Afloat

1. Afloat
2. Eternity
3. Be Still
4. Yours
5. Burn
6. My Soul Waits
7. Treasures
8. Dedication
9. Goodbye
10. Sunday
11. Rescue
12. Rags to Robes
13. It is Well
14. Barabbas

gosh!! Caleb and Solomon released their album! it's really great music and exhilarating for me that a friend has made it :)

i heard Solomon perform this track live before he left last summer and it was breathtaking. it's gonna be my favourite track on this album but the rest are great as well.

Eternity


Afloat


Be Still

art hero!

The invisible man rescuing art

By Simon Worrall BBC News, Philadelphia

Mr Wittman recovered Rembrandt's stolen self-portrait in Copenhagen

There are about 100 of us packed into a restaurant in Upper Holmesburg, Philadelphia - art experts and curators, museum security chiefs, and a phalanx of FBI agents with 9mm Glocks concealed under their G-man suits.

We have gathered to say farewell to a man few people have heard of and even fewer could recognise or describe.

That is the way Special Agent Robert "Bob" Wittman prefers it.

For nearly two decades, usually masquerading as a crooked art dealer with links to the Mafia or the Colombian drug cartels, he has run undercover sting operations, luring criminals into selling him stolen works of art.

Protecting his identity means the difference between life and death.

In one operation he found himself in a hotel bathroom in Copenhagen hugging a Rembrandt to his chest as a Danish Swat (Special Weapons and Tactics) team burst into the room to arrest an Iraqi-born hoodlum named Baha Kadhoum, who was trying to sell him Rembrandt's self-portrait from 1630.

Every country has a different cultural heritage and saving these things brings us closer together as human beings Bob Wittman

Painted on copper, the size of a paperback book, and worth tens of millions of pounds, it had been stolen from The National Museum of Sweden in one of the most daring art heists of modern times.

Housed in a Renaissance palazzo at the end of a peninsula, the Museum is surrounded on all sides by water.

And as families strolled through Stockholm's Christmas markets and skated on frozen lakes, Kadhoum and his gang set fire to a vehicle blocking the only access road.

Wearing ski masks and brandishing guns, they then stormed the building, cut the Rembrandt self-portrait and two Renoirs from the walls, and escaped by speedboat.

Lone operator

Art crime is big business. Estimated to be worth between $1.5 - $6bn (£1- £4bn) annually, it is now the fourth largest international crime, after drug dealing, gun running and money laundering.

Kadhoum and his gang spread nails in front of the museum before they fled

It is a fully globalised industry. Paintings stolen in Europe turn up in Japan or America.

They are easy to transport and hard to identify. If challenged by a customs officer, a thief can always say he bought it at a flea market for his wife.

And as yet no beagle has been trained to sniff out Old Masters.

Bob Wittman has been on the frontlines of the war against art crime since 1989.

In a distinguished career he has recovered stolen art worth millions, in more than a dozen countries.

Paintings by Rembrandt, Goya, Brughel and Rothko, Geronimo's eagle-feathered war bonnet and a piece of solid gold Inca armour are just a few of his trophies.

One of his last assignments was to investigate links between the sale of looted art from Iraq and Afghanistan and Islamic terrorism.

For most of his career, he was a lone operator. Today, the FBI's Art Crime Team has 12 agents spread across the United States. Scotland Yard has four detectives - France has 30.

Not surprisingly, in view of its vast cultural patrimony, Italy boasts the world's biggest team - 300 art-hunting Carabinieri, including agents who use helicopters to patrol the country's myriad archaeological sites.

'Regular Joe'

Like a spy, Mr Wittman's job is all about befriending and betraying.

Fox-like cunning, nerves of steel, a silver tongue and the ability to convincingly pretend to be someone else are essential.

So, too, is having a face that is easy to forget. No scars, no cauliflower ears, average height, average build.

In September Italian police recovered a Renoir painting stolen in 1975

What the Americans call "a regular Joe". Put him in a crowded room and he would blend into the background, like a camouflaged moth on a piece of tree bark.

Now, at the age of 53, the king of heists is hanging up his silver badge and gun to write a book and spend more time with his wife and three children.

Even in retirement, he will not allow his face to be photographed.

He is forging a new career as a private art-security consultant and may still need to go undercover.

Besides, there are too many criminals who would love to know the true identity of the smooth-talking FBI agent who put them behind bars.

"It's about saving the cultural property of mankind," Mr Wittman tells me, when I ask him why he chose such a dangerous job.

"Every country has a different cultural heritage and saving these things brings us closer together as human beings. When it comes to art, it's visceral. It affects us in a deep, emotional way."

i am a little restless and frustrated now that exams are over and i am still stuck in an in-between kind of existence. Now that i'm back at home without an agenda the negative energy pops out of nowhere and floats around, concentrating on me. i feel like i am carrying with me an aura of hate-me-if-you-can. i don't think i did anything wrong by wanting to live my life as a separate -but not separated- entity from family. i want the space to take up painting and sketching and work on my thesis and shop and laze around doing nothing when i wish to. In many ways i wish i was living alone so there's no tension arising from my mum trying to micro-manage my life.. she knows she can't anymore but she still tries in the small ways which causes a fair amount of tension. i know she can't anymore but i still instinctively try to compromise on the small things... And neither one of us ends up being happy about it. Home just isn't a relaxing and detoxifying abode for me right now.

a little more breathing space and time to space-out will be very good. i wish to spend more time outdoors next week when i get better. I want to do some watercolouring and figure sketching. spend more time in the museums.

Therie and I met N and his graphic designer friend K at the museum the other day. Quite a pleasant surprise; i always appreciate knowing that there is a community amongst people i know who enjoy art. (although the term community is quite an oxymoron since we pretty much don't know that side of each other until we bump into each other in the galleries) N always strikes me as a very irregular kind of guy.. he's almost hyperactive in an understated sense. Not very loud or disruptive, but spaced-out, short attention span and lives in a world separated from us. I gave up trying to understand his thought patterns sometime ago. Very Keanu Reeves-like, now that I think about it. very artist-like, in another way.

As for me, more introspection and revelation from God recently reveals facets of myself i didn't really think about or realise. I'm an abstract thinker, but there's a part of me that needs a fair amount of practicality. I will not be happy painting landscapes or drawing portraits for a living because of my need to systematize, apply and analyze. i realise this at work as i learnt the ropes of watercolouring on my own. My intellectual brain and artistic brain fight for airtime 24/7 and i need to suppress one of them depending on what i wish to accomplish.

playing the tug-of-war in my mind.

dans la tete

a little morbid, but sets you thinking about the choices you make in life.

my protector

alot transpired between me and God over the long weekend. So much, so emotional, so deep, that I sense my own spurt of growth in those brief moments of realization that God broke me and revealed some of those hidden layers underneath the calm surface. How my attraction yet immense uneasiness around powerful and handsome men had to do with my hurts and pains in the family, my struggle to be attracted to people less than that, my own laws of living i had erected to protect myself against imagined threats and karmas. it's amazing how there's so much still, to learn about myself when i thought i had mastered the trades of psychology in my teens through wide research and prolonged introspection. Only God Himself has the unobstructed view of my soul and the amazing thing is, He loves me with all my ugliness and sins, when i myself am unable to. I felt cleaner inside-out after basking in the presence of God.

I love having my head patted and hair ruffled protectively and affectionately. But much more important is a life surrendered to God isn't it. All these other gestures are heartwarming but none as warm as seeing a man's life broken and restored by my Father in heaven. That's what God meant when He said not to stir up or awaken love until it so desires i guess. i believe that God had touched him at some point, but he has chosen to drift for abit. My prayer is that he will soon return to that point where he left God. I am sure he will find God waiting patiently there.

I had some deep talks with some brothers and sisters, overheard some conversations, did some reflection. suffice to say that one realization is that criteria lists that girls reveal about their ideal partners have a huge impact on brothers in Christ and that might be stumbling for their faith. I think the reverse situation is also true. One sister said she would like her man to connect and communicate with her, decently smart, bonus if he had kind eyes ( all of it sounds painfully familiar to my own list no doubt) but the brother who was in conversation with her later confided in me his low self esteem as he felt he had to match up to some ideal list he felt he could never fufil. it seemed to have caused him a fair amount of frustration over the years and in his relations with girls he liked.

I then asked myself if all the criteria i listed were essential. till i realize, no. just a life broken and surrendered to the Lord is all that's essential. God will lead him to be all that he should be, my lover and protector, whoever it might end up being.

family.

NUS NAV is family. Bernard prayed a birthday blessing for Peter on Gala Dinner night and he said these words in his prayer (I paraphrase), “people always say that blood is thicker than water, but the spirit, the bonds that we share in Christ, is for all eternity”. It is in much agreement with this declaration that I participated in the NUS NAV Family Conference from 5-8 Dec 2008. I thank God constantly, for placing me in the NAV family for the past 3.5 years (and counting!). NUS NAV is family to me in a very literal sense; having received Christ 2 weeks before the start of university, NAV was where I learnt to utter my first prayer (with clumsy words of course), where I first learnt to do a bible study, where I first learnt to memorize Scripture, where I first understood the meaning of “fellowship” as more than food and fun, where I came to realize that a simple question posed like “how are you doing” is less of a nicety, but more of a sincere enquiry of my well being. For others in the ministry, NAV might not have been the first place where they took baby steps towards God, but I believe this is the place all of us found a genuine spiritual family that was not ridden with cliques and factions; rather, one where sinful but redeemed people came together in love and acceptance, despite our own struggles and brokenness.

Peter shared on the second day of the conference on ICEBERGS. Each of us, whether Christian or not, carry with us baggage; icebergs that look innocuous and presentable enough, but underneath the surface lurks layers and layers of unresolved issues, fears, pain, insecurities. Other people can only relate to us and see whatever little that surfaces. These different hidden layers underneath the water surface have resulted in modes of thinking and behavior that might not be conducive for our lives and relationships but we bring them with us wherever we go because they are pretty much a part of us. But God cares about our suppressed layers and is interested to help us break those layers to grant us true freedom in Christ. If only we are willing to be vulnerable and prepared for the brokenness that has to come before fruitfulness. In a loving community where God is the only reason we call each other “brother” or “sister”, I was allowed the space to make mistakes, to break down and share my deepest struggles, to grow closer to a loving God, to learn to pray and intercede instead of despair, to know my brothers and sisters as spiritual siblings and not just hi-bye acquaintances. There was discomfort, pain and tears in the breaking and molding, but much joy, love and peace in the restoring thereafter. God does not break us only once in our walk with Him however. The process was possible and bearable each time, only because I had family to see me through.

I really appreciate how the graduates came back to participate fully in this Family Conference; their mere presence communicated to me that this spiritual family is for eternity and all “barriers” to communication (age, gender, nationality etc) are imagined. It doesn’t matter if I was a year 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 etc. We are all related to a loving Father, redeemed by the blood of Christ, led by the Holy Spirit. Through their input and sharing, I gained new perspectives on who God is and what a community is. My ties in NAV are not going to expire after I graduated from the 4 years I spend in university. The prayers we utter for each other and the praise we give God in unison will ring for all eternity before the throne of God. The one definite commitment that I am making to God after this Family Conference is to continue to be part of this big family. (Hebrews 10:24-25)

But of course, NAV is not a perfect family, just as how our own natural families have their quibbles and difficulties. There might still be people in the ministry who feel that they are but outsiders looking in, who believe that their ICEBERGS are too shameful to be surfaced or that they cannot “click” with the family. There are still times when I feel like an outsider and struggle with meeting up with others or even coming for camps and retreats. But God has placed us here in this family for good reason. That in the occasional collision of icebergs manifested through conflicts with brothers and sisters, God can chisel away at the massive ice layers we each carry. That when God does deal with the hidden layers we are not alone, that we can pray for one another and allow others to pray for us. I’ve come to realize that people can only show me their love for me to the extent that I allow them to, and I can sense acceptance only to the extent that I am willing to be open and vulnerable with the spiritual family I have been placed in. We are a Grace Community because we learn to give grace to others, just as how God gave us (and is still giving) His grace, where we learn to receive grace from others so that we might receive grace from God, where we learn to trust others, that we might trust God. This commitment to community is more than warm feelings, but a conviction. I believe that what eventually emerges from God’s chiseling would be sparkling GEMS, the most perfect cut that God had in mind when He created each of us. It is my sincere prayer that God will continue to strengthen the ties in this loving spiritual family, that lives would be transformed and be set free in Christ, that we will continue to grow together to love as Christ did. (John 15:17)

goody goody

I'm gonna take up FIGURE DRAWING!

http://www.nus.edu.sg/museum/eflyers/FigureDrawing.html

very excited.

which also means i need to get a part time job to pay for the fees. Let me know you have recommendations please!

bang bang, my baby shot me down.

For some reason this song has been playing in my head for days. i dedicated it to tzing because i think she'll like it :) and i like it too. each time i listen to it, it speaks differently to me. for some reason the first time i heard it i thought it was a really dark song. the second time it was passionate like tango. the third time playful like 2 kids on a merry-go-round... and my sister just walked past threatening to shoot ME down if i keep replaying it like that.

family violence, i call it.

woooooosh.

i'm starting to think that I am becoming the Rousseauian natural man who is by nature asocial and made corrupt when interacting with people and hence becoming ridden with amour propre, the love of the appropriate, over love of self amour de soi. i went out of the house today for my Contemporary Politics of Southeast Asia paper this evening and i felt like i didn't know who i was, relative to the larger reality outside of me. To quote Jian's sms after our paper: "OMG it's the Real World! It... Looks. So... Different." It just took me a while to figure out i had a self separate from the rest of the world. it's almost infantile and a little scary. It was good to interact with the yoshi-ians for a while before the paper and goof around with the Nav sailors more after my paper. I need a social life or i might wither. i might have to deal with my corruption but that's Real Life and i would like very much to be a real human beings dealing with real issues.

T called today and we talked for abit. He's nice and comfortable to talk to and be around with and i think we hit off quite well since we knew each other. He still owes me a date and reminds me periodically that one day it will come to pass. but anyways my threshold for conversation capped at 30mins. i think i'm becoming old.. but i think it's because i've acquired a distaste for long conversations unless i'm ready to go deep.. and there are only so many people i open up to.

updates on the internal life of the enigma

my dad went for a tooth extraction a few days ago due to complications from his wisdom teeth and it induced in me a newfound fervor and conscientiousness in my daily teeth-brushing rituals. decaying teeth are not pretty sights to behold, especially when they've been uprooted and you are able to scrutinize the gaping black hole where good ol' healthy, pearlie white enamel is supposed to be. i was happy to note however, that as of yesterday i remain wisdom-teethless. the trauma of tooth extraction might very well regulate my uncontrolled and sometimes guilt-ridden eating habits (for a week or so?) but i REALLY hate porridge so no thanks.

therie is vehemently opposed to my deliberation on doing a soft rebonding for my hair. my conscience does prompt me that i don't really want straight hair but soft healthy hair so it does make alot of sense for me to go for some elusive DIY treatment rather than the "easy way out" of breaking up all the hydrogen bonds and regrouping them in hope they can look natural in the longer run. however, as usual, i'm a little downtrodden with my new trim - i never am completely happy with my hair; it's always in need of a haircut or should-not-have-been-cut. i need to accept the volume and frizz to a reasonable extent i concur. (but have never acted upon this head-knowledge conviction)

i hitched a ride from someone in school the other day and there was something amorphous about the way i thought his driving technique attractive. it was a smooth and decisive woooooosh ride. eh. i can't really explain it. and there's something about the way that he rarely smiles except when in conversation outside of class. or how he laughs out loud very often when he talks to me. i think i need to be less easily attracted to people. wake up girl!

the situation in Thailand is fascinating and in India worrying. At the back of my mind though, I'm concerned with my thesis on the protests in Thailand; so much new material to write about due to the turn of events in the past week or so.. i feel an excitement in my stomach, as if i'm at the academic forefront of things, but an equal and opposite thrust - a fear that I will not be able to do a good job with it. it's the feeling of not wanting to start on a piece of art or writing or music because

1) you know you want it to be as good as you know it has the potential to be
2) you know you need time and space to do that
3) you are afraid with the time and space it's still going to fall short of what it could be.

but i'm halfway in and i'm not about to give up what the Lord has given me. You go, girl.

de temps en temps

De temps en temp Je craque sous le poids de l'espérance
Je vais parfois à contre sens
De temps en temps
J'ai des flèches plantées au coeur
De la peine, de la rancoeur
De temps en temps
Je ris de rien
Je fais le con parce que j'aime bien
De temps en temps
J'avance en ayant peur
Je suis le fil de mes erreurs
Et très souvent...

{Refrain :}
Je me relève sous ton regard
Je fais des rêves où tout va bien
Je me bouscule, te prends la main
Au crépuscule, je te rejoins
Je me relève sous ton regard
Je fais le rêve d'aller plus loin
Je me bouscule, te prends la main
Du crépuscule jusqu'au matin

De temps en temps
Je plie sous le poids du sort,
Et des souffrances collées au corps,
De temps en temps
Je prends des coups dans le dos
Des conneries, des jeux de mots,
De temps en temps
Je regrette l’innocence
Qu’on peut avoir dans notre enfance
De temps en temps
Je veux la paix
Pour moi, je n’ai plus de respect
Et très souvent…

{Refrain}

De temps en temps
Je pense à tort
Que pas de larmes, c'est être fort
Au fond ce que j'attends
C'est voir le bout de nos efforts
Que l'amour soit là encore

Je me relève sous ton regard
Je fais des rêves où tout va bien
Je me bouscule, te prends la main
Au crépuscule, je te rejoins

Don't Judge on Appearances - By Cliff Young

The average man's judgment is so poor; he runs a risk every time he uses it.
-- Edgar Watson Howe, American Editor

Have you judged a person not worthy to get to know or start a relationship with?

Have you judged yourself as not good enough for something or somebody?

Have you judged a situation to be insurmountable with no hope of change?

We tend to make these determinations because we base our conclusion about others, ourselves, and our situation on superficial information and perception rather than on knowledge and discernment. We see the same every night on television reality shows, political commentaries, and even sports reports. Judgment is made by the way things appear instead of with accurate information and understanding.

Stop judging by the way things look (mere appearance), and make a right judgment (John 7:24).

Others

Have you ever labeled someone in your mind as a result of a first impression? I catch myself making assumptions or passing judgment (positively and negatively) on people based upon their affiliations, the way they look, what their profession is or where they may live. I know this isn't what God wants me to do, nor do I consciously set out to make such judgments, yet I inherently fall short.

God did not create the division, denominations, or political parties separating us today. We have. As a result, we use these dividing lines to categorize and make assumptions instead of getting to know others for who they really are. When we label people, we put them into a "box." This limits our thinking, how we care about others, how we treat people, and how we share God's love.

When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?"....The Samaritan woman said to him, "You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?" (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans) (John 4:7, 9).

Regardless of appearance, background, heritage, gender and even tradition--Jesus initiated a conversation with the Samaritan woman accepting her for who she was and to offer her eternal life.

If we are striving to live a life that is Spirit-filled and more like Jesus, we should make every effort to interact with people in the same way Jesus did, with compassion, forgiveness, grace, mercy and love.

Don't judge others solely on appearance. Take the time to get to know a person's heart and their character. You are the one who might be changed.

Ourselves

Have you ever looked into the mirror and felt discouraged? Do you compare your talents, abilities, and possessions to others and feel you were overlooked by God in some ways? I fall into this trap and often ask myself, "Why do I evaluate myself through the eyes of society and media rather than through the eyes of Jesus?!"

The world's opinion is temporal. We rarely keep up with the latest hairstyle, fashion, cars or gadgets for a season, let alone throughout our lives. However, if we have a Kingdom perspective, we will begin to accept ourselves for who we are, a child of God. We can then appreciate our differences and embrace the individual journey God has for each of us.

God doesn't think of us as ordinary, common, or unremarkable. He sees beautiful, extraordinary, valuable creations formed with His hands and exactly the way He designed.

So God created man in His own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them (Genesis 1:27).

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight (1 Peter 3:3-4).

The Pharisees were some of the most pride-filled, judgmental individuals of their time. Adorned in their robes and embellishments, they would stride through the temple courts thinking highly of themselves while looking down upon others. Though they may have been emulated by some because of their outward appearance, their hearts were hardened and their focus was on themselves rather than on God.

They (Pharisees) don't practice what they teach....Everything they do is for show....They enjoy the attention they get on the streets (Matthew 23:3, 5, 7).

Don't scrutinize over yourself based upon ever-changing guidelines set by the world's standards. Praise God for the uniqueness in which He created you.

Our Situation

It's easy to feel pessimistic at how the state of our country, our family (or lack of) and our life appears. We wake up each day to the uncertainties of national security, high taxes, gas prices, job security, debt and the stock market. We can choose to approach our circumstances by complaining, blaming others, doing nothing, and hoping for a change, or we can seek ways to alter it.

Paul shares his secret of how to deal with every situation.

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:12-13).

He tells us we can do (by taking action) everything (having no limits) through Him (through God) who gives us strength (with the ability to accomplish it). I truly believe this.

I have asked Jesus to be the Lord of my life. Yet, when I worry about and evaluate situations based on how they may appear (taking too long, going a different direction, no foreseeable solution, etc.), I do not demonstrate my trust in Him. Asking ourselves, "Have I completely given 'it' (job, relationships, family, finances, etc.) to Him?" will continue to mature us in Christ.

Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding (nor how it may look) (Proverbs 3:5).

Lift up your specific concern to the Lord and ask Him to show you the direction and action to take. Be patient and prayerful--the answer may be "yes," "no," or "not yet."

I have discovered that basing my judgment and conclusions on how people and situations appear is often flawed as a result of my own restricted vision. It reminds me of the time I began watching a 3-D animated movie without 3-D specific glasses. Even though I could see the picture, it was blurred and distorted. With the appropriate lenses, however, the whole screen came alive with color, depth and clarity.

I often struggle seeing how God is using me or those around me. It may be difficult comprehending how my current situation will help me grow or where it may lead. However, if I continually look at my life and my surroundings through Jesus' eyes and perspective, I will see myself, others and my situation with love, joy, peace and patience.

May you be blessed for your good judgment... (1 Samuel 25:33).

De Ton Amour

De ton amour

Je m'tais fait

Le seul secours
Que j'attendais
Et tes "toujours"
Et tes "jamais"
C'est un peu court
Mais j'y croyais
Mais ca y est, tout est dit
On s'tait mal compris
Tu joues, t'as perdu, tant pis
Je ne vais plus t'attendre
Ni la nuit, ni le jour
Tu peux toujours attendre mon retour
J'ai fini par comprendre
J'en ai assez, j'ai fait le tour, le tour
De ton amour
De ton amour
Je n'garde rien
Y'avais pas lourd
En y regardant bien
Je passe mon tour
J'en ai assez
De tes discours
De supermarch
Mais ca y est, tout est dit
On s'tait mal compris
Tu joues, ta perdu, tant pis
Je ne vais plus t'attendre
Ni la nuit, ni le jour
Tu peux toujours attendre mon retour
J'ai fini par comprendre
J'en ai assez, j'ai fait le tour, le tour
De ton amour
Moi j'en veux plus
C'est sans recours
N'en parlons plus
Car ca y est, tout est dit,
On s'tait mal compris
T'as tout perdu, tant pis
Je ne vais plus t'attendre...

Un jour, je comprendrai la poésie dans votre mélodie.

a perennial problem.

i have a perennial problem with handsome and/or powerful men. i find them highly distracting and myself highly inauthentic, stiff and silent around them. if there's one thing i have a problem with, is to be unlike myself, talking too loud or too little, setting myself on a quest to promenade. my latest resolve is to avoid/ignore the said species.

Thoughts on US elections 2008

I started to follow the course of the elections only after i read Obama's book, The Audacity of Hope some months ago. If i recall correctly, it should be just before he clinched the Democratic Presidential Nomination from Hilary Clinton. Before that, i was rather disinterested since the debate between Obama and Hilary was largely on the technicalities of policies. The only thing i could remember about Obama was that I was in the US for summer school in 2007 and in a hotel room in New York, someone in the group was watching one of Obama's speeches online and said that his speeches moved him to tears. Still, American politics remained too remote relative to my existence, even if i was in the country at that time. There was the Met and Fifith Avenue and Boston to explore and what occupied my interest were random things like the portraitist who wielded magic out of charcoal and Labyrinth, the amazing bookstore tucked away at the corner of New Haven where i picked up Michael Walzer's Just and Unjust Wars for USD$5. There was so much to see, so much to experience and so much to love about America.

Yet, I cannot adequately express my thoughts after reading Obama's book; suffice to say that his title speaks it all and it changed my outlook on life. Yet this change was not a subtraction or addition to my worldview, but an articulation and distillation of ideals that resonated inside of me. A moment of epiphany, if you will. There was something in me that clicked and I contemplated the possibilty of studying law in the US after my undergraduate studies. As I followed the course of the elections, through the news, election debates and of course the all-too-hilarious Saturday Night Live, I began to increase my appreciation and admiration of the American system, which had started more than a year ago when i was reading Tocqueville's Democracy in America for my Democracy class. There was something about the spirit of democracy that spoke of more than an electoral system or a way of governance; it was the tenacity of the human spirit to overcome odds and the will to bridge chasms between the stratas of society that enamoured me. To me, Obama embodied that American (or should i say, human) spirit. Of course, when Obama won the elections a few days ago, I was in a state of euphoria. a paradoxically calm euphoria, because i expected him to win. It just seemed to me improbable that the America would not elect him to lead the nation. But of course, I was also painfully aware of my distance from America; both physical and psychological. I am but an outsider, looking in. However, even as an observer of American Politics, I remain greatly inspired and encouraged.

I am doing this module, Rhetoric and Politics for my Honours class and I had to pick a speech and evalutate its rhetorical and political effectives. Expectantly and expectedly (my coursemates, who endured my vocal views on American politics), i picked Obama's A More Perfect Union. Critics have dismissed Obama's exemplary oratory and writing skills as nothing more than Sophistry, but personally, i sense in the now President-of-United-States an authentic spirit and sincere hopes of serving his country and upholding the ideals of humanity, articulated by the Founding Fathers of America in the preamble to the United States of America,

"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."

Of course, President Obama has much on his hands, with the Wall Street meltdown, the war on Iraq and many other pressing issues. But i believe that America can and will overcome the challenges ahead.

May each of us find in ourselves the same tenacity of spirit.

I sense that i'm falling sick :( And now's a crucial time to get all that work done. O Lord, sustain me!

private pains.

by chance i got to know that Bit's dad passed away. it was after he appeared in class to give a funny (as usual) presentation on Hitler's speech-making skills. I guessed it from his tired eyes actually, when i stopped to chat with him; i didn't probe and Mark broke the news to me after he left. I knew Bit would give an entertaining presentation; yet i found myself shocked that he cared enough about school to brace himself to give a presentation in the midst of that pain. And then it hit me today how we all have our private pains; some more than others, but we all bear pains under the shield of a public persona.

And it made me all the more determined to see beyond my private pains and fears. To see everyone else as a worthy and important and delicate being that the Creator has made in fear and wonder.

Koizora

i fear that i might be detaching myself from reality by immersing myself in movie and TV. perhaps it's a sign that stress is setting in once more, this season of the semester. it's much easier to do nothing constructive and stay in virtual reality without worrying over how my timeline is faring. Yet withdrawal symptom of emptiness looms after the screen stops moving and the static picture reminds me that i'm still where i am, with that mountain of work to do and that lack of excitement and colourful emotions that these characters have. My emotions? two-dimensional boredom. Watching people who laugh and cry and live purposefully makes me envious. oh well :(


everything you would expect in a tear-jerking, heart-wrenching love story between a couple whose love spans over high school and beyond. love it for its beautiful cinematography, perfect characters and dreamy landscapes, hate it for how much of a utopia the movie etched into my head. still, i would watch it again. and again, maybe.
sigh.

coming alive!

I am rather pleased with how seminar discussions went yesterday; i came alive to ponder aloud the thoughts that i had with regards to modern political speech and theory of communications in Rhetoric & Politics class. We debated (or rather i brought up the particular issue) about Liefenstahl and the use of cinematography to enshrine Hitler's speech in The Triumph of the Will. Invariably, the discussion led to media portrayal of even more recent speeches and yes, we ended up talking about Joe (NOT Biden, the plumber i mean) and Obama. I think I've given myself the honorable title of THE Obama Supporter in class. I'm not proud of it persay (because pride is sin!), but let's just say I know the grounds on which my preference and support lies and I'm thankful that the Lord had given me the curiosity and capacity to think widely about different issues and subjects instead of basing my opinions on hearsay and impressions. Since becoming a Political Science major, i learnt to greatly disdain comments that have not been carefully thought through and pondered; regurgitation of stale positions on any matter is most adverse to my taste.

Also, I'm beginning to really enjoy all that has come my way; Architectural Theory, Film Art, Art History, French, Sociology of Media, Rhetoric, Music, and of course, Political Science. Since waltzing towards the realm of ART in its various forms and disciplines, I've grown to appreciate beauty in more nuanced and satisfying ways. I now have a greater vocabulary and better grammar to express a deeper level of the mysteries of being alive. I might not have known why i chose Political Science in NUS 4 years ago, but it's becoming clearer and clearer that God already knew beforehand (and i knew instinctively) this is the path to enrichment. The pact i made with myself (because then i had not yet known GOD) was that it will be a worthy journey. That i will learn not to get good grades (because that will come as a result of the latter), but to LIVE a fruitful intellectual/internal life. And i'm very very very grateful and thankful and exuberant that every semester has been such enrichment of my soul. God really really really knows best.

What is Art?

“A real work of art destroys in the consciousness of the recipient the separation between himself and the artist, not that alone, but also between himself and all whose minds receive this work of art. In this freeing of our personality from its separation and isolation, in this uniting of it with others, lies the chief characteristic and the great attractive force of art.

An artist’s work cannot be interpreted. Had it been possible to explain in words what he wished to convey, the artist would have expressed himself in words. He expressed it by his art, only because the feeling he experiences could not be otherwise transmitted. The interpretation of works of art by words only indicates that the interpreter himself is incapable of feeling the infection of art. And this is actually the case, for, however strange it might seem so, critics have been people less susceptible than other men to the contagion of art. For the most part they are able writers, educated and clever, but with their capacity for being infected by art quite perverted or atrophied. And therefore their writings have always largely contributed, and still contribute, to the perversion of taste of that public which reads them and trusts them. “

Leo Tolstoy, ‘What is Art’ in Aesthetics, 1965

Of Rodin and Wong Kar Wei.

Rodin, a French sculptor who created the partial figure, who worked with the vision that the human figure is complete without the sum of its parts. He used marcottage and repetition to a feverish pitch; frequently reusing and reassembling the body to create different personas. The same schizophrenic tendency exists in his renaming of The Poet to The Thinker, The Vanquished to The Age of Bronze.


Wong Kar Wei, Hongkong director who created and recreated his characters in different films, the same name, the same idiosyncrasies, different settings and stories told. He freely used takes of one movie and transported them to another, for stories are but disparate images, waiting to be made sense of.

Of Magritte and Jay Chou

René Magritte, French Surrealist who used the constant image of the man in the bowler-hat to orchestrate different enigmas. The simplicity of a man is rendered not-so-innocuous in his juxtaposition with a life-sized fish or a green apple but critics are never able to get to the heart of the matter; is the reusing of the man in the bowler-hat a statement?

Jay Chou, Taiwanese songwriter and artist who used the same musical themes for ten tracks in his 8 albums to date, evolving in his pieces in slight notches, while retaining the constant formula. The spin-offs from his diverse musicality highlights the pirate nature of the music industry itself. but why call it piracy and not an art movement?

the quintessential truth

it was a strange day that i had. affirming and hopefully, yet puzzling. As i shared with her my bgr (or lackthereof) fears, she said with much kindness that i must surely know that i am attractive and have many suitors. quizzically, i studied her gentle face for signs of truth as she uttered those words, but promptly i shut my eyes and shook my head, as if trying to remove the tangible weight of her words from my ears. how can it be if i don't notice it at all? yet i know this wise woman of the Lord will not lie to me.

i did not dare to probe further what or who she meant in those words of affirmation. as i went on my business in school and finally had solitary time on the bus journey back, i reflected on what we shared and decided in my heart that i had done right by letting that comment slip. if i hadn't noticed anyone my way, it must be that we're not ready or that those people weren't God's choice for me. He, in His infinite wisdom, had veiled my eyes and guarded my heart with a fierce tenacity. i have in my mind a much zealous and jealous Father who knows what's best for me, which is very comforting. the little piece of quintessential truth i had not probed, and yet it brought me a tiny glimmer of hope.

of oscillation and equilibrium

i've come to understand that we all oscillate, in the breeze of our fears and our doubts. It takes more for some to forgive their own waverings, but we can all take solace in the fact that we're always connected to the pendulum that will never let us go, a force that counters gravity on our behalf and gives us a true security in this ride. we can swing to extremes but there is always a place of equilibrium to return to.

i've come to experience prayer as a lifeline, especially in those painful and dark moments of silence. or so it seems. sometimes, it's not the silence but the deafening voice of self doubt and fear that drowns out rationality and spirituality. i pray to God without immediate relief, and can only summon enough remnants of faith to remember to will myself to hold on to the glimmer of belief that the prayer is heard and i am in good hands. No overwhelming sense of peace flood me, but the voices subside and i can finally sleep in that true silence. i awake with a renewed sense of purpose and hope the following day and watch in thankfulness as life unfolds to present me with gifts and little blessings that make my day. And then i know for sure that God had heard and prayer is the very very essential thing to hold on to in the midst of the tempest, no matter how tempting it is to let go of all hope of life in the choppy waters.

i've come to believe that honesty to who i am is not vulnerable. i fight the urge to put on makeup when i'm feeling insecure and scared. and i sense that authenticity is my strongest shield and fortress against self-doubt. and i transcend the meagre worries and insecurites and come to see that i have much more to offer to this world than a mask.

i've come to hope that the one i would love possess 5 core qualities. All these i see in different people who have crossed my path and i believe that he exists as an entity, not a list floating around in the recesses of my mind. One, a love and fear of God. Love to keep him close to God and Fear to keep him from wandering too far. Two, a tongue of affirmation and kind words to edify all those around him. Three, an individual to connect with me spiritually, intellectually, emotionally. Four, a man of inner and outer strength. Five, a level of comfort with him that allows for me to be who i am and knowing that i am still loved.

i've come to realise that i CAN ask for all these things, because God refined this list for me. i ask in unabashed boldness, not unlike a child asking a parent for guidance. it takes honesty to one's own heart, honesty to face God's heart, honesty to even dare to articulate this honesty.

perhaps perhaps perhaps

been feeling paradoxically deeply empty, as if i had voluntarily ebbed away my youth sitting around feeling empty on weekends and doing nothing active about it. the worst part of it isn't the emptiness, but the looming belief that i'd chosen wrongly to cut people, dreams, activities and things away from my life. i wish to think that they were right choices; a honing of academic skills, an enrichment of my inner life, a guarding of time and energy, an investment towards my calling into the future but all signs point to a lack. a lack of activity now that fulfills my emotional and social needs.

if i had been more rebellious i'd have packed my bags and left home to see the world when i was 18. Perhaps if i had done that i'd have a deeper understanding of what it means to choose and to live.

if i had been more directed i'd have left my studies to pursue my inclination towards music and the arts. Perhaps i'd have met people who inspired me to create works of beauty that transcended the mundane.

if i were a more determined person i'd have mastered all the skills i've learnt but never acquired. Perhaps i'd have done something useful with my time and daydreaming.

if i were a less contradictory person i'd just follow my heart instead of sit down and hear the heated exchange between my mind and my heart; with the moralising mind admonishing the weak-willed whimpers of my heart. Perhaps i'd have had seen more of the world and forged a path for myself.

but i had done none of that. i am me and that's no me in that parallel universe of "Perhaps".

i can't see God in the picture but i know He's there somewhere, leading me down this path. I just wish that I could see what He sees. because from my vantage point, it does seem that i've wasted much of my youth and killed too many premature dreams.

i'd always thought the most unrealised and unfulfilled the people in the world are those who don't know where they're going and why they're living when they're 50. the wanderers and the bummers, the people who drift along life with no apparent purpose or destination. then stories entered my life and it seemed that they were perhaps the people who are the true romantics who defied the dictates of a tyrannical "society". by and by i learnt that 'conventions' and 'doing the right thing' by going through school, meeting a passable someone and dating and getting married and have kids and grow old, losing one's looks and security and love in marriage is downright sad and 'brainwashed' way of living life. i was truly depressed with the lack of meaning in my life then and with the meaningless existence i was convinced i had to follow. i was more than convinced that i was trapped in a body and a life that was designed to constrict and suffocate me.

i then met God. it seemed to me then that He showed me that life was much more than the drab existence i was doomed for. i experienced a glimmer of hope in the word Salvation. it was a word i never knew and a concept even more remote. it's been coming close to 3 years, this life of Salvation i've been living. And i have readjusted my outlook on life, grappling with the Christian faith and Christian conception of life purpose and marriage. i gained much hope, i was putting on the new self that i found in Christ. it seemed to me that i was created for happiness, purposefulness, godliness and LIFE to the full. but these months, i am starting to fear once again. i fear that my transformation in Christ had been regressing, for i confront a familiar past packed with deadening emptiness and disconcerting anxiety that time is slipping away and i am being sedated into a living-dead status.

whatever is happening to me? did i do something wrong?

Youth without Youth (2007)

i watched a Surrealist film today. i didn't understand a minute of it. i can't believe it. i finally have to concede that there are films that COMPLETELY elude me. i'm stunned. the reviews were all bad, which i'm guessing because the top critics at Rotten Tomatoes are mere mortals like me. I found a mini surrealist treatise on the film and wow, it STILL eludes me big time. NO more Picturehouse for me for a while.

broken cisterns.

it hit me that the first impression God gave me when i first stepped into His House 2 years ago that i could freely drink from the river that flows before His throne. it hit me today when i was listening to a random evangelical sermon podcast that I am collecting water in broken cisterns in a dry and thirsty land when God says to seek His unending river.

"My people have committed 2 sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water."

Jeremiah 2:13.

I feel my own desperation in collecting remnants of mirages of oasis in broken glassware very much recently. As if seized by an unknown, looming fear, i could not smile as readily, walked as reassuringly, talked as openly about my struggles. I need to repair some shameful brokenness and i have to weld the brokenness with much meticulousness to mask that hysterical fear of being abandoned to fend for myself. an irrational dread pervades. I tried telling myself that this too would pass, but my parched tongue constantly torments me that i am in need of refreshing water. i am very much afraid of being left behind as people around me move on to find their loves. how juvenile huh. but I really need to believe that I am not wasting away.

the day i manage to consolidate all my blog posts from 04 till now, is the day of convocation of the amateur poet-writer. perhaps the convocation of amateur political scientist will come first, even.

what America needs now

Calm, Methodical Obama

vs.

Angry, Ungracious McCain

Friday's unique free-form debate format offered the best insights so far into the vast differences, values and style of Barack Obama and John McCain, and how they would approach the challenges that only a president can decide. It was the stunning contrast in personal behavior, not their answers, that was most revealing.

Given the time spent on the economic crisis, Jim Lehrer had time for only five "lead" questions on national security--on Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Russia, and homeland security. Other major issues will have to await later debates. But there was enough time for many intense and revealing exchanges. With a command of both the facts and the underlying issues, and a reassuring manner, Obama convincingly passed the key test of the debate--is he qualified to be Commander-in-Chief? But the real insights came in the revelations about the way each man thinks under pressure, and the way they interacted.

First, note a recurring pattern: With the exception of Iraq, where the disagreement began with Obama's opening sentence, Obama usually began by laying out broad themes, often mentioning instances of agreement with McCain--frequently using phrases like "John is absolutely right"--before going on to stress their differences. This is unusual, and part of what makes Obama a unique leader; I do not recall any previous major party candidate in a debate volunteering so many instances of common ground with his opponent. McCain's response struck me as odd and even ungracious; he has often proclaimed he would work across the partisan divide, but he undermined his own claim by completely ignoring Obama and his comments. Instead, he attacked Obama repeatedly, using phrases such as "Senator Obama just doesn't understand. . ." at least ten times.

The manner in which each man approached problems was strikingly different. McCain understandably emphasized his own personal experiences, but almost never made clear what he thought was the larger purpose of policy. Each problem was treated on its own, and McCain's proposed policies were invariably confrontational. John McCain's world focuses almost entirely on threats. Obama usually agreed with McCain on the nature of these threats, but his proposals for action were more insightful, sophisticated, and comprehensive, and, unlike McCain's, included the use of diplomatic and economic and moral power.

These striking differences were not simply debate tactics; they highlighted differences between the two men that are in their DNA. One is the product of the brawling traditions of the United States Navy, and survival under unimaginable conditions in a Hanoi prison. John McCain has prevailed in life not by seeking common ground (ironically, the most notable exception was his historic voyages of forgiveness to Vietnam). What has kept him energized (and alive) is his enormously combative style, which he proudly calls "maverick," and his quick, sometimes pre-emptive attacks on opponents. It is not a criticism to say that he is a gambler; he said so himself in his memoirs and in the debate.

Although Barack Obama articulates his positions in a calm, methodical, and understated way, he is clearly just as tough as McCain, or he would never have come this far in life, against unbelievable odds. But he thinks about how to solve problems in a manner much more conducive to successful governance than McCain. While he made clear he is ready to use military force if necessary, his life and career embodies the search for common ground between peoples of different backgrounds, different races, different points of view. During the debate he often emphasized the non-military aspects of American power--including diplomacy backed by American muscle, the restoration of respect for the nation, and the direct link between America's economic strength and its national security.

Astonishingly, McCain had virtually nothing to say on any of these issues--yet these are the tools that must be precisely balanced and deployed with skill if the nation is to regain its leadership position in the world.

This difference was reinforced by the much-noted failure of McCain to look in Obama's direction or address him directly during the debate, and by the grim looks that left many viewers with the impression McCain was just plain angry.

The overall effect was exactly the opposite of what McCain hoped to achieve: Obama showed that he could handle the frontal assaults of an aggressive and seasoned senator-war hero in the very area McCain was perceived to be strongest. Obama offered the larger vision for the nation--and a reassuring sense he would approach issues with the seriousness they required. The gambling, brawling style of John McCain has its attractive side to Americans, but it is not what we need in the White House in these troubled times.

surrealism

The Persistence of Memory (1931)
Salvador Dali

The Enigma is on a quest to peel through the mysteries of Surrealism and the works of Salvador Dali for her Art course. because his melting clocks enrapture her imagination; from the first time she set her eyes on that monumental sculpture downtown one september night to almost 2 years later, as the same imagery encounters her again.

*

I was pleasantly surprised to be reminded by the "melting clocks" in The Persistence of Memory that one cool night in 2006 I was roaming Orchard and peering at these sculptures, intrigued by the symbolism which remained thinly veiled to me; it stirred such a curiosity but i lacked the vocabulary to describe it, the language to organize my thoughts, the lens through which i could understand and interpret it as a piece of art. To finally recognize that I was in such close proximity to art that i now know the significance is such a serendipity.

Profile of Time

Alice in Wonderland

*

Primarily a French movement in the 1920s, Surrealism is more than an art movement, but an entire philosophical movement; a way of feeling, a way of living, a way of loving. Like all movements, threads break off and branch out into different forms, into artists depicting fetishes and perversions, but the spirit of surrealism at its inception was more basic and less particular:

"Si vous aimez l'amour, vous amierez le surrealism." >- André Breton, 1924

Breton once said thatin love it was not happiness he sought, but love itself. It was a statement that expressed the combination of hope and despair that fuelled the movement's unwavering engagement with the theme of love.

“I think of nothing but love. The continual amusement I derive from intellectual pursuits, for which I am always being reproached as it it were a crime, finds its very justification in this singular and unceasing taste for love. For me there is no idea that is not eclipsed by love. It if were up to me, everything opposed to love would be abolished. That is roughly what I mean when I claimed to be an anarchist.”- Louis Aragon, 1924

I am still in the process of being acquitted with my new love. Surrealism. The name even leaves a satisfying aftertaste on my tongue. It seems to put into concrete being the inner world which i have resided in for most of my life, the way i see the world, the way i feel my dulating emotions, and finally now, the way i choose to live.

If Surrealism were a person, it would be a seeker of dreams, the one hopelessly afflicted with wanderlust, with his redeeming factor the courage to give in to his whims and leaving all else behind, pack his bags and go, leaving the constricting world which he knew all his life with his idealistic paradigm intact. Songs and poems to keep his spirit sweet in the lonely days, the fire against conventionality to keep him warm by night.

If Surrealism were to be represented by a single image, i would choose the "melting clock" for the instrumentality of a clock as a time-keeper in this image can only be contrasted with its more ethereal destiny to highlight the futility of time itself. What you thought was the resolute march of time and memory is more fluid and indecisive than you think.

If Surrealism were a song, it would be a lone piano piece by the moonlight, full of the languid sweetness of undying idealism in one movement, and bursting with the gallop of angst against the constricting "real" world it so deplores in another. The contradictions disrupt the synchronization, but it was meant to be 2 entities anyway.

If Surrealism were a lover, it would be one willing to open up his chest and show his pulsating heart to the doubting lover. Gory yes, but such is the unabashed dreaminess yet boldness of Surrealism.