Wednesday, 1 October 2008

what America needs now

Calm, Methodical Obama

vs.

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.

Monday, 22 September 2008

surrealism



Image:The Persistence of Memory.jpg
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.

http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/8133/1576/320/P1010088.7.jpg
Profile of Time


http://static.flickr.com/90/248137714_a679735ccf_m.jpg
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.

Sunday, 21 September 2008

reckless, careless, thoughtless.



we used the term "dematerialize" alot in art history class to mean moving up into the realm of the spiritual, but its alternative meaning can be lived it out as a degeneration into a state of carelessness, recklessness, thoughtlessness. Feeling responsible and good are no longer burdens, but dematerialized into irritants to a hot and bothered soul. going where the heart dictates and doing what the mind concocts. empty hours creep past and I look on in amazement that I am unfazed. past days blend into a meaningless blur and many faces merging into a moving picture. ceasing to think or to be in tune with higher purposes are such easy endeavours that they suck you in; time starts to trot and gallop. I've no desire to be responsible for anyone's life, and perhaps, not even my own.

and yes, i got my new ipod nanochromatic.

Thursday, 18 September 2008

toeing the line



Just a little detox from technology and email can leave me disorientated and a tad disconnected. It's as if i overslept and awake to find that it's mid-spring and the first dew and first breathe of fresh air has been enjoyed by the world and I've since lost out on that utility. See, a modern woman attempts to return to her rustic roots but is still constrained to think in deep-set utilitarian fashion. why should it matter that i have half the spring left when there is summer to look forward to. rest days are good. I appreciate just drifting into and out of sleep and consciousness on a hot afternoon in the comfort of my abode. human rights and non-violence fill my thoughts these days and i feel fulfilled in learning more about a subject i so instinctively gravitate towards but never found the motivation to know it as more than a familiar silhouette. Now it's taking form and i'm excited of how knowing it better will push me upwards, towards a higher calling as a crusader. in which area and for what issue i don't know. but i know i have to be a voice amidst the chaos.

Other issues dominated my thoughts as well. it was a little shocking to find that my suspicions of my presence evoking averted gazes and stumbling words was true. I was a little afraid that someone else would notice it, but I guess everyone was too frantically taking notes which i should be thankful for. once again, the tempest rages and i am shocked to find myself toeing the line between staying within friendly grounds and venturing into the wild. There is such a wild African lion residing in me that i'm afraid of one day releasing it that it'll be completely untame-able. roars.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Homer, Aristotle, Alexander

Rembrandt,
Aristotle Contemplating the Bust of Homer
Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY


portraying an inner meaning
The idea of rhetoric is that an orator speaks in public to an audience, but with Rembrandt one does not sense that the painting is a highly public statement. When John Stuart Mill wrote in the early 19th century that "eloquence is to be heard, poetry is to be overheard", he might almost have had Rembrandt's paintings in mind. We seem to happen upon an event and eavesdrop a little, observing something private and confidential. The painting has long carried a title that identifies the bearded man in floppy hat with gold chain slung from shoulder to hip, as the Greek philosopher Artistotle, who greatly admired the blind poet Homer. The face on the medallion hanging from his chain is Alexander the Great, Aristotle most famous pupil.

excerpted from Baroque & Rococo, Vernon Hyde Minor


I was first drawn to this painting because of the mystical dialogue between the eyes of Aristotle and the un-seeing Homer. Not to mention the fact that the painting was wrong in every sense of the word, with Aristotle in an ostentatious outfit and gaudy gold chain around him. Undoubtedly, Rembrandt was projecting himself in the image of Aristotle; if Aristotle was the philosopher-teacher who lost the favour of Alexander the Great, Rembrandt was the artist who was estranged from his patrons and contemporaries by the time he painted this.

I've a friend who believes all films are just a selfish production of directors, but i believe the beauty of art laid in the very roots of self absorption in a private world projected to a larger existence, be it films, paintings, writings, sculptures. Art has always been a private love affair of the artist and his creation, and great works of art merely love affairs made public.If you watch a romantic movie and swoon, you are but a voyeur in the literal sense, caught up in the romance that is of someone else's concotion, but it is art, because it appeals to universal emotions that cut across time, space and era. And this painting does precisely that, except that the time, space and era has been laid out literally, so in-your-face that anyone who knows Aristotle, Homer and Alexander will be amused.

rants.

the tension between having things her way and believing in my judgment that it shouldn't have to be that ONLY way characterized the conclusion of a double birthday celebration this evening. We didn't talk over it but I overheard complaining that she was the one ra-raing people and is always frustrated when things don't go according to her plan.

The story goes that I was supposed to lead Part B of a birthday surprise by sneaking into J's apartment to decorate it. Watching the hours go by and with no one being able to confirm whether they will indeed raid J's apartment, I made the decision to call the house party off, so that we might hold the destiny in our hands instead of the whims of the stars, and bring the party to where the birthday girl was.

Although my plan worked out more than fine, I was intensely frustrated by the fact that I was given a task to execute and not the flexibility to alter it for a better and more controllable outcome. Maybe cox both me and her have an overwhelming sense of responsibility to tasks we have to do and in that process inevitably have to step on each other's toes alot.

*

On this note, I noticed in a fair number of my friends a certain impervious-ness to comments, suggestions, last-minute flexibility. Set in their mode of thinking of how things to be done, they get easily frustrated when things don't go according to what they envision to be, if only temporally. Yet, they refuse to (or can't) see how what they conceive of as the "best laid plan" is really impractical and exists only in their ideal conception. Why can't they just see that suggestions are really opportunities for positive improvements? Why do they necessarily think that they are just inconvenient impediments to the execution of their grandiose plans? I am not saying I don't have my stubborn episodes. But to have that built-in as an auto-mechanism does test my patience. And like what Therie and I talked about today, patience is something i realise i have to learn as well. we all have our character flaws and as iron sharpens iron, so does one man sharpen another.

*

rants aside, today is a fine day.


I love to be giving my presentation on the Renaissance and Baroque, exchanging small talk with the other presenters, standing there on the podium and analyzing the figure of David. I love to satisfy my grandiose love of the arts, to bask in the feeling of being transported to Rome and Greece intellectually. I love to complete a quiz in fractions of minutes and translate what I learn into words and grades. I love to be handed a copy of essay questions as i mentally mark off the various deadlines that i might embark on my assignment early.

I love to be walking through the bazaar and to have someone hand me a free bound book of poetry. I love to be entering the Central Library with the gust of cold dry air greeting an overly zealous me with my too-elevated body temperature. I love to be talking a tad too loudly and a tad too animately as I gush to a friend like a bubbling brook. I love to be bumping into random people as i cruise down the corridors and weave through the mass of lunch crowd.I love to be sitting alone at a table at The Deck with the chattering as my background music as i sat there for an hour reading politics of non-violence.

i love to have time to hangout with various friends over the course of a day, starting with late lunch with Tzing, later lunch with Therie, hanging out with Tim, conspiring with the Nav gang. I treasure these spontaneous moments where i can take charge of my time and attention without the rigidites of worklife that will eventually consume me when I end my undergraduate life. I grew up wanting to be in my 20s and in university. I'm living out my dream. it feels surreal and happy each day to be in school doing what i'm doing.

the question is, what next? but perhaps there's too early a question.
i'd better start dreaming first.

Thursday, 11 September 2008

whine.

hedonistic part of me wants a black 16Gb Ipod Nano.

i want more time and undivided attention with family. but it seems like all of us in our busy-ness (of all of us, me most afflicted) are caught in attention-deficit order. i can't hold a conversation with my sisters long enough without my thoughts floating to some readings i have to do for my next class. and the next presentation. and the next paper. terrible way to live i tell you. and it's not even workaholic season yet.

i wanna do more French!!

sigh.

Monday, 8 September 2008

fatiguee

there hasn't been a time when i've felt more purposeful about school, yet yearn more to sleep at home. what a dichotomy of desires raging in me. i seem to have no energy left for trivial pursuits like dramas and enrichment endeavours like French. Establishing alot of new friendships with the advent of year 4 but increasingly lacklustre in attending outings with old pals. honestly tired. seem so much like an excuse but physically i just can't pull myself out of the restful refuge i found at home. i never could sleep more than 8 hours a day, now 8 hours leave me feeling lethargic. O God make me more like Superwoman, with as vibrant a social life as an intellectual one. More friends to jio for outrageous fun, less desire and energy to execute. is it a good thing?

but i confess part of the problem definitely has to do with the fact that the workaholic in me never died. between senseless fun and understanding Roman Rhetoric, you know which i'll choose. it's not that i'm used to being a geek, but knowledge nourishes and refreshes me more than fun. sigh. i hope i don't die of overwork. it wouldn't be a very good testimony.

Friday, 5 September 2008

it is done.

i finally finished my paper on Clausewitz and Sun Tzu satisfactorily. Although at the expense of sleep and health. What a nightmare. I'm glad i persevered though. Thank you Lord that I didn't drop dead. really.

I can't imagine writing a thesis and having to struggle with a paper thrice at long?

Sunday, 31 August 2008

layering on brick by brick


writing a 5000-word paper is like building a wall, you come up with a good stable structure upon which to hold your ideas and structure them into a coherent argument, but you're always a little unsure and open to shifting parts of the structure in order that you change the face of your architecture to be a little more indestructible. a constant low-level trepidation tugs at you to stretch yourself a bit further intellectually; to consider tearing down the structure as you go along to consider more factors like weather-proof metal and noise-canceling devices to insert into that structure, or in more dramatic instances to uproot those structures to build a firmer foundation first.. and yet you must come to a point when you decide in your heart that enough improvisation and improvement is enough and you will now concentrate your efforts to start layering on the bricks one by one. because, the most sturdy structure will always remain nothing more than an awe-inspiring structure at best and until you overcome your sense of inadequacy to step out and start on the next process of labouring, your learning cannot be complete and your skills unsharpened. When you finally end the laborious work at the end of it, you will then go away with a full appreciation that a wall is meant to provide a tangible fortress within which your ideas can stand for eternity.

Saturday, 30 August 2008

Godsend.

Greetings to you from South Asian Connection. Words are powerful. Words have the power of life and death. Never underestimate the power of your words. With one small word, you can change a person’s life for better or for worse. The Bible says, “The tongu e has the power of life and death, and they who indulge in it shall eat the fruit or consequences of it - either for death or life. Proverbs 18:21.

Words have authority and can become a self-fulfilling prophecy over a person’s life. The word power used in the context of Proverbs 18:21 is a Hebrew word ‘yad’ with a word picture meaning of a physica l hand, to deliver something into someone’s hands. It is to delegate authority by what you speak and say.

Stop delegating authority through cutting poi sonous words from the pit of hell - words of death, bitterness and condemnation. With our negative words, we bind people. With our words of condemnation, we put people into emotional and psychological prisons, scarring them for life. With our words of death, we kil l people’s spirit.

Start today and decide right now to speak life giving words at all times. Positive life giving words take a life of its own in the soul of a person. The revelational word of God has got creative power to breathe life, to build and to edify. Speak life giving words of the Holy Spirit. Speak life giving words into your situation and into the lives of others. Speak hope. Speak confidence. Speak encouragement. Speak inspiration. Speak with boldness. Speak the truth.

Words can be your salvation. Words can also be your damnation. Our words and actions are powerful beyond our comprehension. Words can kil l, words can give life. They're either poiso n or fruit—you choose.

Watch your thoughts; they become your words.
Watch your words; they become your actions.
Watch your actions; they become your habits.
Watch your habits; they become your character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

Make the most of every opportunit y. Be gracious in your speech. The goa l is to bring out the best in others in a conversation, not to put them down or cut them out. Let your conversation be always full of grace seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone. We are called to inherit a blessing. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.

I am responsible for what I say. You are responsible for what you say. God holds us responsible for what we say. There will be a time of reckoning when every one of these careless words is going to come back to haunt you and me unless there is forgiveness, true repentance and healing reconciliation.



I learnt alot about the power of the tongue through the traumatic few weeks, even if my hope to silence another's doesn't seem to have worked at all. I think for the time being, i made my stand very clear and that's good enough. I have come to realize that as a Christian, i sometimes have to stand alone, in order to stand up for what i believe in. I don't hope to convince the world that what i believe is superior or better, because it's not up to me to prove whether my beliefs stand or fall, but I do it because they are my beliefs and i appeal to another to respect them, because they have no right over my life to trample upon them like they're not worth a thing in the world. They might not matter to you but I have the right to hang on to mine and request that you steer clear of invading on my personal space to worship a God i believe in. I'm very tired to hear of everything as having a "utilitarian value" in the here and now. shortsightedness might be your state of existence but i appreciate my eternal vision very much.

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

philospher kings.

Socrates and Phaedrus gets into a philosophical debate about erotic love in an attempt to seduce one another. Plato records it faithfully, but they are really just surrogates for his elicit love affair with ideas.

* * *

I can be an excitable colt in the likes of Polus in Gorgias to do this and that. excitably i suggest this and that, and then realising that it's all no more than reactions to actions directed not at moi. i chuckle at myself, the irrational and reactional part of me that ceases to think in that gap of 5 seconds. Perhaps i'm still chronically hallucinating and making up stories in my head that doesn't even exist in the metaphysical realm. if only the characters would be a little more real.

Needing some space to pause to smell the flowers and do a little quirky dance.

more rants

i heart my blog. because it's so beautiful i feel inspired to write very often, even if they are just rants about everyday mundane things like how i feel and who i met.

i met doe-eyed Ralph Lauren boy today with his sleek new look. Btw I like how Therie and I are having a different look this semester as well. injects visual excitation to the semester don't you think ;) He looks less lost in school now and as charming as ever. I think he can melt an ice mountain with the warmth radiating from his smile when we parted ways today. i'm not exactly the ice queen on the block but i melted a little. Btw I got a very hot Teaching Assistant for one of my modules. I usually think it's crude to say someone is as hot as a hot potato but he really is. I sit in class observing the perfect geometry of his face. argh. iamsuchapsycho.

Guys can be such enigmatic creatures. Girls can get so easily wowed over by beauty. hmm was that a feminist-postmodern-deconstructivist statement or what?!?

Monday, 25 August 2008

study of war

Amidst lingering fatigue and a shroud of uncertainty, i continue the dance of my fingers across the keyboard. I am happily working on my Study of War essay, comparing the relative priority assigned by Clausewitz and Sun Tzu to the role of intelligence and information in preparation for war. I am pleased to say that it looks set to be an engaging and exciting paper; am going to discuss The Korean War (1950-1953) and the role of propaganda as a "non-lethal" weapon, amidst other case studies. The more i dive into the wealth of research, the more intrigued I am by the role of communications in warfare.

perhaps it's my own inclinations that determined the course of my Study of War essay, but i'm 1/2 hoping that this is the Lord's way of showing me that my thesis can be an extension of the level4k essay i am working on now. Talk about chronic laziness. bah.

I am still in labour pains with regards to trying to deliver my baby thesis idea. only few words (not concepts or ideas mind you) floating around: communications and media, politics, north korea. I am officially daunted by my first wild idea of positing the link between democracy and media in North Korea because data and information don't seem to be readily available.The silence of God and non-progress of my thesis research is deafening, in contrast to the bustle of those around me, all set to go with their topics. I'm not particularly striving to write a thesis, honestly! I think i will be quite happy to give it up if God will just tell me. But it is the lingering sense that perhaps God does have a topic for me to write on and i am to wait patiently even as i go about doing literature review.

God has been reminding me OVER and OVER and OVER these past months that He will provide water for me from a rock in the midst of the desert. It has been happening in many "small" ways like getting my modules and even orchestrating Putterman's 2 week hiatus with my paper writing for Study of War. Like how i can feel so unsure before the paper presentation but Dr Chong saying that it's a superb presentation with a good argument after that. I nearly broke down right there and then knowing that my God fought that battle for me. but I get this hunch that "the big break" is yet to come. He's going to fight even more amazing battles for me and i know i will literally just "stop and stare".

i so badly want to be right smack in the middle of God's will. I hope that's where i am. I know there's where I am :) i just wait for God to lead.

Saturday, 23 August 2008

cleaner slate.

Ed called me at midnight to check out i'm doing and i started unleashing unglam spasms of sobbing across the airwaves of the Indian Ocean to the other end of Asia. I didn't realize that the gaping emptiness of Friday night masked layers of stress that I've been suppressing unconsciously. For the first time in a long time i cried and talked and sobbed some more and sniffed to make sense of all these emotions erupting finally. My heart had been protesting for the longest time to the throngs of people who have been making demands on my time and my ears: Stop urging me we should do this or do that. Stop calling me. Stop smsing me. Stop telling me we are meeting up this week or next. I just want to be left alone to think and feel for myself.

Ed was full of love and godly wisdom as usual and i woke up this morning feeling clean somehow, having spoken to a wise brother in Christ who made my thoughts and motivations clearer and less clouded by fear and uncertainty. But I know that I am still very tired emotionally and physically. I feel like I could really take sometime off for a retreat of sorts. dreaming of Taipei; the throngs of friendly, chatty, Chinese-speaking faces; the clear blue beaches and crisp clear mountain breeze; the bustling nightlife.. . make it happen, Lord.

Thursday, 21 August 2008

rest in God alone.

August 20, 2008
Christ-Awareness
. . . and I will give you rest —Matthew 11:28

Whenever anything begins to disintegrate your life with Jesus Christ, turn to Him at once, asking Him to re-establish your rest. Never allow anything to remain in your life that is causing the unrest. Think of every detail of your life that is causing the disintegration as something to fight against, not as something you should allow to remain. Ask the Lord to put awareness of Himself in you, and your self-awareness will disappear. Then He will be your all in all. Beware of allowing your self-awareness to continue, because slowly but surely it will awaken self-pity, and self-pity is satanic. Don’t allow yourself to say, "Well, they have just misunderstood me, and this is something over which they should be apologizing to me; I’m sure I must have this cleared up with them already." Learn to leave others alone regarding this. Simply ask the Lord to give you Christ-awareness, and He will steady you until your completeness in Him is absolute.

A complete life is the life of a child. When I am fully conscious of my awareness of Christ, there is something wrong. It is the sick person who really knows what health is. A child of God is not aware of the will of God because he is the will of God. When we have deviated even slightly from the will of God, we begin to ask, "Lord, what is your will?" A child of God never prays to be made aware of the fact that God answers prayer, because he is so restfully certain that God always answers prayer.

If we try to overcome our self-awareness through any of our own commonsense methods, we will only serve to strengthen our self-awareness tremendously. Jesus says, "Come to Me . . . and I will give you rest," that is, Christ-awareness will take the place of self-awareness. Wherever Jesus comes He establishes rest— the rest of the completion of activity in our lives that is never aware of itself.


God says to me, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

my loving God.

what a glorious day the Lord has made. Rhetoric class was absolutely awesome.. and we talked alot about the bible and God and Christianity and Rhetoric. It amazes me how people are interested in my God, a God who loves everyone in a special way, a God whose love cannot increase or decrease by what we do or do not do. I'm absolutely loved, and i love God :)

This is the season of learning to balance on the beam with extra weight on my shoulders. More readings, more work, higher expectations, "enhanced" word counts in essays, more people to connect with and meet and investing in. To love people with the love of Christ, to spend time with them. I sense such a desire in me heart to invest my time and energy in the incoming batch of year1s in Navigators. I know for sure that they are the "new generation" God spoke to us of. I remember how at Matric training night Sup opened a time of listening prayer for what God is doing in NUS and both Ivy and I heard "Raise up a new generation" word for word. Such a powerful confirmation of the Lord's word. I am seeking the Lord about leading the new year 1 group.. I seek to do what He portions for me :)

Things get a little complicated as i sense a need to build a safety hedge around me and the new additions, esp with the brothers. To create that "safe" environment to love one and another as brothers and sisters in Christ. Jer thinks one of the freshmen is giving me extra attention and i somehow get "the vibes" as well. It's a delicate act of balance once again, between extending love and concern to "checking each other out". I thank God for a community within which i know i don't have to prove myself.. and I pray that i will play my part to preserve this loving community.

Saturday, 16 August 2008

a rugged first week.

first week of school is finally over and lugged my laptop, backpack stuff with 5 books on war with another 2 in hand to City Hall to meet the girls for dinner and went to Chijmes for drinks after that. how incongruent, that visual image of an industrious undergraduate with all her industrious gear strotting into Le Baroque. Honestly, all i wanted to do was to escape home after a long day of classes but i knew i had to keep the commitment to go. Although it took all of my remaining 10% strength, God was good to give me a refreshing short time with Therie after class, and very comfy rides to town.

The music at Le Baroque was lousy, KC was still calling me/smsing me throughout the night, the waiters were rude, but all these can be compensated by the company that i had. 4 friends sitting round the table getting lost in their emo thoughts. Not very healthy i think, but once in a while, it allows for some quiet reflection and irrational feelings to arise like bubbles and go "pop" on the surface of a Hoegarden.

i saw PK in school after class. same resolute walk, same serious expression, same swift appearance. Some people never change. i know i changed alot in these 3 short years.

i'm pleased with how comfortable i feel in my skin these days. i'm irritated with how KC clings to me like a lifeboat. I'm excited about the modules and papers i'm going to write. I'm hesitant about taking 6 modules. I'm elated with the number of frens i have/i get to make in each class. I'm tired because i don't get enough sleep. I'm confident that this will be a good (academic) year.

I'm a bundle of emotions bubbling over and waiting to erupt in a splendid display of fountain-works.

Monday, 11 August 2008

hype.

the hyper freshmen jibes that envelope the campus every new academic year always disorientates me. the excitement and exuberance seems to an old soul rather like posturing and a tad unauthentic, as if everyone was working up to a frenzy to feel like they are in a clan-formation system. Perhaps it's the residue of orientation week? or the in-your-face hall culture, which i was never a part of. Maybe that's why it overwhelms me to the extent i feel the need to steer clear of these bustling crowds. I saw a few familiar silhouettes and faces, but only ventured to say "Hi" to those i feel i could skip the inauthenticity and be who i am. For other people, i was too tired to even make small talk, even when we were caught face-to-face. Alvin said i carry myself like a 25-year old, which i am pleased with, and have grown to like the me who will not be RA-RA for the sake of gaining attention or take up a conversation just to impress other people. i just wish i could feel more comfortable in a campus i've grown used to for the past 3 years and stop feeling like a jealous child with her territory encroached upon.

Friday, 1 August 2008

The diving suit and the butterfly

Viola, un livre joliment écrit, qui me motive pour écrire en français.

http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/519EESY0QKL._SL500_AA240_.jpg
Derrière le rideau de toile mitée une clarté laiteuse annonce l'approche du petit matin. Behind the moth-eaten curtain, a milky brightness announces the approach of the early morning. J'ai mal aux talons, la tête comme une enclume, et une sorte de scaphandre qui m'enserre tout le corps.
i have pain in the heels, my head feels like an anvil and a kind of diving suit encloses all over my body. Ma chambre sort doucement de la pénombre. My room fades slowly into the twilight. Je regarde en détail les photos des êtres chers, les dessins d'enfants, les affiches, le petit cycliste en fer blanc envoyé par un copain la veille de Paris-Roubais, et la potence qui surplombe le lit où je suis incrusté depuis six mois comme un bernand-lérmite sur son rocher. I look in detail at the photos of the loved ones, children's drawings, the posters, the small white iron cyclist sent by a friend the day before Paris-Roubais, and the gallows which overhangs the bed where I am inlaid for six months as a bernand-lérmite on its rock.
Pas besoin de réfléchir long temps pour savoir où je suis et me rappeler que ma vie a basculé le vendredi 8 décembre de l'an passé. No need to think for a long time to know where I am and remind myself that my life changed Friday, December 8 of last year.

Jusqu'alors, je n'avais jamais entendu parler du tronc cérébral. Ce jour-là, j'ai découvert de plein foucet cette piéce maîtresse de notre ordinateur de bord, passage obligé entre le cerveau et les terminaisons nerveuses, quand un accident cardiovasculaire a mis ledit tronc hors circuit. Autrefois, on applelait cela et on en mourait en toute simplicité. Le progrès des techniques de réanimation a sophistiqué la punition. On en réchappe mais flanqué de ce que la médecine anglo-saxonne a justement baptisé le locked-in syndrome: paralysé de la tête aux pieds, le patient est enfermé à l'intérieur de lui-même avec l'esprit intact et les battements de sa paupière gauche pour tout moyen de communication.

Bien sûr, le principal intéressé est le dernier mis au courant de ces gracieusetés. Pour ma part, jái eu droit à vingt jours de coma et quelques semaines de brouillard avant de réaliser vraiment l'etendue des dégâts. Je n'ai tout à fait émergé que fin janvier dans cette chambre 119 de l'Hôpital maritime de Berck où pénètrent maintenant les premières lueurs de l'aube.

gift.

came home to a parcel from United States. Heidi! my dear friend i made at Yale sent me some mementos from last summer. what a surprise. Thank God for friendship. it's the most amazing thing that i have been given in life, besides family, and life itself.

my French prof, Pierre, lent me 3 films to watch today! They're all funny and good movies apparently!

I really wish to continue learning French at Alliance Française, because of how personal the learning is and the small class size (average 7?). The library rocks of course with good French literature, movie and music collection. But without good recommendations from Pierre i'd have depended much on trial and error. Pierre is new at the school but he totally rocks. one of those teachers you know who care about what they teach and who they're teaching. extremely patient as well.

I want to be prudent with my parents money though, and decided to take up French in NUS for the next 2 semesters instead, and consider continuing at Alliance Française after i graduate(being able to afford the lessons myself that is). another practical consideration is that i won't have the time to travel to Newton twice a week when school starts and i'm a whopping 4th year Political Science student. practicality. when did i acquire this necessary evil. i am missing French class already.

Came across a French album today by the most handsome French male ever. Pierre saw the CD and told me that his story is a tragic one; he was the winner of a reality singing competition and shot to fame, but all knew that he was going to die, due to a heredity disease. he eventually did pass away last year, at the age of 23.

La Voix d'un ange cover


Wednesday, 30 July 2008



J'ai observé le film "Peau d'âne" seul à l'Alliance Française sur un caprice hier dans la nuit puisque(depuis que) j'étais une heure tard.

Monday, 28 July 2008

bumble bee once again.

dazzling business occupies my mind and time once again, which is good. once again i don't have to give a blank look when people ask me what i'm busy with coz honestly i haven't been very busy and i wonder why everyone else keeps an account of what they've been doing day after day after day. at least now i'm really DOING sth that i can report to every well-meaning conversationalist i meet in life. I plucked up the courage, therie prayed, God pointed His finger and i went to the church chorale audition! :) it was the best choice i could have made, since the alternative is to chicken out and to feel like a loser for the rest of the month. My interviewer was Wynn, which is a God choice because he was from NTU Nav and could totally understand my struggle of when and how to transit from campus ministry (Nav) to church setting. he ended the interview with a prayer and i'm reminded once again that there is really something exceptional about praying Christian men! :) the presence of God in a person's life is truly attractive. I pray that in my life too, i may exhibit more of the fragrance of Christ :)

Sunday, 27 July 2008

the restless jack of all ambitions speaks.

I can't decide if i hate my recent reticence in committing to any one thing more, or my older and as detestable 3-min enthusiasm that gets me up and running from one project to another without really completing anything i can call my own. I need some sort of focus and direction in life, a motivation that will direct all my energies in proper avenues that will bring forth satisfying results and fruit I can rest with. This restless energy that propels me to jump from one ship to another is making me unfruitful and stressed. not a very healthy state of being. the oscillation of wanting to do this, maybe not, oh well doesn't hurt to try, shucks! no commitment pls! is making me miserable. i feel as spineless as a wobbly jellyfish.

Thursday, 24 July 2008

Hello there!

my house under construction right here :)
excited and occupied i must say, just experimenting with html, colours, pictures.
i envision a portfolio, a journal, a reprise right here.
Am going to transport all my writings, thoughts here slowly so everything is at once place.
just like how my soul should be all at one place.
I just hope i have enough time to pull this together before school and activities flood me.

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Je ne veux pas travailler



Ma chambre a la forme d'une cage
(my room is shaped like a cage)
Le soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre
(the sun stretchs its arm through the window)
Les chasseurs à ma porte
(the hunters are at my door)
Comme les p'tits soldats
Qui veulement me prendre

Je ne veux pas travailler
(I don't want to work)
Je ne veux pas déjeuner
(I don't want lunch)
Je veux seulement l'oublier
(I only want to forget)
Et puis je fume
(and then I smoke)

Déjà j'ai connu le parfum de l'amour
(Already, i knew the scent of love)
Un million de roses n'embaumerait pas autant
(A million roses not emblemed as yet)
Maintenant une seule fleur dans mes entourages
(Now a single flower in my entourage)
Me rend malade
(It makes me sick)

Je ne veux pas travailler
(I don't want to work)
Je ne veux pas déjeuner
(I don't want lunch)
Je veux seulement l'oublier
(I only want to forget)
Et puis je fume
(and then I smoke)

Je ne suis pas fièrce de ça
(I am not that fierce)
vie qui veut me tuer
(who wants me killed)
C'est magnifique être sympathique
(Its wonderful to be good)
Mais je ne le connais jamais
(But I never know how to)

Je ne veux pas travailler
(I don't want to work)
Je ne veux pas déjeuner
(I don't want lunch)
Je veux seulement l'oublier
(I only want to forget)
Et puis je fume
(and then I smoke)

Je ne suis pas fièrce de ça
(I am not that fierce)
vie qui veut me tuer
(who wants me killed)
C'est magnifique être sympathique
(Its wonderful to be good)
Mais je ne le connais jamais
(But I never know how to)

Salut



Salut, c'est encore moi
(hello, it's me again)
Salut, comment tu vas?
(hello, how have you been?)
Le temps m'a paru très long
(it's been a long time it seems)
Loin de la maison, J'ai pensé à toi
(far from home, i thought of you)


Je un peu trop navigué
(i have sailed a little too)
Et je je me sens fatigué
(and i feel tired)
Fais-moi un bon café
(give me a cup of good coffee)
J'ai une histoire à te raconter
(i have a story to tell)
Il e'tait une fois
(Once upon a time)
Quelqu'un que tu connais bien
(someone you know well)
Il est parti très loin
(he has gone very far)
Il s'est perdu, il est revenu
(he was lost and he has returned)

Salut, c'est encore moi
(hello, it's me again)
Salut, comment tu vas?
(hello, how have you been?)
Le temps m'a paru très long
(it's been a long time it seems)
Loin de la maison, J'ai pensé à toi
(far from home, i thought of you)

Tu sais, j'ai beaucoup changé
(you know, i have changed alot)
Je m'etais fait des idées
(i have big ideas)
Sur toi, sur moi, sur nous
(about you, about me, about us)
Des idées folles, j'étais fous
(these ideas are crazy, i am a crazy fool)
Tu n'as plus rien a me dire
(You have nothing else to say to me)

Je ne suis qu'un souvenir
(i am just a memory)
Peut être pas trop mauvais
(maybe it's not too bad)
Jamais plus ne te dirai
(Never again do you say)

Salut, c'est encore moi
(hello, it's me again)
Salut, comment tu vas?
(hello, how have you been?)
Le temps m'a paru très long
(it's been a long time it seems)
Loin de la maison, J'ai pensé à toi
(far from home, i thought of you)

Saturday, 19 July 2008

the weight of sin.

the heaviness of sin weighs heavily upon my heart, and no doubt, it's the weight of the tears of the Holy Spirit within me although it is not my sin i bear. yet what a resemblance to the sinfulness that resides in my flesh, my common heritage from Adam and Eve. Sin is imbued in our DNA, each and every one of us. And when sin becomes so real, either committed or witnessed; it is so inescapable that sin grieves God because of His Spirit in me. And i realize that my values have been changed permanently and there is no way i can indulge in certain things or see sufferings that arise from our sinful and broken world without that righteous yet loving grief in my heart.

The first sin that the Lord confronted me in my walk with Him was a lie i told, a white lie that the world would call, but the Lord pressed His thumb upon me and i felt the sin causing my bones to waste away and my heart to melt away. For the first time, i cried because it was so clear to me how a little lie says so much about the evilness of my heart and how little i loved my dear friend. I cried out as David did in Psalm 32.

The sinfulness of my heart was again revealed when i found myself recoiling from loving a brother because i sensed he loved me with more than the love of a brother. Ostensibly not to stumble myself or him, it was really the discomfort in my heart i wanted to avoid. My sin was the judgement and rejection i allowed into my heart due to pride. yes, pride. My cardinal sin.

A sexual sin can cause so much heartache to a couple when they break up and tear apart their souls, but it can also hurt those relationships that come after. it isn't fair, it isn't kind, because sin is evil in itself. i see her wipe her tears when she's watching the telly, i think of the disappointment and anger she must feel and it just pains my heart. this world system allows, encourages, facilitates, celebrate fornication and every kind of "sexual freedom"; but fornication is a blatant flageration of God's command to His children, a gratification of the self and flesh that can hurt other people in one's life and hurt God's heart. I feel so grieved for this young couple, yet i see God working to answer my prayer that something might happen to draw each of them closer to God. if this is Your way of drawing them to Your unfailing love, Lord i pray that Your hand of protection will be there to guide these 2 young hearts and souls.

Saturday, 12 July 2008

Alan Fleischer's Time Exposures.


a great day out at SAM again, this time with kel because i was hoping the photographer could shed some light and give me a different perspective on Alan Fleischer's work. And to find out how he's doing. He arrived unceremoniously 1hr late with profuse apologies but i was feeling pretty ok. I've gotten used to lateness because i myself live with a internal clock slower than others by a couple of hours. I usually feel i have eternity to live, what's with standing on the NY streets for 1 hr to look at someone else's portrait being drawn by an artful hand? these things are the colours of my world and things that i remember well, much better than the myriad of colours in the Nine West shops. I love the arts and ideas. of representation and of the human psyche. We ended up catching up and talking about architecture and different cities over drinks overlooking Esplanade and the cool night air softly playing with my hair. the serenity of the city lights.

Sometimes i fear getting lost in my thoughts. sometimes i fear i stare so long into eternity that i would miss out the present and fail to live it to the maximum as i should. There are big things alright, but small things like exercise and appointments and grocery shopping and errands, i forget and let slip too often. Other times i suddenly take a look at myself inside out and panic that i have overlooked something important that will jeopardize my well being as an earthly being. Josh uploaded a photo we took yesterday and my first thought was: i think it's time to exercise and reduce those big arms. Jesus loves me whether or not i've huge arms, whether or not i have thunder thighs, whether or not i have unruly hair, whether or not i'm cleft-lipped, whether or not i'm blind, whether or not i am HIV-positive, whether i am fair or dark skinned but i still disappoint myself but not loving myself just as i am, most of all the time. there's always something i'm seeking to change or improve upon, which is a silly thing if i remember to KIV the fact that God made me and there's nothing i can do to make it better because i am perfect and good in His sight.

Wednesday, 9 July 2008

the sweet regret of wanderlust.

http://1heckofaguy.com/wp-content/photos/calvino%20cities.jpg

Posting one of the shortest but my favourite descriptions here. I enjoy it because it describes so succinctly and avidly the sweet regret of wanderlust, of meeting a city that one dreams of in his youth only to find that one is no longer young, and desires fade into memory:


"When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women always encounters a third, where cockfights degenerate into bloody brawls among the bettors. He was thinking of all these things when he desired a city. Isidora, therefore, is the city of his dreams: with one difference. The dreamed-of city contained him as a young man; he arrives in Isidora at his old age. In the square there is the wall where the old men sit and watch the young go by; he is seated in a row with them. Desires are already memories. "

Friday, 4 July 2008

my angels.

i believe God loves me so much He sent me angels to guard over me. therie believes the writer in me more than i myself do and is like the conduit between me and God when i get lost in the world. my companion and prayer warrior. grace was the first to speak to me about God in my life and recommends to me the best deals in town (trust me, she knows absolutely the best). my informant. serene is the only friend whom i can memorise BOTH her home no. and handphone no. and recite when i speak in my slumber because of the number of years we chalked up just talking to one another over the airwaves. my evolving half. tzing is the sort of friend i smile at whenever i think of her because she's just special to me; spirited and quirky (yes she HATES the Q word but it's a compliment). Hwee is my dreamer counterpart but we're completely opposite in flavour; she's passive and practical. i'm active and floaty. we keep each other dreaming and grounded at the same time. my paradoxical counterweight. Ching is a constant in my life from rg days till now. her never-changingness protects my authenticity as a person.

other pple are less regular in frequency in my life but special nevertheless. Ling is my grand-friend; we promised to remain friends even when we become grandparents and will make our children befriend each other, no matter what it takes. gas chamber, anyone? ;) Kel is the only guy i have no qualms with to ring him up and hang out. KC is forever calling and sms-ing me to complain, inform and gossip. jian has an apt sense of humour that's very endearing.

and yes my Nav gang. they're the sort you will call up if you're kidnapped, because you know they'll pray so hard they'll move the heavens and the kidnappers :D

Monday, 30 June 2008

quiet silence

she always believed in the need to be conversational, especially with those closet to her heart. it's almost like the crusade to bare one's heart is one that she lives for, a born psychoanalyst who instinctively protects the emotional well being of all those within 1m proximity to where she's breathing. Love, to her, is a warm and engaging conversation that can last into eternity; not necessarily of words, but of music of the soul in resonance with one another, of silence that echoes out into the deep, of musings and sighs that are shared and understood. which is why, she knows and understands God's love and her love for God. not intellectually, but with the heart and soul. perhaps that's why, etched in her mind is the image of a boy, silent and slightly awkward, always watching her from afar, not daring to draw near. they share a knowing smile, and then part ways. they see each other from the corner of their eyes, never quite making the connection. they pluck up the courage to speak to each other, not of words but of music. the heart, speaking much louder than the sum total of all the words exchanged between them.

Saturday, 28 June 2008

being alive, with colours and individuality

i'd very much rather stare at the computer till my eyes hurt than actually sleep when i'm dead tired since 2.5 hours ago. i know i deserve all the dark eye rings and eye bags in the world but too bad i'm endowed with youth and not-bad genes and those things don't get me so easily. right now i'm just thinking about how to use an eyeliner properly to get a rather sweet gothic look like the girl on the far left of the picture. (i don't really care very much about the other rather pointless pair of pictures.) makeup is my new love ever since starting temp work. it changes the way you look, but more importantly, it changes how you feel. it's a beautiful colourful day when i look through my 12-colour palette of eye shadows and decide whether to be a lilac butterfly or a brown racoon. it captures my imagination and expresses my creativity; yes, all in the process of choosing colours and styles to present to the world. makeup does not equal vanity my dear friends. they are like the colours of the rainbow to enthrall and inspire, the paint colours on the palette of a pensive artist to translate the overflowing reservoir of heaven in his breast. if art is spiritual, so must the trade of beauty creation be.
http://images.blogskins.com/skin_images/177/793/images/beinginlove.jpg

On a more intellectual tone, i have been reading Affluenza by Oliver James to satisfy my book hunger. how can i ever live without books and ideas?
http://www.tbpcontrol.co.uk/TWS/CoverImages_TBP/009/190/0091900115.jpg
besides the aesthetic reason of how i adore the cover picture of 2 zombified beautiful city dwellers, what Oliver expounds in his book about the Virus-infected English speaking cities (including Singapore) is superbly interesting. Sadly, Tzing was not too impressed nor intrigued when i was sharing (albeit a little too briefly) about his finding about how focusing on being beautiful rather than attractive is much healthier and more intrinsically motivated and hence gives you better emotional well being. well, it's common sense to know that you're always happier when you're not trying to please everyone in the world, but i've never truly separated being beautiful from being attractive. most people, like me, will probably intuitively think that they are one and same. he raises the very poignant example of how Russian and Danish women are the most beautiful in the world (seriously, i never knew that before reading the book but apparently, it's a known fact in the Western world.) but miniskirts and low cut tops are not found in their fashion encyclopedia. think individualistic, personalized, tasteful clothings mixed and matched that DON'T cost $60 a piece, mass produced in Zimbabwe and shipped over to Zaras and Mangoes going on sale in Singapore. i've always been disgusted by the state of fashion in Singapore. I'd rather dress plainly in clothes that are flattering for me and feel comfortable than trash my money on clothing that are skimpy, overpriced, mass produced and devoid of personality. Oliver's theory is that Russian and Danish women, unlike the Virus-stricken (materialism) women in developed cities, have learnt to express their beauty and creativity in their appearance, instead of using appearance to impress others or to attract men. this is why their beauty radiates from within.

Pretty cool thought huh? Oliver writes much better and interestingly of course. and every page reads like a vaccine for myself and helps me to dig deeper to discover what is truly important to me and authenticity ranks tops. To be true to who i am, what i feel, what i think, what i believe, to all those who cross my path and whose paths i cross. of course, that presupposes a simultaneous process of improving that authentic self; less selfishness, less materialism, less pretense, less hedonism, less directionless, less introspection. work in progress, that's what i am.

And don't ask me why i address Oliver James by his first name. i don't want to tell you that i neurotically treat all good writers as my personal friends. shhhhhh.

Thursday, 26 June 2008

the diving bell and the butterfly (1)

http://zoonormous.files.wordpress.com/2008/02/the-diving-bell-and-the-butterfly.jpg

why movie posters can look scandalous and irreverent to the spirit of a film eludes me. but it was a good film, which made me fall in love with French all over again and it nourished the lingophile in me. I love the beauty of the monologue Jean-Do recites in his solitary diving bell and can only metaphorically weep at my incompetence and his confinement; that i could only read the translated English form, like listening to Chopin Waltz No. 69 through the fingers of a mediator.

I got my hands on the book the next day, that i may savor once again, the resonance of the quotes which tugged at my writer soul. I wish i could rave more on the film tactics, but i was too wowed by the subtitles to give due attention to cinematography. that would take a separate viewing. i promise to fulfill my irreproachable role as an amateur film critic.

the first film that we watched together and might be the last for now, as seul, he takes off to France.

taking stock

a long time since she's been here, a poignant reminder of how long she has been a member of the living dead. She still is a drifter in every sense of the word; a traveller, a wanderer, a pilgrim of suppressed hedonism, a sprinter who exhaust her lungs in every surge of forward movement - never has been a persistent marathon runner. Her attention has been fleeting in other areas; shutting out the listening ear of the attentive doctor beside her as the charismatic pilot presses in for her number. Why not? her internal monologue rationalises away her 3 minute interest in anyone at all.

for the longest time she has been sick of her raven hair; the overdue sunburst colours haunt her every day, in the reflection of a glass, a mirror along the shopping windows. The memory and desire taunt her unceasingly: How much longer will you live a partial life?


the dazzling colours of the city lights of New York provide a wisp of dreamy remembrance these days, as she relives the sensation of the cool Times Square night on her skin and the buzz of people roaming the city that never slumbers. so sweet yet so short; they had to leave before the subway fails them in the wee hours of dawn. how she wished she insisted on watching the warm hues of morning light envelope this city inch by inch. Manhattan, the sleek sort of man she knew she'd fall in love with - long enough for a summer and deep enough to harp on for years after. Perhaps, fond memories will fail her when they meet again, but nostalgia remains bittersweet; like the dark chocolate she well savors.

The image “http://tn3-1.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/i/2006/021/c/5/Butterfly_by_biene.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

she starts to wander once again, in her invisible cities she is once again free to roam, free to create, free to dream. no more mirrors and no more promenading.

Tuesday, 24 June 2008

series of unforeseen happenings

a whole whirlwind of unexpected happenings caught me off guard, and i feel i've finally been set free from a ship anchored in a wrong place for far too long. the nautical miles are dropping steadily as i start afresh on my little make shift raft and continue to sail in this vast space called LIFE. Much to do, but top of my list to really live because life really is too short to eat bad food, work in an office, maintain the status quo, be afraid of change, suppress my wildest ambitions and to live carelessly. This realization came as i was in the midst of grandma's funeral service over the weekend as people scurried around to take care of matters ostensibly for a dead person but whom will never grasp the meaning of all this fuss and bustle as her shell lies silently in the coffin.

And life, is too full of possibilities to box myself in or to tell myself NO or MAYBE out of fear. Seize the present, for it is called a gift for a reason. There is much to do, much to hope for, much to imagine, much to explore, much to seize and treasure. This realization came when Glenn told me he's taking a week's leave to go and see France all by himself after this semester of French class ends. makes me want to go with a new sort of urgency, i admit.