• Questions for Feminists (QFF)

    1. So often in writing and in speech the pronoun ‘he’ is used to refer to an action in a sentence that can be performed by people of either gender. Would you rather ‘she’ be used in this manner, or ‘he/she’ or a gender-neutral term?

    In my opinion, society is lazy and when ‘he’ is used in these contexts, it is taken to mean ‘he/she’. This is especially the case when looking at documents from a long time ago when the society was male-dominated. I think ‘they’ or a gender-neutral term should be used in the future.

  • This is a place for things I want to say in front of people, but would cause a lot of collateral damage If I did.

    Stuff on the level of ‘saying “you’re fat” in front of a woman’ sort of stuff.

  • Dear GZ,

    Congratulations on getting into [uni]. It’s going to be nice to see you around [uni].

    I know you’re excited to discover all the coffee and lunch spots at uni and in the surrounding area. I’d be more than happy to show you where the cheapest lunch is, and the preferred coffee spot. It would be an honour.

    So you’re going to be at college. That’s going to be fun. [so and so college] is quite out of the news at the moment, so I think you’ll like it. But be warned, college life isn’t for everyone. I’ve known people who have left because they couldn’t keep up with the social calendar. At least you’re not at [college b] where it’s residents have been known to do [elitist activity]. I won’t be surprised if you leave after one semester.

    I also won’t be surprised if college changes your personality. Have fun and good luck.

    HBO

  • I should finish the story should I?

    About a month ago, WX’s education agent called me. She wanted to set up a meeting to talk about this whole debacle. I agreed, we met at their office. Inside the room was WX, her education agent (let’s call her D), and D’s boss (let’s call him B). B is born and bred Australian, D is Chinese, but lives in Australia.

    Start of the meeting. I explain my side of the story. It’s very hard, my voice quivers. One minute to digest. I continue, “Let me show you the text messages, there’s 9 pages.” D and B go through the messages. They’re clearly shocked. WX watches along, tired and oblivious to what is going on.

    B explains to WX what she has done wrong. She nods, and asks a question to D. D sounds angry.

    B asks me what I want. I tell them I never want to see or hear from WX ever again. Simple enough. I also ask for a spoken and written apology. (Legal eagles will be disappointed that I forgot to get a witness to sign, oh well)

    At one stage during the meeting, I speak directly to WX. She continues to look at the table ignoring me. In my annoying voice I say, “Look, could you at least look at me while I am speaking to you!?”. I explain to her that what she did was criminal, that she could lose her visa if convicted by a court, and I would be most happy to take her to court if she continued to harass me.

    That was it. One unceremonious meeting to end nearly two years of suffering. Seems too good to be true. Still feels that way.

    This whole thing has changed the way I think about relationships with other people. I now fret over what punctuation to use in a text message because I think full stops ( . ) and exclamation marks ( ! ) can be misinterpreted. I am now much more aware of how I present to other people through what I write. Do I present as an annoying person? Is the frequency of text messages enough to make you go nuts? I now find it hard to initiate a text conversation with people, because I am so obsessed with what the other person thinks.

    The pages of text messages now live in my bag. They are my scars, to show others my experiences. Beware of mainland Chinese people. Some of them will make you go crazy, and they will do anything it takes to get what they want. Just look at the current milk powder scandal.

    On to happier days.

  • Should’ve have put ‘Much love to all’ instead of XOXO in the last post. I was influenced by a Gossip Girl pun.

  • It’s just been over one year since I started this blog, well, more like Secret Diary of Ramblings. I’ve bitched about quite a number of people in that time, and it’s really helped me get the hate out of the system.

    I’m also thankful for all the support you have given me while WX was a pain. At the same time, I’m also very happy that the stories here pass as entertainment. Thank you.

    Here’s to another year of bitching, moaning and taking the piss out of people who do not deserve to be doing what they’re doing.

    XOXO

  • I’m watching Swedish TV drama Äkta Människor (Real Humans) and one scene from the episode that aired last week (episode 6) gave me a ‘kick’.

    In this scene a few minutes from the end, Niska, a liberated humanoid robot (they’re called Hubots in the show) walks into the room where Eva, the wife of a kind lesbian pastor, begins to ring the police. Niska walks to the phone and cuts the cord. Eva, scared, attempts to run out of the room, but not before Niska puts the knife to her neck. Niska then says, “What do you think will happen now, if I don’t have any feelings?”

    There is something kinky about imagining yourself being the person the knife is being held to. That rush of adrenaline that is trying to keep you alive. Of course some people will feel the same way imagining themselves as the person holding the knife.

    Fetish 101?

  • So today, a final letter came from the mediation service saying that WX has not contacted them and therefore case closed. As I said before the phone has been silent for 20 days now. So I suppose that is a plus.

    Having spoke to some friends, we came to the conclusion that WX probably freaked when the first letter came. If an international student got a letter from a government department, among the first things they would think about is whether they would be deported or not. So, a letter might have been enough to hammer the message through.

    But being who I am, I can’t help and look back at this saga. Besides being annoyed for months on end, I did successfully perform a social engineering hack, learned a few tricks with archiving calls logs and texts from my iPhone (SQL FTW!), and have managed to entertain you all through these posts. I feel really happy when you are entertained by these stories, saying they are funny and so forth.

    And not to mention that I fucked up badly this past semester at uni.

    But this leaves me in a similar situation this time last year. Then, communication had dried up after I had blocked WX on social networks, and stopped responding to calls and texts. What will remain a mystery to me is why exactly did she start texting me again in October. I suppose I was starting to forget about it by then (I don’t let go of things easily).

    The poor soul WX is now studying for exams all through Christmas. That’s what you get for bad English!

    Here’s hoping that happier times lie ahead. Thank you for all your support.

  • The end is near, Insha’Allah.

    Last instalment, I told you about Laura Anderson, the identity used in a social engineering exercise to obtain WX’s address. I must admit, pretending to be a girl was fun.

    In the time since then. I started mediation with WX. The process involves a free government-funded mediation service as all communication and arrangements go through them. The home address is for them to send out letters telling them that what mediation is, the fact that it is voluntary, and to remind them three times in 30 days to make a time for it.

    While I’m waiting for the good news (mediation has been agreed to and arranged) or bad (no mediation), I’ve been doing something incredibly stupid. I’m covertly monitoring all the shit WX is ranting about.

    Much of it is amusing, and weird. Most of it is in Chinese, which helps me ignore all the dirty talk.

    Since the first mediation letter was sent out, the phone has been silent. Hurray!

    Here’s hoping I can rid myself of this turd soon.

  • Laura Anderson is a 21-year old law student, who lives in Sydney and is a good friend of mine.

    She is very active, in the sporting sense. A fantastic surfer, she’ll get involved in anything really. Laura is someone not afraid to speak her mind. Besides, her wide-ranging interests allow her to do so.

    I met Laura in the lecture halls at uni. We took one common subject one semester ago, got talking, and became good friends that way. It’s kind of strange making friends from lectures and tutorials, but I find it the easiest way to do so. Anyway, back to Laura.

    Laura has a boyfriend, Ryan. I haven’t met him yet, but from the little hints about him she drops during our conversations, he seems a sweet guy.

    I feel we are close friends, though I’m always conscious about not getting uncomfortably close to her. That being said, out friendship is at the stage that I can ask her for tricky favours, like the one I’m about to describe.

    Between you and me, I probably should have asked her out. But being the coward I am…

    A few weeks ago, I asked Laura to help me ask someone I don’t particularly like for their home address. She was up for the challenge (as with anything anyone throws at her), and shock surprise, she got the address. Wow.

    It seems like all the loose ends of the stories here are about to be tied up. That’s kinda correct, actually. The address belongs to WX. And I needed the address to start mediation proceedings. Hopefully if WX and I can sit around a table with mediators, we can talk this through, and I can finally drill the point into her twisted mind that what she is doing is annoying and unwelcome, to say the least.

    There is also one more thing.

    Laura isn’t real.

    Laura is a cover story. Laura is a personality I controlled to get WX’s address. You may have heard of a thing called ‘social engineering’. It’s how hackers convince humans to give access to accounts and other information.

    It was fun pretending to be a girl for a few hours, albeit over text message. However, I don’t think the sentence “I like a girl who flirts with lesbianism” would ever be spoken by a woman. Prove me wrong.