RACIAL DISCRIMINATION

Don’t you just hate it when people stereotype you because of your background? So I get it, racial prejudice is still prevalent nowadays---I just never imagined that I’d fall victim to it here in Sydney (the city that’s been dubbed the most multi-cultural in the land down under). I went shopping the other day and as I went about the business of putting some unwanted items back into an empty rack outside the change room, this short, robust blonde saleslady from hell practically came out screaming at my face, “HEY! EXCUSE ME! YOU DON’T PUT THESE CLOTHES HERE! THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO GO TO THAT RACK OVER THERE!” And she then proceeded to point at a filled-up rack nearly 20 meters from the change room. Too aghast to even blink, I stared at this psychotic yobo for a good 10 seconds. Unfortunately, she was on a mission to ruin my day. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ENGLISH, DOLL?!! TAKE THESE CLOTHES TO THAT RACK OVER THERE!!!” At this point, I was seriously contemplating sucking the air out of her big, fat, ugly face. But since I’m not one to commit manslaughter, I held my ground and in the iciest tone I could muster, I calmly retorted, “Yes. I heard you the first time. But last I checked, I don’t work here. So why don’t you put these clothes to that rack over there. It’s a bit of a walk but hey, you look like you need the exercise…. “ When I saw the stunned look on her face, I knew that I’ve broken through her façade. Embarrassed that she is now the object of everyone’s attention, I saw her cower a little bit. But unfortunately for her, I was just getting started. In an attempt to salvage what’s left of her dignity, she muttered “I’m just telling you the store policy, doll…but I don’t suppose you get it…” ------- ??????!!!!!!!!------- ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? !!!!..........”Oh please! Spare me that crap” I piped. “And I suppose it’s your store policy to come yelling at customers? Now I’m no retail genius but where I come from, people in your position are paid to serve people like me. So if you’re so fixated at having these clothes on that rack over there, do it yourself. And oh! While you’re at it, take these with you as well.” And with that, I shoved a handful of clothes into her pale, stubby freckled hands and walked away with a grin. Ha! Sucked in Bitch! She saw that I was an easy prey because I’m asian but OH how she got it wrong! She picked on the wrong asian girl and her ego certainly got a thorough bruising.

CINDERELLA MAN

The film, which was based on the true life story of Jim Braddock, came highly recommended by my husband. He swore it would touch my heart and make me a-booing and a-hooing. Very inspiring, he said. He was right.
The film was set during the time of the Great Depression and the soul of the film was Jim Braddock, an Irish boxer who had gone from champion to working on the shipping docks despite a broken hand and who wins the heart of a disillusioned nation by defeating the scary and huge Max Baer, reigning boxing champ of the world. Jim’s world revolved around his family… his loving wife Mae, whose quiet strength has helped sustain him, and his three kids. It’s not surprising why this movie would inspire you. It’s about love…for family, for friends, for a dream. True love. It’s about a little guy who dreamt big and never gave up.
This movie could not have come at a better time for me. The cinemas seemed to be filled with shows about men blowing up buildings, cheating spouses, pathological liars, and women baring their bodies at the drop of a hat. Tsk tsk. Then, a good friend of mine told me to watch ‘Cinderella Man’. The world sure looked better afterwards. Never discount the strength of the human spirit. Amazing.

THE TRICK IS TO KEEP BREATHING....

A few months ago my friend texted me in the middle of the night and asked how he could pick up the pieces of his broken heart. The pain was excruciating, he said. “You’ll get over it soon enough.”, I replied… and then I bit my tongue.
Fast forward to this morning…I watched a sad movie where this lady heard mass for her husband's first death anniversary. Her eyes spoke of her pain.
I’ve only had my heart broken once and it was squarely between God, my bestfriend and me. Anything else ---whatever pain, disappointment, hurdle--- after that fateful day would be incomparable. The pain is incomparable. People often say time heals all wounds. I’ll have to wait and see if that’s true. People shouldn’t be so general. After all, there are so many degrees of pain. My favorite writer once wrote, “You should never believe anyone who says they know exactly how you feel...” We’re all bound to suffer a broken heart, that is, if we haven’t already. You know what I mean, right? Losing someone we love feels as though we’ve been hurled into the great Void. You’re on top of the world one second and suddenly you’re falling down down down. And you wait…to hit rock bottom. Except, how do you know you haven’t hit it already? We attempt to smile and hope people can’t tell we’re faking it. We stay up trying to decipher God’s message. We attempt to laugh and find ourselves stopping midway. We attempt to make sense of it. This life---or this semblance of a life. At times the pain seems too much for us to bear. When will the tears be enough? How much loneliness can my heart take? Why? Why her? Why now? The questions are endless. And each morning we get up from bed and stare out the window. Look at that, the world is still up and about. Why do we do it?
I don’t know about you but I think it’s because we’re hoping today could be the day we finally get an answer. Take it from Garbage, “The trick is to keep breathing.”