10:41.
Yesterday morning, I woke up with my hands around my alarm clock. If it was big enough to be hugged, that would be what I was doing.
The Alarm On button was down, indicating that I must have grabbed it from the left side of the bed, where it sat on my little bedside table, slammed the button down and then turned around - still holding it - to sleep on my right.
But when I woke up, it was earlier than the time I set the alarm for. Which means I couldn't had grabbed that dependable plastic purple clock because it was ringing.
Maybe I dreamt that it did....
If you introduced me to someone today, and that someone asked, "So what do you do?", I wouldn't have been able to say "I'm a journalist".
Rather hard to get used to, this thought.
I'm not used to it yet, but the next week probably will move along so fast I won't have time to feel displaced.
I was at a press conference this afternoon, tagged along with an entertainment colleague who was nice enough to allow me along.
And yes, I did introduce myself as from the ex-paper (new term! copyrighted!).
So I guess tomorrow is our proper first day.
Here's to sweet dreams.
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Friday, January 30, 2004
20:28.
This is the last post from my office that I will be making for a long time.
Reason's simple - Today's my last day.
So for the last time (till next), from the media conglomerate of Singapore, I blog.
I'm packed up, having progressively taken stuff - CDs, notebooks, magazines, and today, every thing else - home over the last few days.
I've said my goodbyes, sort of, and the truth is that, when I walk out of the news centre, I think I will feel a sense of freedom.
Right now, I'm still feeling the prevailing melancholy that has been at my heart for a few days. I doubt this sense will fade soon but like I shared with a colleague just now, I feel alive.
As I stand here, on my way to a new chapter, it's not fear I feel, but hope. And excitement.
Yes, there's apprehension which flatuates from time to time but generally, I'm feeling... good.
And that's... good.
Hah.
I just deleted all the emails in my Lotus Notes email system.
But I have decided to leave the sign hanging over my desk announcing my name up there where it has hung for a long time.
Maybe it's meant to be a reminder to people that I once sat here. Throughout history, that's what us humans seem to like to do - to leave something behind that tells people that we once were somewhere.
Like vandalising on a tree: So-and-so loves So-and-so, or a scrawl that says XXX was here.
Human nature, building our own empire.
The words are starting to flow again. Being a journalist will never cease to be a part of me.
Here, I feel a slight tinge of sadness, if it is indeed sadness. Maybe it's just the melancholy at work. That's some thing that will always be a part of me too.
It's time to fly, to get off one main track, beat through the forest and find another path, whichever one I'm supposed to be on now.
Physically, I feel a bit of pain in my heart. About to say goodbye. The final one. And it's not that easy.
But not that hard.
This is the last post from my office that I will be making for a long time.
Reason's simple - Today's my last day.
So for the last time (till next), from the media conglomerate of Singapore, I blog.
I'm packed up, having progressively taken stuff - CDs, notebooks, magazines, and today, every thing else - home over the last few days.
I've said my goodbyes, sort of, and the truth is that, when I walk out of the news centre, I think I will feel a sense of freedom.
Right now, I'm still feeling the prevailing melancholy that has been at my heart for a few days. I doubt this sense will fade soon but like I shared with a colleague just now, I feel alive.
As I stand here, on my way to a new chapter, it's not fear I feel, but hope. And excitement.
Yes, there's apprehension which flatuates from time to time but generally, I'm feeling... good.
And that's... good.
Hah.
I just deleted all the emails in my Lotus Notes email system.
But I have decided to leave the sign hanging over my desk announcing my name up there where it has hung for a long time.
Maybe it's meant to be a reminder to people that I once sat here. Throughout history, that's what us humans seem to like to do - to leave something behind that tells people that we once were somewhere.
Like vandalising on a tree: So-and-so loves So-and-so, or a scrawl that says XXX was here.
Human nature, building our own empire.
The words are starting to flow again. Being a journalist will never cease to be a part of me.
Here, I feel a slight tinge of sadness, if it is indeed sadness. Maybe it's just the melancholy at work. That's some thing that will always be a part of me too.
It's time to fly, to get off one main track, beat through the forest and find another path, whichever one I'm supposed to be on now.
Physically, I feel a bit of pain in my heart. About to say goodbye. The final one. And it's not that easy.
But not that hard.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
Friday, January 09, 2004
13:55.
Five minutes to 9pm yesterday, I sat down at my beige upright piano, removed the red velvet cloth covering its black and white keys, and loved the feeling of creating music.
I didn't intend to play popular music but the first chord I hit sounded like a certain song so I started trying to locate its name as it flowed from the instrument.
The song was In My Life, by The Beatles. Lovely. I looked for its chords, I had the song sheet - downloaded from the internet - somewhere and I played a slow slow version. Then I started singing. Tried This Boy, also by the Beatles then Stay (Faraway, So Close) by U2. And it went on and on.
I always wished and prayed to be able to sing better. I'm an inconsistent singer. I can sing along to most songs when the records are playing, but when I need to pitch on my own, I tend to sing a restrained pitch lower. Since my range is not that wide, when I do that, I effectively sabotage myself.
On the piano, it's different. I can naturally pitch (On the guitar, I can't. Argh).
So we did an acoustic version of Stay, and Coldplay's The Scientist, both of which translated very well with bare acoustic backing.
Then, hehe, we stumbled across this stack of Beatles chords I have photocopied. And it was so fun! I Want To Hold Your Hand, Get Back, Hard Day's Night, Let It Be, a messy version of Helter Skelter.
As I played, I was aware of how I will miss the freedom of being able to get onto a piano to play and sing, with chords and sheets avail (I don't do impromptu very well).
But last night, we - piano, God and me - rocked.
Dear Lord, You rock.
Five minutes to 9pm yesterday, I sat down at my beige upright piano, removed the red velvet cloth covering its black and white keys, and loved the feeling of creating music.
I didn't intend to play popular music but the first chord I hit sounded like a certain song so I started trying to locate its name as it flowed from the instrument.
The song was In My Life, by The Beatles. Lovely. I looked for its chords, I had the song sheet - downloaded from the internet - somewhere and I played a slow slow version. Then I started singing. Tried This Boy, also by the Beatles then Stay (Faraway, So Close) by U2. And it went on and on.
I always wished and prayed to be able to sing better. I'm an inconsistent singer. I can sing along to most songs when the records are playing, but when I need to pitch on my own, I tend to sing a restrained pitch lower. Since my range is not that wide, when I do that, I effectively sabotage myself.
On the piano, it's different. I can naturally pitch (On the guitar, I can't. Argh).
So we did an acoustic version of Stay, and Coldplay's The Scientist, both of which translated very well with bare acoustic backing.
Then, hehe, we stumbled across this stack of Beatles chords I have photocopied. And it was so fun! I Want To Hold Your Hand, Get Back, Hard Day's Night, Let It Be, a messy version of Helter Skelter.
As I played, I was aware of how I will miss the freedom of being able to get onto a piano to play and sing, with chords and sheets avail (I don't do impromptu very well).
But last night, we - piano, God and me - rocked.
Dear Lord, You rock.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
00:00.
On Tuesday, I wore a pink blouse. It was in a sweet shade of pink, and cut in a peasant style, with a simple gather at the bottom, detail at sleeves end and... a strip of lace along the neckline. Its saving grace was its cut, specifically the collar cut in what I think is described as empire cut. Think boat neck with acute angles.
Ok, description over.
I don't wear lace or pink. Or at least not that shade of pink. While I recognise the potential and flattering nature of the colour, I have shunned pink stuff generally because it represented - to me, and on me only, mind you - vulnerability and weakness. A certain helplessness.
I'm big on symbolic meanings and I prefer other less loaded colours, or colours loaded with descriptions that fit me better.
So why did I wear that blouse, a gift from an aunty? I think I was taking the mickey out of myself and telling myself, oh sod the rules, you cow, you.
After all, it's no shame to admit I'm Not As Strong As I Think I Am [One ofRich Mullins' songs title].
So, at the stroke of midnight on the new year, I was walking along a road near Ang Mo Kio central, on my way to a friend's place after church ended at 11.30-ish.
I think one thing God has been working on inside of me is teaching me to face all of me. To be honest, and to dare to show myself vulnerable to people. I've a fair share of control freakiness in me. And despite loving sleep and quietness, I'm impatient when it comes to the unfuring of my life - scope, plan and eventuality.
I'm increasingly breaking the pop culture rules I held for so long. And I'm feeling like it's fine. Whatever.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, I started it feeling decent and top of the world but two new colleagues reminded me how dispensible everyone is. So I was milling about in the dumps for a while. But you know, if the now me is the me fresh from poly, swallowing that I am not indispensible would have been a very jagged, darn bitter pill.
So yeah, soon the pictures at my desk will be down. My neat files in my PC be deleted (I'm a geek, geek, geek) and maybe I will take down that little sign hanging above my desk that declares my name to all and sundry.
I will delete every sign that I used to be there.
It's easier to move on then.
We all move on.
I'm glad I won't be seeing someone move into my space.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
About 20 hours ago, somewhere during the night, I dreamt of my favourite band U2. I was at a concert and I was trying to get backstage. I remember excitement and know I was there not just as a fan, but as a media. I remember being nervous.
A few hours ago, I walked back home (from the Woodlands MRT lah) instead of taking the usual feeder bus.
The stars were out.
I have not seen so many stars in our night sky for so long.
And the full moon was illuminating everything. And I saw three stars lined up in a straight row.
I felt like lying on a field and staring at them till I get caught up in eternity.
I'm glad to be alive.
I love you, Lord.
On Tuesday, I wore a pink blouse. It was in a sweet shade of pink, and cut in a peasant style, with a simple gather at the bottom, detail at sleeves end and... a strip of lace along the neckline. Its saving grace was its cut, specifically the collar cut in what I think is described as empire cut. Think boat neck with acute angles.
Ok, description over.
I don't wear lace or pink. Or at least not that shade of pink. While I recognise the potential and flattering nature of the colour, I have shunned pink stuff generally because it represented - to me, and on me only, mind you - vulnerability and weakness. A certain helplessness.
I'm big on symbolic meanings and I prefer other less loaded colours, or colours loaded with descriptions that fit me better.
So why did I wear that blouse, a gift from an aunty? I think I was taking the mickey out of myself and telling myself, oh sod the rules, you cow, you.
After all, it's no shame to admit I'm Not As Strong As I Think I Am [One ofRich Mullins' songs title].
So, at the stroke of midnight on the new year, I was walking along a road near Ang Mo Kio central, on my way to a friend's place after church ended at 11.30-ish.
I think one thing God has been working on inside of me is teaching me to face all of me. To be honest, and to dare to show myself vulnerable to people. I've a fair share of control freakiness in me. And despite loving sleep and quietness, I'm impatient when it comes to the unfuring of my life - scope, plan and eventuality.
I'm increasingly breaking the pop culture rules I held for so long. And I'm feeling like it's fine. Whatever.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, I started it feeling decent and top of the world but two new colleagues reminded me how dispensible everyone is. So I was milling about in the dumps for a while. But you know, if the now me is the me fresh from poly, swallowing that I am not indispensible would have been a very jagged, darn bitter pill.
So yeah, soon the pictures at my desk will be down. My neat files in my PC be deleted (I'm a geek, geek, geek) and maybe I will take down that little sign hanging above my desk that declares my name to all and sundry.
I will delete every sign that I used to be there.
It's easier to move on then.
We all move on.
I'm glad I won't be seeing someone move into my space.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
About 20 hours ago, somewhere during the night, I dreamt of my favourite band U2. I was at a concert and I was trying to get backstage. I remember excitement and know I was there not just as a fan, but as a media. I remember being nervous.
A few hours ago, I walked back home (from the Woodlands MRT lah) instead of taking the usual feeder bus.
The stars were out.
I have not seen so many stars in our night sky for so long.
And the full moon was illuminating everything. And I saw three stars lined up in a straight row.
I felt like lying on a field and staring at them till I get caught up in eternity.
I'm glad to be alive.
I love you, Lord.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
15:28.
I think I felt a connection when reading the article below. I'm not deciding that I agree with everything it says or that I disagree. You may know I have always felt like an oddity, a weirdo, and though at the end of the day, I'm proud of all my strangeness, there have been times when it hurted.
The article is from here.
Odd and alien, that's the Christian way
By BRYAN PATTERSON
16nov03
"You shall know the truth . . . and the truth shall make you odd" - Flannery O'Connor
AMERICAN writer Mike Yaconelli, who died in a car accident this month, said that what characterised Christianity in the modern world was its "oddness".
"Christianity is home for people who are out of step, unfashionable, unconventional and counter-cultural," he wrote.
Is that why the chattering classes -- the ones who proclaim tolerance, free-thinking and peace -- seem to share a prejudice against Christians?
How many times have you heard a well-off, supposedly educated dinner party philosopher accuse all Christians of being fundamentalist, anti-feminist, anti-gay and anti-intellectual bigots, who are led by child abusers and unthinking autocrats?
In the minds of the rabid persecutors, Christian belief is akin to searching in a dark cellar at midnight for a black cat that isn't there.
Yet the same accusers would not dare publicly mock Buddhists, Muslims or Jews.
Christianity grates on some people because, at the core, it is much more than a set of morality rules. It is downright subversive, and threatens conventional lifestyles.
It teaches that there are definite rights and wrongs; truths and untruths. Rather a stretch for a pluralistic world in which everyone's view is supposedly as valid as everyone else's.
Christianity challenges the concept of unfettered personal freedom, warns against being too rich or too pretty, and demands its followers practise social justice and brotherhood, even to those who lampoon the faith.
And then there's the real problem. Christians don't really fit comfortably into categories. They may agree on the Big Issue -- that God's spirit can direct us -- but then differ greatly on the little themes.
They are more often odd types than stereotypes.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said a man must consider what a rich realm he abdicates when he becomes a conformist.
And even that old atheist Friedrich Nietzsche said the surest way to corrupt a youth was to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.
Christianity, home of the odd, proclaims that it has spiritual answers for everyone, while recognising that all are different.
Yaconelli, who believed "cultural sameness" was a virus, was a pastor at "one of the slowest growing churches" in the US.
"We're about as far as you can get from a 'user friendly' church, not because our congregation is unfriendly, but because our services are unpredictable, unpolished and inconsistent," he said.
"We're an odd-friendly church, attracting unique and different followers of Christ who make every service a surprise. We refuse to edit oddness and incompetence from our services. We believe our oddness matters."
Yaconelli wrote of a service where a church member began describing the critical illness of her father. Her request for prayer was frequently interrupted by tears.
Seated in the front row was Sadie, a young woman with Down syndrome. Sadie stood and walked up the aisle until she saw the woman in the middle of her row. Stepping over the feet of other people, Sadie reached the woman, bent down on her knees, laid her head on the woman's lap, and cried with her.
"Sadie inconvenienced an entire row of people, stepped on their shoes, and forced them to make room for her, but none of us will ever forget that moment," Yaconelli said. "Sadie is still teaching the rest of us what the odd compassion of Christ's church looks like."
IN Yaconelli's mind, oddness is important because it's the quality that adds colour, texture, variety, and beauty to the human condition.
"Christ doesn't make us the same. What He does is affirm our differentness," he said.
"Sameness is the result of sin. Sin does much more than infect us with lust and greed; it flattens the human race, franchises us, attempts to make us all homogenous. Sameness is the cemetery where our distinctiveness dies. In a sea of sameness, no one has an identity.
"But Christians are the odd ones, the strange ones, the aliens, the misfits, the outsiders, the incompatibles. Oddness is a gift of God that sits dormant until God's spirit gives it life and shape. Oddness is the consequence of following the One who made us unique, different and in His image."
I think I felt a connection when reading the article below. I'm not deciding that I agree with everything it says or that I disagree. You may know I have always felt like an oddity, a weirdo, and though at the end of the day, I'm proud of all my strangeness, there have been times when it hurted.
The article is from here.
Odd and alien, that's the Christian way
By BRYAN PATTERSON
16nov03
"You shall know the truth . . . and the truth shall make you odd" - Flannery O'Connor
AMERICAN writer Mike Yaconelli, who died in a car accident this month, said that what characterised Christianity in the modern world was its "oddness".
"Christianity is home for people who are out of step, unfashionable, unconventional and counter-cultural," he wrote.
Is that why the chattering classes -- the ones who proclaim tolerance, free-thinking and peace -- seem to share a prejudice against Christians?
How many times have you heard a well-off, supposedly educated dinner party philosopher accuse all Christians of being fundamentalist, anti-feminist, anti-gay and anti-intellectual bigots, who are led by child abusers and unthinking autocrats?
In the minds of the rabid persecutors, Christian belief is akin to searching in a dark cellar at midnight for a black cat that isn't there.
Yet the same accusers would not dare publicly mock Buddhists, Muslims or Jews.
Christianity grates on some people because, at the core, it is much more than a set of morality rules. It is downright subversive, and threatens conventional lifestyles.
It teaches that there are definite rights and wrongs; truths and untruths. Rather a stretch for a pluralistic world in which everyone's view is supposedly as valid as everyone else's.
Christianity challenges the concept of unfettered personal freedom, warns against being too rich or too pretty, and demands its followers practise social justice and brotherhood, even to those who lampoon the faith.
And then there's the real problem. Christians don't really fit comfortably into categories. They may agree on the Big Issue -- that God's spirit can direct us -- but then differ greatly on the little themes.
They are more often odd types than stereotypes.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said a man must consider what a rich realm he abdicates when he becomes a conformist.
And even that old atheist Friedrich Nietzsche said the surest way to corrupt a youth was to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.
Christianity, home of the odd, proclaims that it has spiritual answers for everyone, while recognising that all are different.
Yaconelli, who believed "cultural sameness" was a virus, was a pastor at "one of the slowest growing churches" in the US.
"We're about as far as you can get from a 'user friendly' church, not because our congregation is unfriendly, but because our services are unpredictable, unpolished and inconsistent," he said.
"We're an odd-friendly church, attracting unique and different followers of Christ who make every service a surprise. We refuse to edit oddness and incompetence from our services. We believe our oddness matters."
Yaconelli wrote of a service where a church member began describing the critical illness of her father. Her request for prayer was frequently interrupted by tears.
Seated in the front row was Sadie, a young woman with Down syndrome. Sadie stood and walked up the aisle until she saw the woman in the middle of her row. Stepping over the feet of other people, Sadie reached the woman, bent down on her knees, laid her head on the woman's lap, and cried with her.
"Sadie inconvenienced an entire row of people, stepped on their shoes, and forced them to make room for her, but none of us will ever forget that moment," Yaconelli said. "Sadie is still teaching the rest of us what the odd compassion of Christ's church looks like."
IN Yaconelli's mind, oddness is important because it's the quality that adds colour, texture, variety, and beauty to the human condition.
"Christ doesn't make us the same. What He does is affirm our differentness," he said.
"Sameness is the result of sin. Sin does much more than infect us with lust and greed; it flattens the human race, franchises us, attempts to make us all homogenous. Sameness is the cemetery where our distinctiveness dies. In a sea of sameness, no one has an identity.
"But Christians are the odd ones, the strange ones, the aliens, the misfits, the outsiders, the incompatibles. Oddness is a gift of God that sits dormant until God's spirit gives it life and shape. Oddness is the consequence of following the One who made us unique, different and in His image."
Sunday, January 04, 2004
21:56.
Sometimes, you work your butt off at some thing and it doesn't come out quite the way it should. So you sigh, make a mental note to be wary and to send a message to some people tomorrow, and move on.
In my year as a working adult, I have learnt to do that.
The first post of a new year should be more than this, eh?
Yeah, but I am not done yet with my personal reflections upon time past and aspirations for time to come.
I resort again, thus, to borrowed verses and songs. (And thanks to DW for going through the trouble to send me the studio version of this song)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worlds Apart - Jars of Clay
I am the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all adds up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard to leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
to give and die
To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loves
more deeply than the oceans,
more abundant than the tear
Of a world embracing every heartache
Can I be the one to sacrifice
Or grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees
All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me
Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
Because what I need and what I believe are worlds apart
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
and wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
the battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
and wash the feet and cleanse my pride
take the selfish, take the weak,
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
the sin-soaked heart and make it yours
take my world all apart
take it now, take it now
and serve the ones that I despise
speak the words I can't deny
watch the world I used to love
fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
so wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
so steal my heart and take the pain
take the selfish, take the weak
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
take my world apart
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They say loving someone means losing yourself. 2003, I somehow lost myself and yet in the process, felt that I am coming to know who I am meant to be more. For now, we see from behind a veil but one day, we will see everything in Light.
And what a day that will be.
Lord Jesus, I'm yours.
Sometimes, you work your butt off at some thing and it doesn't come out quite the way it should. So you sigh, make a mental note to be wary and to send a message to some people tomorrow, and move on.
In my year as a working adult, I have learnt to do that.
The first post of a new year should be more than this, eh?
Yeah, but I am not done yet with my personal reflections upon time past and aspirations for time to come.
I resort again, thus, to borrowed verses and songs. (And thanks to DW for going through the trouble to send me the studio version of this song)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Worlds Apart - Jars of Clay
I am the only one to blame for this
Somehow it all adds up the same
Soaring on the wings of selfish pride
I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard to leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
to give and die
To turn away and not become
Another nail to pierce the skin of one who loves
more deeply than the oceans,
more abundant than the tear
Of a world embracing every heartache
Can I be the one to sacrifice
Or grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees
All said and done I stand alone
Amongst remains of a life I should not own
It takes all I am to believe
In the mercy that covers me
Did you really have to die for me?
All I am for all you are
Because what I need and what I believe are worlds apart
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
and wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
the battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
and wash the feet and cleanse my pride
take the selfish, take the weak,
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
the sin-soaked heart and make it yours
take my world all apart
take it now, take it now
and serve the ones that I despise
speak the words I can't deny
watch the world I used to love
fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
so wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
so steal my heart and take the pain
take the selfish, take the weak
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
take my world apart
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They say loving someone means losing yourself. 2003, I somehow lost myself and yet in the process, felt that I am coming to know who I am meant to be more. For now, we see from behind a veil but one day, we will see everything in Light.
And what a day that will be.
Lord Jesus, I'm yours.
