Archive | April, 2012

An homage to Old Fashion

29 Apr

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A couple of snapshots of what every Wednesday night from January to June last year looked like for me. At Old Fashion club, Milano.


When did I become a white bitch?!

23 Apr


What the hell am I doing?!

So, I had a massive existential moment on Saturday night.  I was out with my homie Soraya, and we were club-hoppin’ like it was no one’s business, and four clubs in, we hit Monkey Bar.  It’s RnB night.  It’s awesome.  Peeps are grinding, bitches are wearing too much make-up, dudes are playing it coy.  We a-line to the dancefloor and get jiggy with it, and it’s great.  Fifteen minutes in, after working up a dance sweat, I hit the bathroom to make sure I’m still looking respectable out there.  I look in the mirror, and want to scream.

I’m blonde.


When did that happen?

What am I doing, grinding on an RnB dancefloor, blonde?!  Who do I think I am, Cameron Diaz?

We left MB pretty soon after that.  My shame was intense, and my ego just couldn’t take it.  I don’t know when I turned blonde (I mean, it happened on the 4th of January, or thereabouts, but I mean blonde in the sense of a white bitch, in the sense that rappers would use the term).  I used to be halfway respectable, kickin’ it to a bit of hip-hop.  But now?  Try as I might, I just can’t do that as a blonde.  I stick out like a sore thumb.  I stuck out like a sore thumb on Saturday night and for the first time in a long time, I felt isolated, estranged, just wrong amongst my boyz-n-da-hood.  Anyone who knew me before January 4th would attest (I’m sure of it) to my being the most ballin’ bitch out there; half Afro American by nature and character; spittin’ beats wherever I go.  Today, I don’t know what they’d say about me.  In fact, I tremble at the thought of it.

And so.

It’s decided (by the homeboy powers that be).  I’ve bought hair dye, and this weekend, I’m going back to the dark side.  Literally.  Back to black yo (or, in my case, brown).  I hope it helps me find myself.  I hope it makes me more legit on the dancefloor.  But most of all, I hope Weezy, Jeezy, Yeezy and Drizzy will accept me again after so shameful a transformation.  I guess we’ll find out soon enough.

A Response to “Familial Obligations”

20 Apr

We're a close family.
This is one of those random-piece-of-paper posts I talked about earlier.  I wrote it back in March after reading fellow blogger Zoya Patel’s post and really connecting to it.   Originally, it was just gonna be a comment on her site, but after some thought, I realised that leaving a comment of THIS size would be like forced impregnation, so here it is as a post in its own right.  Now, note: some of the stuff I wrote back then has changed a bit – turns out I 
can’t resist watching random movies with my parents, and, also, who was I kidding?  I haven’t weeded the garden in years – but the rest of it is still pretty true.  Geddonnit!

Zoya’s post is really great.  It so accurately depicts a part of what I call “diasporic-child-of-immigrants-in-Australia-mindfuck-situations” which, hilariously, make up a lot of my life.

Interestingly, I’ve been pondering the same thing about my Serbian family recently. Having spent all of last year away from them in Europe, living independently and, well, rather successfully (in that “I didn’t die” kind of way), I wondered how it would be coming back.  Last year was the first time that my parents lived without their children (my brother was coincidentally in Europe the whole time, too), and it was kind of tough on them – especially at the start. I personally loved living independently. Sure, it was a drag having to pay rent and buy groceries and do my own laundry, but to be honest, I relished in my new ability to be selfish (and not feel guilty about it)!  Finally, I could spend my weekends reading books and going to the movies without having to clean the bathrooms or make dinner first.  Or even STUDYING without having to help in the garden or go with them to X Balkan family friends’ place.  And even though that sometimes meant I left my breakfast dishes unwashed until the evening, guess what? It didn’t kill me!  I was in control of my time and I loved it.

Now I’m back in Canberra and I’m kind of back in the family-obligation zone, but I’m happy. I’m happy to be back with my parents, baking with my mum, weeding on a Saturday morning, and all of it.  But coming back, I’m aware of not getting back into that rut I was in before I went to Europe.  Now, when I need to study, I just refuse to clean the bathrooms.  When I need to relax, I refuse to take the dog for a walk.  When I want to catch up with my friends, I just refuse to watch that film my parents wanted us to all watch together.  A big part of me feels *too* selfish for doing those things at times, but I just realise it’s necessary to for my own sanity.  I still love my parents and want to continue that same close relationship we’ve always had, but on coming back, I’ve just figured out how to make myself the priority, and honestly feel better for it.

Obviously, it’s not like I do *nothing* around the house these days . I still help out, partly ’cause I feel that I should and partly ’cause my mum’s cottoned on that I’m just becoming selfish these days (and wants to keep me in line), but also, in a way, because I realise that this period of our lives – this nuclear, everyone-living-under-the-same-roof thing – is coming to an end.  Soon enough, my brother and I will move out or find a wife and a husband or whatever, and we’ll back look back on these times and be like “damn, I’d love to be back there right now”.  But I guess I shouldn’t be too existential about it anyway.  After all, as my parents have already decided, we’ll be over there with their grandchildren “every weekend, helping out in the garden and baking things together.  Won’t that be fun?”  Haha, yep.

Prepare for re-entry!

20 Apr

Aaaaand so, I’m kinda back on the blogging route.

Last year, I got so much out of my Europe experience by blogging, and since I’ve been back in Australia, I’ve felt a need to express my thoughts somewhere.  For the most part, I’ve been writing random thoughts of random pieces of paper, and sticking them haphazardly amongst the books on the shelf in my bedroom.  I recently came to the realisation that this is probably not the best way to do it, so here’s my new blog.  Dunno what I’ll call it yet… Judging from my random-piece-of-paper entries, it’s gonna be about anything and everything, but since I’m a 22-year-old Serbian-Australian diasporic third-culture-kid law student who loves to go clubbing but also sings in the church choir every Sunday, I guess I’ve got a niche going without even trying.