It seems ages since I actually did some writing that I feel rather weird doing so now. Words constantly failed me- too much kuih raya corroding my creativity. Most heartfelt thanks to my parents who sent me and my sister the now-traditional raya parcel. =D The kuihs are almost finished, by the way, Mocha Nestume being the most popular. Even the separa-hancur pineapple tarts were swiftly done with. Never contend the appetites of good-food-deprived students, I say.
As de rigueur, at least one paragraph would be reserved for snippets of my wistful thoughts embodying the keener nuance of my evolving self- otherwise known as blubbering. And today, after quietly reflecting over a cup of Earl Grey, the whole brouhaha in my conscience boiled down to one disturbing fact: my Russian’s dreadful. And to think that I’ll be sitting for Russian exam at the end of the semester. Woo-hoo. It’s hitting me quite hard, now that I’ve just started to care about its, well, pathetic state, because in truth I really like learning languages. It’s kind of my forte (besides tripping, falling, and other forms of self-humiliation). But Russian…
It’s a difficult language, Russian. Personally, in terms of complexity, I think it rivals Arabic for the various rules and cases. Still, if only I had worked harder, I could be having that desired conversation with the taxi driver back in first year now (even though, after 2 years of adapting, I’ve learned the value of money and avoid taxis as much as I could. LOL). Yeah, we had had some bad luck with our teacher being sick for a long time during first year, hampering our classes (subs teachers didn’t seem too interested in our progress). And yeah, we had had a new teacher for our second year who didn’t speak a word of English (except perhaps, “Now, listen to me”) and was a little, uh, disagreeable, making learning extra difficult, and halfway through a lot of us had become disinterested.
But. These are excuses, the allegory of my weak alter ego. If I had really wanted to, I could have put more effort to it. Practice the language; speak up. But I’m a person who is scared of making mistakes- scared of making a botch of the grammar, sentence structure and whatnots, thus ended up not speaking at all. Silly, wishy-washy wimp, you could say that. Honestly, I can't imagine myself speaking fluent Russian by the end of my studies here. The best I could hope for is probably successful bargaining with Mak ciks at the market ;p
Another wistful thought: after two years, I think it's safe to finally conclude that I actually like it here. Ok, I admit that half of the verdict (perhaps more) is due to my ridiculously optimistic, er, optimism, which tries to perceive everything coming my way as a life-shaping experience. Yes, I whine, I cry, I kick (only the door of my closet, don't worry ;p), and I do say I'm depressed a lot, but at the end of the day, I would come to realise that my state is actually much better than a lot others- even the people around me. Even the scum who stole my kolbasa (giant meat sausage <-- dunno how else to describe it! haha), mascarpone cheese, ginger, and spaghetti sauce a few days ago failed to irk me that much, compared to the others (massive 'robbery' occurred in our floor). Sometimes I do wonder why at times I sound rather angry when in truth I am not, not really. Just that there are times when I feel like there's a sudden rush of emotions running through my veins and things would just happen- things that I would regret only a second after.
I'm starting to sound like someone suffering from bipolar disorder. In conclusion, yeah, it's pretty nice to be living here, in a foreign land, learning more about what life can offer. Heck, I can even tolerate eating salads now. I kind of like them even (although they're more of a “so bad it’s good” variety. LOL).
I noticed a change in me that surprised me a bit though, one that I'm not sure is for the better or worse. Perhaps I've mentioned this before in an entry- the fact that I've taken a quieter front around people in the community. Friends not close to me may find me rather aloof and unfriendly (or shy, if they're being nice ;p), but those who are close to me, I think I'm really easy to figure out. Eh? =D In spite of it, I don't feel bad for the change, although i do wonder, where has the old me gone...
Final thought: Are Malays really hard to identify? I mean, I can understand being mistaken for an Indonesian or a Singaporean, or even a Filipino, but you won't believe the variety of races/nationalities I've been 'accused' of being for the past two years. Let's see... Vietnamese, Indian, American, Korean, Afghan, Iranian... even Brazilian. It's amusing. The peculiar thing is, most of the people would not straightly ask our origin- instead they find the fun in guessing, albeit a little unwittingly. All in all, it's good to encounter these people anytime, rather than the ones who would suddenly jump on you, babbling in angry Russian for reasons you would never comprehend.
Today's entry is really random, eh? I guess it's the post-withdrawal effect. haha. I'm calling it a day now- had a very bad case of food poisoning last night which continued right till today afternoon. Even now, my stomach is constantly making this rumbling motorcycle noise. Vrooom.
