On Being Smart……Not!

People get this misconception that just because I am a PhD student, therefore I am smart. That’s what I used to believe too. Of course I’d like to think of myself as a smart person because I am doing my PhD. So wrong….!!

Very often, people give me this impressed look when they ask me what I do here in New Zealand, and I say I am doing my PhD. Then they oooh and aahhh when I tell them its in Chemical Engineering.

While its nice to be praised, I also feel very embarrassed and uncomfortable. Because, third year into my doctoral program, I can tell you indefinitely that I am not smart! Seriously, I am not trying to be polite, I really am not that smart!

People who are really really really smart knows better than to go do a PhD. I started my PhD program because I hated my job! I struggle with my PhD program. To the point I ask myself almost daily now, “Tien, what the hell are you thinking trying to do a PhD???”

One of my lecturers from my undergraduate days has this to say on how to graduate with a PhD in hand. “Tien, you have to be stubborn. No matter how bad other people try to comment negatively about your work or results, be stubborn and keep believing that you have what it takes. Just be stubborn!”

The keyword here is stubborn. Not smart, but stubborn! I believe him wholeheartedly!

And then there is this article that discusses how stupidity is important in conducting scientific research. If you’d like to be a PhD student, have a good read at this article, and think long and hard whether you really have what it takes. While being smart helps at times, it doesn’t get the job done, honest!

I am not smart, but I still want that PhD. And I can appear to be smarter. I hope I can make the cut. I am fighting for it. Wish me luck, I need LOTS of it!

The “R” Word

I grew up in a place where your skin colour is a factor.

I grew up in a place where people also excelled based on their merits, in spite of their skin colour. You just have to work much harder.

Confused? If you are a Malaysian, you should understand what I am talking about.

Don’t get me wrong, Malaysians are generally very civilised and courteous people. You don’t encounter people throwing insults around in public just because of your skin colour. We live in harmony.

Your skin colour is only a factor “on paper”. It is justified because it is in the constitution and it is legal. We learnt about it in history during school and so, we live with it. It can get a little frustrating at times, but most of the time we tolerate. Those who could tolerate no more rarely fight back. Mostly they choose to become indifferent and simply leave.

Many weeks ago, I met someone who is pleasant. But as soon as I learnt where he is from, “someone who is pleasant” became “someone who may appear to be pleasant”. Because of his colour, my guards went up and I decided not to give him a benefit of a doubt with regards to his character and ethics. I gently closed my doors on him and decided not to “take any risks”.

The worst part of it all was he saw right through me and told me I am a racist.

I can justify my actions all I want – statistics, observations, instincts, stereotypes. That it was only self-defense. I can even say that I grew up in an environment that taught me to remember that race is always a factor.

At the end of the day, I did judge him because of the colour of his skin.

I realise I can be a racist at heart and I feel very ashamed.

Birthday

08/10/2011

On 29 September, I turned……..um, well just say it was the last of the 20s for me if you know what I mean  

It was just like any normal weekday but I was a little more cheerful knowing it was my special day. Greeted by the many birthday messages on Facebook, it made me smile more.

I remembered when I turned 9, my parents threw me a birthday party in a fast food restaurant and invited many of my school friends. There were games, fried food, soft drinks, games, a cake and many presents. As I grew older my birthdays become more and more quiet and some years I don’t even get a cake.

This year Terry asked if I would like a cake and I said sure, but not on my actual birthday because it’s no fun eating a cake by myself!

We haven’t invited anyone over for dinner properly since we moved into the new place so I thought, let’s invite some friends over for a simple birthday cum housewarming get-together. I whipped up a simple meal for 10 people including ourselves.

I enjoyed every part of it – the cooking and preparing, the company and food and of course my cake! You gotta love cake. Although I had to go through the awkward birthday song before devouring the cake, it was still worth it. I have always felt the weirdest part of a birthday celebration is the song singing part, where everybody sings while you stand there….waiting for them to finish! Do you ever feel that way?

Anyway, it was a lovely evening. It wasn’t so much of my birthday and gifts, but really the warm and fuzzy feeling when you know you have friends around you. To me, that is the best birthday gift ever  

Missing In Action

I’ve been a lousy blogger yet again for abandoning my blog for weeks!

Terry and I are moving again! There are so much to do, so much to organise, so much to buy. The fact that we have such a clutter problem makes it almost a nightmare! But at the same time, we are excited to move to a bigger place.

On the other hand, studies have been keeping me busy. My work has come to the level where I can start working towards publishing an academic journal paper so that my work gets recognised. Very happy about that. But first I have to work out some really difficult maths to make my work strong enough. Don’t even know if I am capable of that but I am trying!

I have heaps of pictures of my cooking and lots of things I want to talk about but haven’t really found the time to sit down and blog. Hopefully by the time we are settled in our new place, my blogging routine will get back to normal again!

In the meantime, Happy Eid Mubarak to all my Muslims friends!

I’ll update soon, promise.  :)

Waterworks

There was a time when I don’t cry easily. Especially at the movies. For example, when Jack sank to the bottom of the ocean shortly after Rose discovered he was dead, I felt really sad but not on the verge of tears. Not even close.

Then one day, as I flicked through the television, I decided to watch this cartoon for the first time in over 10 years. I remembered it was a childhood favourite – Disney’s The Fox and the Hound. As Widow Tweed drove Tod the fox into the forest and reluctantly started to abandon him there because of difficult circumstances, my eyes started welling up. The look on Tod’s face as she drove away made me sob!

Who knew, instead of the multi award-winning Titanic, it was an animated feature film that made me cry for the first time during a movie! Well to be fair, watch this and tell me it’s not sad!

People say that when that “door” is opened and you crossed over, you can never go back. The waterworks came freely ever since.

I cried when Marley died.

I cried when it was revealed by Kim that the snow actually came from Edward Scissorhands‘ yearly ice shavings because of his love for her.

I cried when Elizabeth sacrificed her own happiness for the sake of her people and declared that she was “married to England” and became the virgin queen.

I cried when Richard Gere appeared on the elevator, with a rose in hand to meet Susan Sarandon in Shall We Dance.

I cried as Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and the whole gang bid Andy farewell in Toy Story 3 (yes, another animated film, don’t judge!).

I cried pretty much all through The Joy Luck Club.

I cried during Hannah and Murray’s civil union.

I’ve become such a crybaby ever since re-watching a childhood cartoon about a make-believe fox! I still cry watching it. I think it’s the most touching scene ever.

Do you cry at the movies too? Which is your favourite tear-jerker?

Reaching Out

Reading about Erin’s entry jolted some of my memories and inspired me to write on the topic of being too nice. Somehow I got side-tracked and wrote a post about a teenage drama I endured instead. Anyway, if you have read that story – the pillow incident I call it - you can tell by now that I was very eager to please and very non-confrontational. I have difficulty in saying no and I always wanted to be nice.

In the years ahead, many a time, I felt that I was invited for a day out only because I have a ride. Or the times when I have offered my help without being asked, and when I needed help, I could find no one. Times when I felt I have no friends I could trust, no one to listen, no one to talk to, no one to support me, no one to comfort me. No one I could truly count on. No true friend to lean on. Always taken for granted.

I particularly loved this excerpt Erin wrote in her entry:

I think that being selfish is an important aspect of selflessness – take care of yourself and you’ll be better equipped to help others. Put others first, but only if it doesn’t threaten your own well-being. It’s okay to hurt someone else’s feelings as long as it is necessary and unintentional. It’s okay if you hurt someone else’s feelings, as long as it’s necessary and unintentional. You’re allowed to say “no.” You have permission to stand up for yourself.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you“, was what I lived by.

But let’s face it, in the real world? Really? Not trying to sound sceptical but we are all human, including our friends. If you keep giving and giving without question, people will naturally take you for granted. They are not bad people, this is just human nature. I am no exception to the rule as well. I know I may have taken friends for granted too. It is okay to say NO, I can’t say it better than Erin did.

But wait, this is not my point.

One day in our student flat quite a few years ago, my housemate’s mobile phone got accidentally dropped into the toilet. If you live in Asia, you should know that some old houses do not have a toilet bowl. We have a squat toilet instead. Naturally, she was very distressed and would’ve prefered if she could retrieve her phone, fast! She had just done her business and it was a long drop down the hole, easily 3 feet!

A few minutes later, I watched as two of her guy friends attempted to retrieve her phone. First using a stick, a hook, then with bare hands! Watching them lying chest down beside the squat (yet to be flushed) toilet, faces a few inches from the toilet floor, hands reaching into the hole, I was touched. I envied her for having friends who will do pretty much anything to help. The beauty of it was, she didn’t even have to ask! I remember her telling them to give up already but they kept trying.

And then a thought struck me. If I had been the one with my phone down the toilet, who would help if asked? No one came to mind. If anyone should be lying face down, bare hands reaching into the toilet to retrieve my phone, it would be no one else but me, myself and I. I had no one.

But I also thought, I couldn’t ask anyone of such a favour, it was too much to ask. I’d rather do it myself.

That was my problem. I don’t ask. I assume that at times of need, friends will be there automatically. Just like in the movies or TV shows.

It was not that I had no friends I could count on, but I was so busy being the “selfless hero” I forget that I am allowed to ask for help and be a little selfish at times too. Sometimes, I need to be the one being rescued. I was expecting others to act like I would. And when they don’t, I get disappointed. Now that, is too much to ask/expect. They are not me.

So, here is my point. Friends are everywhere. All you need to do is reach out to them. Not sit and wait. I am glad to know that when I did reach out, I found a handful of real friends whom I know would be there for me, no matter what. No questions asked. 

Teenage Drama

I went to an all-girls school until I was 17. You can probably tell what I am about to write today.

I have friends like any normal teenager. Friends who really clicked with me always ended up getting segregated into other classes each year. You see, every year, everyone gets reshuffled into different classes. Can’t figure out why they did that. Probably to make you mix around? So yes, I always ended up separated from “my group” and I had to readjust every year to new classmates. I remember it being very stressful for me. I was an introvert. Still am!

But being a teenager in an all-girls school, I always try hard to fit in!

Somehow, I ended up with this group of girls during one year. Wanted to feel like I belong, I liked what they liked. I joined a school club that they joined. I laughed at their jokes. I was so eager to please! Nevertheless, I always had an inkling feeling that I was an outcast in their group. That we never really clicked. But I stuck around anyway.

Signs like how they agreed to not attend a certain club activity without informing me, thus I ended up being alone the whole day was dismissed time and again. Anything was better than being alone and groupless! 

One day, I agreed to sign on a 2-day-camp, organised by that club - my very first time spending 2 nights outside home in a strange place. They said it would be fun, of course I nodded with them!

Obviously, I wanted to stick to “my group” so that we could sleep together. I can’t really remember small details but this is what I recall. We arrived at a room with a few beds (how many I can’t remember). All with a pillow except one. We rushed in laughing and “booked” beds. I was last, so I sat on the single bed without a pillow, giggling with them. Then one of the organisers peeked through the door and said there were too many of us in a room, one of us had to move to the next room.

Who should go to the next room and sleep with strangers? We looked at each other.

“The one without a pillow,” one of them said softly, without looking at me. I thought I saw someone elbowed her, but I couldn’t be sure.

Without any protests, worried that I might cause trouble and make others upset, I smiled and said I will go to the other room (albeit very unwilling to). I felt sad that no one objected and asked me to stay, that we would think of something. No, I moved and they didn’t miss me. Again, I dismissed my feelings, saying to myself that it was only fair that the one without the pillow should go. It wasn’t their fault.

Throughout that day, I felt like I was being ignored. They left me behind in everything, stuck together and had conversations that I could not follow. That night, I barely slept and felt really horrible. I can’t remember whether I cried.

The next morning, I faked a tummy-ache and insisted I must call my father to come take me home. I left without saying goodbye to anyone.

Next week at school, I quit the group. We never fought, I never confronted them about anything. I simply stopped hanging out with them and they moved on without me.

I hold no grudges, this is just something which I cannot forget.

Do you have any high school/teenage drama stories to share?

From A Potato To A Worm

I knew I had to do something with myself when I realised that I spent most of my time at home on the bed watching TV. From 7.00 pm to as late as 11.00 pm I am stuck on my bed, looking at the TV screen every weekday. Sometimes even more on weekends! On days when my favourite shows are not on, I stick by the TV like a loyal servant flicking through channels of nothingness until I feel sleepy. Such a waste of time!

After reading through Shinloo’s entry about a book she had just read – The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, I was reminded of a time when I used to be an avid novel reader too. When I was between high school and university, I picked up some serious reading. By serious I meant books with lots of text and no pictures haha! And I remembered how I enjoyed painting the pictures of the stories in my head page by page. I especially enjoyed crime novels by Sidney Sheldon. Soon after starting university though, I stopped reading due to the infamous “I am busy with studies” excuse.

And then by the final year of my university days, Shinloo lent me one of her favourite books, a birthday gift from her friends she said – The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. It was a page turner and I recalled finishing it within 2-3 days. I still remember much about the story until today.

I haven’t read one single book since.

That was when I knew I must pick up reading again. Replace TV time by reading time. A.S.A.P!

Wasting no time and feeling all enthusiastic, I decided to start right then and there. I switched off the TV, jumped out of bed and marched out to the lounge where I knew there were a collection of novels belonging to Hannah and Murray. I glanced through the titles and decided to pick the thickest one – Desperation by Stephen King and started reading that night. It was a nice read. Not mind-blogging awesome but good nevertheless. Mr. King’s imagination is amazing. In layman’s terms, he has a twisted mind to come up with all these supernatural stories. But hey, I wasn’t complaining. I finished it in 5 days and wanted to read more.

So the next day, I headed down to the public library to borrow another novel. I got the library card since last year and I can’t believe I haven’t used it even once although everything is free! Anyway, I marched into the library without a plan on which book to get. No worry, I told myself. pick any bestseller, it should be good. Do you know almost all books ever published is a #1 bestseller? Shelf by shelf I looked and every book has a #1 bestseller tag on its cover!

Determined to have a book to read on that night, I told myself I have to pick a book. I must! So which book? Stephen King. That was all I could think of. So, I picked up Insomnia and began reading that night. It was yet another supernatural horror story but it wasn’t as fast-paced as Desperation and I got bored after 300 pages. It ends at over 900 pages! I took over a week to finish it (with a few nights in between where I dozed off halfway reading ) After the last page, I was just glad I managed to finish it. No feeling of “Whoa!” or “That’s so awesome!”

Before my next library visit to return Insomnia and to pick up more books last Saturday, I did some research beforehand. Well of course! I should borrow The White Tiger that Shinloo blogged about! So I went in search of the author name Adiga at the library – none! What a disappointment. Ahh well, let’s pick something else up then. More Stephen King? Nah….two in a row is enough for now. So where to start?

I knew what I like. I like an old-fashioned story. Like flashbacks. Or backstories. Otherwise, I always enjoy crime novels like I enjoyed Castle, The Mentalist or C.S.I. on TV. I picked up – The Lost Diary of Don Juan by Douglas Carlton Abrams simply because it’s a “diary”. An old-fashioned story-telling book. Plus the picture of the author at the back looked really handsome!

Then I scouted somemore at the crime novel section. Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane. Hey isn’t that the movie starring Leornardo DiCaprio? I haven’t read a story in a book and watch it being re-lived in a movie before. Many friends said its a pretty cool experience. Plus I heard a lot of good reviews about the movie. So I grabbed that too. And planned to watch the movie after.

Still a little disappointed that I didn’t get what I was looking for, I decided to look somemore around the library to see what else was interesting before heading home. And there staring at my face was The White Tiger, in large print nonetheless! I took it off the shelf happily and checked out all three books. I finished The White Tiger in 2 days and loved it! It’s very intriguing! Recommended!

Tonight I start reading about Don Juan

What are you reading now? Any books you think I should read? Please recommend!

Boyfriend

I grew up a nerd at school. Never been interested in boys – at least I didn’t admit to be – until very, very late into my teenage years.

While the popular girls were having puppy-love boyfriends and playing the dating field by 15, my first real date with a boy was when I was 18. I had no clue it was meant to be a date at the time. Perhaps it really wasn’t. It was supposed to be a group outing but in the end we were the only ones who showed up. So I guess it still counts? Otherwise, I would have to say my first real date was a year later when I was 19!!

Most of my girl friends have boyfriends by then. And when my mom noticed that I was more interested in watching TV than going out, she started asking, ”Shouldn’t you be out enjoying your youth dating or something? You mean nobody is asking you out?!!” and other questions of the like.

It made me nervous and doubt myself. I was feeling insecure as her words sink in. Really, nobody asked me. Nobody was interested. And I started to get more insecure. Being a typical teenager and all. Um….being 19 is still considered being a teen right….? *blush*

That was the phase where I start to long for a boyfriend too, like how my friends have one each! Longing and dreaming to have someone I can call my boyfriend.

Fast forward 10 years, I am now in a steady relationship with Terry. My um….boyfriend.

Ironically, when I need to introduce him to anyone nowadays, I find referring him as my “boyfriend” very awkward…..bordering embarassing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not Terry whom I am embarrassed of, it’s the word “boyfriend”. Somehow it sounds so juvenile. Like I am too old to have a boyfriend. Do you ever feel that way?

Thank goodness for formalities in forms, I get to fill him in as my “partner” in the status column. You know, the part where you tick either single, married, divorced or partner? That gives me the option to use “partner” instead of “boyfriend” when introducing him. The grown-up version. I am much more comfortable with that term.

But then there are those who assume by “partner”, I meant “husband” and start referring Terry as my husband! Back to square one….awkward! I honestly don’t know how to react to that….yet. How do I politely correct them without further awkward follow-ups of ”When are you getting married?” or “Why are you not married yet?”

Bananas and Me

What comes to mind when you think of bananas?

Growing up as a Chinese who doesn’t read or write Chinese characters got me referred to as a banana myself. Simply because I have yellow skin (being a Chinese) but inside, I am practically “white” (metaphor of being a Caucasian). Yellow skin with white flesh….just like a banana!

I remember my mom telling me why she decided to send me to a national school instead of a Chinese medium school when I was a kid. You see, rasing a child in multi-racial Malaysia, parents have the choice of sending their kids to either a Chinese medium school, Tamil (Indian) medium school or a national school where the language of conduct is Malay and English.

During my mother’s schooling time in the 1960s and 1970s, Malaysia was under the British rule and going to a national school means attending all classes in English, following the British curriculum. The English-eds (English-educated), as they call it during her time were seen as the elites. The “better ones” as compared to those who attended Chinese or Tamil schools. My mother attended a Chinese school. Even so, the quality of education then was very high and my mother speaks perfect English even though she attended a Chinese school.

However, during her teens, she still used to envy the English-ed girls who ride the same school bus as hers, speaking confidently in flawless English to each other while she hung her head in silence, feeling inferior. She said she vowed to ensure her kids to be English-eds so that they could “hold their head up high”. What she didn’t realise was, during my time (1980s and 1980s), Malaysia was no longer under the British rule and national schools were conducted in the national Malay language with occasional English lessons instead. Somehow, the term “English-ed” stuck on.

And so my elder sister and I grew up as bananas. It wasn’t too bad though, I speak Cantonese as this is the language I grew up with at home. My sister is much better than I am. She taught herself how to read chinese characters by reading Chinese newspapers on her own during her free time. Amazing eh? Not me though.

My biggest regret is I can’t speak Mandarin properly and I certainly cannot read or write in Chinese characters. Although schools do offer additional and optional classes for pupils who wish to learn their mother-tongue languages, I pleaded with my mother to let me stop attending them because, “It’s too hard, ma!”

Yes, now I regret it! Fortunately, I managed to learn how to write my name in Chinese characters. To be fair, I still think Chinese characters are not easy to learn! Did you know every stroke in a character must be written in order, similar to spelling? Or else, you’ll be “drawing” characters instead of writing them.

Maybe in the near future, I should really put in some serious effort to learn up this sophisticated language that is supposed to be my mother tongue and shed off my banana image.