my citizenship

Day was enjoyable with a lunch date with dear grace :) we talked and had a good time just enjoying one another. she caught me i n one of those little daytime rêves as my mind wandered off and i sheepishly told her about the little dream that i had last night. i told her about my little request to God for an exciting partner and her incisive question of "don't you already know who it is" elicited in me a response a tad self-defensive because a part of me knows i've been caught going a little off-track. there are a lot of excuses and justifications, but i know deep down i'm just restless about waiting for God's plan to unfold.

After watching the sermon i finally understood God's question to me

"Is this how you wait for the Messiah?"

i'm not going to bargain with God, why ask for a discount when He is going to offer me the best quality goods at the best price? Do you know, that nothing in my life beats the fact that i'm going to Heaven, a place where my God, where Jesus dwells? Absolutely nothing. Not beauty, not wealth, not intelligence, not even a handsome boyfriend (haha!). His will for me is going to be absolutely glorious. I will not fight God. Because i saw a glimpse of His glory tonight.

the email blast i did for this week's rally. If you didn't already know, I'm Publicity Director for NUS Navigators! :) I love using God-given creativity to create. (seriously, creativity can come from nowhere else.) To learn to be as colourful (though not as much as Him of course) as my dear Creator. I always sense God's pleasure on me when i come up with email blasts using Fireworks. He's always smiling down at me :)

And so, the point was we watched the video sermon on Heaven today. And i realigned my confused and wandering spirit and anchored myself with my beloved God today, after a brief wandering of the heart.

Tonight, John Bevere talked about the New Jerusalem, with lotsa Scripture to back it up but i remembered none of it. Only the story he told about his friend and his 10year old son.

His friend's 10 year old son in 1979 was electrocuted, as he was watching TV while bathing. Apparently, the little boy had wanted to catch some League finals and accidentally dragged the entire TV into the bathtub. When the Sheriff-turned-preacher went home after his first day of preaching, he found his wife curled up in one corner of the house just crying and calling "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" over and over. He rushed upstairs to find his son's dead body; the little boy had turned blue, absolutely no sign of life in his pupils. The father was devastated and when the paramedics came he told them to wait and for a full 45 minutes he refused to let them pronounce him dead as he went into another room to pray to God to resurrect his son.

Just as he surrendered to God near the end of 45 mins, telling God that he had no faith left to pray, that he needed God's faith to fill him, the ERG machine came to live again and registered the faint heartbeat of the little boy.

When they got to the hospital, the doctors managed to get the little boy's heartbeat going, but told the father that if the son was going to make it, he was going to have a 0.1% IQ and the physical capabilities of a 3 month old infant for the rest of his life. Basically, a vegetable-to-be. the father continued to pray, continued to play worship songs and God's Word in the little boy's ward.

Nothing happened for 7 months. 7 long months.

The boy woke up from that long sleep one day and told his parents about the Heaven that he went to.

The little boy said he felt no pain that night he was electrocuted. An angel of God was with him in the bathroom that night and took him by the right hand and lifted his spirit out of his body. The first thing he realized when he was in Heaven was that he had not a 10year old body, but a 30year old, matured body. He was brought to a street, on a path not lined with gold, but made entirely of PURE GOLD. Gold that the little boy had never seen before and in that city of God, flowers and trees and grass of a vibrancy that breathes life.

Every colour that he recognized as what he seen on earth was infinitely more brilliant and alive in Heaven. There were colours he hadn't seen on earth before, more colours than he ever knew. He saw the faces of dead relatives and even a neighbour, Phyllis, who died 2 weeks after his mother had led her to Christ. Some of those relatives died even before he was born. The people were all smiling and when the crowd around him parted, there in front of him was Jesus.

Jesus asked him if he would like to tour the city. the boy said yes and together with the Lord they went round the city. It was glorious. As he floated and walked and spoke with Christ, he enjoyed the fellowship tremendously. He saw many things, even the beautiful mansions that Jesus had prepared for his family. Each big mansion had a name written on it.

When the time came, Jesus told him, "You must go back to earth". The little boy didn't want to. Jesus pulled open a veil and behind that was the scene of the little boy's father on his knees in prayer, crying out to God to save his son. "Your father is praying for you, and he was authority. Besides, i have called you to be an evangelist, so go back to earth," Jesus said with much love.

And so the little boy, who was supposed to be a vegetable with 0.1% IQ all his life, came to life much to the astonishment of the doctors. He went on to graduate from high school, went on to be the class president, went to college, graduated, went on to bible school and eventually, prepared himself to be an evangelist, what God had called him to do. Alive and well, because God's spirit was with him. Alive and well, because Jesus died and rose again. The little boy who is not so little anymore, still periodically jokes with his father not to pray for him to come to life should he die again, so that he might be with Jesus.

Such a beautiful story of God's love and Heaven with Him :)

I'm really looking forward to eternity spent with God. My spirit yearns for that. But i have received my calling in God. To be a Rae of Light for Him. so not yet. Not so soon :)

I pray that i will be faithful with all that He has called and commissioned to do, so that when i see Him face to face, i know that i have been a good and faithful servant to my Lord who loves me so much. My citizenship, is in Heaven.

it's all a dream that will pass.

Ralph Lauren boy strikes again, to upset my inner equilibrium, bringing with him a sense of anticipation that infects the butterflies in my stomach. it didn't help that the freezing cold room kept me shivering; the titillation that was in my heart manifested in my physical shivering by the end of the second hour. he was beside me and leaned forward in an almost conspiratorial way, explaining to me under his breathe, that he had found a common humanism in Weber and Schmitt. I nodded and listened, as i willed myself to be strong. He was in many ways the epitome of an ideal, and i told myself, no, i would not be taken in. Mirages tend to have the bad habit of being existential, their beauty leaving an aftertaste that reminds you, "Never Again, Will I Be Taken In." I struggle against those mirages, as long as i can, but they often illicit in me a sense of discomforting dissatisfaction with the status quo, those thoughts that taunt me that i could have it much better.

miracle.

My sister watched Prince of Egypt and told me how amazed she was at the miracle of how the Israelites built the pyramids with their bare hands, how Moses led the people out of Egypt, how he parted the Red Sea and the people could pass through, and shared with me the soundtrack, "When You Believe". It's an encouragement and reminder that my God is Faithful, Righteous, and Mighty to Save. Therie, this is for you :)

Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood

Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains long
Before we knew we could :)

Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood

Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains long
Before we knew we could


There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe


In this time of fear
When prayers so often prove in vain
Hope seems like the summer birds
To swiftly flown away

Yet now I'm standing here
My heart's so full I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say

There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe


They don't always happen when you ask
(Oh)
And it's easy to give in to your fears
(Oh...Ohhhh)
But when you're blinded by your pain
Can't see your way straight throught the rain
Small but still, resilient voice
Says love is the relief
(Ohhh)

There can be miracles
(Miracles)
When you believe
(Lord, when you believe)
Though hope is frail
(Though hope is frail)
It's hard to kill
(Hard to kill, Ohhh)
Who know what miracles,you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will(somehow,somehow, somehow)
somehow you will
You will when you believe

You will when you
You will when you believe
Just believe...in your heart
Just believe
You will when you believe

hope.

There are some questions that you can ask over and over, despite knowing the answer already. It's even written down somewhere in an obscure journal. There are some questions that you want to ask over and over, despite having asked over and over anyways. I asked if i could stop hoping, I asked if I could stop waiting. Because it's difficult, because it entails hiding something in my heart that takes up space and because this has weight that bears down on me.

"Is this how you wait for the Messiah?"

It is fundamentally different, faith and hope, I argued. The close reference to this hope and faith in God Himself is making me uncomfortable. Yet I do not know if it's truly one and same, or is my flesh making justifications. It's a purification process of sorts, as i search again and again for the reason for my hope.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

- Hebrews 11:1

What does it all mean?

Ready to GO~

God Cares
God is in Control
God will Provide.

Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall. Psalm 55:22

With this post-it note up in front of me, i'm proceeding to leave my mark here before getting ready to sprint full steam ahead with my European Politics paper. I've every earthly reason to panic with 2 major papers (untouched) due on Friday, yet no reason at all to doubt that God will come through for me. It's a strange faith in exercise, because faith requires a certain detachment from the worry, yet a commitment to pull my weight on my side of the bargain. the dilemma bwtween How hard to push myself to finish what i have to, and How rested and RELAC i have to be in Him. The path i choose is to honour Him, just came back from exco prayer from school; i was a little sulky that Z insisted that we come back and pray because i was ready to glue my bottom at home, in a 24 hour frenzy to at least get a good headstart on one paper. But i'm glad i still went; now with refreshed mind and faith that God is able, i'm all ready.

Words and bibliography will not fall down from the sky, but i believe that the Holy Spirit residing in me can bring divine inspiration and unsurpassed efficiency.

Ready, Get Set, GO!!~

i'm feeling the weight upon my shoulders, the amount of work to complete, what with project meetings and papers and time for myself and for God. i'm telling myself that these are not Sisyphean work, but responsibilities that God has given, that i must prove faithful.

birthday celebrations are going to be over soon and looking at the repertoire of well wishes and gifts, i was surprised to find 4 books among them. They're going to be good additions to my library :) I love especially Tzing's gift to me. i've always loved good books, writings that have stood the test of time and/or scrutiny of literary lovers. I fall in love with words, travel, beauty and it seems to me that this book offers a splendid mix of it... or will it turn out to be a figment of the imagination?

The rest of the three books are also very good Christian books, although i don't know if i have the time to read all of them in the near future.

It has always been my random wish to have my own library next time. not a shelf of books, not shelves of books, but a real library of my own. And they'll all be new books with covers neatly wrapped with plastic because i can't stand yellowing pages and dog earred corners :)

Thank you, Navigators :)

Thank you brothers and sisters for being a part of my life this season.
I was just thinking of how i came to join the Navs as a young Christian in my freshmen year, how much God transformed my life in these 3 years and i can't stop giving thanks. How he sent people into my life, then and now, to sow and water and He Himself making me grow. How He showed me the work He's doing in other's lives to encourage and inspire me.

All of you have been such an important part of my walk with the Lord. I'll like to share about Something and Someone that really left a deep impact upon my life because i want to thank him and i believe you will agree he has made a deep impact in your life too: Jeremy Our dear President!! I remember very early on during my time in the Nav in one rally, Jeremy stood up in front of all of us and shared of how he struggled and how he wanted to make a fresh commitment to God. i remembered he shaved his hair to seal that commitment. I didn't know Jeremy very well then but i was just amazed at how honest and open he was in sharing with the Nav family. As i observed God's work in Jeremy's life, the total transformation of my dear brother inside-out, to someone who encourages and affirms, to someone with a heart for the individual, to someone who leads by serving, to a man after God's own heart; it really spurred me on. it's a beautiful testimony of God's grace and love. Thank you brother, that by being a living sacrifice to God (Romans 12:1), you have been a living testimony to us! :)



By our own strength we could never have endeavored to be someone new. God says very clearly that if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come! i took a long hard look at myself this 22nd birthday and i truly love myself more than i did when i was 18 before i met the Lord. His work in my life truly made me beautiful, more and more like His Son Jesus. I told God no way am i going to lament, like my peers that i'm one year OLDER, but i'm going to give thanks that I'VE BEEN WITH THE LORD ONE MORE YEAR! What a privilege. And it struck me how GOD never improvises or improves us from where we were, but transforms us COMPLETELY. Right down to our core. His transformational powers are amazing. more amazing than POWER RANGERS (okay i just had to crack a lame joke even in times of thanksgiving and testimony sharing. ahaha forgive me. Nav culture rubbing off me la~)

And i want to testify that GOD IS AMAZING and works in ways we can and cannot see. His open and closed doors are loving signposts that point us to His GOOD, PERFECT and PLEASING WILL for us.

i remember in my freshman year God spoke very clearly to join the Navs even though i was serving in cellgroup and i'd wanted to join Campus Crusade. He knew then how i will grow in the love and grace so bountiful in this Nav community.i remember how He spoke to me not to go on exchange in my 3rd year so that i can serve on the exco though my flesh was unwilling. And yet when i obeyed i've been so blessed by this time of serving and being served. i remember how at overnight prayer in DEC 2006 God told me I was to be His Rae of Light, confirmed it through the mouth of my pre-believing fren Jian and then proceeded to work miracles in my family by changing the spiritual atmosphere and giving us HOPE that can only come from Him. God has been speaking to me about Proverbs 3:5-6 recently (thank you Jonah for praying that for us tonight) and as i count my blessings, i can only praise the wonder of these words:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him and He will make your paths straight."

Our God is real, living, unchangeable and loves us with an everlasting love that can never be lessened regardless of what we do or choose not to do. Nothing that we do can make Him love us more, nothing that we can do can Him love us less. My birthday wish for this year (yes Ivy, kiasu me keeps making the same wish everytime i make one so that it's more effective ahaha) is to be right in the center of God's will always :) That's all i need to live a life that's worth living!

In His Love,
Weiting~
God's Rae of Light

the poet.

"What is a poet? He is a man of religious experience whose creative gift enables him to communicate spiritual truths to men. His poetry can bring deliverance from spiritual death, bringing his hearers to a new knowledge of their divine Creator, who gave him this special power. In this way souls that have been disordered can be healed, and the human relation with God may be restored when it has been impaired...This is the fruit and indeed the purpose of music and poetry, direct gifts from God to mankind."

-- Elizabeth Henry, Orpheus and His Lute

the music of the soul

the soul's longing demands from me a dance, a jubilation of being alive, of being carefree, of being just in the moment. And such moments are private, intense yet light; the joy of a heart immersed in artful solitude. It's February, a time to dream, to time to live and laugh and cry where the "real" world of demands don't matter, and i live within my own head.

Journalism.

I believe in the power of the written word, in improving the human condition. The spread of knowledge and information in the public sphere propels public awareness of societal issues that leads to public action. My decision to study Political Science in National University of Singapore is due to this belief; that to be able to make an impact through journalism or other forms of media, I’d first have to be trained and to have a good grasp of what the world is. A few semesters into my studies, my passion for human interest and politics have been fuelled further.

Politics is more than institutions, laws, structures or a bill of rights. It is very much about people, describing how the elite make decisions that affect a disproportionate number of people, for the better or for the worse. The pronounced social inequality that the world is experiencing today is due to many factors, chief of which stemming from reasons that are political and economical. The disparity between the rich and poor is ever increasing, even as we celebrate the overall increase in standard of living globally.

Through the study of politics and political sociology, I’ve learnt that there is a need to deconstruct the meanings of “buzzwords” that disguises deliberate political action as a natural progression of human history. The spread of democracy, for example had at one time been seen as human progress but in recent years, been heavily criticized by scholars as perpetrating global American hegemony. The tension between political theory and political action is omnipresent across space. It sometimes fascinates and other times confound me. Rhetoric put forth by leaders can sometimes come across as awe-inspiring but subsequent actions taken might turn the logic on its head, most recently exemplified in the war on Iraq. Democracy forcibly imposed upon a people is a paradox by itself; the quest for American national interest in this “War for Democracy” has not escaped the notice of the world.

Moreover, phenomena such as globalization have been marketed as the latest gadget for greater economic prosperity for all, as increased global links will diffuse economic benefits to all. However, this diffusion has not occurred evenly, but developing regions such as the Middle East have continued to lag behind. The myth of a global economy disillusions those who place the most hope on it, and this I believe, is one of the mitigating factors for international terrorism today. Religious fanaticism has been fanned by such economical inequalities and allowed to flourish in impoverished conditions that many are faced with today.

Palagummi Sainath, a award-winning development journalist who has covered the reality of Indian’s most impoverished, is an inspirational figure to me. Sainath believed that news should not be “entertainment” covering the consumerism of the urban elite, but rather, he put focused his reporting on ½ billion rural Indians who live in extreme poverty in the aftermath of globalization. Through his works, he provided an unabashed and accurate political and socio-cultural explanation of the culture of poverty. It was also the first time that I learnt that “muckraking” is not necessarily a derogatory term associated with a scandal-mongering journalist, but can be a means to serve the public interest, by uncovering political fraud, waste, corruption and other actions by those in power that compromises the human condition. My encounter with his works ignited my interest in investigative journalism.

reticence

No matter how many personality tests i go through, i can't escape the quiet loner analysis :)

a day where the inner INFP in me surfaces and prompts me to be reticent. As usual the little proud lion in me tries to fight this urge to shut down and i tried to engage myself in the discussion for Contemporary Political Theory class, albeit half heartedly. Perhaps i should have allowed myself to be silent but i simply cannot condone silence when the floor's open and everyone looks awkwardly down at their notes or feet. Airtime to be is a concept to be filled to the full because learning for me is in the exchange of ideas.

But today, is a day of reticence. A general sense to withdraw from human interactions and hide in the library to get some work done or at least to write, even if it's a frivolous blog. Writing to me is as air is to the lungs. It can only be so long that i refrain from or forget to breathe.

This is a season when i want to find myself and my place in the world. Should i be a diplomat? A researcher? A creative director at an advertising company? A writer? A professor? An events management person? A bureaucrat in the United Nations? in Ortega's words, i'm the modern Mass Man faced with endless possibilities and yet a spirit which simultaneously blocks me from grabbing hold of these possibilities.

This semester, i declined the invitation to apply for an internship with the Public Sector. The non-desire helped to push it out of my mind till the deadline is well over (jan 20, i checked my email account just now) as always. a lingering "What then?" occupies a corner of my mind but i do have an inkling that God will lead me to something of meaning and purpose for me. He has wired me unable to be in a vocation just for the money or security.

I know i need to do something creative, not just in an ARTS sense, but in an IDEAS sense. i need to travel widely. i need to be stimulated. i need to be working for causes i believe in.

What's left, is to connect the dots and figure out which job fits these clauses.

balloooooons.

i absolutely adore balloons. i think i have the Winnie-the-Pooh complex. (Remember how Pooh floats by holding on to a bunch of balloons and descends by holding up an open umbrella?) Whereas my feminine self is rather immune to flowers.

Balloons induce in me inexplicable happiness that makes my heart very light and happy for no reason when i hold them and i gaze childishly at them float. i could do it all day with no sense of shame.

And there's also a person who brings me inexplicable happiness that makes my heart very light and happy for no reason when i gaze at him too. Much like balloons. Which confounds and simultaneously baffles me because i never knew my heart was capable of feeling something this genuine. As he spoke to me about a book he read, what it means to Ask, Seek, Knock, my heart was leaping in quiet joy as i enjoyed his presence.

*

Gracie shared with me an article from Harvest Times which really spoke to me. It had God's checklist for the right mate:

♥ Sexually Pure
♥Spiritually disciplined
♥Character rooted in the fruit of the Spirit
♥Honest and Truthful
♥Generous in giving to God's work and in blessing others
♥Wise steward of time, talent and resources
♥Disciplined spiritually in work, worship, study of the Word, stewardship, prayer, intercession, ♥meditation, simplicity, solitude, witnessing, serving
♥Free from generational curses
♥Takes biblical "covenant" seriously
♥Has healthy, holy relational skills
♥Loves God passionately, loves others sincerely
♥Jesus shines through him/her

I can't help but agree that God's list is so much wiser than what i can ever come up with. And i know that he is able to fulfill this list, even if he is a work-in-progress. More importantly i yearn to fulfill the criteria for this list. There is nothing to substitute for my personal relationship with Christ, not even a strong Christian husband who leads me. I am responsible for my own relationship with my Lord.

gaiety.

another bombshell fell in my heterosexual world today. yes, with no foreshadowing, another friend admitted to me his "gaiety" like he was talking about an ulcer on a typical day. I wasn't shocked, but truly thankful that he had chosen to share with me though we haven't been super duper close. yet i know that it is a privilege that he had trusted me to confide in me, that i might intercede and pray. I remember when Kel told me he was homosexual, it was 3am over MSN when we were slogging out our guts for a project. It came as a huge surprise and through his experience i learnt alot about the homosexual community. God placed a special burden on my heart to pray for him and to let him know that God and i love him regardless. Hate the sin but love the sinner was the message that God taught me. And today's encounter once again reminded me of Kel and i wish to meet up and catch up on how he's doing.

I think being female and more attuned to the emotional realm keeps me from condemning homosexuals, simply because there is a distance (i'm safe from being the target of affections) and there can be room for empathy. I believe that homosexuality, like adultery, starts not from lust, but from an emotional root. Of wanting to be accepted, wanting to be loved, wanting to be understood plus the fear of rejection (either by opposite sex or spouse) which drives people to go down the path of sin. My friend today told me he's acutely aware that his homosexual tendencies has to do with his growing up with a distant father and lack of male company. God's Word keeps him from the physical sin but his heart and mind wanders from time to time.

There was a tone of resignation as he recounted his growing up years. The sort of resignation that must resound in my voice when i talk about MY growing up years, relations with my mum and my resulting fluctuating sense of self worth. But i'm slowly learning to get that resignation out of my mind and unlearn alot of lies that i allowed myself to believe. Same lesson - Romans 12:2, and being worthy of the calling and new life i have received. What a lie that i can never transcend my past and my own thoughts and ways! i truly pray that the hearts of many will be enlightened to see what Christ offers.

I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of his mighty strength, which he exerted in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every title that can be given, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.

Ephesians 1:17-21

ralph lauren in the pink.

For the longest time i've wondered if the Big Pony Ralph Lauren Polo Tees that are all the rage now in Singapore were authentic or Thailand rip offs because it was jarring how everyone's logo's seemed to have expanded to epic proportions. After an angsty surf on the net, i've verified the existence of an ostentiatious-sized logo in an official RP vintage pic (shown above). Still, it doesn't negate the fact that i remain unaccustomed to the enormous logo that looks like it might come alive and charge at me any minute. i reserve further judgment on it, for fear that one day i might change my mind and think it tolerable.

What spurred off this mini investigation was the fact that Justin looked pretty fine in a pink RP (Big Pony, i stress) in class today. But more importantly, this new acquaintance this semester shed some light into my personal journey, despite having met him for a brief 5 weeks. At our first meeting, the prof assigned us to be buddiesand we ended up engaged in a long conversation about his exchange to Europe and all that he had seen in Budapest, film art, his aspirations to be a film maker one day, his critique of Eric Khoo etc. It was a comfortable sort of conversation that was more than superficial with a dose of sincerity and openness. Today he stopped by to chat during the break today; less conversation more small talk but i try not to beat myself up about needing to make meaningful conversation all the time.

It sparked off a dialogue with God a couple of hours ago, which i'll reorganize in part here.

Basically, looking at Justin now, i'm reminded of how different a person i'll be if i met him at 18. i'd have felt inadequate, yet completely wowed away by him as i throw caution to the winds. And i'd let pride and a shaky self-worth dictate the course of my affections. But now, fast forward to 3 years of pain and joy and plain walking forward, i am more secure in who i am, relative to the world, to other people. Having learnt to detach myself from my obstinate point of view that was habitually masochistic, i turned my focus outward to appreciate others without comparing my worth. I ask God to help me build strong platonic friendships with members of the opposite sex, that i might be free to be who i am, with more genuineness and sincerity.

Every improvement, a betterment of the past, but i dare not say that i have transcended all (or even any) of my blind spots or weakness. just bettered. i'm acutely aware of my "work-in-process" status; there is much to reach for, attain, and grasp. This is when i adore the forward-lookingness of the AC moto, "The best is yet to be". I fear that one day i might forget all these growing pains, and revert back to my worldly fears, escapism and self defeatism. God throws the same lessons at us in various guises over and over again till we recall and learn. I ask only, that i be worthy of all that i've attained, this calling that i've received by grace.

February, my love.

It's already February, but it only seems that the year only started off sparkling new now. perhaps because Chinese New Year has always been a more proper reference point for me rather than Jan 1, or perhaps because February is always a special month for me. Not least because it's my birth month.

But more importantly, February, is the month to dream, where anything goes. The epitome of "Dreams are the blueprint of the life".

Associated with Feb is also a sense of romanticism and wistfulness about it, being a month shorter than all the others, being a season that allows one to dream, without all the rush of January, all the laze and excitement of june and july, all that solemn reflective mood of November and December.

I've been dreaming alot, with some of those vague dreams taking place slowly in fast paced January. Surrounded myself with some beautiful things, getting my body in check with exercise, taking care of a shell to house a beautiful soul. There has been too much talk of inner beauty for those who shun the pain of never feeling adequate; it's more accurate to speak of a beautiful house for a beautiful soul, but not before we figure out that beauty on the outside is not a definition monopolized by images of magazine cover models or painted faces on the television.

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

Beauty shouldn't be divisible into outer and inner regions, but an inner quality, an inner confidence of one's worth that radiates from the inside out. The origins are deep, but manifestations outward as well. An overflow not unlike the love of God that doesn't cease its flow in the face of tribulations and trials. There is a certain timeless quality about that beauty that captivates and attracts unknowingly. But there is a time and season to be acutely aware of that beauty that radiates outwards, so that one may learn how to graciously be the vessel of beauty to the world.

i constantly fight the battle that makes me feel like Frankenstein. i never know quite what to feel from my own reflection from reflective surfaces in shopping malls. Sometimes exuberant others despondent. But it is an inner fight of definitions and belief systems that have malfunctioned. Time to renew, time to move on, time for some redefinition. and hence, Romans 12:2 rings out.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

There are many things to dream about. I dream of travel, love, beauty. Honestly, the three areas are not that distinct from one another. I ask myself if I could be ready to be mundane and ordinary at this stage of my life. Of marrying a regular good boy, having a few kids to occupy mt time, getting by with some finance-related job or even to be a tai tai whose occupation is a languid afternoon with tea and tai-tai friends whilst my kids play with my pals' kids... and the answer is no. and i fear that i can't be satisfied with that in foreseeable future. A part of me too intense, too flighty, too ambitious, too romantic and too fluid with that kind of security. i need to gravitate towards excitement and uncertainty. Until that happens, my soul feels a little too empty.

Being 21.

every season has it's time and place. and this is a season of change, of hope and of new life. There's always that little pull backwards, the little girl in me perhaps afraid to move on beyond 21. Because i've never really dreamt of being 21. and now at the threshold of things to be and things to happen, there is excitement mixed with a constant low level trepidation. perhaps a little afraid that i'll let it all pass without seizing the day. of not being young whilst i am young.

It seems so far away, those groans of "oh dear we're already 21 and still single!!" from K. Since i stopped hanging around her for a while, her negativity had no surface to rub off me. and away from that constant chatter about the same-old same-old, i am liberated from that self imposed box. it's as if walls suddenly collapse all around me and i see a whole new horizon, seeing myself with completely new eyes. this is something that i've been praying for - to see myself through God's eyes, not the eyes of others or my own jittery self-introspection.

And there's a sense of being. of breathing this air this very instant, of doing what i can and want and love and knowing that it's more than permissible for me to enjoy all of it, but approved. Truly Living. I like being a "player", free in every sense of the word. being single and just enjoying myself, the "me" that was created with fear and wonder. As i step forward with every step, facing the road ahead alone, i start to see the strengths and weaknesses of myself with more clarity, and then, being clearer about who i am and what i want.

i sense myself getting stronger. gaining a kind of strength and boldness that wouldn't have happened if i'd loved another before learning to love myself. a kindness of "zen-ness", or should i say, realization?

remember joan?

maybe it's coz i decided to use this blogskin again. perhaps it's coz i've been digging in my archives and events i've seem to have forgotten. i've been thinking about joan this couple of weeks. i just feel the need to post up my letter to her after her wake. for people to know her, for people to remember her.

it was written about her, and yet for those who missed her:

"it was a surreal experience, going to your wake, then your funeral today. maybe i should start with the night, 24 May, Yun called me at 10pm to tell me the news? With a calm and steady voice, Yun said "She passed away at 920pm. it was peaceful. We're all happy for her." In my heart, i thanked God for calling you back to Him. Quietly i smsed the class and whoever i knew who want to know. a torrent of replies came back, to thank me for informing, to ask for details, to ask if i was going to the wake. the smses came coming and i couldn't reply them all, so i sought Lisa's help to sms everyone the time to meet for Joan's wake.

the following night, we went for your wake and without a word Lisa and i hugged your mother. She was smiling but she lost so much weight from when i last saw her. She's so strong. i know where your strength comes from. then we sat at your wake, not quite knowing the standard protocol for a Catholic wake. your pals were all dressed up beautifully with makeup on; i knew that must have been your wish. that it would be a celebration, not a mourning. there were so many tables of juniors in RJ uniform. hmm, which reminds me, we're j4s now! (eh or is it j5? )Mr Yeo was there too you know. He's still the same old chemistry tutor, not forgetting to inquire about the courses we're taking in uni. i didn't have much to report, except to tell him i'm taking Political Science. "Wah what a big change!" was the only comment he gave me. i was promptly ignored. haha. what would he say if you told him you would have been in Architecture? same reaction perhaps?

We went to take a look at your face in your pretty white casket; what a pretty summer dress your pals got for you. You were asleep, we were silent and our eyes grew red. i didn't cry and there was no sadness in my heart, because i knew exactly where you were. not in that small white casket, but in Heaven, where you're happy, blissful and carefree. a much much better place than this fallen world.

today, we went for the Mass. somehow i chose to go in orange. orange! i dunno why but as i stood in front of my wardrobe, i knew that you would want all of us to wear sth bright and cheery. colours of celebration. meiqi and amanda later told me that you DID say that you wouldn't want us to wear dark and dull colors to your funeral. sure enough, there were so many colours in the chapel! girls wearing pastel, bright, happy colours. your pals were all beautiful in matching flowery sundresses and heels.

again all felt very surreal when Mass started, until the priest talked about your last days. how you wished to go for one proper Mass in church. How one day in church you heard God's voice; He comforted you. I burst into tears at that point in time, because i knew how much God loved you and i knew how you felt when God Himself spoke to you, words of comfort, words of assurance. How warm your heart must have been. How you must have cried and thanked Him. How the waves of peace and joy washed over your tired heart and you were tired no more.

it was heartbreaking, when they sang the song for you, Joan's Song. Yun and the rest sobbed so badly at the pulpit that they nearly couldn't mouth the words. but they continued to sing and finished the song with steady voices, Joan. because your pals are as strong as you are. You have inspired and strengthened them so.

they then brought you in your casket, past RJC and to RGS. a big big detour just so you could visit the repositories of memories again. we all stopped at RGS and Yun, with the rest, carried your photo round RGS. it's still the same little palace isn't it? and we're all little princesses in that beloved compound. nothing has changed, nothing has changed. the amphitheatre was as welcoming as ever. days spent there having assembly, days spent there sitting around, days spent there taking CCA photos. they then rushed to send you back on your way to the crematorium, to make it just in time for the cremation. what crazy friends you have ;)

we all took a last look at you in the service hall 2. your mum cried, as she looked at you through the glass of the casket. she cried so hard. you must have been pained to see her so sad. we grieve, not because of your departure to heaven, but because we knew how hard it is for those you have left behind. You'll always be in our hearts and you have indeed left behind a legacy, with your spirit of acceptance and perseverance. we'll all soldier on, because you have showed us how to. See ya in heaven someday.

Love,

Weiting."

this is for Joan, as well as everyone else who wanted to walk the last part of her journey with her but couldn't.

3 Iron

A moving film that grips your attention at just the right pace; not too insistently, just achingly poetic, enough to keep you flowing with the film.

Poems don't have to be chronological; they rarely are. This poem flows and intertwines with itself like a well connected web, leaving you with enough stamina to go through the different layers of meaning and connections. At no point did i want to pause or stop the film - something i was prepared to do at the start of the film, if it proved too artistic- by the time the credits rolled, i was grateful for having even thought of watching this 2004 film by Kim Ki-Duk.

It has surprisingly little dialogue; the male lead (acted by Jae Hee) never speaks at all - little wonder that no names sticks with you even after the film ends. Yet the little dialogue that surfaces bring illumination into the intentions of the main characters, giving dimensions to the mute character in a deeper way than i suspect mere dialogue can deliver.

(spoilers ahead. go watch the film before i spoil it for you.)

More accurately, there was monologue, not dialogue in the film.

(a) when there was direct confrontation of other people with the leads, always dotted with violence, by/to the male lead.

These sparing lines gave me the reassurance that i was reading the film correctly, but more importantly, i feel they broke up the peace and serenity penetrating throughout the film and defined the violence and turbulence against the backdrop of Zen Romance (coined by David) The violence didn't exist however to break up the momentum or to add variety to the mood; it was a vital part of the film, a vital part of the character's existence.

(b) Tae-suk's golf accident which implicated an innocent female rider and the male rider calls out to her, attempting to revive her.

(c) when the female speaks her only line in the entire film, indirectly to Tae-suk.

The simple 'Breakfast is ready" was a call of liberation, ringing out into the bright hope of a new morning. Liberation from the oppression of her husband as she realises that Tae-suk, love, has come back into her life. Her wait had been worth it. Honestly throughout the film i was half expecting Tae-suk to be a spirit or ghost or whatever- something a figment of a woman's imagination. Yet the very fact that he existed physically accentuated the surreality of the romance. Kim is a masterful storyteller.

The Prison cell scenes of Tae-suk mastering the art of disappearing was mastery in and of itself - removing his identity (shoes), inching towards the shadows, blind spots, ceiling and finally, metaphorically slipping under the skin of someone else (by imitating and anticipating the movements of the person he trails, making use of the blind area that our 180degrees vision bestows) Monologue comes into the picture as shouts of the warden as he confronts Tae-suk with the latter's intent to practice disappearing and not be found.

This metaphorical representation of Tae-suk taking on the persona of the people he comes across, starts right at the start of the film as he breaks into the first house with the family away on a vacation; taking photos with the family photos, bathing, changing into the clothes of the owner, making himself food, watching TV. The comfortness with which Tae-suk slips under the owner(s) skin is vaguely unsettling and brings to mind 2 questions - (a) are the lives of the owners that easily stolen in that few moments that Tae-suk becomes them (b) does not Tae-suk have an identity that is his core at all?

The ending waltzes in with an elegance as the 2 characters steps up on the symbolic weighing machine, but the director relents during the last few secs of the film and asks the question verbosely (awkwardly): Are we living a dream or a reality? The film's attempt to explain itself spoiled an otherwise perfect wordless poem for me. The few words appeared to be one too many. , perhaps giving us an inkling that words are really not the most comfortable language for the director.

He was asking the right question using the wrong words, in my humble opinion. The real tension was not simply reality vs dream, but lies in existentialism vs essence - do we exist to create our essence or does our essence define our existence?

Tae-suk appears to have no personality, apart from his helpful habit of repairing whatever was broken in the homes. He existed in the empty houses of strangers day by day, washing their clothes, watching the cable channels they subscribe to, looking at their family photos, (or photos the photographer took), eating what they ate. Yet did he have an essence of his own as he went about these mundane tasks that we're so accustomed to do without questioning the meaning, or lackthereof?

The prevalence of photos in every house he visited, including Tae-suk's own obsession with taking photos with the owners of the house symbolised our attempt to verify our existence by taking photos. The female lead had an essence that was abused and broken by an apparently bipolar husband , yet she didn't exist - staying the shadows and remaining undetected even by Tae-suk, the intruder in her own home. Her move to cut up her photo in the photographer's house and re-arranging it beyond recognition was another attempt to nullify her existence.

When the 2 characters meet however, existence met essence and they began to live. Tae-suk's eventual removal of the woman's photo in the photographer's house was liberation of the woman's painful existence in an abusive marriage. It set the pace for a more hopeful turn of events to the end. i liked the last scene especially - with the blurring of camera focus on the weighing machine set at zero with the 2 characters standing on it. Both characters had fixed the weighing machine twice in the whole film, a symbol of setting their world to an objective scale. When the needle returned to zero at the end of the film, there is a sense of completion and wholeness, that finally the weighing machine ain't broken no more.

This film proves that a good film does not have to be aided by flowery words; in fact, it was enhanced with the lackthereof, proving that silence speaks louder than words. A real cliche to any self respecting movie reviewer, but i would still say it's a real masterpiece.

Random rants:
It's kinda spooky when he starts re-entering the houses he broke into and everyone went "I feel weird, there's someone in the house". Somehow i thought it was a disjunct with the entire mood of the movie, a little too haunting for my taste.

I'd give it a 4 stars out of 5.

Other Reviewers of the same film:
KFCCinema
Canadian Cinephile
Reeling Reviews
Thoughts on Stuffs
Smart Popcorn
Qwipster

Winning into Freedom

If the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed —John 8:36

If there is even a trace of individual self-satisfaction left in us, it always says, "I can’t surrender," or "I can’t be free." But the spiritual part of our being never says "I can’t"; it simply soaks up everything around it. Our spirit hungers for more and more. It is the way we are built. We are designed with a great capacity for God, but sin, our own individuality, and wrong thinking keep us from getting to Him. God delivers us from sin— we have to deliver ourselves from our individuality. This means offering our natural life to God and sacrificing it to Him, so He may transform it into spiritual life through our obedience.

God pays no attention to our natural individuality in the development of our spiritual life. His plan runs right through our natural life. We must see to it that we aid and assist God, and not stand against Him by saying, "I can’t do that." God will not discipline us; we must discipline ourselves. God will not bring our "arguments . . . and every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5 )— we have to do it. Don’t say, "Oh, Lord, I suffer from wandering thoughts." Don’t suffer from wandering thoughts. Stop listening to the tyranny of your individual natural life and win freedom into the spiritual life.

"If the Son makes you free . . . ." Do not substitute Savior for Son in this passage. The Savior has set us free from sin, but this is the freedom that comes from being set free from myself by the Son. It is what Paul meant in Galatians 2:20 when he said, "I have been crucified with Christ . . . ." His individuality had been broken and his spirit had been united with his Lord; not just merged into Him, but made one with Him. ". . . you shall be free indeed"— free to the very core of your being; free from the inside to the outside. We tend to rely on our own energy, instead of being energized by the power that comes from identification with Jesus.

I had a prolonged session with God last night. on how to love people truly. esp when it comes to guys that either i have an interest in or have an interest in me. it's one tricky area where it's easy to stumble and like what therie says, it can be source of temptation whether or not i'm attached and the only way to fortify myself is with the truth of God. God and me have come up with 2 simple steps to love people (though i think it's more of God's idea and me agreeing. )

1. Pray for them continually.
for them to know Christ, to have salvation, to experience God's saving grace. Each name that i pray through, Lord i know you have ordained for me to intercede for.

2. Pray for myself continually
to guard my heart, as well as for the Holy Spirit to search my heart and motivations. I will not waltz towards any guy without being sure that i can love God more than him and him more than myself.

Love is patient, Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight with evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13

Love is to protect the other party. Love is to trust that God will take care of everyone of us; i do not have to play "Messiah" to save anyone. Love is hope, that i look to God to make things right. Love will cause me to persevere in all of the above.

I'm a Cyborg but That's Ok

Is there necessarily a trade off between artistic value and understand-ability in a film? i wish i was enough of a film critic to appreciate "artistic films". Right now I'm just trying to make sense of films that seem to have alot more going beneath the surface.

The first time i got an intriguing feeling that a film is deeper than it seems is when i watched Big Fish by Tim Burton a couple of years ago. Instinctively i felt there was deep symbolism behind the vivid colours, breathtaking cinematography, vibrant characters, touching father-son thread and tall tales. yet as the few of us sat in Cine BK post-movie a few hours, talking about it, i just couldn't put a finger to my thoughts.

I just didn't have the mental capability to read into films. uber frustrating then. but till now it remains one of my favourite movies. it's "un-readability" just adds on to the fascination somehow. To me, that's the mark of a good movie. one that invites and entices, yet retaining a little of that elusiveness that keeps you wanting to revisit it time and time again. i still mull over the movie once in a while when we talk about good movies. (but no, i still haven't figured out the mystery of it yet.)

I'm a Cyborg but That's Ok is a different kind altogether. I'm one of those who watched it on a Sunday Night cooped up at home because it's Rain movie debut. bah. sue me. But it is a good watch. Although mildly disturbing for one (me) so unaccustomed to watching artistic films, especially when i didn't expect more than light fluffy cotton candy. i got a modified candy-eclair instead. (i never developed a liking for those modern candy-chocolate things anyhow. they're just plain weird to my taste buds.) I think one main reason why you can find so many bad reviews both online and by word of mouth is because the movie was marketed as a light-hearted romantic comedy and people who watch it will get the feeling they've been cheated by the time the credits roll. [hey Rain+mental asylum+girl who thinks she's a cyborg just doesn't instinctively equate to ARTISTIC film.]

You've been warned.

It just isn't light-hearted romantic fluff. although there are some parts that delivers that warm fluffy love-conquers-all theme, those scenes are promptly succeeded by emotionally driven scenes, flashbacks or discussions with the psychiatrist that shed a little more light into the darkness of the inner worlds of the characters. just when you thought you had the movie figured out, it leads you unsuspectingly down a winding path somewhere else. and then it oscillates back. yet it wasn't that confusing; not after you get used to suspending your logic and rationality for a while, to find that the logic and rationality behind the film is of a different kind.

One that doesn't communicate with you well, because it's said in a foreign language. you can instinctively figure out that its deeper than you can understand, but you're handicapped by that language barrier. so you remain an arm's length away from understanding it completely. some throw their hands up in the air and dismisses the conversation, some pretend to understand while they smile and nod, some others pick up a dictionary (ie. search for interpretations, reviews, dialogue with others)

That's my take on "artistic" films.

I choose the third category for this film.
This movie has to be deeper than what an average viewer can gather, i thought. So i was pretty glad to have my hopes confirmed in the "guide" posted at veoh.com. i appreciate the movie much more, now that i can at least join the dots. the digestion and reflection will have to come later. Nevertheless, without this contribution, i think i'll still be HUH?! hours after watching it:

Cyborg Girl is harder to understand for three reasons: it's setting, it's depth, and a poorly executed ending. The setting in a mental hospital will automatically make it harder to understand, since the pattern of thought from the people we get to know is different from ours. That is why the writer/director left us clear paths to follow so we can watch the pattern that they were creating. Understanding the patterns they show us is difficult, because they are more advanced. This movie is attempting to go where artistic works have gone before, such as, "The Truman Show" or "Sense and Sensibility". Like those movies, what lies beneath the surface is what really counts.

Movie Genre: Some people think that this movie is hard to categorize. I disagree. At its heart, the story is a romance. Along the way, however, the movie does explore several themes.

Movie Themes: Each character we encounter in the movie is developing a theme necessary to understand the messages that the director and writer are trying to show (tell) you. They are not there just to be "random". There is a purpose for each one of them. There are so many of them, but here are some of the more important ones ... 1. Cyborg Girl --- She sees her condition in life, being a cyborg girl, not as a choice, but something she cannot change. It is through her eyes that we see the director and writer wanting us to look at the working world as "robotlike". There is no personal identity. There is no personal expression. Instead, in this movie we find more of those in the mental hospital, than we do in the real (working) world. Instead of working to get money so she can eat so she can work, she desperately wants purpose in her machine-like life.

2. Bi (Rain) Character --- He knows that he has a problem. When he believes that it is for the best, he checks himself into the mental hospital for help. He knows that some things can change, but has only a little hope that it really will. His character is focused on something close to Cyborg Girl's. She wants purpose. He doesn't want to be forgotten. He wants to be noticed and valued. The rejection, as he sees it, by his father and especially his mother proves to him that he is insignificant, or as he puts it, "invisible". The judge at his trial simply reinforces this idea when he says that he will vanish away into a dot. To be a speck, is to be invisible, unnoticed, and unvalued. We know that he is able to overcome this to some degree, because he later buries the item he carries around that holds himself under his mother.

3. Elastic Pants Man --- He appears here and there throughout the movie. He always emphasizes that life endings are really just beginnings. Life goes into full circle. The Elastic Band stretches to its fullest length = end of life. The Elastic Band snapping back to its beginning point = beginning of life. We are supposed to recognize this theme in the lives of Cyborg Girl and Bi (Rain) character at the end of the movie.

4. The Wacko Policeman --- He is another example of the writer and director pointing a critical finger at the working world. In the movie, the policeman has changed because his job took over his life.

5. The Bandaid of Strength --- Throughout the movie, several characters give each other a bandaid that they claim gives strength and protection. Where they put the bandaid on themselves doesn't seem to be really important, except for at the end of the movie.

6. Love, Romantic --- The writer and director made a bold leap by exploring the idea of romance in an unusual place: the mental hospital. Where nothing can seem to break through the real world, or the girl's private cyborg world, or Bi's (Rain's) world of insignificance, love does. If you understand this, then the ending is quite powerful.

7. Love, Family --- This theme is explored in almost every Korean Movie. Guaranteed. Love and loyalty for one's family is important, but it must be doubly important to Koreans since it is emphasized so much. Here, we see the love and loyalty that Cyborg Girl has for her grandmother. We also see the lack of love and loyalty from her own mother. Bi (Rain) does not have love or loyalty from his parents either, especially, from his mother.

8. The Overpolite Man --- I'm not 100% sure, but the writer and director seem be using this character to point a finger at "politeness" in Korean society. While manners are good, excessive rules combined with the improper "humble" attitude obviously can lead to ... useless insignificance. To blame yourself for everyone's troubles does not solve problems. In this sense, "manners" are paying lipservice to what is really needed.

9. The Fat, Pretty Lady --- She seems to be used as a character to point at some of today's over-emphasis on being beautiful on the outside. But meanwhile she cannot discipline her own desires. They control her. She does not control them. (Food and flying)

10. Buried Items -- Both the Cyborg Girl and Bi (Rain) character bury an object in the ground that symbolizes the problem that is holding their life. But the act of burying that object shows us that a change has begun in both their lives. And so on. There are more themes, like with the doctors, the mice, lack of communication, etc.

The Ending: The end of the movie was not well done, because the viewers (you and I) are expecting something to be said directly about the bomb, lightning, and the end of the world. It's not your fault. The writer and director built up your expectations for that. They didn't deliver. Bad job on their part. Instead, they expect you to put your thinking cap on and tie all the themes together to understand the ending.

The ending is supposed to show us in a very quiet way the incredible power of love. Bi's (Rain's) character says that the pair of socks are not the only things that is wet. The long significant look between the two and the removal of the Bandaid of Strength/Protection from her mouth shows us that it's the kiss that he's referring to. In Cyborg Girl's world, the rules didn't allow her to love. In Bi (Rain's) character's world, he believed that he couldn't be loved. But to both of them, this love has now been allowed to enter their own worlds as something true. If we remember what the Elastic Pants man was always emphasizing, we can understand that the ending is not pointless, but full of hope. By burying their past (literally), and finding a trusting love from each other, they have a new beginning. Far from a nuclear bomb ending everything, love is really the power that signals the end of their old self and brings hope for a new beginning. Anyway, I hope this helps.

I think, therefore i am

a cool, refreshing day for thought and work. i'm halfway through with the US Foreign Policy analysis already. it's pretty amazing how much i can do in 2 hours, versus how much time i can sometimes waste by doing nothing at all. Yet i'm always grateful for this spurts of productivity; not just that i can finish the work on time, but also because it allows for my intellectualism to be organised and to be proven through the medium of words, sentences, paragraphs.

"For when you take up a pen and paper.. to commit your thoughts to the relative permanence of the tangible, your mind works to its fullest. Not merely exercising its function, you actually reveal its essence. The truth is, you never know so well what it is you think nad feel until you express it on the page. Make it live and breathe in words, sentences, paragraphs. in this way, writing is a uniquely human process of discovery."

from Lexean,
Issue 01.
a Singapore Publication with the creed:
"For the Man who believes in
The Power of the Words
The Merit of Morality
The Might of Virtue
One who is worldly in outlook
Asian at Heart & Proud to be Lexean"

Writing is a gift to me, because it unblocks arteries running through my soul.

it is a magical thing to unravel the mysteries of the individual self through the medium of writing, slowly peeling through the onion layers, slowly advancing in the maze of complexity, until you strip yourself of all pretense and ostentatiousness. Right at the core of it, i'm always delighted to realise how my existence can be represented through such sophisticated thinking and writing. The great philosopher said "I think, therefore I am" has packed more wisdom in these simple words that i had realised before.

The mystery of life is wonderous and well, mysterious. It's a curious sensation to know that one is alive, usually. It's not just the thinking-about-meself that unlocks who you are; it is the mere process of thinking and debating and writing that one realises how alive one is.

it is the same with good conversations. I always humbly admit that my oratory skills are not as developed as my writing skills. But times when i meet good conversationalists that i feel comfortable with, the demise of good conversation in Singapore's general climate becomes jarring and i become dissatisfied with the quality of conversations that i can have. I remember so vividly in the streets of Boston when an old man stopped Chris and me to talk about Heidegger and film. it shook me that it was a lazy regular day in summer at the crossroads of a quiet street, that a stranger would smile and stop to talk on a topic so different from the mundane and hurried conversation that i'm used to in sunny Singapore. The old man turned out to be a Philosophy major who graduated from Harvard years ago.

Consider the opening of a Lexean article from the same issue,

A conversation here is like a highway to a corner destination. The trip doesn't last long, the exits are clearly marked -- and taken quickly. From wedding dinner to corner coffeeshop, the tongue is now just another piece of cutlery, to work on food, but not for thought.

This is not the place to delve, to dally, to play and to probe, to dance and dart around an idea. You have a better chance of finding a white hair on the Chinese Politburo. When you call your friends, don't they ask you after 30s max:"what's up?"

Good conversation, as any dictionary will tell you, involves an exchange of ideas, even some debate. Or try this on for size, from James Hillman in We've had a Hundred Years of Psychotherapy and The World is Getting Worse:

"Not just any talk is conversation; not any talk raises consciousness. Good conversation has an edge: it opens your eyes to something, quickens your ears. And good conversation reverberates... the next day, you find yourself still conversing with what was said. Your mind's been moved. You are at another level with your reflections "

Recently I'd been tired of listening to people mindlessly bashing the ruling party, Bush administration wrt to Iraq War etc with hearsay and what "everyone else knows"without making the effort to remunerate and critically think for oneself the issue in question. In such conversations i always sense an unwillingness, if not inability, to delve into the more difficult underlying tensions. The elusive and unsubstantiated bashings really serve more as small talk then conversation.

As i flipped through the issues of Lexean that i grabbed from outside the Central Library yesterday, my heart actually surged with a flicker of hope that the intellectual climate in Singapore would grow and even flourish in time to come. There are pretty neat articles on politics, economics, environment, gadgets and (gasp!) high end male fashion.

Obviously, the publication is sexist(read the creed again) and elitist (it costs a whooping $15.80) but it's good stuff. And i don't believe that only men are capable of thought, seriously. There are as many FHM spin-offs in newspaper stands as women gossip magazines. I will forgive the creed on basis that it's branding. And i will continue reading it.

Good Night and Good Luck

written and invested by George Clooney; he was actually paid $3 for it as a token amount. it's a black and white film set in the 1950s during the McCarthy era, made in 2004.Alas as the moment the first scenes of a dinner party start, strung together with soulful jazz music in the background, one quietly sinks in the black and white 1950s. Languid, lazy and musical. yet as Edward Murrow started his poignant speech on the state of media, of decadence, escapism and insulation, one is gripped by the incisive critique. Subconsciously, at the back of one's mind, the parallel is drawn to the present debate of freedom of the press and more importantly, the freedom of the mind. As it proceeds however, all eyes are fixated on Murrow (David Strathairn) as he embodies the civic mind and the staunch advocate for liberation of the public mind in an age plagued by a political climate of fear and terrorism, as McCarthyism penetrates the American society.

Good Night and Good Luck is one of the most brilliant films i have watched. I enjoyed it as much as Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors really. This film is of course very different from Crimes; Good night and Good Luck is a political critique and Crimes more of a philosophical musing. Yet both leave you thinking and pondering long after the credits roll.

Edward R. Murrow, the brilliant newsman who would not compromise the freedom of the press, who would not give up on the freedom to think, who brought down McCarthy and his terrorizing communist-witch-hunt in the 1950s. i was really gripped by the excerpts of Murrow's speech at the start and end of the film, cut and spliced in this Youtube video:

Synopsis
"Good Night, And Good Luck." takes place during the early days of broadcast journalism in 1950's America. It chronicles the real-life conflict between television newsman Edward R. Murrow and Senator Joseph McCarthy and the Permanent Sub-committee on Investigations (Government Operations Committee). With a desire to report the facts and enlighten the public, Murrow, and his dedicated staff - headed by his producer Fred Friendly and Joe Wershba in the CBS newsroom - defy corporate and sponsorship pressures to examine the lies and scaremongering tactics perpetrated by McCarthy during his communist 'witch-hunts'. A very public feud develops when the Senator responds by accusing the anchor of being a communist. In this climate of fear and reprisal, the CBS crew carries on and their tenacity will prove historic and monumental.

Once again, the issue of press freedom, the freedom to think and debate grips my attention. I believe so strongly in press freedom, because it's the only hope for freedom of the mind. to expand, correct and eventually to reach the stage of thinking. the majority of the society today is politically and socially apathetic, leaving an a microsm of the world we live in. What's wrong with that? so many ask. As long as i have my family, my career and my security who cares about political and civil liberties? Who cares about enviromental pollution? Who cares about Third World development?

i think it's a sign of ignorance because the mind has not been trained to think, extolled to contemplate on the bigger issues. it's like people who don't bother to know the fire evacuation plan because the risk of fire (or so they deem) is so remote. other people glance at the fire evacuation plan and rough know where the nearest fire escape is but never bothered about fire prevention. either way, we're missing out on something vital, and i say this for myself as well.

an indelible mark

In the deep recesses of my heart, there is a familiarity attached to a someone who was part of my life. It's funny how some people just rub off you during the period you related to them; unknowingly, they have left an indelible mark that you cannot erase from your memory or heart. And when the time comes when you realize that meeting the same person now evokes the same level of familiarity in your heart and yet a new, disconcerting surge of emotions you cannot hide, you inevitably choose to try to forget, to alleviate a little of that disturbing incongruence. try to, because it takes effort to do something that you can never choose to do, that is, to wholly forget. someone once asked me how it's possible to claim that you forgive without forgetting. the answer simply is that forgiving is a choice and forgetting is an instance of the waves of time washing it away when you weren't looking.

you inevitably try not to notice the smallest things about the person that you never knew you noticed in the first place. i think that was a point made by Celine in Before Sunset. it's one of my all-time favorite movies because they capture the inner process of thinking and feeling and trying all the time to reconcile the two. It's how i lead my life, it's how i handle my innermost thoughts and so the familiarity of the conversations between the protagonists grip my thoughts and engage my heart.
But it's been a long time since i re-watched it. Perhaps another time, another pensive occasion.

Does time move fast enough for the waves to come crashing in? Or does it have to happen when you aren't looking? i always play the game of "i'm-not-looking!" when i really am, in vain hope that by pretending that i'm not noticing, i will somehow speed up the process of forgetting.

Doesn't quite work that way, doesn't it. The waves aren't actually connected to your thought waves, though they may have properties that seem pretty similar. They oscillate between the peaks and troughs; you know it, but you can't get out of the hum-drum pattern. Your consciousness of the next inevitable movement doesn't get you to your destination any faster or make the journey any easier for you. You can only look to the larger whole, the prevailing pattern that extends beyond your momentarily troubles ahead.

i think that's called faith.

New York New York

Third day in New York and i'm only blogging about it now because it's a city that never sleeps and i haven't either, so that i can take it all in. i love it here. was miserable for a while because travelling in a group always results in people stepping others' toes. after i made the moral decision to go solo and do what my heart desires, everything seems alot better. able to say this after some good ol' retail therapy :D New York is the true shoppers' paradise ANYTIME. wheee.


One thing quirky is that there's been 4 instances of guys trying to hit on me in the span of 2 days. it's just curious.. is that part of the New York culture anyway?

"Hey miss, are you single?"

"nah" -smiles and walks on-

"oh really? you want to talk about it?"

"nah" - smiles and walk somemore-

"are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it?"

wah. not very exciting pickup lines. i think i should actually continue the conversation a while longer the next time it happens to see what New York men can come up with. they are rather direct though, during lunch when i was out at Sixth Avenue this bunch of men in uniform stopped their car at a bend, rolled down the windows and tried to strike up conversation.

in the middle of New York with the whole world bustling around, feels like straight out of a movie.

Chopin Opus 69 No.2 in Bminor

one of my favourites.

Ryuichi Sakamoto

The Other Side of Love

i decided i won't sleep, without playing this song on repeat before i drift off to sleep each night. It has a draw on me i cannot explain, just like how i fall in love with words and people i can never explain why or how. Such is love; nuanced, confusing yet full of conviction never to regret when it's all over.

Interview with Carl Pullen at Yale

I whisked into the Sterling Memorial Library at noon on a Wednesday afternoon and there was Carl Pullen sitting at the security desk, in his pristine security uniform. Same steady gaze. We moved to a small security room beside the entrance and started to talk about him over lunch. 66 year old Pullen is an African American, burly, full time security personnel at Sterling, clocking hours daily from 8.30am till 5pm. The pay is considered good, for easy work that required no manual labour or “exhausting of brain juices” to quote him. Compared to Pullen’s previous jobs, being a security guard to check if students were smuggling books out of Sterling Memorial Library and directing people to the right places was to him, more of leisure pastime than work.

Born in Virginia and moved to Connecticut when he was four years old, Pullen had spent time at different parts of the world, from Spain, Italy, France, Greece, Lebanon during his time with the Marine Corps. His career with the Marine Corps started at a party when he was 17. A group of Marine Corps in their uniforms walked into a party where his friends and him were at and “got the attention of the girls”. Believing that they could beat the Marine Corps at their trade, Pullen and friends decided that they would join the Marine Corps the very next day.

They did.

Pullen made the decision to give up his basketball scholarship to college and joined Marine Corps. Although he made no mention of girls and parties during his recount of those days, the formal military training that he received proved to be useful for his 13 year career with the New Haven State Police afterwards. There he learnt about weaponry, military discipline, marching and enjoyed the excitement of visiting each new country he was at. After he left the Marine Corps, he went on to a vocation which he describes as a job that “deals with people, help people” and makes him feel good as people respect him.

With pride he showed me his gold retirement badge from the New Haven State Police.

As a detective dealing with hard crime, Pullen didn’t think he was doing dangerous work; he always had his men with him. His time at the State Police saw him doing investigative work at the Fraud department, cracking down on fraud cases concerning welfare, medical issues and construction. He then rose to the rank of Sergeant and was in charge of Division of Special Revenue for a time. Pullen was involved in some of the most high profile cases in Connecticut in the 1960s and 1970s. He went to San Francisco to arrest Bobby Seale, the Co-founder of the Black Panthers, who was charged with the murder of Alex Rackley. Another assignment saw him arresting Philip and Daniel Berrigan; both brothers were priests and listed as FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives, charged for destroying military drafts in protest of the Vietnam War.

When asked about his most difficult assignment in his career as a detective, he paused as he recollected the case. After a brief period of silence, he recounted the case of a woman who had been stabbed 26 times. It was a case with no leads, but Pullen found a license plate key on the deceased which led him to track down the deceased’s previous address. Relying on his detective intuition, he interviewed people and tracked down the deceased’s old address and there he managed to find witnesses who heard the deceased shout out a name during an argument with her murderer. It turned out to be her boyfriend whom she had an affair with. With that very first lead, Pullen managed to crack the case.

Pullen is a man of brains and brawn. With a black belt in Taekwondo, Pullen taught the other police officers in the department the martial art. However, Pullen’s first loves remain to be basketball and baseball. He did not have to regret his decision to give up his basketball scholarship when he was 17, as he completed his Masters in History and Social Sciences and taught at University of Bridgeport even when he was with the State Police in 1991. After his retirement, he decided to join Library Security at Sterling Memorial to pass time. In his spare time now, he goes to the gym, church and occasional vacations with his family, to Poconos of Pennsylvania.

When 30 minutes was up, I bid farewell and thanked Pullen for his time. He gives a sturdy farewell handshake and held his gaze, just like how a detective does it.

my first interview assignment! It was a really good time, though i was nervous and Pullen was very aware of that. i thoroughly enjoyed the process of talking to him, and writing about him. I must admit that i was nearly paralyzed by fear, to just randomly go up to a stranger to request for an interview. My instructor Shapiro was really encouraging, and said that even a veteran human rights reporter like him sometimes feel the trepidation before an assignment too. No matter you're an extrovert or introvert (which i take that he can tell i'm an introvert), there is this internal barrier a journalist has to overcome to talk to people. This is especially so if you have to call up the family of the deceased to report on a death.

I guess, this is a good start for a rookie like me :)

update

i started to get really homesick this morning, waking up to a sore throat and being a state of sickness made me think of my mum who always give me medicine when i'm sick and i spiralled into this i-wanna-go-home-now feeling. doesn't help that Sam reminded me over MSN that i'm half the world away. after a period of getting myself together, i promptly decided that washing my face with tears in the morning is not too good so i decided to be conducive and spend the day reading in the sun with nette and jan.

Tips on how NOT to get homesick

1. Keep yourself busy and connected with the world around you. DO NOT mope in your single dorm no matter how tempting it is. DO NOT attempt to work on stressful work.

2. DO NOT fall sick. this is a hard one. but even if you do, PRETEND that you're not sick. you will soon overcome it.

3. Say Hi to people on the streets and around college instead of getting into the i-shall-pretend-i-haven't-seen-you mode. preferably a loud chirpy HELLOOOOO.

4. when faced with the option of Supper at Sam Adams and sleeping early and work, make your decisions in that order of priority.

Human interaction and lame jokes and laughter create a sense of (sometimes false) solidarity and it gives you a feeling that everything is alright and we're still in lovely Singapore (not that hard since there're a bunch of us).

[i did my laundry today! and i finally mustered enough courage to walk up to a security guard, Pullen, at Sterling Memorial to ask him if i could interview him for my Investigative Journalism assignment. People here in United States are generally more friendly me thinks. i think it's because Asians are kinda exotic here (lol what a weird commentary but i think it's true) so people on the streets take a second look and they generally smile and say hi. i've learnt to cultivate the good habit of not averting my eyes, hold the gaze for an extra split second and say "How're u doin'" the problem is that it's quite a mouthful so "Hello" will suffice and "hi" will have to do when i'm losing my voice. thinking how i can bring this friendliness back to Sg. they always say that "change has to start from yourself". ramble ramble. ]