"Pretty much everyone I know looks like an Elvis Costello impersonator, the president of the Buddy Holly fan club or the bastard love child of Woody Allen and Nana Mouskouri."

i'm off tumblr until june 5th.

hiatus or something, i guess? next friday is the end of production week, which means my short film will oficially be handed in, my assignments and one (sneakily disguised exam) will be out of the way and i will be free to party, fuck shit up, tumble, get crafty, etc.

see you kids then!

mliaverage:

Today I went to school in my pajamas. It’s ok, I take on-line classes. MLIA.

secondgradefresh:tarts:semisetadrift:

On a somewhat related note, I was asked by two other people today where I “came from”. How do you respond to that? The second person to ask me this was trying to sign people up to support Canteen and this was the first question she asked me. Firstly, rude. Secondly, horrible, horrible sales skills. Thirdly, what? I just came from that direction. I came into the city on a train from Blackburn this morning. Surely that’s what you mean because rude.

“No, where did you come from? Where were you born?”
“Not in Melbourne, in the country.”
“No no, where did your parents come from?”
That’s assuming my parents are migrants. Although my father migrated here when he was 22, my mother is a second generation Cypriot-Australian. “Cyprus”
“Yeah, I thought you looked Greek or something”
Fuuuuck you.

Things I hear on a regular basis:

• “Wow, your English is so good!”
• “Where did your parents come from? Wait, no, let me guess—” run off a list of countries, then when I tell them the answer: “—oh I should have known! My niece’s husband is from there, they’re such nice friendly people.”
• “You’re not like other… Asian girls, are you?” (This from a guy struck with yellow fever; I’m paraphrasing because horror combined with alcohol to erase the moment from memory)
• And once, from a boy I would only assume is of Middle-Eastern appearance: “Scuse me, can you speak Asian?” (“No, Asian isn’t a language.” “Oh. Can you read this for me?” “No, that’s in Japanese. I’m not Japanese.” “Why not? You’re all the same aren’t you?”)

As I get older it becomes more difficult to politely reply to ignorant but otherwise well-meaning strangers. It’s worse when people slip in racist comments mid-conversation, or yell at you across the street. Normally I’m mature enough to walk away, but inside I’m full of esprit d’escalier and the urge to kick them in the balls so that in the future they’ll associate racism with the pain of a testicle retrieval operation.

Ohhohoho I hear you guys. Way too many stories to tell, so I won’t tell any. Tumblr gets the point.

me, too. me, too.