19:50.
Much Afraid - Jars Of Clay
Empty again
Sunken down so far
So scared to fall
I might not get up again
So I lay at your feet
All my brokenness
I carry all of my burdens to you
All of these things
I've held up in vain
No reason nor rhyme
Just the scars that remain
Of all of these things
I'm so much afraid
Scared out of my mind
By the demons I've made
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
So happy to love
Yet so far to go
You lead me on to where I've never been before
All of these things
I've held up in vain
No reason nor rhyme
Just the scars that remain
Of all of these things
I'm so much afraid
Scared out of my mind
By the demons I've made
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
Friday, December 26, 2003
19:03.
she pulls her poodle's ear and yelps
the pain that came she felt it first
crazy woman alone in the night
dressed in black to blend with the nile
the thoughts were not unfamiliar but their names were lost
what to call them, she could not recall
and so she walked to the pigeon's hole
down the rabbit burrow alice fall
alice, alice, what are you doing?
how are you to know if it's wonder you are wandering in?
alice alice, that kitty's evil
pull its head and let it quiver
the fat lady sings in time
to the marching band by peru's side
the conductor's a candy, a gingerbread man
oh hazel run on and never slow down
on and on and on you tire
but where's a rest and what's the time?
haze will fall and sun will shine
but its hue may not be light
she pulls her poodle's ear and yelps
the pain that came she felt it first
crazy woman alone in the night
dressed in black to blend with the nile
the thoughts were not unfamiliar but their names were lost
what to call them, she could not recall
and so she walked to the pigeon's hole
down the rabbit burrow alice fall
alice, alice, what are you doing?
how are you to know if it's wonder you are wandering in?
alice alice, that kitty's evil
pull its head and let it quiver
the fat lady sings in time
to the marching band by peru's side
the conductor's a candy, a gingerbread man
oh hazel run on and never slow down
on and on and on you tire
but where's a rest and what's the time?
haze will fall and sun will shine
but its hue may not be light
Sunday, December 14, 2003
18:49.
I cannot remember at which station they got on, but they rode with me to Woodlands. A pretty lady in her early 30s, I first noticed her and noted her preppy knee length skirt when she walked straight into my line of vision, and a little girl about eight perhaps trailing behind her as they settled against the panel opposite mine.
I noticed the latter's ears first. Imagine if you will ears flipped upside down 180 degrees, with the smaller end on top and the tops were pointed! I first noticed the point and immediately thought, "Elf!" then realised the "inverted-ness" of the ears.
I really don't know why but I thought the mother - I assume that's their relation - was gay. I really don't know why, don't ask.
The little girl was tanned, unlike her fair mother who ignored her most of the journey. She had her chin-length satin-smooth black hair tied back in two knots, showing off her unique ears. She wore striped baby blue and pink socks, and her denin peddalpushers had pink embroidered flowers at the end.
I liked her.
Her voice was soft. I saw her mouth move, her mother ignore her, I never heard what was said. Her eyes too were soft, and also unsure.
You know the little child actress in Homerun?
Yeah, my little Totto Chan on the train had a pensive heart-shaped face like hers.
Her mother stood cross-armed against the door, at times turning to face it full-on to look out, and never spoke to her daughter voluntarily.
Or just once anyway - "Go and sit lah". No, not in a tone laced with concern.
The little girl - her eyes always fixed on her silent mother - rushed to the next available seat when it was vacanted. While many parents would move over to stand near their kid or sit with them, taking their offspring on their laps, this one didn't.
If you had not seen them together during their earlier part of their journey, you won't know that they were together.
The two metres separating them felt long, even to me as a bystander.
All the little Megan-lookalike could do was sit right at the edge of the plastic orange seat - her feet did not even touch the floor yet - and stare, head turned and lifted slightly, at her mother whose head was turned away from her.
We reached Admiralty, and the child - her mom blocked from her line of vision by a happy family (3 kids running around their pony-tailed Dad while he was on the phone) - scrambled to her feet to tiptoe and see her mom.
She thought it was the right stop.
Her mom never looked back, and she sat back down. For a small moment, her downturned mouth twisted slightly and if possible, she looked even more unsure.
Twice, I saw her smile when the other children were scrambling in fun but that unsure, almost sad look reclaimed her fast both times.
It was her almond eyes. They were not particularly big or stunning but they were constantly fixed on her mother. Those eyes kept mine on her throughout the journey. And she never noticed, she only had eyes for one person.
Her mother finally acknowledged her when our train rolled into Woodlands station. I walked behind them, saw them held hands as they approached the elevator, and her develop a skip in her steps and start to chatter to her quiet mother.
At the ticketing rails, she tapped her yellow ez-link card onto the wrong reader. Her mom grabbed her arm over to the right one but the card has been read and the wrong turnstile activated. They didn't notice and kept trying to tap the card onto the "right" reader. I saw her start and look up at her mom. I'm afraid there was fear in her brown eyes.
That's where I lost them. Though I pretended I was waiting for someone and stopped near the ticketing booth to look for them.
How terrible it is for a child to be with an adult in a bad mood, or worse, an adult who's not interested in you.
Maybe some people just shouldn't ever be parents.
I cannot remember at which station they got on, but they rode with me to Woodlands. A pretty lady in her early 30s, I first noticed her and noted her preppy knee length skirt when she walked straight into my line of vision, and a little girl about eight perhaps trailing behind her as they settled against the panel opposite mine.
I noticed the latter's ears first. Imagine if you will ears flipped upside down 180 degrees, with the smaller end on top and the tops were pointed! I first noticed the point and immediately thought, "Elf!" then realised the "inverted-ness" of the ears.
I really don't know why but I thought the mother - I assume that's their relation - was gay. I really don't know why, don't ask.
The little girl was tanned, unlike her fair mother who ignored her most of the journey. She had her chin-length satin-smooth black hair tied back in two knots, showing off her unique ears. She wore striped baby blue and pink socks, and her denin peddalpushers had pink embroidered flowers at the end.
I liked her.
Her voice was soft. I saw her mouth move, her mother ignore her, I never heard what was said. Her eyes too were soft, and also unsure.
You know the little child actress in Homerun?
Yeah, my little Totto Chan on the train had a pensive heart-shaped face like hers.
Her mother stood cross-armed against the door, at times turning to face it full-on to look out, and never spoke to her daughter voluntarily.
Or just once anyway - "Go and sit lah". No, not in a tone laced with concern.
The little girl - her eyes always fixed on her silent mother - rushed to the next available seat when it was vacanted. While many parents would move over to stand near their kid or sit with them, taking their offspring on their laps, this one didn't.
If you had not seen them together during their earlier part of their journey, you won't know that they were together.
The two metres separating them felt long, even to me as a bystander.
All the little Megan-lookalike could do was sit right at the edge of the plastic orange seat - her feet did not even touch the floor yet - and stare, head turned and lifted slightly, at her mother whose head was turned away from her.
We reached Admiralty, and the child - her mom blocked from her line of vision by a happy family (3 kids running around their pony-tailed Dad while he was on the phone) - scrambled to her feet to tiptoe and see her mom.
She thought it was the right stop.
Her mom never looked back, and she sat back down. For a small moment, her downturned mouth twisted slightly and if possible, she looked even more unsure.
Twice, I saw her smile when the other children were scrambling in fun but that unsure, almost sad look reclaimed her fast both times.
It was her almond eyes. They were not particularly big or stunning but they were constantly fixed on her mother. Those eyes kept mine on her throughout the journey. And she never noticed, she only had eyes for one person.
Her mother finally acknowledged her when our train rolled into Woodlands station. I walked behind them, saw them held hands as they approached the elevator, and her develop a skip in her steps and start to chatter to her quiet mother.
At the ticketing rails, she tapped her yellow ez-link card onto the wrong reader. Her mom grabbed her arm over to the right one but the card has been read and the wrong turnstile activated. They didn't notice and kept trying to tap the card onto the "right" reader. I saw her start and look up at her mom. I'm afraid there was fear in her brown eyes.
That's where I lost them. Though I pretended I was waiting for someone and stopped near the ticketing booth to look for them.
How terrible it is for a child to be with an adult in a bad mood, or worse, an adult who's not interested in you.
Maybe some people just shouldn't ever be parents.
Friday, December 12, 2003
19:58.
Imagine by John Lennon is one of my favourite songs but whenever I sing it, I know I don't believe in its lyrics. What I believe in and what touches me is the spirit of the song, the spirit that says imagine a better place, let's dream of a better place, you are allowed to dream of a better place.
Not the lyrics, which advocated an impractical one-ness.
So when I read this, I had to post it. I wonder how many hate mail the journalist got so far.
Imagine by John Lennon is one of my favourite songs but whenever I sing it, I know I don't believe in its lyrics. What I believe in and what touches me is the spirit of the song, the spirit that says imagine a better place, let's dream of a better place, you are allowed to dream of a better place.
Not the lyrics, which advocated an impractical one-ness.
So when I read this, I had to post it. I wonder how many hate mail the journalist got so far.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
20:13.
If you can consider JB to be overseas, then I effectively went on my first overseas assignment on yesterday.
Am now in the office, waiting for a call from the UK about the piracy story I chased yesterday. Depending on your leanings, those two sentences may sound exciting or dulled by a been-there-done-that favouring. I would tell you my angle, which is new, but since the article may be held, let's be quiet.
It was a rainy day yesterday. Rained throughout the whole time we were in Malaysia.
For a girl living in Woodlands, JB's a skip and a hop away. So, yes, I did feel slightly so somewhat like, "This is it? My first overseas assignment?"
Ingrate, me. I've been so conditioned by my material world, that's one reason why I need to leave what I have now and go somewhere new.
But guess what? I did enjoy the feeling of being on assignment in a foreign environment, even if it's just JB. Yes, so out of three leads, only one turned up all right and yes, so the photog and driver were feeling rather bummed, as was I, after one lead turned out to be a joke, literally so.
But I liked it. I liked how I felt like I have to swin or sink. For the piracy story, I separated from my photog and driver. Worked alone, posing first as a customer, gaining entry into the little private room where the wares were and asking questions as disarmingly as possible. Then, deciding if I should identify myself.
I liked that "uh oh" that went off in my head when once, I introduced myself to a pirate. His entire face changed and all his kakis stopped whatever they were doing and looked at me. I liked having to think on my feet pronto.
I've already thought of story ideas I could pursue in Melbourne.
....
I questioned a lot about journalism and my role in it. There were times when I wondered about my calling to it too. But thank God, through many little things, I know I've been called to this industry and I have a role to play.
It's amazing how things just work out when you wait, trust, and walk on. God is great.
I'm going to Rmit's Media Studies. On Monday, while en route to work, the IDP representative called me to go down to his office since the Aussie representive was there. I rushed down in a cab.
I wasn't dressed to impress, I was in denim jacket and mini skirt, carrying a backpack, I looked like a kid.
I wasn't equipped to impress. I didn't have my portfolio or resume, two things that normally give me a lot more assurance during interviews.
It all went wonderfully though. I really liked the guy and he accepted me into the programme at the end of the approximately half-hour interview/ discussion.
Have I written that God is great?
He really is.
And just a couple of days ago too, two scholar colleagues informed me that if I applied and get a scholarhip, they are sure I won't have to do a 6-year bond since my course is for only a year.
The bond duration was what deterred me from any thoughts of entertaining a scholarship application. But come Monday, I will speak to my bosses about it.
Yeah, I don't know if I make the cut. My results ain't that great and my performance at work, though not lousy, have had its moments and non.
There's an assuring sense of rest and peace inside of me though. Whatever happens, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, God is there with me.
This feels so good.
If you can consider JB to be overseas, then I effectively went on my first overseas assignment on yesterday.
Am now in the office, waiting for a call from the UK about the piracy story I chased yesterday. Depending on your leanings, those two sentences may sound exciting or dulled by a been-there-done-that favouring. I would tell you my angle, which is new, but since the article may be held, let's be quiet.
It was a rainy day yesterday. Rained throughout the whole time we were in Malaysia.
For a girl living in Woodlands, JB's a skip and a hop away. So, yes, I did feel slightly so somewhat like, "This is it? My first overseas assignment?"
Ingrate, me. I've been so conditioned by my material world, that's one reason why I need to leave what I have now and go somewhere new.
But guess what? I did enjoy the feeling of being on assignment in a foreign environment, even if it's just JB. Yes, so out of three leads, only one turned up all right and yes, so the photog and driver were feeling rather bummed, as was I, after one lead turned out to be a joke, literally so.
But I liked it. I liked how I felt like I have to swin or sink. For the piracy story, I separated from my photog and driver. Worked alone, posing first as a customer, gaining entry into the little private room where the wares were and asking questions as disarmingly as possible. Then, deciding if I should identify myself.
I liked that "uh oh" that went off in my head when once, I introduced myself to a pirate. His entire face changed and all his kakis stopped whatever they were doing and looked at me. I liked having to think on my feet pronto.
I've already thought of story ideas I could pursue in Melbourne.
....
I questioned a lot about journalism and my role in it. There were times when I wondered about my calling to it too. But thank God, through many little things, I know I've been called to this industry and I have a role to play.
It's amazing how things just work out when you wait, trust, and walk on. God is great.
I'm going to Rmit's Media Studies. On Monday, while en route to work, the IDP representative called me to go down to his office since the Aussie representive was there. I rushed down in a cab.
I wasn't dressed to impress, I was in denim jacket and mini skirt, carrying a backpack, I looked like a kid.
I wasn't equipped to impress. I didn't have my portfolio or resume, two things that normally give me a lot more assurance during interviews.
It all went wonderfully though. I really liked the guy and he accepted me into the programme at the end of the approximately half-hour interview/ discussion.
Have I written that God is great?
He really is.
And just a couple of days ago too, two scholar colleagues informed me that if I applied and get a scholarhip, they are sure I won't have to do a 6-year bond since my course is for only a year.
The bond duration was what deterred me from any thoughts of entertaining a scholarship application. But come Monday, I will speak to my bosses about it.
Yeah, I don't know if I make the cut. My results ain't that great and my performance at work, though not lousy, have had its moments and non.
There's an assuring sense of rest and peace inside of me though. Whatever happens, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, God is there with me.
This feels so good.
Saturday, December 06, 2003
12:43.
Hallo world.
It's good to know things are settled. Not that every single thing has been so, but now I know I am definitely going to Australia for the spring intake, I feel more... grounded. Less up in space floating like debris about to collide with a space cow.
[I echo your "eh?" on the animal mention, don't know where that came from either]
I've not been posting in my own voice for a while simply because that voice has not been very coherent.
The last two or three weeks handed my mind a microphone and pushed it into the milky way. Every thought inside my head was amplified, and none was within my grasp of reason or in the sphere of mono-logic.
It didn't help that the university folks were not very, well, switched on. After a written test and a phone interview a month after, I waited three weeks to receive with pleasure an email affirming I made the cut and can finish the journalism programme in a year.
I reverted with an email responding to the choice of compulsory subjects I have to take and they revert with an email saying I need one and a half years to do the programme instead.
Which threw me up against the wall since I was already mentally settled on going, and since Hannah had already found and paid a deposit for the apartment.
I fell back on my back-up plan - Media Studies, which I can definitely complete in a year, but just received another email from the Journ folks clarifying a one-year programme provided I take Radio Journ, Online Journ and two journ subjects among my eight modules.
To summarise, effectively, I now have three offers - UniMel Arts (2 yrs), Rmit Journ (1 yr with compulsory subjects) and Rmit Media Studies (1 yr, with no compulsory subjects).
UniMel is definitely out.
And by Monday, I have to make up my mind whether I want Journ or Media Studies. The only thing holding me back from Journ is the compulsory module Radio Journ.
I'm loathed to do group work. This anti-social nerd has thrived in the independence of working life as a journalist and is admitedly, unsure about group work in a student setting again.
Oh, I want to study. Fer sure, ye. And as scary as it sometimes is to me, I need to be a fish out of the water again so I get out of my comfort zone and complacency.
Then, there's the pride which is my thorn in my flesh. The pride that recoils in horror at the thought that I may not be as competent as I fancy at a subject which I rather not take (though I do see its interesting side and am interested in it).
[Interlude: *takes knife and stabs Pride*]
hehehheehhehe, oh well, such a long post deserves an interlude.
But to revert to the topic at hand which I have no doubt will have a significant bearing on my future, part of me wants to run away, skipping into Australia and such a new phrase of my life. Another wants to remain at my desk in the daily's office, hitting some good shots at times and seeking comfort from the little things.
Both are good places to be at but I am not omnitranscient.
Good thing God is, and He will be with me everywhere. It feels a bit like I am Peter about to step out of the boat to walk on water, and I am scared fric-less but I'm daring to move because God is with me.
Choices, choices, choices.
I don't want to be po ma (indecisive) any more. It's a strange trait to take on and not particularly appealing.
There's a lot more areas and issues and feelings to talk about and share but I should demure. I can see eyelids at half-masts already.
Abba's Take A Chance On Me is playing in my head.
Take a chance?
Okay.
Hallo world.
It's good to know things are settled. Not that every single thing has been so, but now I know I am definitely going to Australia for the spring intake, I feel more... grounded. Less up in space floating like debris about to collide with a space cow.
[I echo your "eh?" on the animal mention, don't know where that came from either]
I've not been posting in my own voice for a while simply because that voice has not been very coherent.
The last two or three weeks handed my mind a microphone and pushed it into the milky way. Every thought inside my head was amplified, and none was within my grasp of reason or in the sphere of mono-logic.
It didn't help that the university folks were not very, well, switched on. After a written test and a phone interview a month after, I waited three weeks to receive with pleasure an email affirming I made the cut and can finish the journalism programme in a year.
I reverted with an email responding to the choice of compulsory subjects I have to take and they revert with an email saying I need one and a half years to do the programme instead.
Which threw me up against the wall since I was already mentally settled on going, and since Hannah had already found and paid a deposit for the apartment.
I fell back on my back-up plan - Media Studies, which I can definitely complete in a year, but just received another email from the Journ folks clarifying a one-year programme provided I take Radio Journ, Online Journ and two journ subjects among my eight modules.
To summarise, effectively, I now have three offers - UniMel Arts (2 yrs), Rmit Journ (1 yr with compulsory subjects) and Rmit Media Studies (1 yr, with no compulsory subjects).
UniMel is definitely out.
And by Monday, I have to make up my mind whether I want Journ or Media Studies. The only thing holding me back from Journ is the compulsory module Radio Journ.
I'm loathed to do group work. This anti-social nerd has thrived in the independence of working life as a journalist and is admitedly, unsure about group work in a student setting again.
Oh, I want to study. Fer sure, ye. And as scary as it sometimes is to me, I need to be a fish out of the water again so I get out of my comfort zone and complacency.
Then, there's the pride which is my thorn in my flesh. The pride that recoils in horror at the thought that I may not be as competent as I fancy at a subject which I rather not take (though I do see its interesting side and am interested in it).
[Interlude: *takes knife and stabs Pride*]
hehehheehhehe, oh well, such a long post deserves an interlude.
But to revert to the topic at hand which I have no doubt will have a significant bearing on my future, part of me wants to run away, skipping into Australia and such a new phrase of my life. Another wants to remain at my desk in the daily's office, hitting some good shots at times and seeking comfort from the little things.
Both are good places to be at but I am not omnitranscient.
Good thing God is, and He will be with me everywhere. It feels a bit like I am Peter about to step out of the boat to walk on water, and I am scared fric-less but I'm daring to move because God is with me.
Choices, choices, choices.
I don't want to be po ma (indecisive) any more. It's a strange trait to take on and not particularly appealing.
There's a lot more areas and issues and feelings to talk about and share but I should demure. I can see eyelids at half-masts already.
Abba's Take A Chance On Me is playing in my head.
Take a chance?
Okay.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
22:11.
Everybody hurts - REM
When the day is long and the night,
the night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life,
well hang on
Don't let yourself go
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life,
well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh, no
Don't throw your hand, if you feel like you're alone,
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life,
the days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on,
Well, everybody hurts sometimes, everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
(Everybody hurts. You are not alone.)
Everybody hurts - REM
When the day is long and the night,
the night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life,
well hang on
Don't let yourself go
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life,
well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh, no
Don't throw your hand, if you feel like you're alone,
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life,
the days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on,
Well, everybody hurts sometimes, everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
(Everybody hurts. You are not alone.)
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
16:30.
"As a kid, I would have loved to have learned to play the piano. I think I'm more than angry about the reasons I didn't. Without the band I would explode. Or worse, I'd just numb that area.
"I think that's what happens to people who have a gift and they can't get it out; they fence it off, put a lot of ice on it, and walk with a limp. So I kind of got to mark that moment; that's really what art is to me. And to use humour. U2 songs are not a bag of laughs, but with these works I got up to some mischief." - Bono, U2, from here
"As a kid, I would have loved to have learned to play the piano. I think I'm more than angry about the reasons I didn't. Without the band I would explode. Or worse, I'd just numb that area.
"I think that's what happens to people who have a gift and they can't get it out; they fence it off, put a lot of ice on it, and walk with a limp. So I kind of got to mark that moment; that's really what art is to me. And to use humour. U2 songs are not a bag of laughs, but with these works I got up to some mischief." - Bono, U2, from here
