western australia

Text reads: Black swan and isolation. Background contains a black swan on water.

Black swans and isolation

I’m a weird person. I love the Star Wars prequels and always have. I was perfectly fine with the name iSnack 2.0 for the spread that was eventually renamed Vegemite Cheesybite due to public backlash. And if I ruled the world, it would be acceptable to wear leggings as pants in any setting.

I also get weirdly territorial about black swans.

Growing up in Perth, the capital of Western Australia, I was taught that black swans are only found in WA. That’s why it’s called the Swan River and why there’s a black swan on our state flag.

So imagine my surprise a few years ago when I went to Adelaide, South Australia and saw black swans out and about, living their best lives on the River Torrens.

I was with two friends who were also from Perth, so we’d all grown up thinking black swans were “ours”. It was… fascinating. And bewildering.

“Did they take our swans? Is this stolen property?”

Then Google told me black swans are native to other parts of Australia too. Our lives have been a lie!

But obviously “our” black swans are the best. Because animals care very deeply about the arbitrary borders that humans create. (Google didn’t tell me that; I did.)

Fast forward to the present day. I’m writing this post from inside the WA state border, which is currently closed (unless you can get an exemption) as a COVID protection measure.

I understand the reasons. Heck, it’s probably why I felt safe enough to leave the house when I had to go back into the office.

But it’s also starting to get me down. I wish I could see family and friends who aren’t in WA and give them a hug.

Well, I suppose I could don a face mask and get on a plane. No one’s actually stopping me from leaving. But I might not be able to get back home to the best black swans. 😉

So I’ll stay in my isolated fortress, writing useless blog posts like this until I can see my people on the outside again.

P.S. Black swans are not our property, nor anyone else’s. Just in case it wasn’t clear that I was being facetious.

P.P.S. I’ve got some masks ready for whenever I can make a trip across the border. Masks have the additional benefit of covering my acne scars so everybody wins. 😀

Text reads: The masked music fan. Image contains a concert crowd and a heartbeat line.

The masked music fan

Dear Diary,

Before the pandemic, if I was out and about for “non-essential” reasons, there was a pretty high likelihood I was going to a gig. I love live music. For someone who took piano lessons for roughly a third of their life, my own playing is rubbish, but I get a buzz out of seeing people who don’t suck do their thing.

However, it was never quite as easy as that.

Because a gig isn’t just the live music. It’s the sweaty bodies squeezing up against you. It’s the randos who want to hug a stranger and scream centimetres away from your face. It’s the beer being waved around in the air and spilling onto your head.

To be fair, I gave up alcohol years ago, and social situations are way out of my comfort zone. So I’m writing from the perspective of an awkward, sober introvert with an anxiety disorder.

But I guess I’ve always had to weigh up whether or not I love a particular band or want to see a particular gig more than I hate the other stuff that comes with it.

And then a global pandemic hit. Which came with its own set of worries. But it also meant I wasn’t constantly thinking about the pros and cons of going out (there was nowhere to go) and I wasn’t really missing out on anything (there was nothing happening). Truth be told, there was a certain freedom in that.

Now there are gigs back on in Western Australia (albeit with restrictions) and I’ve had to make that decision again. Knowing that people are very lax when it comes to social distancing, the thought of being anywhere near a pub or club at the moment freaks me out.

But there was a benefit gig on Saturday, “A little help for our friends”, to raise money for WA-based production companies that have taken a beating during the pandemic. And I decided to go after considering that:

  • the ticket price would hopefully weed out anyone who was just looking to get shitfaced, leaving those who were there for the bands;
  • it was at the Astor Theatre, where one can get a drink, but alcohol isn’t the main point of its existence;
  • the venue was only allowed a 50% capacity so even if no one was social distancing, I’d have a chance of moving away from people who weren’t respecting my personal space;
  • I knew musicians in three of the five bands, and obviously hadn’t seen them play in quite some time;
  • I have some face masks at home and was willing to be the only person wearing one at the gig. And I’m pretty sure I was, but hey, I’m also Asian. In many Asian countries, it’s not a cultural oddity to have a mask on, even when there isn’t a global pandemic.

And I’m glad I went.

I did get shoved around a bit on the dance floor and elbowed in the head on multiple occasions (I’m very short). And towards the end of the night, I was starting to feel a little overwhelmed. But no one spilt anything on me and no one touched me on purpose. And the bands were on fire, some perhaps more so than others, but this is a “Lee-Ann’s issues” review, not a gig review. 😛

So yes, I managed to get out and I had a good time. And with WA in a strong position COVID-wise (fingers crossed it stays that way), hopefully there’ll be more good times in the foreseeable future that aren’t crippled by anxiety. 🙂