與我常在

When I was in Primary Two, my class teacher expressed his concern to my mum that I didn’t smile or laugh much. Back then I didn’t know that we human beings smile or laugh for social purposes; I only laughed and smiled for physiological needs. I could never hold a smile or a grin long enough for photography; even when I could I did that in an unnatural way. Now that after some practice (and I mean it) I manage to produce a reasonable grin upon request but somehow that part of social handicap has shaped my life.

I’ve never been a sociable person who is lucky with friends. Well, I’m not that compatible with most people.

I used to imagine having a twin sister who had exactly the same thoughts as mine. I wanted someone to hang around with and explore different places, to keep me company, to hug me when I felt needed, to hold my hands when I needed support, to lend me a shoulder to cry and gently pat my back telling me everything was going to be fine; someone who didn’t mind sharing my silly and somehow absurd thoughts and the silence when I didn’t feel like talking or when I was lost in thoughts. And I would do exactly the same things for her (Alright, it’s not a twin sister I’m talking about but a clone of me. But then isn’t it more realistic to desire a twin sister than a clone of oneself?).

When I’ve grown up, solitude has become a preference more than a compromise. I hang around alone, watch ballet shows alone, travel alone and launch a new life in a novel city alone. I tell myself everything is going to be fine when actually nothing is fine. I’m neither independent nor strong. Please. I’m not pitiful but I’m not strong either. I just feel more comfortable that way.

There’s no twin sister. There’s no clone of me.

I know. I am the real narcissist.

Cry till my eyes dry

Overeducation

I first came across the word ‘overeducation’ when I was in F.6 or F.7 when my teacher told me a little story about how a university graduate got turned down during a job interview for a clerk or something alike. Back then, a degree was nothing prestigious but still the admission rate of local undergraduate degrees was strictly restricted to 18% of the population of 18- to 20-year-olds.

The concept shook my little confined world at that time as being told overeducated was like being told over-rich or over-beautiful.

The term came up more often during the economic recession that stroke us hard after the handover. At that time, experience was a hotter commodity than education as there’s a surplus of degree holders in our work force. Some had to hide part of their higher education history as if it’s a criminal record in order to secure a job and reassure their boss that they would be good and loyal.

It was the time when too much education was a burden rather than a merit in job hunting.

Yet, the relationship between social desirability and formal education has always been a Kuznets curve, i.e. social desirability initially increases but later decreases with the amount of formal education after which reaches a socially defined optimal level.

Sadly, overeducation is not just a term for economic recession but also an antonym for a failure to transform additional education into more income or a bookish kid who refuses to face the reality of job hunting.

Situated on either end of the social-desirability-against-formal-education Kuznets curve can be quite stigmatic sometimes.

The other day I bumped into one of Tracy’s classmates in the immersion programme on train, so we had a small talk that people usually have when they run into someone they know but not well enough.

When we talked about my studies here, I confessed to her that I’m now doing my second coursework masters degree, the first one being Linguistics, to illustrate how much I dislike Linguistics and why I do a Psychology course here.

She shot me a quizzical look and popped me a question that hadn’t ever crossed my mind: 'Do you like studying very much (你好鐘意讀書o架)?' The question itself sounded rather neutral and innocent enough (though it somehow brought me back to the 60s) but I took it as a polite, socially stylish way to show her frustration over my somewhat obsession with education or else, degrees.

I was speechless and mentally backtracked my academic history. Shockingly enough, my resume—a Bachelor degree + a postgrad dip + an MA degree + a pursuing MPsych degree, not to mention some very short courses, all obtained within a decade and all sound recreational as they haven’t taken me to the next level: PhD—did fit perfectly the definition of nerds. I must have sounded like some insane degree collectors to her.

But no, I’m not bookish or nerdy (alrite, I'm not academic either)! Well, not in my definition. So I just murmured something which I have forgotten already and tried to change the subject. I was tired of justifying my decision and offering any explanation.

You may think I have thought too much over such a simple question, but my friend’s story is more convincing.

A girlfriend of mine has received some harsh comments from her parents, relatives and even colleagues because she has done a postgrad dip, an MA degree, a part-time-MA-degree-then-transferred-to-full-time-MPhil degree since her graduation (which is less than 6 years ago). It seems that she has constantly been engaging in some sort of degree-awarding courses. Whenever she is asked what degree she’s pursuing, she always has something to offer. They questioned the value of so much formal education as she couldn’t transform her education into money, fame or credibility.

Yet, she doesn’t do all these out of pure interest or boredom; she is on her way to PhD (probably from Cambridge) and thus professorship, i.e. a career. Sometimes, it takes a longer path for someone to search for what they really like. We used to joke about her possible fine-printed list of academic qualifications shown under one’s title on a name card; how a list of MA degrees is sandwiched between BSSs and PhD. But then she has decided to keep only her Bachelor degree, MPhil and PhD on her name card, eliminating all excessive ones.

As for me, I have made a mental note not to disclose this part of my academic history to new friends or semi-strangers. I'm old enough to understand too much of a good thing can sound bad--at least to someone.

A new journey down under

At the airport

I used to think I would be ecstatic when the day I could fly away from the bustle and hustle finally dawned on me. I thought I would be full of plans and expectations as I was going to pursue what I had been dreaming for a long time. And I thought maybe I would shed some tears as well.

Actually, I wasn’t and I didn’t.

It seems that it’s always more exciting to expect than to experience. The enthusiasm has somehow sneaked away bit by bit, day after day while you’re waiting for it. When it finally comes, the excitement has already been drained.

By the time I arrived at the airport, I felt consumed both physically and spiritually. My sensations were numbed by the unfinished work at school and deprivation of sleep. The previous month has been so hectic that I felt like having seen all the people I would see and done all the work I would do in a year.

Everything looked so surreal to me that at one point I asked myself what I had done.

Despite the eerie and perhaps indifferent feeling, I did feel blessed and touched by the support of my family, friends, colleagues and even students. My gratitude to them always goes beyond words. I’m sure their love will cushion me wherever I go, whatever happens to me.

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My first week

The first week has been nerve-fraying to me. I arrived in Melbourne on Sunday afternoon but I had lectures on Mondays and Tuesdays. I felt a bit out of place in the lectures as not only was I still overwhelmed by my journey and haunted by the unfinished work back in Hong Kong but I was one of the only two international students in class (the other one did her first degree there so she knows the people and the place; and, she has an idea for her research project and knows which professor she's going to).

While all others have some sort of professional experience in the field (be it a practicing counselor or a research fellow at a clinic), I was rather professionally clean in this aspect. And while the others somehow know each other (I missed the orientation week) and were so ready to contribute, I was still in a mist of confusion. Yet, we had to pair ourselves up and come up with a topic for the class presentation in the first lecture.

What annoyed me most was I have to deal with a bunch of applications—working with children check, provision psychologist registration, tax file number, bank account, etc. while I was still looking for a place to stay (I needed to supply some sort of address proof with all these applications).

I was busy with house hunting on the first couple of days. Heaps of students were looking for accommodation at the beginning of the term at the same time, so I had to keep an eye on the rental page as if keeping track of the shares prices on the stock market. Accommodation was gone unbelievably fast.

Thanks to Tracy’s help (I was really lucky to have her with me during my first few weeks at Monash. She is having the immersion program at Monash at the moment and will be back to Hong Kong at the end of March), I finally got a place to stay. I’m now sharing the house with a 3-member Chinese family from Beijing and the place was about 10- to 15-minute bus ride from the campus. As long as I can settle in a decent home, things will gradually fall into places.

I ended my first week with an excursion to Puffing Billy with Tracy and her friends.

As there's still no Internet connection at my place, I'd better not upload my photos using the campus network.

I will have my fingers crossed for the next week.