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.

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.

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.

The diving suit and the butterfly

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

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.

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.

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 :)

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.

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.

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)

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.

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.

the sweet regret of wanderlust.

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. "

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

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.

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.

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?

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.

the diving bell and the butterfly (1)

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.

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.

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.