Quirky Chronicles

A meaningful life

2011-04-11T19:34:00.002+08:00

My restlessness has been nipping at me, yet all I can voice is the question - are we leading meaningful lives? I asked R and he said the concept of 'meaningful'meant too many different things.

That's true I agreed. A serial killer would no doubt find his murders meaningful. But didn't meaningful mean helping others? That could happen in many ways too, R said.

That's true I agreed. In some way or another, I contribute to society through my work, the money I spend, the taxes I pay. But surely there must be more?

How would you describe our life?

Pleasant. Loving. Settled.

That's true I agreed. Is that meaningful? Or am I just chasing my tail?

A long time to come back to where I started

2011-04-11T17:27:00.004+08:00

The wonders of technology.

4 years on and this little blog still clings on to its little niche in cyberspace.

Reading it has been a balm and I wonder at my utter ingratitude and the discontent that plagues me now despite all that I have received in these 4 years.

In place of 'lonely monsters', a loving, supportive partner who thrills, challenges, calms, soothes me. With this bedrock of support, i have felt free to expend copious amounts of energy on my career - and the results have been rewarding.

A scholarship after 5 years of waiting, a home of our own, a car, a bike licence, a life a life a life built together.

All my dreams have come true.

Yet these few weeks, restlessness has licked at my heels.

Reading my posts of long ago, I wonder how - why. Is this growth again?

When you long for blessings that you may not name, and when you grieve knowing not the cause, then indeed you are growing with all things that grow, and rising toward your greater self. – Khalil Gibran

Reacting to LMDs

2007-07-23T19:53:00.000+08:00

Oh, another one of those LMDs - Lonely Monster Days.. They creep up from behind me and - WHAM! - suddenly it feels like someone has socked me in the gut and I will always always always be alone.

Today, I suddenly realised that I greatly identify with the character of the Jap girl in 'Babel'. An abyss of hunger.

But it will pass. It always does.

After being socked by the LM, I did what I've been planning to do - went to the directory of volunteer websites (www.cip.org.sg/vmall) and started emailing a list of organisations which I am quite keen on volunteering with.

Calmed down a lot after I was done with emailing.

So - this is the scenario. Wracked with loneliness and insecurity, I turn to help others. Am I hoping that witnessing/trying to alleviate the suffering of others will ease my own? Does altruism count when it is - NOT altruistic?

Well, whoever is not against us is for us.

I think I dare not hope for unsullied motives. At most, I would say that I want to remember.. that there are many different kinds of sufffering, many little differences that one person can make.. I want to remember that I am a blessing.

Will this be the start of another vicious cycle - that once more i keep having to prove to myself that I am worth something?

But surely directing my energies to others must serve a lot more than this incessant griping and navel-gazing?

Ah. One day at a time. Each day has enough worries of its own.

Hold On

2007-05-28T16:07:00.000+08:00

There's this classic scene from Harold and Kumar when they steal the monsterjeep of this hooligan gang and discover that the playlist in the jeep is full of sappy songs. So after they mock and laugh, they listen to the songs, and at one point, Wilson Phillips' 'Hold on' comes on and they cannot help but sheepishly ,tentatively, exuberantly sing along to it. I don't know why, but the scene always cracks me up.

Maybe it's because i remember my older sis teaching me how to sing it (and harmonise along) with her when she was in secondary school and i was in primary school.
Maybe it's because I've sung so many songs in so many cars with a feeling of karaoke-gone-mad exuberance.
Maybe it's because the song has always seemd such an epitome of teenage-girl-much.

But last night, it played in my friend's car - and - Oh my. I never knew its lyrics would mean so much to me.

Hold On - Wilson Phillips

I know this pain
Why do lock yourself up in these chains?
No one can change your life except for you
Dont ever let anyone step all over you
Just open your heart and your mind
Is it really fair to feel this way inside?

Some day somebodys gonna make you want to
Turn around and say goodbye
Until then baby are you going to let them
Hold you down and make you cry
Don't you know?
Don't you know things can change
Things'll go your way
If you hold on for one more day
Can you hold on for one more day
Things'll go your way
Hold on for one more day

You could sustain
Or are you comfortable with the pain?
You've got no one to blame for your unhappiness (Tell me about it!)
You got yourself into your own mess
Lettin your worries pass you by
Don't you think its worth your time
To change your mind?

I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and
Break free the chains
Yeah I know that there is pain
But you hold on for one more day and you
Break free, break from the chains

Flawed Heroes

2007-05-28T15:51:00.000+08:00

Had a great time talking to S the other day, about the general state of illteracy in Singapore as well as the problems in 'educating' children or youths about spiritual things or religion.

C once said that Westerners gravitate towards Eastern religions and Asians adopt Christianity in droves most likely due to the simplistic black-and-white 'truths' in the religion that are fed to us when we are young. As we grow older, it becomes increasingly clear that what has been taught seems increasingly irrelevant to how we live, and as the gap widens, we seek truths in other vistas, and discover new'grown-up' religions. It seems a likely explanation.

So I brought this up to S and we were going on about how this gap could be addressed when it suddenly hit me - flawed heroes.

In Sunday schools, David's courage in battling Goliath is consistently touted, but not a whimper is sounded about his adultery and murder and bloodletting.
Abraham is the Father of nations, but nothing is said of his lying and neglect of his wife's honour.
Samson defeated the Philistines, but only because he had first lusted after Delilah.

How is it that we have hidden the flaws of these heroes, when God has laid bare for all to see, to show that He is the God of everyone who is flawed and weak and deceitful?

During the church service this Sunday, the preacher was going on about praying for the anointing to break through for nations, the world.. and so on. All I could think was - I don't even have the strength to obey the simplest and clearest of things, and I'm supposed to have the audacity to save the world? Not me not me, I will not mock these holy things.

But suddenly, the preacher calmed down, paused. And she said - God will use the holy vessels like Mary, but God is also waiting to wrestle with those who are like Jacob, who was a deceiver. Waiting to wrestle and overpower Jacob so that Jacob could be blessed and his name changed to Israel - Prince of God.

Oh. That's me I hope. I pray.

Tired

2007-05-23T17:55:00.000+08:00

Many good friends have been asking how I’ve been feeling, considering the roller coaster ride that I’ve been on these past few months.

In all honesty, for the past few days, I’ve been in this oddly zen state. Maybe this is what life on prozac feels like.

The closest I came to being emotional was when I was sharing with E about couples I saw reading newspapers together at tcc café on a lazy Sunday morning, wondering why a scene like that seemed so out of reach for me. But she turned around and asked me if I would be bored by too many afternoons like that.

Would I? I’m not very sure anymore. Do I desire something simply because it is out of reach? Not always.

But right now I’m too tired to overanalyze. Or simply to analyze.

I’m wondering what my solo trip to Cochin next week will be like. I’ve been avoiding hearing from God, glancing away from the bible that is at my bedside. Unread. Will I avoid Him then as well? Not sure.

No expectations then. (but where does hope fit into the picture?)

Oh. Too tired to think.

Things to be happy with

2007-03-27T19:13:00.000+08:00

I started today beset by a tremendous ulcer, work stress and general lethargy. But at 4pm, with my voice finally recorded for some video, I decided - I will cook mee sua.

Haha.

It has turned out to be another one of those perfectly contented evenings.

The ingredients? (I need to note this as I prepare to live alone, whether overseas or in Singapore)

- a good radio station (equipment : dependable broadband on computer to get internet radio stations, or an affordable stereo system. Preferably both.)
- access to affordable groceries (equipment : fridge, nice big boiling pan, knife, basic cutlery and bowl, plate)
- a good workout routine (equipment : skipping rope and weights, especially if it’s winter or I don’t feel safe jogging alone)
- a good book (equipment : a library card, so I don’t need to bring the books back if I’m returning from overseas. Or maybe bookmooch!)

Gosh, takes so little to make one happy. Yay. =)

As for the mee sua – I added Chinese parsley, oyster mushrooms, quail’s eggs, instant shrimp wanton. Hmm… not bad. Maybe add Knorr cube the next time round… Yum!

'Then they were glad because they were quiet, So He guided them to their desired haven. ' Psalm 107:30

Self-absorbed

2007-03-15T00:45:00.000+08:00

I’ve just been accused of being self-absorbed.

The person who pointed out this fact would undoubtedly take umbrage at my usage of the word ‘accused’, as well as with my cerebral dissection of what has just transpired.

Is t true? Have I become so cut off from /protective of my emotions that I can only process everything cerebrally nowadays?

I definitely agree that I am self-absorbed. Why else does one have a blog that incessantly tries to dig deeper and deeper into one’s own psyche?

The only question is to what extent.

To the extent that I have put unuttered expectations on all around me?
To the extent that I expect all conversation to concern me?
To the extent that I have withdrawn my real reactions so that I commune with my own thoughts and censor what I have to say to others?

Too self-absorbed. Too intense. Too many expectations.

Ouch ouch ouch.

Is this really me?
(hah, is that too self-absorbed a question?)
Does a genuine bid to be a better person count under self-absorption?

Is intensity some character flaw that needs to be corrected?

‘But why do you need a reason for everything? Do you know how tiring it is to talk to you?’

No, I don’t need a reason for everything. But yes, it’ll be nice if you could explain when you do say something is wrong with me. I didn’t realize that was too much to ask. Too intense.

No. I didn’t realize how tiring it is to talk to me. I thought many people enjoy talking to me. Perhaps I have been delusional.

One part of me reads what I have written here and I can see the sarcasm that bleeds from my words, truly indicative of how hurt I feel.

But one part of me has absorbed (interesting word) what has been said and I wonder if it hurts so much only because I think it’s true, that it must be true since the person who said this is someone I trust and someone who is wise and who loves me as a friend.

The only question left of course is – what now?

I turn to those wiser than I am –
When you long for blessings that you may not name, and when you grieve knowing not the cause, then indeed you are growing with all things that grow, and rising toward your greater self. – Khalil Gibran

I long, I grieve, I feel lost in the darkness of my own soul. Perhaps I am growing.

I can only suppose that it is so – by faith.

Trust

2007-03-13T10:51:00.000+08:00

As part of our ‘professional development’, management has ordered key personnel to read and reflect upon selected books. The latest offering has been a rather flaccid, repetitive read entitled ‘The Power of Ren’. Dozed through the first six chapters and wondered why we were made to spend our time so unproductively.

But this morning, fresh from a weekend of encounters that has left my heart frail and aching, I came across this passage, entitled ‘Relinquishing Control’ - ‘Trust isn’t a concept; it is an experience. A concept can be defined in many ways, but experience is direct, and difficult to deceive ourselves about. Certain situations and people may make us feel uncomfortable, and when we are uncomfortable our experience tells us not to trust them. On the other hand, when we feel comfortable, our experience is telling us to trust. Trust is similar to responsibility and giving – offering it doesn’t necessarily get us anything in return. This is something we often fail to realize, and we fall into the trap of making our trust conditional. ‘If you do this,” we say ,”then we’ll trust you.” Or we say, “I trust you, so you have to do this,” or perhaps, ”If you don’t do this, you don’t trust me.” This is a form of passivity, when in fact, trust is about choice. We determine trust. Only we determine whether or not we will trust, and on what basis we choose to do so. Only once we understand this, do we have freedom of choice and are no longer simply being reactive.’

O wow. Another gentle wave of grace, washing my soul, healing my heart, stilling my overactive mind.

We determine trust. I determine trust.

‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and he will make your paths straight.’ Proverbs 3:5-6

Love always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

5 March

Results

2007-02-09T17:18:00.000+08:00

This is what it boils down to.. knowing I’ve made a difference for some of these students, as corny as it sounds. So glad that passing English has opened a few more doors for them, so glad that I know I really put in my best last year, and have become more competent as a teacher.

Is it true to say that when we become very good at something we should move on to new challenges?

It is against the sweet satisfaction of today’s O Level results that I receive news my scholarship application has been supported by my boss. Still a few more hurdles to cross – interview, panel deliberation, college acceptance. But the moment I found out the light had turned green again, I felt a sudden panic.

Leave Singapore? Just when I’m starting to really love it? Leave teaching, just when I’ve reached a level of competence that genuinely value-adds to students? Leave – just when there may be a reason to stay?

Silly confused girl.

But thankful thankful thankful for blessings both great and small.

Over and over again today, my attention is directed to
Romans 8:28
‘ And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose.’

God works.

Works these random things together.

Works in mysterious ways, flabbergasting at times, perturbing at times, distressing at times, wondrous at times.

I shall be still.

Remember

2007-01-20T10:52:00.000+08:00

Had a lovely dinner last night at Sage (Robertson Walk - MARVELLOUS food) with A and E. A had been sharing about his incredibly close relationship with his mum and when he left the room for a while, I suddenly remarked to E - I've been trying to find out why I'm deep down angry with my mum, since I seem to be so irritated with her so often. And E said ' But we've been through this before! And she listed concisely, precisely, the list of possible reasons.. and yes, we had been through it before. And I wondered - why the hell have I forgotten?

How is it I can remember the price of a piece of clothing I bought 5 years ago, the name of an obscure author, the address of a defunct eatery - and yet I cannot remember the pitholes within my own heart, that inner landscape I have been searching through in order to find some solutions?

Came home after the dinner and I had a strong urge to find a book by Frederick BuechnerI had never got round to finishing. When I found it, to my surprise I discovered that it was called 'A Room Called Remember'.

From the first chapter -
'We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have folllowed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to me to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.

To remember my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking i might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. And each of you, with all the memories you have and the tales you could tell, you also have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are, a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to the path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive. '

I cried as I read, am crying again as I type this.
My heart has been kept alive through grace, with enough life to move on, love myself better, love my mum and my famiy better, love my friends and my students better.

8 Oh give thanks to the LORD, call upon His name; Make known His deeds among the peoples. 9 Sing to Him, sing praises to Him; Speak of all His wonders. 10 Glory in His holy name; Let the heart of those who seek the LORD be glad. 11 Seek the LORD and His strength; Seek His face continually. 12 Remember His wonderful deeds which He has done, His marvels and the judgments from His mouth.
I Chronicles 16:8 -12

Superman

2006-12-29T14:37:00.000+08:00

I’ve always found Five for Fighting’s ‘Superman’ oddly soothing.

I can't stand to fly I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find The better part of me
I'm more than a bird I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train
And it's not easy to be me

I wish that I could cry Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie 'Bout a home I'll never see
It may sound absurd But don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed But won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me

Up, up and away, away from me
Well it's alright You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy or anything

I can't stand to fly I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me
It's not easy to be me

But when I was asked to perform it last night, somehow everything clicked.

I cringed when I was introduced with an accolade, knowing there are colleagues who resent that I’ve been given some award. Just that morning I reached school to find that the banner proclaiming my victory had been slashed. Hmmm.. hopefully I’m not next.

And then I performed the song and every word just made sense.
The unspoken expectations on me. Little Miss Bubbly who happens to have lots of workable ideas.

I wonder about that colleague who envies me,
We’re the same age. I’ve got a national award. She’s married with a kid.
Does she have a right to envy me and do I have a right to envy her?
‘I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
'Bout a home I'll never see’

Silly woman. What’s there to envy?

I'm just looking for special things inside of me.

Christmas thoughts

2006-12-24T15:23:00.000+08:00

Just finished reading 'Flowers for Algernon' by Daniel Keyes, about a retarded man who becomes a genius through a scientific experiment. It reminded me of my questions as to whether it is better to be smart or simple. I realise that it is a moot point since I am what I am. But the important thing is how I choose to respond to those around me.

From the 13th chapter of First Corinthians :
1 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.

Neither my intelligence nor my knowledge nor my efficiency nor my sense of matrydom and desire to help count for anything. It is a relief.

4 Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, 5 does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, 6 does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

During my jog this morning, I kept tearing as I mulled over the past year, and more than that, the past ten years. In Dec 1996, I received Christ as Lord and Saviour.
As I meditated upon what love is, I realised I have loved and been loved in a myriad of settings, all unplanned, unrehearsed, all flowing naturally from relationships founded on increasing trust. And I marvelled over the perseverance that God has shown in loving me despite my misgivings, my turning-aways, my failings.

I feel blessed this Christmas.
Happy birthday Jesus.

Miscarriage

2006-12-20T17:45:00.000+08:00

The word ‘miscarriage’ keeps popping into my head.

‘Miscarriage’ – the expulsion of a foetus before it is viable. Before breath and life and growth. Somehow, something happens. A fall, a slip. Fall, falling , fallen. A slip of the tongue. Could it always be that a fall and a slip prelude a miscarriage?

But a miscarriage is also the failure to attain the just, right, or desired result, as in a miscarriage of justice. But who is the one to judge on what is just? And whose desires are in play when one talks about desired results? Is it a miscarriage if one party desires it and one does not?

Miscarriage – also the failure of something sent, as a letter, to reach its destination. A sense of forlornness. A letter sent in hope and not replied. Hope aborted, no, not aborted since it is not deliberate, miscarried.

But beneath all the word play, there is calm and quiet and loss and resignation and sadness.

My overanalyzing mind wonders if this is about the incident in question or about the context in which it occurs, of just turning 30, of spending the night surrounded by colleagues talking about children, of losing losing hope that I will be held and accepted by someone I love and respect.

Forlorn. But I press on.

'My boyfriend is SEM'

2006-11-24T17:39:00.000+08:00

Attended this full day workshop on SEM - School Excellence Model - yesterday. Basically, I'll be attached to a team next year to do auditing of school practices.

During one twilight zone moment, this extremely passionate and enthusiastic trainer shared that there were days when she dreamt about SEM and she went on to declare that 'I'm single, so my boyfriend is SEM!'

Oh shit.

She reminded me of a dozen other ladies I have come across in the education service in Singapore. Late 30s to late 40s, well-put together. Highly intelligent. Organised. And completely brainwashed into giving their entire lives to the ministry.

NONONONONONONOONONONNNOONONNONO........ N O T M E.

I've decided to blog about this to remind myself to shake off any inertia and prepare to leave.

The Little Systems Robot who could..

2006-11-10T23:02:00.000+08:00

Three intense days of strategic planning and systems review.

The scary thing is not that I can't do it, or that I don't understand the rationale for it. The scary thing is that I am good at doing all of this and I understand why our excellence-driven organisations need these structures - yet I think it will kill our spirits and the spirits of the children we teach.

Each time we precariously balance yet another structure upon this Babylon of 'strategic thrusts', we produce more paper work and erode whatever trust remains between colleagues. We try to measure the things that are unmeasurable - relationship , morale , learning - and in so doing we inevitable take life away as we dissect and probe.

And I am part of this. I dutifully apply my brains to SWOT analysis and systems proposals, dutifully vet SEM reports for review flaws, dutifully provide feedback on key leverage points.

It feels like I am prostituting myself.

Maybe that's why I feel like shit after these 3 days. Not because I am mentally drained (though I am) but because I am contributing to the shitloads of crap spiritless work that my colleagues have to plough through next year. Me with my smart little brain and efficient meeting of deadlines.

Fucking hell.

Panic attack in midst of meeting yesterday, when talk turned to monitoring of the paper usage of teachers in individual departments, in order to cut down on paper costs.

You fucking want me to get teachers to report to me how many worksheets they use and why?!?!?!?!?

I need out.

It's not just about the foolish focus of individual leaders. It is about the culture of systems that dominates Singapore.

I need out.

2008.

On my father's 66th birthday

2006-11-08T22:42:00.000+08:00

I've been working on my nanowrimo (national novel writing month) project - of the coming of age of a 13 year old girl. Once again, my reach seems to be exceeding my grasp, but no matter, I must press on.

Was locked out of the house today (Where the fuck did i put my keys? Still can't be found, and now Ma wants to change all the locks. Urgh.) So I loitered about and finally decided to go to the kopitiam and manually write bits of my novel.

All throughout the day, at various points, I remembered that if Daddy was alive, he would be 66 today.

At the kopitiam, I wrote this :

' The Chinatown open air market was a lot quieter than what I had expected. My most vivid memory of it was the Chinese New Year’s Eve when I was in Primary Two, when Daddy had brought Ma and me to the market after our reunion dinner. It had been so crowded that everyone could hardly move. I was holding on to Daddy’s shirt in front, Ma ‘s hands were on my shoulders, masses of bodies around our little family train. Then - I remember the exact moment Daddy lifted me onto his shoulders and suddenly I could see everything – a sea of bobbing black heads, a million red and gold lights from all good things, streamers and bakkwa and cushion covers and angbaos; and Daddy holding Ma’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. I guess I had expected the market to always be that magical. But as Ma and I trudged past lethargic stallholders and endlessly repetitive decorations limp from the afternoon heat, I felt disappointed and increasingly irritated.'

It's made up. Not a real memory. But I kept trying to remember if there had been a moment like that for me, for us. I couldn't remember.

Did I make it up because I want to idealise my memories of him? The 13 year-old part of me probably does. But the adult part of me is scared that I remember wrongly, that I'm so continually irritated with Ma because of this wrong remembering, these unfair comparisons.

I wanted to cry when I wrote 'and Daddy holding Ma’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd'. Maybe because I don't recall him holding her hand. Maybe because I feel more sorry about Ma than daddy, even though it's his birthday today. Maybe because so often, I feel that Ma is lost in the crowd, and I don't know how to lead her, or I don't bother to.

I'm sorry Ma.

I've been daydreaming about the dedication at the front of the book, if it ever gets published. One of the dedications will be : To my daddy, Roosevelt. Someday I'll get to tell you all the things I never said.

I haven't figured what my dedication to Ma will be.

Topsy Turvy

2006-10-26T23:38:00.000+08:00

I used to like math because there was always a definite answer to the sums that I did. QED. It gave me a punctuated sense of accomplishment to see my working build towards a precise conclusion.

In contrast, I liked writing essays and answering comprehension questions in my language papers because of the smoky, amorphous nature of the answers required. I liked that I could bluff my way through any paper and still come out pristine and right in the end.

But in these few years of teaching and sporadic writing, I've come to realise that I was wrong.

Mathematics seems more and more to be about patterns and probability, educated guesses trying to make sense in a chaotic world; while language seems more and more about finding pinpoint accuracy in one's words, to reveal a mind, a heart, a soul.

Funny how perceptions change with age.

Funny how I should be thinking about this near midnight on my mother's birthday.

Self-glorification

2006-10-25T21:07:00.000+08:00

From The Blind Assassin, by Margaret Atwood. (I have fallen in love with her dead accrurate, cuttingly beautiful prose).

'Why is it we want so badly to memorialise ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on tress, we scrawl them on bathroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.'

Below - evidence of my pride, my delight tinged with sheepishness as I wonder why I want so much to add this link here.
http://www.moe.gov.sg/corporate/contactonline/2006/issue13/sub_BigPicture_Art01.htm

Authority

2006-10-15T14:18:00.000+08:00

I was rifling through my drawer of accessories the other day and I found this silver band, inscribed with the word 'Authority', that I had forgotten about.

I had bought and inscribed it about four years ago after a painful break-up and a subsequent church camp. At the church camp (very emotional and cathartic), someone had been praying for me and in the midst of the prayer, somehow an image of this ring popped into my mind. Alongside the image was a quiet voice in my voice saying ' I restore authority to you.' At that time, I had vague ideas about what that meant. I only knew that I felt touched that God was looking into my situation and I took the band to mean I should steer clear of men for at least a year. (at this point down the road, the connection seems rather illogical, but in retrospect, all turned out well..).

Fast forward. Reading a book by Parker Palmer - 'The courage to teach'. Incredible stuff. On what integrity as a teacher (& a person) means, on vulnerability.. and on authority.
These are some excerpts -
'In a culture of technique, we often confuse authority with power, but the two are not the same. Power works from the outside in, but authority works from the inside out. .. External tools of power (he cites threats of grades) have occasional utiltiy in teaching, but they are no substitute for authority, the authority that comes from the teacher's inner life. The clue is in the word itself, which has author at its core.
Authority is granted to people who are perceived as authoring their own words, their own actions, their own lives, rather than playing a scripted role at great remove from their own hearts. .... when my teaching is authorised by the teacher within me, I need neither weapons nor armour to teach.'

Neither weapons nor armour. Oh, to continue on this journey without need for weapons or armour, how freeing that would be!

The words struck me at my core when I read them this morning. It is only now, four years later, that I realise what that ring meant. My attempt to fit into a perfect Christian girlfriend mould in that preceding year had robbed me of integrity and authority, and I believe God was returning these to me.

I believe He still is, as I wrestle to be brave enough to take off my masks and present myself as an author of this life I've been given, not just as a player in a scripted role.

Confessions

2006-09-30T11:36:00.000+08:00

'It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.' - Oscar Wilde.

I'm starting to see the truth in this.

It's so liberating to know that at least one other person knows the sickness of one's own thoughts and/or actions, and yet (hopefully) can still accept the confessor.

Perhaps therein lies the absolution, a symbolic representation of the unconditional love of God - you know this crap about me and you still love me?!

I'm starting to think confessing to a wise friend who loves me is a much saner thing than confessing to a spiritual leader who is seeking to mould me into a designated shape...

Thank, E. =)

An administrative issue

2006-09-30T11:28:00.000+08:00

Just a need to voice a complaint -
Why on earth are all the instructions on blogger.com in Mandarin?!?!

Yes, shame on me that I took Chinese as a first language and yet I'm flustered by this langauge change, and yet, it evokes the same feeling I get when I switched my phone settings to mandarin and suddenly feel that I can't navigate around it and that my phone wil be a cheena one forever more...

(Does anyone reading this have any idea how to switch the language? Hmph)

Working title - The outstanding adventures of side-kick girl

2006-09-30T11:15:00.000+08:00

I've joined a writing club for about half a year now. It's a good impetus to write. (Obviously left to my own devices I tend towards inertia, as evident from my neglect of this blog..)

In any case, wrote the following piece to bring for one of the meetings.

Working title - The Outstanding adventures of Sidekick Girl

Lih Peng wondered if she would be the first person ever to die in a cake. She shuddered as she imagined the group of horny, tipsy men prying open the rice-paper covering of the three-tier styrofoam cake to discover her body, bluish-cold from oxygen deprivation, clad in a ridiculous hot-pink bikini.

What the fuck was taking them so long?

She could feel her calves starting to cramp. She tried to shift her feet a little while in her crouched position, but the squeaking sound of her arms brushing against the styrofoam sides of the cake was driving her nuts.

Was that Pierre chatting up some waitress at the party? She could hear his fake-American-accent mumbling, punctuated by the shrill, over-responsive laughter of the girl dumb enough to fall for his lines.

Wheel me in already, asshole!

The familiar pounding beat of the Tom Jones’ anthem, Sex Bomb, started up, and she finally felt the cake moving. She heard familiar hooting sounds and cat calls as the men in the room started to realise what the cake was for.

Don’t cramp, don’t cramp. You can dance. Smile. Smile. Smile.

‘HAPPY STAG PARTY!’ Lih Peng burst out of the cake, shimmying and shaking to Sex Bomb. She strategically took a little longer to plunge suggestively in and out of the cake opening, in a bid for more time to work out the pins and needles in her calves. On the second refrain of the song, she cautiously climbed out of the cake, hoping that Pierre had bloody remembered to lock the trolley in place. He had. She quickly scanned the room amidst her gyrations, looking for the most obviously drunk man, who had the highest probability of being the stag, and the lowest capability of making any moves on her. She headed for the target in question.

In-coming. A hand reached out for her butt. Quick dodge. Bright smile. Stupid prick.

Another one. This was at chest level. She did a limbo move and sinuously turned away, brushing his hand aside. Didn’t these people realise the concept of ‘See, no touch’?

Target reached. He stank. Whiskey, beer and a hint of fresh vomit. Please don’t try to kiss me please please please.

When was the song going to end?

He was drunk, but not drunk enough. ‘Baby, come to daddy, come on, I’m still a freeee man.’ Around, louder hoots and shouts of encouragement. ‘You sure you still want to get married Freddy? Look at what you’re missing out on!’

Why did they always say the same thing? Laugh the same way? Think they were being funny and original?

She smiled enigmatically, doing the obligatory shimmy whilst standing between his legs, rubbing her hands along his inner thighs. She smelt his beer belch. Don’t puke don’t puke please hold it in. His hands reached around her thighs to grab her butt. He started to knead her butt cheeks as if she was some kind of bread dough.

I hate you. I hate this.

Last chorus. She broke free, consciously still moving to the music so that they would think this was part of the performance, not her getaway. Near the exit, she turned to face the room. Final beaming smile. Her requisite one-liner, ‘Be good, boys; and baby, have a happy marriage!’

The music faded. She rushed to her allocated bathroom, where she had placed her change of clothing. Long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. She felt like throwing up. It happened every time.

=================
After I wrote it and read it again, i was amazed at the amount of anger I seem to have towards men in general. Quite quite disturbing.

Perhaps that would be the theme of the book (if i ever do extend it to be a book) - the letting go of this anger? Intriguing.

I thought the working title would help me focus on a theme (Being a sidekick? Being outstanding yet feeling like a sidekick?)

Perhaps I should change it to - The Redemption of Sidekick Girl from the Abyss of Anger.

I wonder why I have this affinity for comic book-kitschy titles..

The Amazing Tale of the Girl with the Exceptionally Big Head

2006-07-20T17:32:00.000+08:00

There once was a girl
with an exceptionally big head
which served to contain
her brains of great weight.
With her ample resources,
She would think through the nights
of pulsars and quasars
and the meaning of life.
Yet due to her rather
strange proportion,
it occurred to the girl
men approached her with caution.
This set her of course
on a new thinking spree,
as she sought to define
what caused men to flee.

She proceeded upon
a series of tests -
the hypothesis being
men tend to regress
to childish behaviour
when left on their own –
so using some glue,
she stuck one at home.
Specimen A was rather distraught
cajoling and beer
failed to calm him a lot.
At the point in the experiment
when he spat in her face,
she decided that he
was not to her taste.
Efficiently disposing
of his sad residue,
she boldly designed
a plan fresh and new.

Now Specimen B
was deemed the control,
the variables being
the girl’s very own role.
By turns she was sweet,
demure, sometimes sexy,
she gave long massages,
sent herself home in a taxi.
She kept her opinions
much to herself,
as he frequently lectured
on the world’s social health.
After some months of listening to drivel,
the girl felt her head discernibly shrivel.
While aesthetically speaking
this seemed like a boon,
she felt the real danger
of becoming a goon.

She realized the need for her to assess
the considerable data
amassed from her tests.
Number 1, she concluded,
confinement didn’t work.
Deprived of their freedom,
men tend to be jerks.
Number 2, she surmised,
most men like to talk.
All they want is an audience –
attentive, yet hot.
Number 3 was a question
she needed to ask -
was companionship worth
this long tedious farce?

She imagined more years
in self-imposed silence
mustering smiles
amidst inner violence.
Rather regretful,
she had to conclude
that exceptionally big heads
did seem to preclude
the mincing and prancing
of such necessity
when one was ensuring
that men would not flee.

But all of a sudden
a revelation struck!
The girl saw the defect
in the experimental set-up.
She beamed in great wonder,
her hope all revived –
the results had been skewed
due to the small sample size!

The Legend of the Missing Fisher Boy

2006-07-20T17:31:00.000+08:00

Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Rayum and he was a brilliant fisherman. He could sit for hours in his little boat and bring in fish after fish. He could even name the sequence in which the fish would come – garoupa, tilapia, sucker, sardine, another tilapia – and the other fishermen (especially the older ones) would go green with envy. There were murmurs that he had made a pact with sea-witches, and other wicked gossip from the mouths of jealous competitors.

But even though Rayum was a great fisherman, he was a terrible singer. It didn’t help that he loved to sing to himself at all times of the day. The noise so grated on his family that they frequently urged him to go out to sea. He gladly obliged, for he loved the sea. And the strangest thing was, due to the sea-water in their ears, mermaids would flock around his sampan to hear his singing. So Rayum would fish through the nights, singing and surrounded by adoring mermaids.

One day, he met a particularly intelligent mermaid, who called herself Ti. She was different from many other mermaids as she routinely cleared seawater from her ears. Thus, she could tell immediately that Rayum was a terrible singer.

‘Why do you sound so bad?’ she asked.
Rayum almost dropped his fishing rod. He had never heard a mermaid speak before.
‘I thought mermaids only sang? How is it that you can speak?’
‘Mermaids sing so as to lure fishermen and sailors into the water silly. Of course we can speak,’ chided Ti.
Rayum turned pale at the revelation.
‘You mean all those mermaids…?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t second-guess their intentions. But you can trust me,’ assured Ti.
‘Why should I trust you?’ Rayum asked, his extremely suspicious nature aroused.
‘Well, if you don’t, I can’t show you my world,’ stated Ti, with a smile.
‘And why would I want to see your world?
‘Because it’s more beautiful than yours,’ said Ti plainly.

Rayum didn’t know what to think. Here was this strange mermaid he barely knew telling him about malicious mermaids and promising him a world – it was all too fishy. Rayum decided to treat Ti’s remark as an insult.

‘Your world more beautiful than mine? What do you know? Do you know that my world has high mountain ranges covered in snow? Wide desert spaces burning with sand? Vast forest ranges filled with life? What do you know about my world, you creature of the sea?’ Rayum raged.
‘I only know that you sit fishing in your little boat and singing songs to mermaids through long nights and most days. Isn’t that your world?’

Rayum fell silent. Was that how small his world had shrunk?

Ti waited beside the gently bobbing sampan. ‘Will you come with me to see my world?’ she asked again, quietly.

Rayum remained silent.

Ti waited for a few long moments, then disappeared beneath the waves.

As the moon slowly set and the dawnlight came, Rayum started to row home. He did not sing.

As he rested on his bed that morning, he slept and dreamt.

In the dream, he followed Ti, swimming as quickly as she could, past the top layers of emerald waters to the deep dark sapphire waters of ocean depths. She showed him palaces of pearl and ancient gold, caves with stones carved with the stories of legendary heroes, the freedom atop dolphins, racing with one another; and everywhere, there were songs that rose from the coral, songs that sang of truths and life and newness…

Rayum awoke suddenly. He rowed his sampan out to sea and was never seen again.

The gossip-mongers who gloried in cruel tales said that Ti had been a sea-witch with the most poisonous sea-song of all, and that she had lured him to his doom. The more practical villagers said that he had simply travelled out to see more of the world, after realising how small his world had become in the light of Ti’s words. And the dreamers and young girls said that he had taken up Ti’s offer and joined her to see a more beautiful world.

Still ... seeking

2006-05-11T12:52:00.000+08:00

Someone asked me why I chose 'still seeking' as a nic. I came across this quote. It's beautiful. Leaves me with some hope.

"God wanted to redeem men and open the way of salvation to those who seek Him. But men make themselves so unworthy of it that it is only just that God should refuse to some because of the hardness of heart what He gives to others from a compassion that they do not deserve.

If He had wanted to overcome the obstinacy of the most hardened, He could have done so by revealing Himself to them so obviously that they could not have doubted the truth of His Being—just as He will appear at the last day with such a clap of thunder and such an upheaval of nature that the dead will revive and the blindest will see.

It is not in this way, however, that He willed to appear at His gentle coming: because so many men had made themselves unworthy of His mercy, He willed to leave them deprived of the good which they did not desire.

And so it would not have been fair for Him to have appeared in an obviously divine manner, absolutely capable of convincing all men.

But also it would not have been fair for Him to appear in a manner so hidden that even those who were sincerely seeking Him should not be able to recognize Him...

So He has tempered His knowledge, by giving marks of Himself which were visible to those who seek Him, and not to those who seek Him not. "

... Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), Pensées [1660]

Grace for the prodigal

2006-05-08T19:56:00.000+08:00

Met with B for a lovely lunch yesterday and I shared with him my growing reluctance at attending church services.

I explained that I don't feel sure that I will be able to obey God and make the right choices in the situations I am currently in. I have therefore concluded that to go before God (in church or in private) and claim to be loving and obedient and all is a terrible exercise of hypocrisy.

B looked at me in wide-eyed amazement.

'That's brilliant. Get your act together and depend on your own strength before you appear before God all righteous and all. That's very pagan.'

I cringed.

''This is the ultimate sin - pride. Who are you to be judging yourself when you should be standing before God?' Why must you pre-judge your future acts?'

But isn't God holy? And shouldn't I, if I claim to be a Christian, at least come with all sincerity of heart to obey (=love) Him? And if I can't...

B then plonked the parable of the prodigal son before me. Brief details - ingrate son takes rich father's money, fritters it away and ends up taking care of pigs in some far-off land. Amidst the swine, he realises that even his fether's workers have a better deal than him, so he resolves to go back home to try to get a job under his father. The (well-known) twist in the story is that the father sees him from a distance, runs to him and celebrates his return with no reprisals, rather, a full restoration of his status as a son.

B then asked me - do you think this son changed after his return?

I searched my memory bank. No particular allusion to that in the verses, although pastors have inevitable followed up to say that the love of God changes us.. etc.

There was every possibilty that this son would have gone for a second round of dissolute spending. More than a possiblity in fact.

And suddenly I finally saw how immense this grace of God is. And how utterly stingy I have viewed God to be.

"When do you think that moment of repentance came?' B probed further.

I kept silent. Unsure. Still reeling.

Amidst the swine, it is said 'And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!' (Luke 15:17)

When he came to himself.

When he realised who he was. How pathetic his circumstances.

When he came to himself.

I'm starting to come to myself, to my senses, to reality, to what I have really believed in, beneath the glossy veneer of pretty religious jargon.

Hebrews 11:6 -
And without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is
and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him.

Necessary mistakes

2006-05-08T19:13:00.000+08:00

I finally finally caught the last few episodes of 'Sex and the City'. It boiled down to the main character Carrie following her Russian lover to Paris despite all the misgivings and warnings of her friends.

But as I watched the plot unfold, I realised that there was only one choice - she had to go to Paris, or else she would always be wondering if she had missed the chance of a lifetime.

As it turned out, Paris was a disaster.

But a necessary mistake.

I've been wondering why my (insatiable) curiosity and (fatal) optimism have been getting me into so much trouble.

But perhaps they've been necessary mistakes.

Or perhaps I'm just cooking up another pretty excuse for my foolhardiness.

Sigh.

Grace has its own rewards

2006-04-26T21:33:00.000+08:00

Just re-watched 'Seabiscuit', a movie about a horse and a man that defy all the odds.. typical inspirational storyline, but this one shines because of the basic decency that the characters emanate.

One line caught my heart 'Just because it's a little banged up, doesn't mean you throw away a life.'

Again and again, the horse-owner decided to give the wild horse, the rebellious jockey and the taciturn horse-trainer chance after chance to get up and prove themselves.

It underscored what I learnt yesterday - that grace has its own rewards.

Had quarrelled with E yesterday, as I had felt pissed about her being late again for what felt like the millionth time. I don't know when I had started counting, certainly it must have started recently, because for the longest time I had just accepted it as one of her quirks.

But when I brought it up, she brought up the times when she had overlooked my shortcomings - my ramblings, flakiness etc. She asked why I had brought up the lateness issue when she had not brought up these other issues.

I was glad she brought up my shortcomings though. Glad it was all on the table. I hadn't realised the extent to which it was a burden to her.

But ultimately, I realised that it was an issue of counting transgressions vs grace.

Recently, three people on different occasions brought up the fact that I have been 'bullied' by colleagues, in the sense that I take on other's loads. Then another person said that I'm too much of a people pleaser, that I get trampled by colleagues and friends.

It made me angry, and indignant, when I wasn't before.

But after the quarrel with E, I realised that I have willingly done these things because I felt it was right to do, and right because I am capable of contributing in these ways. Others may find contributions without payback a silly waste of time.. but grace has its own rewards.

I'm not of course advocating a co-dependent thing or giving without discernment (which I am inclined to do). But grace, without counting transgressions, I think would bear the fruits of dignity and relationships of trust and mutual forbearance.

It just so happened that yesterday's verse of the day was this -
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. -- John 15:13 (KJV)

Saxophone player

2006-04-23T02:21:00.000+08:00

On a whim, I jumped off the bus and went to MacRitchie Reservoir.

I never knew how peaceful it is, or how strong the wind blows across the waters, how at ease the little kayaks look as they glide through the waters.

There was the sound of someone practising the saxophone and it drifted through the quiet park. I kept imagining some teenage school band fanatic frantically practising an exam piece.

But when I was walking out, I discovered it was a man in his late thirties. The boot of his car was open, accompanying music blasting from it; while he stood on the little road, a music stand before him, his back to the park and all passers-by, lost in his music.

I almost laughed out loud.
Had his wife shooed him out the house?
Did he secretly wish for an audience?
Did he come here every week?

Witnessing someone's passion is always so moving.

Identity

2006-04-17T19:00:00.000+08:00

Talked to B today. I was trying to explain why I've been so confused recently, and he asked if I knew who I was - my identity.

It is so easy to identify oneself in relation to other people, or in relation to one's responsibilities.
Daughter.
Sister.
Teacher.
Student.
Counsellor.
Friend.
Singer.
Writer.
Dreamer.
Struggler.
Christian?

But who am I when I stand alone before God?
Who was I created to be?
not Do, just Be.
(doing so much over the years has just left me confused and tired for the most part)

B said that in all my frenetic activity, my grasping at romanticised revelations, my incessant feeding on theories and theologies, I have failed to regard myself with sober judgement.

Sober judgement. Such a grown-up ring to it. So at odds with how I have been behaving.

Psalm 51 - The Psalm of repentance. Over the phone, B asked if i knew what David meant when he said
'6 Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being, And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.'

Not the truth of moral rights and wrongs, but the truth of who one is in Christ.
Who I am in Christ.
All that I am created to be. all that I already am, yet I am too blind, too scared to see.

17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.
Will my true worship of God only come in my brokenness?

I already see how horridly horridly sinful I am and always have been - 5 Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, And in sin my mother conceived me.

L has been lamenting my under-achievement, my potential to do so much more.
I sense it too.
I believe there is more to life than what i am absorbed in right now. More places, more people, more joys, more sorrows, more learning, more trials, more faith, more hope, more love.
More life.
Yet, until I am whole inside, until i know who I am, all my striving will leave me more empty than ever.

Can I take up the dare?

2006-04-17T18:40:00.000+08:00

Dare you to move - Switchfoot

Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?
[Those who love me, those who await for me to fall. I do not know what happens next, I barely have the strength to think about it.]

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before
[Is this what grace is about? Like today never happened before?]

Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
[An almost unbearable tension. Who knew how low my resistance is?]

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here
[ I just go quiet when I read this, sing this, hear this in my heart. Been thinking i can run away from God. But where can I run to? maybe forgiveness is right where i fell. ]

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself
Lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before

------------------------------
Heard this song on the radio. Spot on. All that I'm feeling and all that I'm confused about right now.

Conversation III – Unmeant

2006-04-16T20:36:00.000+08:00

‘I was just joking’
you said,
when my face fell
when my voice broke
when my heart slipped
away

‘Why do you take things so seriously?’
As if assuming that you speak
the truth is
a sin
a folly
a flaw.

‘Why can’t you relax?’
when I fear you are toying
with me.
Like a cat with its new plaything
Vicious playfulness
that will tire after the toy
is mangled.

Conversation II – Unheard

2006-04-16T20:34:00.000+08:00

An absent look
Glancing off
What I wanted to say
- But it might have been me
droning

A switch of topic
Cutting off
What I wanted to share
- But it might have been me
rambling

A knowing smirk
Brushing off
What I wanted to cry
- But it might have been me
assuming

that you really cared
It might have been me
- But it was really you
Not caring
Not caring
Not caring

War Within

2006-04-05T18:39:00.000+08:00

My mind -
cold sterile
headquarters
ordering chaos
assigning
thought police
to guard

My heart –
trembling sore
imprisoned
shuddering alone
confusing
paper-thin faith
that covers

My body –
feverish wet
rebellious
grasping heat
waging
war against
desires’
starvation

Embattled
Embittered
Emboldened

No peace in sight

Conversation (Part 1) - Unsaid

2006-04-01T18:36:00.000+08:00

I’m fine I say
And the conversation shifts smoothly
into second gear
Meandering along despicably familiar paths
with minor twists that fail to surprise
Any more

What if I had said that
I almost cried on the train today
panicked choking
over nothing
Or that I spent too much
again
Or that my mother is dying
and we all are

Would that have stalled you
reaching for a clutch
changing the topic hastily
Or would it have ignited something
real something
that would drive away my contempt
when you say
How are you
?

Another surprise at work

2006-03-08T11:32:00.000+08:00

Hahaha.. one of the girls who reports to me at work just asked me if I would want to go to Taiwan with her group of friends during the June hols. (I couldn’t)

She then followed up by asking my age, and proceeded to giggle that she had a male friend in her group who is 31…..

More match-making from colleagues! Soooo cute!
(Or can everyone see the expiry date ticking away on my forehead?)
Hahahah..

But – I’m feeling surprisingly happy with myself lately.
Maybe it’s the love and acceptance I feel from my friends.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that my recent bout of dating was just an exploration of different ‘genres’ of guys, who are also equally exploratory and therefore understandably non-committal.
Maybe it’s knowing that I can happily continue day-to-day without a partner if I don’t fret too much.

=)

Simple vs Complex

2006-03-03T16:38:00.000+08:00

Last night, I had a stimulating conversation with one of the most intelligent people I have met in a long time. (Which is saying alot, considering that many of my good friends are way above average).

In contrast, today, members of MINDS (an organisation that schools/trains mentally handicapped people) came to our school. They sold bookmarks and did a mini concert for the staff and students to promote awareness of the organisation. The concert performance was one of the most uncoordinated things I have ever seen - and yet - one of the most profoundly moving. The joy that they exhibited and the courage that they embodied made us applaud like we were at a rock concert.

Yesterday, I asked the person in question if he sometimes thought that he was too smart for his own good, in the context that simple people seem so much more accepting and contented. He commented that if he (or I for that matter) was any other way, we would not be ourselves. True, I thought.

But I'm still pondering today. I guess I want the best of both worlds - the pleasure of complexity mixed with the joy of simplicity.

Greedy girl.

Keeping myself company

2006-02-28T21:20:00.000+08:00

It seems the older I get, the more personal space I want and enjoy. Or perhaps I've just learnt to like my own company more. That's a good thought.

I had the perfect (solo) evening today.
- Ate what I was craving for dinner (tomyum ban mian) while listening to music on my radio phone. The eat until sweat kinda meal.
- Then exercised. (Climbed up 22 storeys in heels,too lazy to change into contacts and run)
- Then watched a weepy Jap movie until past sunset and my living room grew dark and took on the ambience of a cinema. (of course by then i was bawling my eyes out)
- Nice hot bath
- Blogging
- Minimal marking
- Anticipate a good read later on. ('This is my best' compilation of solid writers' best works)

There.

Of course, if I was to do this everyday I would feel damn sad. But sandwiched in between daily evening appointments, this was restful.

Odd how we take whatever is routine for granted.

Commitment phobia

2006-02-26T21:16:00.000+08:00

Today, I decided to sign up for the choir of the church that I've been attending for the past 6 months.
The conductor(conductress? is there such a word? hmm.) is incredibly gifted and obviously very humble and nice.. Everyone seems so.. decent. Gosh. In my tube top, gold wedges and tight jeans, I seemed so ..non-Christian. (a number of times, people in my former church used to look expectantly at me when the pastor on stage asked for newcomers to stand. I always found it hilarious.)

This leads me to question - what does a Christian lady look like? sigh. With my pop culture tendencies, I don't think i fit the bill.

But back to the choir thingy. So I did an on-the-spot audition (she said I was naturally gifted as a singer! Soooo happpppy! hee!) and rehearsals start this wednesday. Gulp.

But it was the part about commitment that made my palms sweat. She said that the most important thing about being in the choir was the commitment to weekly rehersals .. ya dah ya dah ya dah.. I've heard this all before, and two years ago, I would not have blinked at it. Commitment? No problem at all.

Yet, today, when I heard her say that, my heart hesitated. I realise ever since I got out of my previous church, I've lost faith in my own ability to commit.. to anything. Part of me is still guilty over my 'defection', still defensive. Part of me is still wondering if I have what it takes to go all the way when i say I will commit to something. Part of me thinks that I have failed in ironing out my relationships within the church.

My reason argues that I had outgrown certain things.. but reason can go either way. And i tend to think too much and feel guilty anyway. And why- if I am joining this of my own free will and out of a desire to sing again - why should I feel trapped?

In any case, I'm glad my God looks at where I'm going and not where I've been.

So this Wednesday - a fresh start.

Slapping the ceiling

2006-02-26T20:30:00.000+08:00

I was at Orchard Underpass this afternoon and a family were coming down some steps. Suddenly, the elderly, white-haired grandfather reached out to the overhanging low ceiling to slap at it. Just for the heck of it.

I wanted to laugh out loud. Or simply congratulate him for keeping his youthful exuberance and bo-liaoness.

Odd that if some middle-aged guy did that I may ascribe it to childishness, but when some old man does it, I ascribe it to youthful exuberance.

Must re-examine my mental models. Or maybe just don't think so much lah.

I Shall Wear Purple
When I am an old woman
I shall wear purple,
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and
summer gloves. And satin sandals, and say we've
no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement
when I'm tired. And gobble up samples in shops and
press alarm bells. And run my stick along public
railings. And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain. And pick
flowers in other people's gardens. And learn to
spit...
But, maybe I ought to practice a little now? So
people who know me are not too shocked or surprised
when suddenly I am old and start to wear
purple.
- Jenny Joseph

Dreams

2006-02-23T18:31:00.000+08:00

Stuck in school for a Parent-Teacher meeting and I'm the chief presenter (ie. will be doing all the talking) Urgh sigh.
Not sure why I'm feeling so tired and rather gloomy.

Saw a lovely movie yesterday - Someone like hodder - part of the nordic flim fest. About this boy who is rather... whimsical yet kind. He sticks out like a sore thumb amidst everyone else (9 year olds) who are pragmatic and cynical. Ends up bullied, yet retains his sense of being a dreamer.

I think I've stopped alot of dreaming. Not entirely, but substantially. Used to dream alot more. The 'omnipotentiality of youth' as psychoanalysts say. Does this mean that those who are no longer youths naturally stop dreaming?

Perhaps adults dream in a different manner..

Nothing is impossible, the Lord says.

Matthew 19:23-26
23 And Jesus said to His disciples, "Truly I say to you, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. 24 "Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." 25 When the disciples heard this, they were very astonished and said, "Then who can be saved?" 26 And looking at them Jesus said to them, "With people this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."

My New Toy

2006-02-20T22:47:00.000+08:00

After much hemming and hawing, I finally bought it - a mini UFO catcher machine.!

For those who do not undertsand - it's a mini version of those glass boxes in arcades with the claw (think Toy Story) that catches soft toys. It even comes with irritating circus music and applause when you do manage to catch a sweet! (Instead of soft toys one puts sweets in this one).

I salivated the moment i saw it.. one of my fantasies come to live!! (Ok, odd fantasy i know. But compared to... never mind.)

Once again, the reaction of everyone was telling.
My mum - Aiyo, like you very deprived in childhood like that. Make me feel so guilty!
Me - HUH?!?!? Okaaaay.. Just be happy for me can?

My sis - Rolls eyes.
Me - Lalalala... Wait till I catch a sweet!

TM - Ooooohhh... I want one in pink!!
Me - Let's have UFO Catcher competitions!

Cellina - hahaha.. You're so funny!
Cellina's boys - transfer and teach in my school can?
Me - Big grin.

Tomorrow I shall bring my machine to school and see how everyone reacts.

Woo hoo!

Now whether I get my breath mint after my sambal belachan lunches all depends on.. skill.

Boobs, booty or brains?

2006-02-15T22:19:00.000+08:00

Just watched an excerpt of some entertainment show with Fiona Xie interviewing three pseudo-hunks with fakey accents. The question was - which body part of a woman is most important to you - boobs, booty or brains? To which all three (earnestly) unanimously replied - brains.

Yeah, RIGHT! Like I believe these people.

I have found that most guys (not all I must qualify) are helluva initimidated when I finally show off my brains. Especially in the context of a conflict. Most guys are more emotional and less rational than they think they really are, to top it off, there's a high dose of denial in the mix. Lethal.

So back to the pseudo-hunks. Know what I think? I think they meant brains powered enough to flirt and amuse, yet constrained enough to capitulate to their ways of thinking.

Hrmph.

Maybe this tirade is prompted by a little episode I had with a colleague. We were in the printing room together and suddenly this older lady colleague started talking to me in a congenial, advisory tone. 'So, are you seeing anyone?' 'Haha, no.' 'Oh! But you're so.. dynamic.' (I was hoping for attractive but she said dynamic.. o well.. heh)

And in response, without much thought, I flippantly replied, 'Oh, guys don't want dynamic girls, they want girls who will listen to them.' She started for a moment, then smiled and said, 'Yes, that's true.'

See?

Sigh.

Using my imagination

2006-02-12T22:23:00.000+08:00

I've always sought comfort in the following verse -
Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. - Isaiah 26:3

But of course, the practical aspect of keeping my mind 'stayed on God' 24/7 has been quite... impossible for me.

Yet, this morning I read another version of the verse
'Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose IMAGINATION is stayed on thee'.
How magical, how wondrous.

I directed my imagination this morning to God, using the Lord of the Rings as a starting point, imagining nobility and honour and truth and courage. It made me more conscious of how glorious Jesus is.

And it did bring me peace.

Love rituals

2006-02-12T21:06:00.000+08:00

I've been vastly amused these past few days as I walk around City Hall/Orchard road observing couples/suitors preparing for Valentine's day.

In particular, there's a certain atmosphere of urgency within jewellery shops. Dutiful boyfriends/husbands try to look earnest as their darlings choose something nice (and hopefully within budget).

I used to be one of those girls; one of those who need tangible proof that - yes, we are a couple, and yes - by golly you better prove it to the whole world that you like me enough to spend ludicrous sums on wilting flowers on this particular day.

But on the day I did receive flowers from my ex on Valentine's day, I suddenly felt.. embarrassed. It suddenly hit me that i did not want any attention about the fact that we were a couple. It was a private affair. And the fact that thousands of other girls were carrying around similarly wilting flowers was... sad. I did not feel special. I only felt as if my ex had felt obligated to buy those embarrassed roses for me.

So as I walked around today, I felt happy that I do not need jewellery or flowers or anything from anyone on Valentine's day. I felt free from obligation and expectations.

Many of my friends say the same things about Valentine's day - that it is a commercialised affair, that in a real relationship, you do not need to prove your love to your beloved on one particular day of the year. And yet - these are the same people who will spend/have spent thousands of dollars on another love ritual - their wedding.

Of course, some might argue that you can't possibly compare a wedding with Valentine's day. After all, the former is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, while the latter is a meaningless commercialised affair. But I cannot help but wonder if the nine-course dinners, elaborate photo shoots, exorbitant gowns and open-for-all invitations are simply an extrapolated form of ... wilting flowers.

After all, isn't the marriage more important than the wedding?

But who am I to say this, since I still harbour dreams of a picture perfect wedding? Then again, perhaps those dreams will change, just as my notions of valentine's day have changed.

Singing

2006-02-09T21:37:00.000+08:00

I was alone at home tonight, and I started singing a worship song out loud, singing from my gut, the way I sing when I used to lead worship, with every word rising out and up, every word a prayer and a part of an on-going conversation.

I missed it so much.

I miss singing aloud to God.

Why have I stopped?

The night before...

2006-02-09T21:25:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow is that day that the O Level results are released.

This is the day that most graduating class teachers dread most, because our education system has become so warped that students' results are now largely attributed to teachers' performance rather than students' efforts. While I agree that the quality of teacher does make a difference, I find the direct (and over-) correlation quite perturbing. The post-analysis of results always seem so .. accusatory.

Tonight, I feel surprisingly calm. Maybe it's because I know I did what I could with my two classes. Maybe it's because I have become more confident and more skilled as a teacher, and I do believe that I did value-add to my students last year.

I remember that I felt like absolute shit during the results release last year. Completely guilt-ridden. The kids did badly, and i knew that i had not done my best as a teacher either.

Yet one year down the road, all of them have found suitable educational paths.
I think I have tended to underestimate the resilience of people - and the grace of God.

Delayed reactions

2006-02-08T14:21:00.000+08:00

There’s actually quite a lot of admin work waiting to be cleared.. but here I am blogging..

It seems that I’m suddenly surrounded with people who are in the throes of emotional turmoil. Two have romantic issues, one is being bullied by a colleague and one student burst into tears when I asked her about her home financial situation.

My encounter with the student was rather telling. When she burst into tears, I had really wanted to comfort her by patting her or leaning over. Instead, I went into automatic pilot mode of objectivity. Immediately, I started listing out the reasons she should not feel ashamed. I adjusted my tone of voice to ‘comforting’ and I did my best to use reason to calm her down. The same thing happened when someone close to me had a major quarrel with her partner. The first thing I did was to let my reason take over.

It’s a marvelous mechanism, to always be able to remain calm in a crisis.. yet last night I could not sleep. I wonder if my emotional mechanisms are a little stunted or numbed.

It’s odd. People who meet me expect my drama-mama mode to flare up and think that I will behave hysterically during disagreements. But I never do. I just have a delayed emotional fall-out. I’m thankful.. yet I wonder if it’s entirely healthy.

Hmm.

Dissonance

2006-02-02T22:05:00.000+08:00

For no obvious reason, I felt terribly down earlier today.
(Is it the time of the month? asked A. No dear. )

Dragged my feet all around the school, trying to sift through reasons why I would be feeling this way. Hormonal imbalance? Chemical imbalance from meds I've been taking? Spiritual attack? All possibilities.

As usual, trying to use my brains to get around my emotions and dissect them to oblivion. I should have learnt by now that it doesn't work.

After sending an SOS sms to A and E (hahaha.. A&E so funny!!!! )
E sent this back - 'The art of losing is not easy to master. Loss is but a constant reminder of our vulnerabilities and very often, dissonance within.'

So wise my friends. =)

In any case, did the bimbotic thing and went shopping with my sisters. The mindless picking and choosing (lingerie sale!) alleviated my mood somewhat, as did a good chat with my rather distant elder sis.

But tonight, as I process the emotions of the day, I'm thinking of the verse -
'... sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence..'
1 peter 3:15

Apparently, there are supposed to be people grabbing me and demanding to know why I have the hope that is within me.

How is it I am not living my life with this hope?

I seem to be mucking around playing at being a Christian while the hope of Christ is not in me. In E's words - we are all self-masturbatory creatures - all intent on satisfying our own desires first and foremost.
Sometimes, the words of comfort and advice I give to others ring hollow to me, because I depend on my wit and experience and barely on the Spirit of God as I live out my life, conduct my affairs and theorise.

Maybe this sadness is indeed dissonance - not due to the minor loss I am experiencing - but something more to do with questioning my very cerebral approach to my spiritual life.

13 Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 14 As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in your ignorance, 15 but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in all your behavior; 16 because it is written, "YOU SHALL BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY." 1 Peter 1:13-16

Mahjong meditations...

2006-02-01T16:21:00.000+08:00

Chinese New Year – gambling time.. Thus far, I have made about 150 bucks on mahjong.. a happy bonus! =)
I find that a way a person plays mahjong says a lot about his or her character.

I was involved in a high stakes game the other day with some older folk. My uncle’s mood got progressively darker as he kept losing. His remarks were cutting, and because I was the youngest at the table, he chose to vent his frustration on me. This is a man who,at rest, is full of good humour and the life of the party.

I learnt two things –
1) people who gamble for the money and not the pleasure are digging a deep deep hole for themselves. This is the reason why my parts of my extended family have been in ‘cold wars’ for protracted periods.
2) People who can’t laugh at themselves and their own mistakes shouldn’t gamble.

This second point was further emphasized when I played with some old friends the other day. It was painful to watch one of my friends play. She’s always been rather anal (I mean that with affection), but this translated into her being unable to let go of useless cards or make split-second decisions. When the stakes got higher, she would tremble or start cursing, thus giving herself away. But more than that was the .. joylessness of the process. Every game started with ‘I hate my cards’ , or ‘Sucks’ or…
.. but I thought the whole point of mahjong was to build build build… After a while I could sense she didn’t even want to play anymore..

But if we can’t even enjoy our games, how can we enjoy our lives?

Mathew 6:24 - No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.

1 Corinthians 10:23 - All things are lawful, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful, but not all things edify.

Don't Cha

2006-01-28T14:01:00.000+08:00

Went to Ministry of Sound last night. I'm too old for these - queues, stale smoke, crowds, people with no rhythm. Glad I was with E - we could both put on our du-lan faces with great freedom.

What struck me most was the crowd's response to the song 'Don't cha'. The lyrics in question are :
Dont cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me
Dont cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me
Dont cha, dont cha

Bad grammar aside, it was intriguing to see how .. mad.. the response was to this song - it seemed as if every girl wanted to prove that she was - yes - hotter and freakier than the girl next to her. The sweaty girl beside me gyrated faster and swung her hair furiouser around, intent on showing that she was.. worthy.

Odd. a century ago, worthiness was measured by one's chastity and dignity. Now it is measured by one's whorish freakiness. I think modern woman has done herself a disfavor.

Still - got to dance a bit.

The part of the night I enjoyed the most was my walk from Zouk to Raffles Place. There is a whole labyrinth of pathways that pass little offshoots of the Singapore river. The wind was blowing, and near Clarke Quay, there was a field where people were flying remote-controlled planes wildly decorated with neon lights. It was lovely.

30 Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.
Proverbs 31:30

Spring Cleaning

2006-01-27T10:53:00.000+08:00

Last night, with the false bravado afforded by drink, I sent a message that terminated a friendship. Not the best way I must admit.

Wished I had could have discussed the whole situation over coffee with the person in question, but there’s just been too many mind games and furtive behavior.

One time cut off is better right? Right?

Probably. In any case, what is done is done.

Spring cleaning in the new year. One is left covered in dust, with a mild regret for the things that had to be disposed of. A certain nostalgia when one remembers how the object looked when it was still new and full of promise.

'The art of losing isn't hard to master...'

Thanksgiving and Side-tracking

2006-01-25T22:14:00.000+08:00

Two very good pieces of news - received confirmation in my supervisor post (finally - some money for the work I've been doing!) and principal is nominating me for some prestigious award (which I think I'm quite unworthy of actually, but feel honoured about being nominated...)

Yet - the question that is buzzing in my mind tonight is - what exactly am I looking for in a partner?
Sheesh - what a bimbotic turn of thought - yet I suppose it is very important to me.

I wrote somewhere before - 'Someone who means what he says and says what he means. Simple.' I was assured by Mr D.A. that this criteria was easily fulfilled by him.. haha.. how deluded he was.
But it is actually immensely difficult to fulfill.

'Someone who means what he says' - Is very clear about what he is saying, is willing to follow-up on it, does not promise things lightly, is a man of integrity, fears God.
'Someone who says what he means' - Is willing to explain and communicate, does not play games or beat around the bush or mislead, who is willing to take a risk in saying things.

Of course, the next question is - am I someone who means what I say and says what I mean? Who am I to expect this high standard if I cannot fulfill it myself?

For the most part, I believe I mean what I say. But sometimes I forget to follow-up, or I get soft-hearted and don't carry through a threat.
Do I say what I mean? Yes, I usually try to, though there are times I prefer to talk in layers.

If only I was as competent and confident in this area of relationships as I am in the area of work.. Then again, if that was the case, I probably would never have become a Christian in the first place.

9 And He said unto me, 'My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.' Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 10 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10

The art of conversation

2006-01-21T09:19:00.000+08:00

I've been wondering what makes a good conversation.

Of course, alot depends on what one defines as a good conversation. Light amusing banter or weighty, insightful analyses? A good mix of both I assume.

And then there is the question of silence. E mentioned that I seem uncomfortable with silence when meeting new people, that I always seem to feel responsible for carrying the conversation.
That is true to a certain extent.

Perhaps cultivated from years of counselling, trying to get others to talk, or make others feel comfortable. It is tiring at times.

Or perhaps it stems not from altruism but from pride - a sense of 'I know you don't really know what to say, so let me help you since I can'.

In any case, I do enjoy comfortable silences. Seems elusive though. It scares me to see married couples staring past each other as they munch on their food. How can that be a silence that is 'comfortable'?

Then again, I have had comfortable silences with close friends. Maybe both need to be calm and completely at ease with one another for that to happen. Or maybe an extra ingredient of trust is needed.

By trust, I refer to the ability to trust the strength of the friendship - that when the time is right and the person is ready, he/she will share those thoughts with me if he/she chooses to. The question 'What are you thinking about?' appears loaded to some people. But I believe that in a friendship of trust, the other can either respond with complete truth, or respond with a 'Nothing' and be taken at face value.

What makes a good conversation? I realise that most people enjoy talking, revealing themselves. It is one of the most unique and intimate aspects of human interactions. Sacred.
I've also noted that I usually ask questions that I want others to ask me. (Self-centred, I admit) Some of the best conversations I've had have had alot of these to-ing and fro-ing.

And listening.

There's this book 'Momo' by Micheal Ende. The character Momo is a vagrant girl who enters a little town and uplifts it because of her unique ability - listening. She is so good at listening that those who speak to her find themselves, end conflicts, realise the errors of their ways. Ende described her listening so beautifully. With all her heart and body and soul, she would be listening.

I think it's true to say that true, empathetic listening does bring a certain extent of healing to the other.

On speaking, in the Bible :
14 ...We are no longer to be children, tossed here and there by waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, by craftiness in deceitful scheming; 15 but speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, even Christ.
Ephesians 4:14-15

5 Conduct yourselves with wisdom toward outsiders, making the most of the opportunity. 6 Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person.
Colossians 4:5-6

Another father figure

2006-01-19T10:55:00.000+08:00

My OM (Operations Manager) just volunteered to match-make me with someone!
Hahahah.. so cute right?
Ever since I volunteered to help him out with his communication skills, he’s been exuding this very fatherly vibe towards me.

Today, he sat me down for breakfast coffee and very seriously asked me if I have made plans to take my Masters because it would definitely benefit me in the long run.
Soooo sweet!
He went on to say how it’s best to study while I still don’t have that many family commitments and so on.
So I (half-)jokingly mentioned that can’t get married anyway so needn’t worry about the family commitments..

Suddenly, he had a bright glint in his eye and started to talk about this family friend, waxing lyrical about this guy’s virtues and how it was that good guys didn’t seem to be able to find themselves girlfriends.

Hmm..

‘So how?’

Er.. hmm.

One Art

2006-01-18T23:10:00.000+08:00

This poem was recited in the movie 'In Her Shoes'. Echoes in my heart.

One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- Elizabeth Bishop

Lonely at work

2006-01-18T15:06:00.000+08:00

It gets very lonely at work sometimes.

I tend to work quite intensely, so I'll be juggling many tasks at a time. Interactions are also mostly transactional in nature. None of the long coffee sessions I have with friends.

So I end up opening extra windows on my computer, alternating between doing my work and peering at other worlds through random blogs. Or refreshing my email wondering if anyone wanted to contact me today. Or I find myself checking my handphone screen for that little envelope sign.

A quote from Khalil Gibran as food for thought :
'My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues.'

Are you happy?

2006-01-16T21:52:00.000+08:00

A few times that I met B, he would startle me with the question 'So - are you happy?'

Inevitably, I would reply in fits and starts - yes, I am, for the most part - with disclaimers..
Why does this question startle me?
Why do i feel guilty and unsure when i say 'yes'?

What does happiness or joy feel like? Look like?

If it's a gentle calm - I've had it from time to time. (E calls it my zen mood). At rest is good.
If it's exuberance and vitality and abundance - i think i have a lot of that - though by the time i reach home i just want to be quiet.

What is a life that is continually rejoicing look like?
If I have it, will I know?

I have so many meaningful and joyous moments with friends and family. Is this it?

4 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! 5 Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near.
Philippians 4:4-5

What about ordinary days?

2006-01-12T22:19:00.000+08:00

Today was an absolutely ordinary day. Nothing particularly memorable happened. Took staff photos. Scolded some students, praised others. Did work. Met a friend for dinner and shopping and spent too much on shoes.

It's days like this that make me wonder what life is all about. I did not feel particulaly Christ-centred, I did not think of God or life until I sat down to type this out.

At Kinokuniya I chanced upon a book entitled 'The Magic of Ordinary Days'. It made me smile and hope, but I didn't get the book. Maybe I should.

Watched a dvd sermon by Rich Mullins the other day. Radical guy - yet radical in a very but-of-course-we-should-live-like-that kind of way. He quoted :
'I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.' John 10:10.
And Mullins said that if the entire goal of Jesus was to give us abundant life, then surely our goal is to live life abundantly.

Makes sense.

How oh how oh how.

Two other titles in Kinokuniya caught my eye 'The Year of Yes' and 'Yes Man'. Separate shelves and different sections, but i picked them up one after the other. Both were autobiographies of a woman and a man learning the power of saying 'yes' to every proposition that came to them.

Interesting notion.
Dangerous though.

Would that be living abundantly? Or perhaps foolishly.

Maybe I should not think so much. Sigh.

Twelve Steps

2006-01-10T10:53:00.000+08:00

Was browsing around in a bookshop when I found M Scott Peck's 'The Road Less Travelled and Beyond'. i had just completed the firstbook (same title, without the 'beyond') and it had blown my mind. {Thank you A!! }

In this browsing copy, I was struck by what Peck proposed as an ideal church community. He suggested that Alcoholics Anonymous 12 step programme is actually an ideal template for everyone - because we are all addicts in one way or another.

We worship ourselves, money, romance, hobbies, children, pleasure, work.......

I thought there is enormous truth in that.
These are the 12 steps, and a mix of Peck's suggestions and my adaptations.

The 12 Steps
Step ONE :
AA : We admitted we were powerless over our addiction - that our lives had become unmanageable
Church : We admit we are powerless over our addiction to sin - that our lives are unmanageable ('for all have sinned and falled short of the glory of God')

Step TWO:
AA: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity
Church : We have to believe that God and His Spirit is the only one who can restore us to sanity. (Not human rules and regulations)

Step THREE :
AA : Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God Church : Make a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God despite our lack of understanding of Him, in the face of His awesome mystery.

Step FOUR :
AA : Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves
Church : Make a continual searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves - not of others

Step FIVE:
AA : Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs
Church : Admit to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs (Guess this is what 'accountability' is. but what courage and brokeness it requires.
'Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed.' James 5:16)

Step SIX :
AA: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character
Church : Become entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
(I think if most of us really search within ourselves, we will find that we want to hold on to some of these'defects' due to the perverse pleasures that they bring. )

Step SEVEN:
AA: Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings
Church : Humbly ask God to remove our shortcomings (Very much linked to step 6)

Step EIGHT:
AA: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all
Church : Make a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all
(Gosh, how many of us are actually willing to do this? It's true that pride is the worst sin of all..)

Step NINE :
AA : Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others
Church : Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others (Again, many of us hide behind convenient church structures and false niceties instead of doing this.)

Step TEN :
AA: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it
Church : Continue to take personal inventory and when we are wrong, promptly admit it (i guess many of us become too self-sufficient and self-righteous over time to be able to do this)

Step ELEVEN :
AA :Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out
Church : Seek through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out (One of the most beautiful, practical and most humble definitions of prayer I have seen)

Step TWELVE:
AA : Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs
Church : 19 "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, 20 teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28:18 - 19

A belated 'Merry Christmas'

2006-01-08T22:08:00.000+08:00

I just caught 'Merry Christmas' - oh wow.
Sobbed at certain bits.
It's about a ceasefire between three groups of soldiers at the trenches on Christmas eve.
The brutality and senselessness of war, and the grace that redeems the men are all beautifully portrayed.

It really makes one question how wars can ever be good.

At the same time, some of the great Christian writers I admire (eg CS Lewis) were for England joining the war at that time. The God-sanctioned mass exterminations of various people groups in the Old Testament of the Bible also cannot be ignored.

Is my viewpoint too humanistic and not awesome-God centred enough? Or has redemption through Jesus in the New Testament rendered all wars after His coming evil? How can one deny that the Allies' defeat of Nazi germany prevented more great evil?

Hm.

In any case, the thing that struck me the most in the movie was the persecution that all three camps suffered after fraternising with the enemy. In one poignant scene, the priest who conducted the moving Christmas mass at the trenches is berated by his superior and asked if he is fit to continue in the priesthood. This superior then proceeds to give a sermon inciting the men to kill all enemies - young, old, woman or child. It was disgusting to see the gospel of peace perverted for men's bloodlust and false patriotism. Yet this happens all the time.

18 If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you. 19 "If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you.
John 15 :18 - 19

9 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
10 "Blessed are those who have been persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 "Blessed are you when people insult you and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me.
12 "Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great; for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Matthew 5:9 -12

My relationship with books

2006-01-05T20:29:00.000+08:00

I've loved books since I was young. Now, given a good book, I'm willing to forego TV, company, food and sleep.

B used to want me to stop reading as he probably felt that I was trying to live my life based on half-baked, piecemeal theories adopted from all over the shop. There is much truth in that. Hopefully, I have outgrown that habit. Hmm.

But i found a passage in 'Gilead' (by Marilynne Robinson. gosh i'm so in love with this book..) that beautifully summarises my relationship with books.

' But I've developed a great reputation for wisdom by ordering more books than I ever had enough time to read, and reading more books, by far, than I learned anything useful from, except, of course, that some very tedious gentlemen have written books. This is not a new insight, but the truth of it is something you have to experiencec to fully grasp.

Thank God for them all, and of course, and for that strange interval, which was most of my life, when I read out of loneliness, and when bad company was much better than no company. You can love a bad book for its haplessness or pomposity or gall, if you have that starveling appetite for things human, which I devoutly hope you never will have. 'The full soul loatheth an honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.' There are pleasures to be found where you would never look for them. '

2 seconds

2006-01-05T20:00:00.000+08:00

I met S, an ex-student, the other day for coffee. (One of the perks of my job - friendships where I see teens grow into adults, a great privilege).

S used to be really emotional and acid-tongued. But over these past two years, he's grown tremendously as a person. One very interesting thing that he brought up the other day was his 'initial 2 seconds' thoughts.

For instance, when pissed, the initial 2-econd-thought would be - I really feel like smacking your face in right now. Whereas the actual follow-up words could be - Actually, I disagree with that.

I told him that everyone has the 2-second evil thoughts, and what counts most of all is the fact that we have self-control to not kill/maim/destroy with our words and deeds.

But I've been thinking about what I said. Is it really true that self control counts towards goodness? Would a genuinely loving person have that 2-second thought? It's probably progressive -

4.. so that... you may become partakers of the divine nature...
5 Now for this very reason also, applying all diligence, in your faith supply moral excellence, and in your moral excellence, knowledge, 6 and in your knowledge, self-control, and in your self-control, perseverance, and in your perseverance, godliness, 7 and in your godliness, brotherly kindness, and in your brotherly kindness, love.
2 Peter 1:4 - 7

Real Communion

2006-01-03T14:11:00.000+08:00

Two movements merge in the real act of communion. First, the creature's profound sense of need, of incompleteness: its steadfast desire... Next, a humble and loving acceptance of God’s answer to that prayer of desire, however startling, disappointing, and unappetizing it may be. ... Evelyn Underhill (1875-1941)

Judge not..

2006-01-02T20:19:00.000+08:00

Went to a lovely baby blessing gathering today, as well as a nice ladies' lunch.
After that, started wandering arounf Orchard Road as usual. but instead of the contented satisfaction of yesterday, I felt a gaping hole in my heart.
Why? I wondered.
And then it occurred to me that I was feeling rejected and abandoned. Someone I like regards me only as a friend.
But why the gaping hole? Why so crushed?

Suddenly, the answer came.
1 "Do not judge so that you will not be judged. 2 "For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you. Matthew 7:1- 2

I have catergorised every guy I have ever met under one of the following categories - gay, married, cannot-make-it or has potential.
In judging them, I have heaped judgement on myself. Everytime I meet someone who 'has potential', the fact that this person may not see me in the same light crushes me, for I have automatically labelled myself as 'cannot-make-it' , there being only 4 catergories.

All this heartache over the years. Mind-boggling. How did I miss the wisdom in this verse?

What to do then? Repent. Realise the unique make-up of each person, myself included. Stop judging.

2006 looks like it's going to be a life-changing year! =)

Growing Up in the New Year

2006-01-01T23:25:00.000+08:00

Happy new year!!!

For the first time ever, I have really been very happy throughout this first day of 2006.
Last night, spent a beautiful time at a friend's house. We talked till 5am.. of things that were hilarious and trivial, profound and lovely.

One thing i had asked my learned friends about was the odd juxtaposition of
Matthew 7:6 - 11
6 "Do not give what is holy to dogs, and do not throw your pearls before swine, or they will trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.
7 "Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. 8 "For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. 9 "Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? 10 "Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? 11 "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!'

What was with the swine and the asking? What meaning lay behind this often (tritely) quoted verse on receiving good stuff?

R elucidated that it meant giving the living, precious truth of God. Dogs and swine would not understand it, would even turn hostile.

Jesus must have been damn frus when He said that to His bunch of perpetually confused disciples and the ever-condescending Pharisees.

But the verse on asking would be a redemption of the dogs and swine. If anyone would truly ask for truth, he/she would receive it.

And from whom, and for what purpose?
From a God who is good, overflowing. Bread and fish, like what Jesus had multiplied for the multitudes, for survival.

And it boiled down to this - that the living truth of God is not meant for us to analyse and showcase in pretty glass packages, It is bread and fish. Simply for survival.
And to get it, I need to realise that i have been as dogs and swine before. i need to be desperate enough for truth to ask and seek and knock. To be desperate enough to know that my soul is slowly starving without this bread and fish.

B talked about the 'luxury truths' of God versus the plain, bread truth. Showcase vs sustenance.
I am desperate for it. Blind, naked and wrteched.

This morning, during service, the choir sang a very simple song (Glory to the Lamb). i was so overwhelmed by thankfulness at how God has seen me through this year. More than seen through, He has blessed me immeasurably.

I need to grow up, to see the truth in my relationships, to face the truth, and bind grace with that living truth. To stop being a narcissist who only sees how others have/may hurt me.
So that's my resolution - to grow up.

The verse I received for 2006 :
1 Corinthians 13:4 - 6
4 Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, 5 does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, 6 does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
8 Love never fails..

My Egyptian Encounters..

2006-01-01T23:07:00.000+08:00

Hmmm... middle-eastern men are cute and flirtatious.. not a very healthy combination when one is thirsting for attention, but very ego-boosting I must admit.
It didn't help that i was travelling with someone (the only guy in a foursome) who had absolutely NO CONCEPT of the notion of gallantry. Not a single time was any help offered when his 3 female companions struggled along with luggage.His frequent giggling was also .. urgh.
Am I being too judgemental? Perhaps. i suppose i'm the one who has certain expectations. This guy was just planning to enjoy his trip. But why did it irk me so much? hmm..

The history of Egypt is just so incredibly rich.. A synagogue where Moses was supposed to have been picked up from the bulrushes, a church cellar where the Holy Family stayed over, hieroglyphics recounting how Pharoah had been engulfed by the Red Sea. Gosh.

But the main revelation I received was about - the manger. There were camels, donkeys, horses all over the place (i was astoundedby how poor it is), and anywhere where there was more than one horse gathered (especially in an enclosed space), the stench of horse shit was just overpowering.
Why oh why oh why, I wondered, had the God of the universe chosen a manger to be born? Surrounded by hay stained with green, stinky, sticky horse-shit. It made me marvel at how great His grace is, how willing he was to be utterly humiliated.
On new year's day, i was doubly blessed when this revelation was added upon. A very wise friend shared about a sermon he had heard at his church. It was about how God had chosen to tell the news of His birth - first to the idolaters (Magi), the shrewd, poor deceivers (Shepherds) and finally, later, to the church (Anna). How then shall He reveal Himself again in this new age? Who are we to judge the idolaters and deceivers among us?
A humbling truth indeed.

One my birthday (in Egypt) I was also incredibly blessed. Got to share of some truth of the Lord with my Egyptian guide. A rare privilege. i'm praying that the the Thomas Kempis book i passsed to him will open his heart.

Once again, i read through this entry and I'm struck by the schizo effect it has. Started off with bitching and ended praising. Then again, most of the psalms follow this pattern too.. hmm. =)

Gilead

2006-01-01T23:05:00.000+08:00

One of the most delicately written, grace-filled books i have ever read is 'Gilead' by Marilynne Robinson. The love of a father, of a good man, just seeps out from its pages.. i actually cried on the MRT while reading it.. embarassing sia...

Inertia

2006-01-01T23:02:00.000+08:00

Amazing how a good habit can slip away so easily.. Somehow, with the holiday season, I stopped writing in this blog.
So many good things, confusing things, exciting things, irritating things.. happened.
Where shall i begin?
With the next entry. =)

The farthest reach...

2005-11-23T23:28:00.000+08:00

'As the farthest reach of our love for each other is loving our enemies,
and as the farthest reach of God's love for us is loving us at our most unlovable and unlovely,
so the farthest reach of our love for God is loving Him when in almost every way that matters we can neither see him nor hear Him, and when He himself might well be our enemy.'
- Frederick Buechner 'A Room Called Remember', on Love.

1 John 4:19 - We love, because He first loved us.

Zen and the Art of Shopping

2005-11-23T18:06:00.000+08:00

In the midst of re-reading Robert Pirsig's 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' and I cannot help but wonder -

why o why o why o why do I shop so much?

If there is a profound philosophical basis for motorcycle maintenance, then what of shopping, which takes up incredible amounts of time and resources?

I used to think that shopping was for me, the thrill of the hunt. To snag the best buy, the prettiest thing, was a pseudo-replacement for some primeval urge to hunt. So I could blame it on residual animal instinct and not feel too guilty about it.

However, when I was browsing amongst the dizzying array of beaded blouses and multi-coloured coats in This Fashion the other day - it suddenly hit me.

Shopping is about wanting to possess beauty.

I don't feel this fervent rush to buy buy buy when I walk through a beautiful park or visit an art gallery, mainly because it never crosses my mind (or I don't have the resources) to purchase a stunning tree formation or a famous painting. Yet, it's that same sense of admiration that I have for a beautifully-cut dress or a particularly attractive top.

More than that, it's the hope that I can clothe myself in beauty and thus possess beauty in a tangible manner.

I'm not sure if the same concept would apply to a techno-geek or a movie maniac. But at least I know the next time I have a shopping hunger, I can go out......... and look at some trees. =)

Services Terminated

2005-11-22T21:22:00.000+08:00

I've been leading children's worship at my ex-church for about a year over now. (basically that means I lead the singing, and pray with them or for them sometimes.)

It's been good. Always felt blessed/humbled/refreshed/rebuked after each session.

And I was particularly impressed that the pastor ic had the liberal-mindedness to let someone who was not completely in this church system to lead worship as a 'guest' worship-leader.

Today however, my services were terminated. A new pastor is now in-charge. And I possibly will 'not flow' with the direction of the ministry.

It puzzles me that if Jesus gave us ONE great commission , which is to "Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit" Matthew 28:19 , then how far off can I be? Even if I'm from another church in another country, state or continent?

Very perturbing.

In any case, it's answered prayer. I had prayed in my heart that I would serve with all i could if they asked me to stay, and I would not debate if they asked me to leave.

So there's that mild homesicknesses that comes from leaving familiar places and faces, and a certain disappointment. But I'm more perturbed than anything.

Sigh.

Eternity

2005-11-19T11:48:00.000+08:00

A long jog this morning and I realised a truth that brought tears to my eyes.

I just finished reading CS Lewis' 'The Great Divorce', which is a fictional tale of a man's journey to hell and heaven. Many profound ideas that I am still mulling over, but the concept of Eternity and Time kept coming to the fore.

The idea of God who is an Author of all and who can step in and out of the stream of Time at any moment was explored in Jostein Gaardner's 'Sophie's World'. Gaardner proposed that while an author of a book may take one year to write the sentence 'Sophie waited for an hour', to the character of Sophie, only one hour has passed. So too God can step in and out of our human timeframes.

CS Lewis proposes that the promises of the Bible (eg. 'that none shall perish') can and will come to pass in the timeframe of Eternity. More than that, he wrote of Christ descending to hell to preach, that even in hell, souls have a choice for redemption.
I researched and found this to be verified - "Who shall descend into the deep? (that is, to bring up Christ again from the dead.)" Romans 10:7

This blew my mind. I have underestimated the love and mercy of God. When my father had died, both my sister and I had received many assurances about his salvation.
But on some nights, I have my doubts.
Last year, I had a beautiful, incredibly vivid dream of my father thanking my mother for bringing us up. He gave her three rings representing each of us daughters, and assured her that he was well.
But still, there are times I wonder, what were his last thoughts?

After reading of this incredible interpretation of heaven and hell - I know that God's mercy extends through time, space, religious legalism, doubts and fear.

Rich Mullins wrote this song inspired by Psalm 139 - Nothing is Beyond You.

Where could I go, where could I run
Even if I found the strength to fly
And if I rose on the wings of the dawn
And crashed through the corner of the sky
If I sailed past the edge of the sea
Even if I made my bed in Hell
Still there You would find me

'Cause nothing is beyond You
You stand beyond the reach
Of our vain imaginations
Our misguided piety
The heavens stretch to hold You
And deep cries out to deep
Singing that nothing is beyond You
Nothing is beyond You*

Time cannot contain You
You fill eternity
Sin can never stain You
Death has lost its sting
And I cannot explain the way
You came to love me
Except to say that nothing is beyond You
Nothing is beyond You
If I should shrink back from the light
So I can sink into the dark
If I take cover and I close my eyes
Even then You would see my heart
And You'd cut through all my pain and rage
The darkness is not dark to You
And night's as bright as day

*And I cannot explain the way You came to love me
Except to say that nothing is beyond You
Nothing is beyond You
Nothing is beyond You.

Finally I've learnt what this song means.

'Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each day.'
-Lamentations 3:23

Naggaphobic...

2005-11-17T23:29:00.000+08:00

Today, I realised the extent of my phobia of nagging.

I'm in charge of vetting testimonials for graduating classes. This is actually a barrel of laughs - examples of actual comments: 'He is a super bilingual', 'Due to his high concentration power','He is a grateful student', 'He obeys instructions and never stands up to teachers', 'He was the flag-barrier for the flag party in his CCA' - hahahahahaha......... I started envisioning students with magical kungfu skills, little dogs at obedience school, traffic controllers...

Anyway - the form teachers are supposed to come up with the testimonials and i vet. Simple enough. But due to an administrative cock-up, the paragraphs some teachers prepared were too lengthy to be uploaded into the system. Stupid system, and i felt really bad about the teachers having to further edit - but....
I explained the situation and most of them understood the contraints, but one teacher kept hounding me about the word limit. Her questioning and explanations and account of what she had done were so incessant that in the end - i decided i could just do the extra editing and uploading of the work for her.
That was like one and a half hours of extra work just to avoid nagging.
No joke man.

Succinct. Why can't everyone be more succinct? (Gosh, I love this word, just pronounce out loud - it's like sucking on a lollipop and then giving it a final lick. hahah.. delicious. ) Some words just turn me on. hahaha... Tarmac is another word. Rolling, light 'r' followed by another lip-smacking sound. sigh... imagine - 'He stood on the tarmac, and gave a succinct reply.' Sigh.
hahahaha.. siao already.

My mother has one bad case of verbal diarrhoea. But she's been improving, and i think I've been improving in my ability to sift through the info overload and just accept her like that.
She recently signed up for a course on child care - poor thing - studying for the first time in 40 years.. woah.
So, she was going on about the teacher being too fast and how she was worried about assignments. But I am convinced that it'll be good for her - told her that for the first time in her life she'll learn the important skill of Summarizing.

Succinct.

haha.

My new friend

2005-11-14T19:43:00.000+08:00

My new phone weighs half that of its predecessor. Slim and silver, it has the most essential of functions - no camera/video/triband/switchblade/firestarter - but it does have a radio, which is actually all I really want, apart from the typical phone conveniences of contact list and calendar.

I like it.

Guess it's good to keep things simple - phones included.

I shall call it Kit.

The service provider people whom I lambasted were really nice. Just typical Singaporeans trying to work within a screwed up system. The most I can fault them is a lack of initiative or analysis. Sigh.

ALAS!!! ALACK! !!!

2005-11-14T13:22:00.000+08:00

O WOE IS ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
SOMEONE STOLE MY HANDPHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Every exclamation mark is to counteract my superbly cool demeanour as I assure my colleagues that 'It's ok, no big deal'.
I had left my handphone on my desk and gone for a silly briefing. On my way back to my seat, my uncanny intuition (ok, think it was Someone) told me - check your handphone.
GONE GONE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! O WOE IS MEEEEEEE.................

I am amazed by colleagues' immediate reaction.
The uber-insensitive ones : Aiyo, why you put there? Sure get stolen la. Why so careless?
I replied to two of these specimens - Thank you for your sympathetic response.
That shut one of them up. The other one said - Don't be sarcastic. I rolled my eyes, then smiled. Wa lao, EQ where har?

The overly concerned naggy ones : Aiyo, are you sure are you sure it's here? Did you bring it? Where did you put it? Did you call the number?
Yes, it was. Yes I did. No I am not an imbecile.
But they were trying to be nice, so I kept my comments to myself.

The smart nice ones gave a genuinely concerned look, asked once, and backed off.
Do not mess with Traumatised Woman.

The police and service provider are another cause for concern.
WHITHER COMMON SENSE???????
I call the service provider, asking them to trace calls made from the phone today.
'Sorry, we'll only know at the end of the month when the bill is ready'
Huh? Are there no crisis managment procedures? Surely mine is not the first phone stolen?

I leave them alone and call the police.
I explain the situation, ask if they can help me to trace numbers dialled out, or at least order the service provider to do so.
'Why do you need to trace?' says Mr Police Officer.
'So that you can track down who the culprit calls and hopefully identify the culprit' I volunteer helpfully, in a slow manner so that Mr Police Officer can comprehend this momentous concept.
'Oh.' Mr Police Officer says.

AAAAARERRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

WAH LAO EH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I must teach you how to track criminal har????? Wah Lao Eh!

DEEP BREATH.

Sheesh.

A song on the bus

2005-11-10T22:57:00.000+08:00

On the way to school this morning, I heard this classic on the radio -

Hold on little girl (I perked up, imagining God was talking to me)
Show me what he's done to you (well, not much, but I bruise easily, you know me)
Stand up little girl
A broken heart can't be that bad (Whine. sigh.)
When it's through, it's through (Yep)
Fate will twist the both of you (yep, yep)
So come on baby come on over
Let me be the one to show you ( I smiled to myself)

I'm the one who wants to be with you
Deep inside I hope you feel it too (I'm starting to feel it from deep inside)
Waited on a line of greens and blues (Ok, like I've never been able to get this part of the song)
Just to be the next to be with you (Not just the next, but the forevermore ya? )

Build up your confidence
So you can be on top for once (yeah, I'm no victim!)
wake up who cares about
Little boys that talk too much (hahahahahahahah...)
I've seen it all go down (Yes, Lord, you sure have)
Your game of love was all rained out ( I'm sure You planned it in Your perfect ways)
So come on baby, come on over
Let me be the one to hold you =)

Mr Big - Be With You

Psalms 18:2 -
The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

Of harshness and heroes

2005-11-09T22:18:00.000+08:00

Met Jim and his wife Jo, the other day. Jim knows me from junior college, and we've witnessed the tremendous changes in character and temperment that God has wrought in our lives. This is the guy who had said this about me 'She's a hopeless case. Won't change. How to be a christian?' i has said of him ' christian? what a freaking hypocrite then.'
B, our mutual friend, the man who taught me how to pray and who has been giving me all sorts of advice over the years, was our peacemaker.
Now, Jim and I trust and respect each other immensely. Amazing.

In any case, we met up that day and when I told him about how I had been freaked out by B's comments on the evil influence of church and such.
Jim had refused to comment on B's views. all he said was that B cared for me a great deal, talked about me constantly, and - in Jim's words - seemed to regard me as a daughter in all the ways he talked about me and lamented about my plight.

Then, Jim said to me - don't you realise that you are always harshest to those who love you the most?

I was stunned.

I am never harsh with E whom I love alot. Neither am I harsh with Cellina or her boys, or Yve or Grace or JM.. okay, all girlfriends here.
I find it difficult to be harsh with students even when they irritate the ell out of me. (But I suppose they don't fit the criteria of loving me alot).

I am harsh with my mum - who loves me the most - though I have improved a great deal and become a little more patient.
And I tend to be harsh on myself. (And we all love ourselves, whether healthily or narcissistically).

Harsh with B because he loves me? No. I do not think so. I'm avoiding him because I know I can't be harsh with him. I feel defenceless as i have always regarded him so highly, yet i disbelieve what he has been preaching these days.

Perhaps it is not about harshness, but about being able to accept the flaws in my 'heroes'. I am beginning to understand that expecting myself,and those i love, to be perfect is a terrible thing.

Mark 10:18
And Jesus said to him, "Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone.

A reality check

2005-11-08T18:05:00.000+08:00

I am so thankful for E. Excerpts from her mail to me -
'Despite your words, proclamations or views, do you want to trust in God, trust that in Him, you are made perfect and wonderful and also trust that partnered or partner-less, God can work through and in you and make you whole. Can you sacrifice the dream you always harboured of a family in exchange for God's promise that he will take care of you, come what may; that man will fail but God would not, you. It is often easier said than done, but you need tohave faith that God has his plan for you, he doesn't expect that you will always bask in or agree with his plan for you, but his grace is sufficient for you.'

In all my worry and in all my conduct, I have not been trusting in God. I have been grasping, groping in the dark. One problem is I have been confused as to what to trust God for. A partner? An answer? Peace? Freedom from loneliness?

To trust that He will take care of me, accept my frailties, understand me fully, reveal Himself in intimacy and comfort and love. That must be it.
Even as I write this I know He has been using my circle of friends to be His hands of comfort, His voice of reason, His intent of love towards me. yet i have been blind.

E also asked me if Mr D.A's rejection was a wound to my ego or feelings, or both.

Ah.. both. Much of the ego.... perhaps more of a deflated hope - a hope that had been centred on God's answer to my longstanding question - why aren't I good enough to be loved?
But that question goes back to me trusting God and recognising that I am indeed very well-loved.

A last point that E mentioned -
'Seriously, I often felt that you came across as either overly positive or overly negative in your relationships with men. My prayer for you is to continue to have or find the balance in your relationships with people, esp men, to trust in them and in God, and not allow your previous experiences or your desires to alter the reality and affect your ability to enjoythings as they are.'

'Alter the reality' really struck me. Here I am, trained to pick up nuances of speech and language, adept at examining analogies and crafting dialogue and strategic plans - yet i have been an utter child in my labelling of men and relationships. i have preferred to place each person in a convenient box and tick off how i should deal with each of them.

Suddenly it strikes me that I have been trying to box myself up too. What label should i give myself, so that i can manage my own reactions?

i am thankful that God and my friends do not see me in this myopic way.

Today would be my father's 65th birthday had he lived.
Happy birthday Daddy. I miss you. I'm sorry I didn't say many things I wanted to say to you.

John 14:1-31
1 "Don't be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me. 2 There are many rooms in my Father's home, and I am going to prepare a place for you. If this were not so, I would tell you plainly. 3 When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am.

Running for approval

2005-10-23T19:29:00.000+08:00

I went for another long run yesterday.. 19km plus plus.. sheesh.. At the start of the run my friend's husband articulated what we were all thinking at 7:45 on a Saturday morning - Why are we doing this to ourselves? Haha..

But it was good.

During one of the long lonely stretches, I realised I was looking out for someone as I was jogging. Perhaps I would meet an old acquaintance, perhaps Mr D.A. who claims to jog there sometime, perhaps someone else - male.
Odd, I thought. And as I searched within myself, I asked God - who am I really looking for? What am I really looking for?

And suddenly the answer came - your father's approval.
I started to remember occasions in my childhood when I had been outstanding, done great stuff, won prizes, so many occasions, and my father had not been there.
One incident stood out - a time when I was in Primary One and I had returned home with my report book. At that time I had no inkling what the report book was for, or what the exams had meant. But when my father woke up from his nap and saw my position in standard(43 out of 116 or something like that), he looked.. disappointed. I remember that.
After that, I made sure I always was within the top ten.

This ache in me - it's been for my father's approval? He has passed on - his soul has found rest (Ps 62:1). I will rest in my Heavenly father's approval instead.

A quiet stream..

2005-10-22T00:24:00.000+08:00

It was one of those incredible days when I got up and I remembered that I am loved.

On the surface, it was a power-packed, hit-the-floor running kind of day. But beneath was a quiet stream of ... contentment. No sane reason. Just faith surfacing I guess.

Had a great dinner at Akashi with three lovely girlfriends, then joined friend's husband and friends (cute guys) for drinks. Hilarious conversation, good vibes.

But whether it was the hectic bustle of the day or the flattering interaction in the night, I still could pause, reach within to that quiet stream, and sip.

I would like to live life this way.

I must remember to.

Gulf War (of mis-com and ministry)

2005-10-19T21:28:00.000+08:00

Talking about 'unbridgeable gulfs' which I mentioned two posts ago..

I used to be in a church cell group. For nine years in fact. Did alot, grew alot.
Then, changes occurred. More regulations, more expectations, a growing sense of unease.. (Huh? I mean, you really are my family? Seeing you in a social/religious context once a week amidst 6 other persons makes you my family? But... ?)

Had crisis managment talks with the pastor. Submission to authority. Loving unconditionally. Needless to say I felt progressively alot shittier about myself. This hem-haw tug-of-war lasted for about a year (Sheesh, what was I doing for a year?!?) Then I left.

More talks. More questions. Finally, I said I wanted to try again. (Tell you I'm a sucker for punishment. People-pleaser, constantly guilt-ridden. What bad traits. Must change.)
Anyway.
Pastor says - Wait. Stop. Not so fast. I will decide which cell group you must be in. Submission to authority. Trust my heart. (But why must you micro-manage? I trust your heart but not your judgement. You don't even know me.. ) So I guai-guai wait and stop. And wait.

After four months, there's been no news. I've changed church in the meanwhile. No cell groups here, but I really trust this lady who's the epitome of Christian graciousness. (A standard I'll only reach by a miracle, which is why i need God.)

Tonight, i received an SMS. 'Hey, I think there's been a miscom. Pastor thought she didn't need to get back to you.'

Huh? After four months she realises? Wow. What unconditional love and care she has for me. Then again, she's only human, i could have very well asked for feedback, i could have very well bridged the gap.
But - I'm just tired.

Maybe the mis-com is God's will after all.

Massage vs Sex (as if I know so much)

2005-10-19T21:17:00.000+08:00

I am quite convinced that the chances of getting satisfied from a good massage must be better than the chances of getting satisfied from sex.
The argument is as follows : masseuses (masseusi? masseuse? I'm getting confused here..) are specifically trained to relax/shiok-ify various muscle groups. Then, they are specifically paid to devote all their strength and skill to rub away every single strain from your muscle groups for 1 - 1.5 hours.
Now, unless we are talking about paid-for sex (which we are not, or rather, I will not), the chances that my future life partner will be as skilled or as devoted would be.... slim.
SO.
Try House of Javanese massage. My bones almost melted. Wah-leow-eh.

An unbridgeable gulf

2005-10-17T12:32:00.000+08:00

Despite my beautiful wonderful getaway, I was somehow lonely during the trip. (Ingrate. Brat. Whiner.) Got scolded by A when I told him. (Live in the present girl, you deserve a tight slap.) Sigh. I really have briliant friends.
And today - I read this -

Quotation: We are separated from one another by an unbridgeable gulf of otherness and strangeness which resists all our attempts to overcome it by means of natural association or emotional or spiritual union. There is no way from one person to another. However loving and sympathetic we try to be, however sound our psychology, however frank and open our behavior, we cannot penetrate the incognito of the other man, for there are no direct relationships, not even between soul and soul. Christ stands between us, and we can only get into touch with our neighbors through Him. ... Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), The Cost of Discipleship [1964]

Bonhoeffer. Wow. I still haven't finished ploughing through 'Letters from a prison cell'. Must get back to it soon.

getaway..

2005-10-16T20:10:00.000+08:00

Just returned from a weekend trip to Kota Tinggi.. wow. My colleague and I stayed in the Kota Rainforest resort.. it was just us and the owners for the whole weekend! (apparently, it's super offpeak season due to kids' exams.. Whoowee! ) Get this - paid $30 sing per person!!
Gunung Panthi shrouded in clouds in the background, a private pool.. a canopied bed (my childhood princess fantasy.. haha) and really really good food... shiok. =)

the shit hits the fan.. the fan whirrs... I climb above..

2005-10-15T00:00:00.000+08:00

SO.

What a difference a day makes. Or in this case, a week.
Three different cases of exam cock-ups. All under my department.
Two cock-ups were absolutely not under my control, the third I was trying to help someone and ended up exarcebating the problem.
But - I'm rather proud of myself.
After a day of vacillating, I stood up, owned up. And more shit came.
I think my peak stress point was on Wednesday - cold sweat, couldn't eat, felt like running away from the office and never coming back.
After that point, when MORE shit came, I just .... coasted. Too-dee-too-dee-doo... life goes on... lalala... Managed situations calmly.. type type type letters.. lalala...

This ability to turn off is a wonderful God-sent gift I tell you. I'm not sure why but after I pass peak stress point, I start to have this bubbly, amused feeling inside of me. (My thoughts go something like : Hmm..haha.. life is very funny. I wonder what will happen next..)

I guess it's part of just letting go of... fear?
Don't want to fear losing the position (didn't ask for it in the first place)
Don't want to fear being disliked (those who really know me will trust me anyay)
Don't want to fear losing financial security (this is the hard one....but i think I'm learning to trust God in this area.. )
Don't want to fear being alone in the midst of a crisis (This is the hardest one of all.. The odd thing is that i do have close, wonderful friends who'll be there for me in a moment. And i do believe God is always watching out for me.. yet..?
Yet even if there was a 'special someone' (ewwww.. one of the grossest phrases ever invented), I could still feel alone. No one but me can ever walk around in this skin this side of heaven.

Deal with it babe.

A quote for me....

2005-10-12T12:36:00.000+08:00

The quote of today was the following ... is God good or what? =}

Christian Quotation of the Day
October 12, 2005
Commemoration of Wilfrid, Abbot of Ripon, Bishop of York, Missionary, 709 Commemoration of Elizabeth Fry, Prison Reformer, 1845
Meditation: And you have forgotten that word of encouragement thataddresses you as sons: "My son, do not make light of the Lord's discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, and he punishes everyone he accepts as a son."Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons.For what son is not disciplined by his father? -- Hebrews 12:5-7 (NIV)
_______________________________________________________________
Quotation: Trials are medicines which our gracious and wise Physicianprescribes because we need them; and he proportions thefrequency and weight of them to what the case requires. Let ustrust his skill and thank him for his prescription. ... Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727)
_______________________________________________________________
Quiet time reflection: Lord, make a grateful heart in me for the trials I mustendure.

Alternative career?

2005-10-11T18:30:00.000+08:00

Today is a day I want to change my job..
Being in middle managment is wah lau eh not fun.

What do you do when those you oversee screw up big time?
What do you do when you could cover it up and no one would know?
What do you do when you have a built-in guilt system and you wonder... was it my fault?

I was walking to the mrt, screaming in my heart - GOD! I need to talk to someone!!!!!
A.W. called. Answered prayer. His advice - report to the already pissed authorities and cover backside.
I hemmed and hawed.
God, is that wise? But .. but Rahab lied about the two guys in Jericho and You praised her... but but... I feel like chicken shit.
Messaged E, my best friend. Waited for a reply. Continued trying to justify lack of telling... why blow it up? Why get that teacher into trouble? Or am I just trying to not get myself into trouble?
E replied. Should own up.

I sighed. It clicked. That was what my conscience was telling me. Screw promotions. Screw my backside. Screw the shelling both my supervisee and I will get. I don't want to hide.
Shit.
So I called the VP. Told her about the matter. Gotta see her and the big boss (piercing eyes) tomorrow morning.
Wah liew.

Time to look for an alternative career (ok, bit dramatic.. but why not? Civil system no joke, one black mark and you're in limbo for eternity. They can talk all they want about people developer and nurturing teachers, but the Singapore system is error-intolerant. no wonder so many people are freaking depressed.)
Maybe be deejay.. or sing in pub (but i think I cannot make it. probably will have to wear damn low cut before people will come.. cannot like that...)

Got driving license.. maybe can drive taxi... and sing at the same time... hahaha.. charge extra..

Hmmm... when I'm super stressed I revert to singlish... talk about language of the heart..

So what now?

Pray for a miracle.. or just for peace.
Seriously, how the P treats me after this will strongly impact my career path. Perhaps it's part of the grand plan to kick me out of my cushy seat and do something elsewhere.

Silver linings.

Addedum :
In an odd twist of emotions, in the midst of my super super stress, I kept thinking of Mr D.A. I wished I could talk to him.. How pathetic is that? When to check his online status (pathetic quotient rising) and was glad when realised he hadn't been online for some time.. (pathetic quotient at all time high).
Eww. Woman, get a grip.

Letters from the Mountain

2005-10-08T23:17:00.000+08:00

Saw 'Letters from the Mountain' today, a lovely Japanese film about the beauty of a simple life in a Japanese village, experienced through the eyes of a couple strained from city life.

I was struck by how fulfilling life is when one can touch and share and heal and really, really talk with other humans. I think the pain of city life is that everyone is detached and wrapped in an invisible wall of busy-ness, pre-occupation, contrived sophisitication and distrust. To me, the simplicity of country life wasn't in the incredible scenery or the quaint, noble characters, it was that there was real interaction with one another, with nature.

One of the main characters is this 96 year old lady who spoke wisdom with a child-like passion. The film showed all these old ladies bent over with age, yet still planting and reaping in the fields. One said she was very happy just talking a little with a friend in th morning.
I met my mum after the show, still mulling over the film. On the way home, I mentioned what I had seen in the movie and asked her - So what will you do after you stop working? You'll need to have friends to talk to right? She paused for a moment then said - I'll read the bible. And exercise, meet friends.
I stopped. How little I know my own mother. How presumptous I am, that I always have better answers than she does, just because I'm more articulate.

In the movie, the lead character, a lady doctor - gentle and bright, the words of the old lady - said that one of the most important traits of a good doctor is humility. I think that must be true for teachers and daughters as well.

I know I am bright - I would like to be gentle too.

The object of seeking

2005-10-08T10:21:00.000+08:00

Re-reading my previous entries, I find that instead of 'quirky', I come across as rather schizophrenic in my blog.. I vacillate from thankful, pensive and thoughtful to whiny, angry and confused.
It is very peculiar that I have found so much beauty in blogs of great Christian writers (readromans.blogspot.com) , yet I remain tickled pink over the most vulgar obscenities in rockson.blogspot.com.
It would sound too cliched to say that I am still searching for myself.. Then again, my blogger id is 'still seeking'.
I would like to stop my narcissistic searching of myself. Who am I but dust and ashes, a limited mind in a confusing world? I need to focus my search on the One who says ' You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart' Jeremiah 29:13

No more theories

2005-10-03T18:56:00.000+08:00

I've just discovered that no theories in the world can bring peace.. it's a moment to moment thing..much like faith or any other emotion where both will and feelings come into play. Odd how a million theories can't do the job of a small breeze blowing ripples on the water..

Finishing 'Captivating' by John and Stasi Elderedge. In it, the authors say that the essential question for men is 'Am I man enough? Can I succeed?' while the essential question for women is 'Am I lovely? Am I desirable?' Interesting. Apparently we spend our days asking that question to all around us, hoping to find acceptance. The authors contend that only God can answer the question satisfactorily, and only His answer counts. I agree in theory, and I keep wondering why I find it hard to accept at a gut level.

Did a super comprehensive survey today.. it asked questions like 'If you could change your job, would you? Would you have joined this profession if you knew then what you do now? How important is job stability to you? How important is not following regulations to you?'
Boy, talk about reflective.. it forced me to really think about what teaching still means to me. Whatever happened to mission work? Have i lost the passion? Or was it simply never there and only glamourised in my mind?

Maybe starting all over again from ground zero is a good thing.

A shadow of perfect..

2005-09-28T21:17:00.000+08:00

My mind was in a whirl and I went jogging. Sunset over Kallang river, rosy clouds in the distance, rippling waves.. it looked positively utopic. Finally my mind rested. And a still small voice reminded me - He will keep in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee. Isaiah 26:3.
I paused and enjoyed the moment. It was easy to do when you look at something so beautiful and think about God's glory and beauty. But I questioned - how do I keep my mind stayed on Thee? The moment I turn away a billion other things pops in.. but as I continued jogging, the answer came.
Look at each broken bit as a shadow of what could be perfect. A littered beach.. meant to someday redeemed and filled with life, laughter. A quarrelling couple. Meant to someday wholly accept and love one another.
I remembered CS Lewis and 'the Last Battle'.. the animals finding that all they loved were but a shadow of what is perfect.
Perhaps as I search for the meant-to-be perfections behind each shadow, I will stay my mind on Him, the Prince of Peace.

Wedding fatigue

2005-09-19T21:03:00.000+08:00

With the seventh month over, there's a sudden deluge of weddings.. Actually, it's 'just' three over three weekends, and in fact one is that of a very good friend.. but with a dinner pending tomorrow, I have SWF - sudden wedding fatigue.
Woke up this morning and felt that'empty stomach' feeling.. this vague sense that you've been drugged and kicked and just woke up with amnesia.. ever felt that way before?
Don't think i can ascribe it to the weddings per se, but rather a general sense of .hopelessness.. What's with that? Have i fallen to the prey of the 'one in ten singaporeans suffer from depression' statistic? Is this the time for prozac? I hope not.
Think positive.. watched 'Under the Tuscan sun' which made me laugh and cry, did work, sniffled, prayed, wrote the wedding speech (made me smile) and now blogging.
Is my only cure to work or move? Why do I feel ..sad.. when my mind is at ?rest?
Maybe i just think too much.

'She doesn't need the luck one'

2005-09-15T18:48:00.000+08:00

Met an ex-student today. Wonderful time of talking and sharing, really appreciate how open and honest this person is, with me and with himself.
Something he said struck me. He was relating how he and another ex-student had been trying to buy me a teachers' day gift. They were choosing between a bracelet that symbolised luck and fortune, and another that symbolised friendship.
'Aiyah, she's so fortunate and lucky, she doesn't need the luck one. So blessed with so many things. Get her the friendship one then she'll rememebr our friendship.'
Yes I will. =)
When he said that, it forcibly struck me how incredibly blessed I appear to many many people. It made me ashamed of my lack of thanksgiving or whining about things that I don't happen to have.

Interesting that today was a day of different perspectives. During lunch break, two colleagues and I played a silly silly psycho-babble game.. I started : name two animals that you like and why.
I've always said 1) dolphin - intelligent , sociable, good mother
2) wolf - mysterious , beautiful, strong and travel in family groups.
I've always also freaked myself out by the interpretation of this game -
first animal is the person you want everyone to see you as (very accurate)
and the second animal is the person you would like to be with .(this has sent me into sleepless cycles.. sheesh.. is this why i'm attracted to silent, mysterious men? oh noooooo... )

But my colleague said that the game was actually about three animals -
the first - how you want others to see you,
the second - how others see you
the third - who you really are.

I realised how silly this parlour game is, how silly I have been to worry over this, but I smiled when i thought about my third animal - peregrine falcon. =)

Different perspectives..

Beautiful pause

2005-09-11T19:27:00.000+08:00

For some unknown reason, I felt gorgeous today. Hopeful, renewed, thankful. The fact that someone I fancied has lied/may be lying to me seems.. inconsequential. I have incredible friends and family who love me, who think I'm fantastic. Who am I to disppoint them?
This whole episode is just another step to growing up and letting go of naive notions.. but I don't want to let go of my capacity to hope and feel and love. I think I'll still continue to want to give my best to everyone who earns my trust, but i'll just be more careful about who that entails..
On the way home, heard Gavin Degraw's 'I don't wanna be' on the radio. i rushed back, downloaded it and proceeded to head bang around the house. Yeah man.
This is great. =)

I don't need to be anything other than a prison guard's son (businessman's daughter)
I don't need to be anything other than a specialist's son (housewife's daughter)
I don't have to be anyone other than a birth of two souls in one
Part of where I'm going is knowing where I'm coming from

I don't want to be anything other than what I've been tryin to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I've peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me

I'm surrounded by liars everywhere I turn
I'm surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn
I'm surrounded by identity crisis everywhere I turn (hahah.. not surrounded, but seems to be a fair share around)
am i the only one to notice ?
I can't be the only one who's learned (i keep meeting girls who get bluffed.. aiyo, cannot like that kena conned..)

Can I have everyone's attention please
if you're not like this and that
You're gonna have to leave (no compromise)
I came from the mountains the crust of creation
My whole situation made from clay and stone
and now I'm telling everybody
I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I've peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta to do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me (yeah yeah yeah)

Sober now...

2005-09-09T23:30:00.000+08:00

I am finally sober. No more romanticising and ascribing noble feelings to all and sundry. My past two posts have been extremely misguided. 'Give me one reason to stay here'? more like give me one reason to not completely emasculate you. As for the 'ride to nowhere', hmm.. what i was alluding to was definitely not as pretty as the bike ride. A poor shadow of what could be.
The only problem now is .. have I totally lost all faith in the existence of good men?

Wah Zan @Wala

2005-09-09T08:10:00.000+08:00

Went to Wala's last night with a good friend.. fantastic feeling to chill out listening to incredible live singing on a bloody weekday night (screw wake-up times)... heard the band sing this - it resonated :
Give me one reason to stay here and I'll turn right back around
Because I don't want leave you lonely
But you got to make me change my mind
Baby I got your number and I know that you got mine
But you know that I called you I called too many times
You can call me baby you can call me anytime But you got to call me
Give me one reason to stay here - and I'll turn right back around
Because I don't want leave you lonely But you got to make me change my mind
I don't want no one to squeeze me - they might take away my life
I just want someone to hold me and rock me through the night
This youthful heart can love you and give you what you need (yeah man)
But I'm too old to go chasing you around
Wasting my precious energy (spot on there)
Give me one reason to stay here - and I'll turn right back around
Because I don't want leave you lonely
But you got to make me change my mind
Baby just give me one reason - Give me just one reason why
Baby just give me one reason - Give me just one reason why I should stay
Because I told you that I loved you
And there ain't no more to say - Tracy Chapman

The Ride To NoWhere

2005-09-06T11:53:00.000+08:00

My sis and I went for an impromptu bike hike yesterday night... OUCH. East Coast to Orchard to NUS and back to East Coast via Pasir Panjang and Geylang. 7 hours, 4 reconstituted thighs.. I can barely walk this morning..
But it was beautiful. The weather was perfect, the drivers on the road - just insane enough to leave us with exciting memories without permanent scars. I had no idea so much of Singapore is paved for walkers and cowardly riders, that there are so many waterways and lovely images along our roads, that my shadow changes like Peter Pan's when i ride under the benevolent gaze of street lamps placed just so.
Was it a ride to nowhere? At many points along the journey, I asked myself what the hell i was doing on the road, butt aching, thighs screaming. Shouldn't i be home dozing off with a good book? Why was I subjecting myself to this torture?
But when we finally wheeled into East Coast, i was just... glad. glad we had done this, completed a journey, seen beauty i had not seen before.
I know that eventually, i'll be able to say the same things for other rides that have led to nowhere. In the menwhile, I'll have to nurse my pains.

Tone and Register

2005-08-22T21:05:00.000+08:00

There is this aspect of composition writing that is corrected based on 'tone and register' i.e. is your tone too informal for a formal letter? Speaking to your uncle like he's a teen? etc..

It's amazing how people can teach these things and be totally oblivious to actual tone and register in real life.

My supervisee is highlighted for being late to work too often. I am tasked to address the issue.
I sms her 'I need to speak with you. Is it convenient to call you now?'
Reply 'No time. Let's talk tomorrow.' (person that I have to rank come performance bonus time)
I sms ' It'll only take 5 minutes. It's quite important.'
Reply 'Can sms? Not convenient to talk.' (person whose report I have to write)
I sms 'Your name was highlighted at the managment meeting. It was noted that you've been late to work frequently. Do you face any problems in coming to work on time?'
Reply 'No! I've only been late once! And I do my best to walk fast to work. Mdm XYZ can prove that. Anyway, I'm not the only one who's late to work!' (person who is supposed to be a mentor and role model. )

Wah LAO eh........What happened to tone and register?