent – and there is nothing more fulfilling to our race (in general, other than buying toilet paper en-masse when it’s on special at Coles) than having a good old whinge about things. Nothing specific – just a big old whinge about Everything. And when I say Everything, I mean Everything. The caps is well deserved.
I remember when at the fragile age of 5, my compact 4-person family decided it would be a grand idea to go on holiday with my extended family – a massive effort as my extended family consists over over 10 other aunts and uncles and only God-knows how many cousins thrown in. After this had been settled, we soon found ourselves in a fairly compact, yet cosy share house with a plethora of other wonderful kids (of varying ages) on what I knew as Barbie Island (Bribie Island). Finding a lack of Barbies on the island itself, and being far too young to enjoy the days away from the hustle bustle of my schooling life, I set about sitting for hours absorbed in making a diary of all the things I wasn’t doing. Unlike the rest of my fun-loving cousins who were having fun frolicking on the beach and throwing rocks at sand-stranded jellyfish. To this date, I remember being somewhat of a kill-joy. Other than being the world’s dullest 5-year-old, I also recall my auntie feeding us all slugs. Okay, they were shell-fish, but to my small and underdeveloped brain, she had fed us slugs. I remain traumatised to this day.
Negativity was the key to everyday happenings. If you got an A, you were immediately asked why you didn’t get an A+. If you got a B, you were sent outside to ponder your failings as a young adult. Returning C-grades were not talked about and you were treated like the Invisible Man for the rest of the week. D’s meant outright disowning. Those Asian Dad memes don’t exist for the sheer frivolity of superimposing a typical Asian Dad Face on a swirly pin-wheel of psychedelic colour. All stereotypes are somewhat based on fact – and I am a bit of a living testament to the fact that negativity grows equally decadent negativity – if somewhat embellished by sarcasm and a gnawing expectation of “I’m going to be like that when I get older, aren’t I?”
This winter has been no exception. Not only is it cold, I have a cold. For the second time in as many months. I can’t feel my fingers and toes. As far as I’m concerned, I’m typing this post with small salami-like protrusions from my ham-esque palms. I keep sneezing at the monitor and my nose is consumed by an eternal-drip that seems as never-ending as “The Song That Doesn’t End”, complete with Lamb Chop and world known, award-winning female puppeteer Shari Lewis in tow. My desk is smeared with pills as thick as snow in a Russian winter – but you know what? This exclusion zone has lead to one silver-lining: I’ve had time to type. To put my thoughts down – if not on paper – then on the internet. And so I’ve also realised that I haven’t added anything to this website in months. Thus laying to waste scrounged-up dollars. Dammit Jayne, why do you have to tarnish every silver lining?