I’ve moved.

I deleted all my silly comment rotation things, spruced up the few pages I have and whipped up categories into shape. Hooray for a fresh start!

Seeya!

(Totally random, but after checking the word count for this post (549) I realized that this would roughly be the length of an essay I would have to write in school, back when I was 11-13. I wrote it so quickly!)

In which I say the word ‘Indian’ a lot!

Yesterday I went to an Indian grocer to get something and the guy asked me a question in Hindi, probably trying to make small talk. I felt like an idiot because even though I am half Indian I don’t know a single word of any Indian dialect (I knew it was Hindi because my Mum and her sisters/brother often chat in Hindi so I learned to understand tiny bits of it, but anyway).

It is so pathetic. I would love to know more/have more pride in my culture, but I don’t! It’s not like my parents tell me to learn about India or England or whatever, but I feel as though I should know more about them because they are both awesome places. I don’t think they’d give a damn either way. This is especially true for my Dad because he jokes that I don’t need to try and learn about England since Australia’s practically a carbon copy of it, “Seeing as our national day is a celebration of Britain killing the language and culture of Indigenous Australians,”. Ha, ha. I guess that remark seems quite scathing, but it’s the way he says it…!

I’ve always felt more ‘guilt’ (I don’t think that’s the right word, but I couldn’t think of the right one) that I don’t know much about India because when people look at me they don’t think “Oh, random Anglo-Indian girl” but instead “Oh, random Indian girl”. It doesn’t offend me, because I look about as English as a Sari, but I would really love to know if people treated me differently if they knew I wasn’t all Indian upon meeting me (Which will never happen, but according to my best friend if I went to India everyone would know I wasn’t all Indian because of my nose and my skin tone: I have a distinctly ‘un-Indian’ nose and pretty pale skin for an Indian person (LOL, I thought of putting ‘In-Indian’ but it would just seem like you were in an Indian person. Which is another horrible though entirely.)).

Like this one time someone asked me for directions but he ‘checked’ if I could speak English before asking. Also, when I first met my best friend she wouldn’t shut up to me about the Indian cricket team, as she assumed that being a fellow Indian meant I was nuts about cricket (I find it really boring).

Another thought: I think I only care so much about being ignorant about my Indian heritage is because everyone expects me not to be. That said, I am sure I know more about India than the average non-Indian person… Which isn’t saying much. I don’t worry about knowing anything about England seeing as no one expects me to be particularly knowledgeable about it because of what I stated earlier.

Also: This whole thing doesn’t upset me or anything, just interests me. I’ve become immune to all racial insults directed at my Indian heritage, anyway! I think I’ve heard them all. Haha.

Clearly, I want to watch Milk.

A few days ago I got my student ID! I lined up to put down my major/units for my course (I am majoring in painting FYI). A weird thing I noticed about fellow first year fine art students: They dress really well. I felt sadly underdressed in my tshirt that professed my adoration for the song Friday I’m In Love. There was a guy my age wearing neat loafers, and carrying a very cool huge tote thing… I had to urge to snatch it off him.

When I was lining up for my Student ID I met three people that went to the same highschool as me! All three of them are doing the same course.

I went to Setting The Scene later that day and used my student ID when the guy asked for concession :D. And yes, it felt awesome!

Sometimes I have extremely vivid images in my head of myself and other people in the room somehow being killed with the mundane objects around me: Shrink wrap, knife sharpeners, tissues. It makes me chuckle or smile to myself at times.

Weird.

WOOO!

YEEEAAAAAAHH.

GUESS WHO GOT AN OFFER FOR MONASH CAULFIELD (PS: It was my first preference). omgomgomg

If you are confused, here are some related posts and links:

• Post: 2008
• Post: Not Horrified
• This bit from one of my posts:
  

  On a school note, this is the result of working my butt off for a year in order to be accepted into elusive and extremely desirable fine art courses that will make me extremely happy: One rejection letter (I saw it coming considering the interview), One advisory letter type A aka an acception letter (…I also saw it coming considering the OMG WE LOVE YOU attitude I was getting from the artists that interviewed me) and a sad “Sorry, you have brilliant concepts and know your stuff when it comes to art, but you need to work more on your technique. You would struggle if we let you in. Come back in about two years and you could be red hot,”. Okay! There should be more news to come.

• The “brilliant concepts” comment is from the university I got an offer from, btw. Fuck yeah.
• Victorian Tertiary Admissions Centre on Wikipedia

Enrollment day is on Friday! I wait in anticipation.