A recent visit from my cousin, the daughter of one of these aunts, gave me a more updated viewpoint of this supposedly glamorous career path, as well as the many hidden caveats that came with it.  She actually graduated as a nurse but without much prospect of landing a full-time nursing job, travelling the world seemed like a great idea. And travel the world she does.

She arrived late at night on the 30th and it was her first time visiting Melbourne. My family and I did our best to show her the sights and sounds of the city with the free time she had left on new year’s eve before she had to jet-set towards another unknown (rather, she didn’t bother checking) destination. The usual barrage of questions were exchanged, more so from my parents.

Many fascinating tales were told like how she almost always never flies with the same crew members (there are more than 5000 after all), her lack of a sleeping pattern, life in Doha and so on. I even asked her how she handled the odd proposition (answer: company policy+smile+may I get you a drink+leave. Along those lines.) Speaking of smiles, she did also mention that it was hard to shake off the habit of smiling at people even when she was off-duty which can give guys the wrong impression, especially in Europe.

And did I mention the work hours? We’re talking about 3 days off a month, with an 11-hour minimum notice time for the next flight when she gets back home. Hey, living the life of decadent travel comes with a tight schedule, alright? She showed a couple (hundred) photos from exotic places like Moscow, Zurich, Hong Kong and I could clearly see the appeal of this line of work despite all the not-so-nice things she’d shared. It really does seem like a bachelor’s dream job, and I could not agree more that flight attendants have the world as their oyster. Or the world is their oyster, however you use that phrase.

She did share a random thought though: Why are there so many gays in Melbourne? Well, can’t blame her for seeing the pandemic of skinny jeans and the resurgence of 60/70/80s hairdos.

This technique whereby you’re presumably on fire and may lack any external source to put out the flames, forcing you to roll on the floor like a deranged person is a pretty decent analogy to what my year has been.

I don’t know about you, but 2011 has been the longest year of my life. I did not enjoy it.

Hope yours went better.

Happy new year.

/dɪsˈdeɪn, dɪˈsteɪn/

verb (used with object)

1. to look upon or treat with contempt; despise; scorn.

2. to think unworthy of notice, response, etc.; consider beneath oneself: to disdain replying to an insult.

3. (noun) a feeling of contempt for anything regarded as unworthy; haughty contempt; scorn.

Origin:
1300–50; (v.) Middle English disdainen < Anglo-French de ( s ) deigner (see dis-1 , deign); (noun) Middle English disdeyn < Anglo-French desdai ( g ) n, derivative of the verb

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Came back from the city tonight, and the rain was weapons-grade almost tropical in nature i.e. heavy and unrelenting. As I was driving, there were several instances where the lightning was bright enough to temporarily light everything up (including my retinas) as if it were daytime. But apart from one instance where I slightly skidded because of the surface run-off blanketing the asphalt,  my mind was wandering off to replay the highlights of the day.

Had a few questions bouncing in my head such as ‘are people really revolted at the thought of being associated with academic lightweights?’ ‘What if I make someone who breezes through academia feel uncomfortable trying to empathise with someone who’s barely scraping by?’ ‘Are my results an honest reflection of the faith I cling to?’ ‘What if this becomes a stumbling block to someone else?’ ‘Why is it that my conscience is constantly burdened with doing my best while the reality is I fail to carry it through?’ ‘Why is everything so hard?’

I’m not a model H1 student. In fact, I’m very far from it. Yet I suppose in some circles that can be classified as a form of intellectual retardation.

The comic strip above is a fairly accurate description of how I approach discussions…at 2 am. Don’t get me wrong, given the right conversation (like say, mundane tips for driving to and from Craigieburn) I could go on and on. But at the end of the day I acknowledge that my mind is tired and proceed to shut it down for some downtime. Sure, you may say “but wouldn’t that mean you don’t have much self-control?”. Well, perhaps you’re right. But also perhaps with all the thoughts that bounce around my infinitesimal brain, that momentary time-out from life called sleep isn’t such an insensible thing to do?

Also, another thing about conversations is that, being an introvert, they drain me out more often than energise me. It’s even worse when it comes to debates; I am probably one of the worst debaters among my pool of friends. I could literally take weeks or months to come up with a substantial retort or witty reply, which of course could be bothersome to others. I admire how some people can easily speak their mind and articulate their thoughts in real-time. I’m more of a hindsight/foresight kind of person. I guess I should continue working on my conversation skills.

Anyway, Explosions in the Sky tonight @ the Forum theatre. Woo!

Time is never enough for those who never have enough time.

This can be a mental or emotional quality as well as a physical. In this sense, sloth isn’t just laziness of body, but laziness of thought or feeling as well. Medieval theologian Thomas Aquinas is on to something when he writes, “Sloth is a kind of sadness, whereby a man becomes sluggish…” As fun as it can be to be lazy, sloth begins from a downcast disposition or attitude, a sort of “sadness” we can call apathy or ambivalence. The wordsloth comes from the Greek for “carelessness,” and that’s exactly what sloth is—not caring.

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Just recently I had watched a film titled ‘Harry Brown’. I discovered it while listening to one of its soundtracks while video-hoping on YouTube. Basically the story is about this retired Marine who lives in a run-down housing estate where gangs run amok and drugs and guns are an all too familiar sight. After the death of his best friend, Harry is compelled to act with vengeance. The film draws parallels with Gran Torino, except set over a darker backdrop with gritty characters. The storyline definitely evokes an emotional response but after watching it I was left to ponder over some of its underlying themes.

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I know when I knock
I’ll be hoping I don’t drop
to a place where I will rise, like before

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The first theme which was quite prevalent throughout the film was economic inequality. Throw around those words and others similar to it like poverty, social exclusion/deprivation and you might just picture war-torn regions such as Darfur, Somalia, and parts of the Middle East. But the reality is every metropolis has its share of impoverished in-dwellings too be it the Bronx in New York, the slums of Metro Manila, Sunshine and Broadmeadows suburbs in Melbourne, Nottingham in the United Kingdom and so forth. Speaking of the latter, people are still debating whether the riots which engulfed that nation only a few months ago were attributed to socio-economic depravity, criminal opportunism, gang culture etc. Sometimes it’s hard to sympathise with people who fall under such categories; it’s even harder to sympathise with those who don’t.

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I can feel, something happening
that I’ve never felt before
Hopeless dreaming will start
Dragging me away from heaven’s door

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Another theme is that of elderly care. I’m no expert in this area but it doesn’t take an anthropologist to realise that there is something amiss when the elderly are neglected. Even a man the likes of Hubert Humphrey once said “…the moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; those who are in the shadows of life; the sick, the needy and the handicapped. ” Here we have Harry Brown, a widower, living by his lonesome, having outlasted his children and good friend. Despite the distinctions between Eastern cultures which (from what I can see) still takes responsibility for the elderly through extended family and the Western world where elderly care is increasingly being provided by the state or charitable/private institutions, taking care of the older generations that have shaped, developed and promoted the values we now hold dear is a golden opportunity to show our thankfulness.

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When my mind stops thinking
And my eyes stop blinking
I hope…
Somebody’s there

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Finally, the last theme is one that is increasingly being accepted in this day and age. A theme that can be summarised with the well-known quote ‘the end justifies the means’. Sure, Harry’s friend was murdered but was his vigilantism necessary? I’m sure the writers were quick to use this opportunity to tap into the audiences’ lust for vengeance by bypassing the seemingly bureaucratic justice system. Yet even I myself am not exempt from being swept away by my own emotions and lack of self-control every once in a while. It just comes to show that without the forgiveness that has been extended graciously to us, the undeserving, our efforts are just as futile as repaying violence with violence.

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When my heart stops beating
And my lungs stop breathing
in air…
I hope somebody cares.

Song lyrics from ‘End Credits’ by Chase and Status.