Sometimes I wish that there was some unknown force that could tell you what to do, what direction to take, and in my case what course to study and hence job to do which I will be happy doing for the rest of my life.

See, from the earliest of my recollections, I’ve always wanted to be a vet. Probably from the time I first found out the definition of the word, I must have wanted to be one. So as it goes, that aspiration has literally held for years, a decade at the very least of my eighteen years.

Stemming mayhap from a mere childish wish, as the years went by, it seemed a step closer and more realistic. It’s all I’ve known and wished to become.

But now I’m not too sure anymore. I’ve taken a step in the completely opposite direction, enrolling in Architectural Studies as I was unable to achieve the marks required for Veterinary science. Why didn’t I do the natural course of action of a year of veterinary bioscience and transfer? Well there’s the Asian parent factor for one, preventing me from taking a course with too low of an atar cut off.

So now the question is, at the end of this year, if I make the marks, will I still want to transfer? Should I attempt to transfer no matter what? If I happen to like architecture, should I still take the risk and transfer to vet, which I have no guarantee is right for me nor that I will like, except a childish dream decided when I was probably in year three. I really don’t know.

All I can do I guess, is hope by the end of this year, the answer will be clear to me, and hopefully it’s the right one. Sorry for rambling, just trying to figure it out by talking to myself.

The streets strewn with little red ripped shreds, left over from firecrackers. Empty canisters of fireworks at every corner, different shapes and colors indicating the variety. And the fireworks themselves, in a city not banned from lightening them, bring color to the sky in loud booms and whistles. Where one stops, another starts. It's to be expected in a city with a population of 23 million.

Inside, families gather together to share food and talk, as new members are introduced or those come to visit from another country are welcomed back. Children are given red bags, which they graciously receive, all the while behind sweetly smiling faves are already scheming what to buy. a majong table to the side is often full, while children imitate the adults betting peanuts as they play at Big Two.

But all are seated when the food is ready, around round tables with little elbow space. Dishes are piled onto the table, with no less than two dozen at the very least. The talk gets louder, as the rice wine flows freely, and laughter resounds through the small room after every story.

Well at least that's how Chinese New Year is celebrated in my family.



A/N: Another post which i wrote awhile back but then again better late than nothing right?

Homesickness. It creeps up on you slowly yet unexpectedly. In an unfamiliar environment, new sights and sounds, languages and cultures to experience, the last thing you would expect to miss is boring old home. But as the days past, you begin to miss the familiar things, your bed, your room, your routines, and your friends. Til eventually your holiday can no longer be called such and instead becomes your own prison blurring into a countdown of days, of hours, of minutes til your safely back on a plane home. A week left.


A/N: This was written on the 28th of Jan, except I have no access to blogspot in China hence the lateness. Happy to be back in Aus.