Change

Change is when something is no longer what it used to be.
Change is when the caterpillar lost its mouldiness and gained its beauty as a butterfly. Change is when the ugly ducking lost its dullness and ganied its magnifence as a swan. Change happenes everywhere, in politics, in economics, in nature, and in people.
Outside in the living room, there is a picture of me, my cousin, and our dog. We were both so much younger then. I was younger, happier, and more innocent. My cousin was younger, not as pretty, and probably still had the awkward air of trying to fit in around her. And lying in front of us was out Shetland Sheepdog, Fachoi.
When my cousin was that age, my grandmother would carry on about her as though she was a saint. She compared my results with hers. While mine were appaling hers were astounding. She compared my sitting style with hers. I would bend and slouch on the chair while she kept her back straight like a ruler. This was the wonderful cousin of mine, the wonderful image she sent out to everyone: I'm a good girl, I'm smart, and everyone is proud of me.
Same cousin now, grown up, taller, prettier. She'd changed. A few alterations to her out look, longer, bright red hair, contacts, and she had a confident air around her. While I took on the glasses, had thich hair, and walked around with an arrogant air. If she was over-confident, then I was over-arrogant. I take the credit for my work, for my contributions, which always catches the eyes of the beholder. She was confident, maybe not so smart, in the world that she lived in and the world that she lived for.
I look at her around seven years ago and I look at her now. And I think, are they really the same person?
My grandmother loved my cousin. My cousin loved my grandmother. My grandmother still loves my cousin, but I don't think my cousin loves her so much now.
Gone was the gawky kid with a big brain and a big heart. Here was the confident adult with a confident smile and an air of importance. Her heart was probably still the same size, but the love is now divided into many other people. She is the girl that made my grandmother so proud, she is the woman who makes my grandmother cry.
It's like looking a caterpillar and a butterfly. The caterpillar comes to your mind as the same group as worms and centipedes and millipedes. Disgusting, moldy and insignificant. It does nothing but eat and sleep and eat and sleep. The butterfly is the direct opposite. Magnificent, beautiful, and bright. It flutters around flowers and becomes something that little children points at to their mothers. It becomes something significant, and here's where you think: How the hell did it change so fast?
It's the same with the ugly duckling and the swan. One moment, the ugly duckling was living up to its name, being an ugly grey fluffball that you laugh at, and the next thing you know the grey feathers are gone, the ugly duckling grew up; a magnificent, graceful swan with angellic wings. Or like watching the clock. You'll train your eyes on it and watch the minute hand and the hour hand, wanting to witness it moving. You'll train your eyes on it forever - and then you get distracted and look away. You look back, and all of a sudden the minute hand isn't where it was and the hour hand isn't where it was.
Does change always happen like this, when you are least suspecting it, and all at a sudden? When all of a sudden, the caterpillar stopped being a caterpillar and became a butterfly. All of a sudden, the cygnet stopped being a cygnet and became a swan.
Or maybe it didn't happen quite so suddenly. In fact it was a gradual process, happening slowly, so slowly that you didn't notice the minute details. And then something happens - you look away, and when you look back, you'll start noticing every single thing that wasn't there before. But in fact it had always been there, it just took so long, too long, for you to realise, that's all.

In a Rush

Everyone is in a rush nowadays. A bloody, goddamned rush.
Rushing here, rushing there. Come to think of it, I was in a rush too. Rushing every school morning, catching up on homework. Rushing to the computer every day, rushing to check my games. So much rushing to do. And then, one morning there is no homework to rush. One day, there is no game to check up on. One day, I did not turn on the computer.
I was rushing so much, that when I stopped, it felt awkward. There was nothing left for me to do. Rushing had become part of my life.
Books that I'm reading now tells lifes of twenty-year olds and teenagers. Excited about their future. Always wanting more. In a rush, in a rush, in a rush. Like my twenty-year old cousin. But that seems to be all twenty-year olds are doing nowadays. Rushing off to parties. Rushing off to work. Rushing off to dates. Always rushing, never stopping. They leave behind messy rooms, worried parents, upset grandparents. Rush off and rush back. The twenties are the materialistic years, I read. It's when people worry about dates, about boyfriends, about how they look, about how they talk. Dancing till 5am. Playing till tomorrow. It's alright, the twenty-year olds don't need sleep. They just want to have fun. They just want to live their lifes.
But when you are rushing so much, when will you stop? Will you ever stop? Will you ever remember how to stop? In a rush, people forget bits and pieces of their lifes. Maybe they forgot that someone didn't like blue. Maybe they forgot that someone was allergic to seafood. Maybe they forgot about someone. Maybe that someone was important and special.
But that 'someone' was important. That someone was special. That someone used to be around for 24/7. But in a rush, that someone was forgotten. And once in a blue moon, you'll look back on your life and think about that someone. And you'll remember what that someone and you did together that was special. And you'll remember that you were the one who left that someone behind.
My cousin is living with us now. I don't mind my cousin, we get along well. But living under the same roof, there are some things that I found out that I didn't want to know. She used to be like a godly figure to me. She brought me out for treats. She let me know her really wonderful best friend. But we didn't live together then. We were not strangers, we were close. And I liked that.
Now she's in our apartment. All of a sudden, a goodness and her badness become more visible.
She takes us out to watch her perform. Her wonderful best friend tutors us in math. But she gets mad when we wake her up too early in the morning. She loses it sometimes when someone tells her to do something.
She talks like someone from England to get a better pay, she says. When she talks to people, they all gap and ask if she studied aboard. No, she didn't. She studied in Singapore.
But I hate it whenever she talks like some student who had studied in England. I hate it that she doesn't like her Chinese heritage. That she is ashamed of being a Singaporean. Foreigners are looked up in the current society. If you study abroad, people will look up to you too. But if you are from China, people look down on you or people look away.
The smart people of this world teach the younger generations about the Holocaust so that things like that would never be repeated again. The Holocaust was a matter of racial dislike gone big. We shouldn't despise on other races, we should al live together in peace and harmony, else things like the Holocaust will happen. Yeah, right. So what the hell is this? I have a Chinese teacher who doesn't speak Chinese. I have a Chinese cousin who acts like she's ashamed of her Chinese heritage. We have people from all over the world looking down on one another, just because their status is not as highly or as important as they themselves. So what the hell is this? What the hell happened to peace and harmony? Just because mass killings didn't take place doesn't mean we all like one another in this world. Genocides happen because these minor skrimishes between races crossed the line. And they say that things like the Holocaust should never have to repeat again. They obviously don't know our society very well.
But back to being in a big fat rush again. Sometimes I think, will I be in a rush like this when I grow up? I hope not. But now is only now. Who knows what the future would become? Maybe I'll take drugs. Maybe I'll become a criminal. Maybe I'll talk, act, and pretend to be a rich bitch so that I'll be liked. Maybe I'll rush about in the cold and cruel world to dates, to parties, to pubs.
But now for the moment, I just want to sit down and be content with my place in life. It's not like I have nothing better to do. It's not like I don't have any friends. It's not like they don't ask me out. But it's just that sometimes, I just don't want to go out. I just want to stay in bed and wonder about the great philosophical questions in the world.
Are teenagers suppose to care so much about these kind of things? At thirteen years old, I'm too young to date. I'm to young to enter a casino, I'm too young to drink alcohol. But I have male friends. I had a bird's eye view of a casino once. I downed cocktails and Bacardi during nights.
I guess my point in this blog is that I don't get why people have to rush about nowadays. And also why people try so hard to be someone they're not, just so as to get what they desire. I like my cousin, I really do. But I just wish that I hadn't seen so much of who she was really like. Ignorance was probably a bliss after all.
I probably shouldn't put this kind of things up onto blogs, but if I don't then I'll just explode and have a restless night again. I feel really bad for that someone. AKA my grandmother. When I reject going out with my friends and my parents are not at home, we'll both sit on the bed and talk. We'll talk about things that should only be mentioned to someone you trust. We'll just talk. And she tells me so many things. Like how she loves her son for being so filial. And how he treats his cats better then he treats her (during a moody hour). She tells me how close she and my cousin were in the past. How they stuck together like glue for 24/7. And how quickly her temper was lost when my grandmother tried to do something for her. (My grandmother slightly cleaned up her room a bit, but my cousin reckoned that she had shifted and messed with her things).
Sometimes I feel so bad for my grandmother. It sucks to be one of those forgotten people.