(This was the sample writing that got me the job at Star… my editor’s still wondering why my later stories aren’t nearly as good. I think cos I lost my writing voice for a long time.)

People who ask me what it was like studying abroad are unpleasantly surprised. I say to them my first few weeks saw me constantly peering over my shoulder. I let them ask if this was natural and of course I reply—not in the least. In fact, I remember giggling to myself every time I did it. It was the pure bliss of having no one tapping on my back to remind of curfews and manners and responsibilities. It that sense, I suppose it indeed felt unnatural, having almost no one to answer to. Nothing exhilarates me more about those days than these emotions that headily come back when I reminisce. Mostly these folk tell me to get serious and ask immediately about what the lessons were like where I’ve been.

Sure the studying was different. How could you expect it not to be? I mean, we’re talking about entering and trying your best to fit into a culture that is essential alien to you. I remember Malaysian lecturers warning about their Perth counterparts, saying there was no such spoon feeding of notes and we were expected to seek for research materials on our own. All I heard was bla…bla… bla…Queue the usual crazed eyes and yanking of hair as a stressed out mind battles with the last 300 words of a seven thousand word critical essay due yesterday. Something things never change wherever you go.

Nevertheless, I’m here aren’t I? Complete with degree and red beach shorts, ala Baywatch but minus the buff lifeguard body. That is the sum total of studying abroad. Don’t let anyone fool you otherwise. As with all things in life, you need to find a balance. My advice is to pay equal amounts of respect to the insides and outsides of a classroom. Boozing all night at multinational parties in the student village is not for everyone but for those with a weakness for such fellowships, be aware that there will be a new party to go to next weekend. And those of you burrowers who seemingly hibernate in their stacks of multi highlighted textbooks should know that there will always be a new test to take. In both cases, evaluate for yourself which are the priorities. Give yourself a little breathing space and then some to work through the pressures before they work through you.

There are responsibilities to mama and papa and then there are responsibilities to yourself. No one can tell you which come first. You decide according to the situation. Don’t let it come down to you banging your head on the wall after having failed and wasted hard earned cash that wasn’t yours to spend in the first place. Neither do you want to quietly regret in the night on your bed about not having lived enough when you had the chance.

It’s like that. You want that overseas experience? Learn to make wise and difficult choices now. That’s how you make the most of studying away from home in a foreign land. That’s how you carve the oyster, out of the world. And when you get back, don’t forget to let people scratch their heads when you tell them studying abroad means the near absolute freedom of making the choice to live with discipline.

(I wrote this hyper-long ago… just decided to put it up for fun… and to the person who makes me think, which is a rarity in itself.)

Because you know better.

I once asked a friend how she would react should I decide to prostitute myself (frivolous, i am). She said she would ignore me and never talk to me again. My cocksure political correctness self automatically kicked into gear as I pointed out that we should continue to love and accept people for who they are. I asked her why she would be so mean as to stop being my friend. This smart little party pooper replied in her damned unflappable manner—because I should know better than to act like a fool. I hate it when she does that, as in, make perfect sense. Besides shooting down my ridiculous notions of morals and values which I’m sure were influenced by my sister’s girly magazines, it reminded me that I have certain responsibilities that were predetermined from before I was made.

The fact that I’ve had a pretty average upbringing (normal enough for me to understand that all puppies need love and understanding to healthily grow) should be used to show people that they are valuable beings created for a reason. The fact that I can profess my love and actually experience the heaven of being loved in return should make me question and think about how incapacitating it would be to never have this privilege. The fact that I can express my passions should make me wonder about the retardation of never being able to muse about my humanity.

However, I am the biggest coward of all, the bigot that lacks self discipline or belief. I see challenges and I fear them. I fear them and I run. I tell myself it is easier to lose myself and thus abdicate all responsibility. My habitual self disqualification is both a bane and a boon. It helps me hide away but at the same time, it maims me. I have talked with that forsaken party pooper and reasoned with common sense which does nothing but prove my foolishness in the end.

“What are you afraid of Zech? You said yourself you’ve never been happier doing the right things…” – I tell myself these things.

I tell myself it’s rooted in the illogical workings of my emotions. Somewhere deep in my psyche, I see faceless and confining walls. No one else can see but me.

Still, under my own breath I keep imagining I hear four words.

The first is whatever and the second is lame, followed by ass and then coward.

Yup… think I’m gonna push it.

See where it goes.

No big loss to me right?

I mean… lose a little sleep maybe some skin

Yeah… I’m gonna give it a go.

I need to know if I can make it anyway.

This super plan You got everyone talking about.

I fit somewhere in there right?

I wanna see again if this Christianity is like the songs I sing.

You and me.

One on one.

Right here, where I am.

As sure as hell .... and heaven, You’re gonna show up.

So I better get ready.

Your lead Father.

You know what?

I went to last night’s meeting with Planet Shakers a little resentful of all the excitement and buzz surrounding them. I mean what’s all the hype about really? Were people feeling the electricity cos it was the Planet People rocking the house or was it cos we were glad to be there to worship God together?

B U T … I must admit I was a bitter old fart last night at the beginning of the meeting. I was there rolling my eyes non-stop at first. Then as they began singing I was reminded of that passion again. Wow… its been a long time since I had sung songs that were about falling in love with Jesus.

Hang On… don’t we do that in ‘normal’ church every Sunday?

Anyways, I don’t know if I was caught up in the hype but I did enjoy the worship, to some extent. Even caught myself shaking my bum to the groove. Then came offering time. I’m unsure again… but is it the Aussie M.O. that the preacher comes on stage and starts testifying in a mini sermon of his own miraculous experiences about giving to God albeit in trepidation and then being rewarded ten fold for it? I remember that a lot from most of the youth centred churches or gatherings back in Perth. Nothing to do with Planet Shakers but they all seemed to be structured that way. What I’d like to hear is a message telling the youth to give but in wisdom.

Maybe that’s the best way though, to address young people about giving, to encourage them by reaffirming God's truly awesome system about being blessed in return. What do you think?

I am N O T judging what is the better way or what isn’t. Just my observations that’s all. Were people giving because it was that amazing testimony about the car or because they had a heart for God’s kingdom? Do they give the same way back in their own churches? Whatever the case, it’s always great to reaffirm God’s graciousness. I don’t doubt that guy’s story, just that… well… things don’t always turn out so peachy.

I have spoken to the other, Indian pastor (personally, before) that brought them here, the same pastor who re-educated me about sex—Christian style. He seemed to remember me. Said he was glad to see me. I was glad to see him too. He’s a great guy. That made the meeting more human. More real to me. I suppose I could say the meeting was validated because of that 3 second handshake and exchange of greetings and smiles rather than the Planet Doods rocking it on. The band was awesome though… great drummer.

Am I being too much of a party pooper?