15:35.

And the stars could fall in shades of red
While the moon, she sees it fit to turn away
Then televisions out of windows
Saucepans out of doors

I fall right straight through the floor

And I saw the people
Faces with stories etched deep
Pain and wonder and jaded gaze
As if every day’s just like today

Take the piano flying through the sky
Stop the blackbird flying by
The key it holds, what is it made for
Stop the world for I can’t speak

White sleeping gowns from MTV
Unreal gothic band sold out its faith
Closing time
Baby good night

13:21.

I'm re-reading Pilgrim's Progress, that classic by John Bunyan and it is an enjoyable read to say the least. I remember when I first read it, when I was about 15, it so inspired me in some unexplicable way that I modelled a composition on it. The topic was about going on a journey, and I asked the teacher if I could write about a metaphorical journey, a spiritual journey. She was rather excited and very approving but when I gave her the finished compo, I think she didn't like it a lot, saying something like I can't write in this style or something. Any way, bygones.

There's a sense of contentment in my belly, as the world outside continues on this slightly grey 18 degrees-max day. School lessons resume in about two hours time, so I will have some time to do some readings and online library catalogue searches before I drop by the library after lessons.

Since daylight savings ended, the evening falls sooner. When I first came, I was thrown off by how the sun only sets after 8pm. Not conduive for studying, I said, since I tend to buckle down to work after evening falls. But now that evening falls sooner, the way I was used to, I am again thrown off. Hah, the wonders of living in a place with seasons. Any how, with God's grace, I guess I will get used to the fewer hours of daylight so I could be more productive.

I've been properly domesticated. I catch myself searching for recipes and planning what day to cook what for dinner. Gosh. And hah, it amuses me more than any thing.

I break into little jigs now and then, happy for inexplicable unknown reasons. And if I'm alone, I allow myself to laugh out loud. Um, should do that one day while the other two are around... freak them out :)

I have been rather irrationally hungry these two days. My tummy makes weird noises and I actually feel proper hunger pangs, which I seldom do.

Anyhow, if the weighing scale we bought is to be trusted - the readings are different if you shift its location, the bathroom floor is not very flat - I lost about one to two kilograms since I came here. I'm eating well - and snacking on more chocolate than I consumed in the whole of the last six months - so I guess it's all the walking about since I walk everywhere basically.

We are buying fish and chips tonight. It has been about 50 days since I reached here and can you believe I have not stepped into any proper western eateries yet? Well, they are not cheap and somehow, we have tended to go for Asian food when we do eat out but yeah....

Aslan (from Chronicles of Narnia) just popped into my mind. I'm not sure why.

Have a good day, folks. Your deserve it. And stick close to God.

15:30.

Spoken For, by Mercy Me


Take this world from me
I don't need it anymore
I am finally free
My heart is spoken for

Oh and I praise you
Oh and I worship you...

Covered by your love divine
Child of the risen Lord
To hear you say "This one's mine"
My heart is spoken for

Now I have a peace
I've never known before
I find myself complete
My heart is spoken for

Oh and I praise you
Oh and I worship you...

Covered by your love divine
Child of the risen Lord
To hear you say "This one's mine"
My heart is spoken for

By the power of the cross
You've taken what was lost
And made it fully yours
And I have been redeemed
By you that spoke to me
Now I am spoken for

Covered by your love divine
Child of the risen Lord
To hear you say "This one's mine"
My heart is spoken for

Take this world from me
Don't need it anymore.

2051.

"Be sure that the ins and outs of your individuality are no mystery to Him; and one day they will be no longer a mystery to you… your soul has a curious shape because it is a hollow made to fit a particular swelling in the infinite contours of the Divine substance, or a key to unlock one of the doors in the house with many mansions.” - C S Lewis

19:59.

Today at 3am, daylight savings ended so now, we are two hours ahead of Singapore time instead of three.

17:26.


Darling, it seems that you belong in Gone with the
Wind; the proper place for a romantic. You
belong in a tumultous world of changes and
opportunities, where your independence paves
the road for your survival. It is trying being
both a cynic and a dreamer, no?


Which Classic Novel do You Belong In?
brought to you by Quizilla

20:41.

Now and then, you read true love stories like this and you don't quite know what to think though you do acknowledge its beauty.

I had the privilege once to do a positive article, on a normal couple who were still in love after about 20 years. The wife, who was about 39 if I recall correctly, donated a kidney to her husband. They talk of how their romance unfolded, they kiss for the camera, and every now and then, she had to wipe away tears as he spoke about how he loves her, and when she speaks of the ordeal - and various ordeals, including a separation in their life together - they just went through.

Let's not talk about news value and such. As I write this, I can't be bothered.

That was the only proper love story I ever written and I agonised over it because I know my article would be in print, a proof and testimony of their love.

I don't quite know where I'm going with this. Nowhere in particular really, the story floated into my mind after I linked the Boundless article. Just think they are all - God, Love Himself, included - is quite the amazing.

Have a good Sabbath, folks, tomorrow.

20:28.

Language nazis we all are, here.

21:43.

Watched a weekly programe Songs That Changed The World just now. This week's song was Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana. It has been 10 years since Kurt Cobain shot himself. 12 years since Smells Like Teen Spirit was released. Did you know Nirvana actually visited Singapore before? That was in 1992, I think, thereabouts.

At the closing of the show, I realised that probably, within the span of a decade, it will actually be true that every band I love will be dead (either a member died and the band spilt, or the band spilt and some members are dead, or the band will be defunct). How long will U2 actively continue? 3 more albums? I don't know.

Any how, then, I will feel really old.

By the way, my website with pictures is up. I emailed the URL to some of your already. But for those I forgot, it's here.

Cheers.

Nights out.

1251.

Came across these song lyrics, of a song I've never heard before, but which boosts awesome lyrics. Is it any wonder why I'm a Rich Mullins fan? The guy takes the words of faith and struggle out of my own mouth! How amazing it must be to have such a gift. I think a part of my heart is starting to wake again.

Hatching Of A Heart, Rich Mullins

Well the night was cold and my heart was
Hidden very safely in a shell
But I knew somehow I'd have to run that risk
Have to open up myself

Look at the stars on the face of the sky
They're the same ones Abraham saw
Come under my wings I will make you shine
Give you strength enough to love

Oh now I'm getting strong enough
You helped me chip my way out and open myself up
And for the snow that comes with winter
For the growth that comes from pain
For the joke I can't remember
Although the laughter long remains
For the faith that brought to finish
All I doubted at the start
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart

Well my face was smooth and featureless
Just like an egg
And if I was moved you would never guess it
By the look upon my face

But You said man looks without but I look within
I can see the love you hide
It's a matter of doubt it's a symptom of sin
It's a problem of too much pride

And I now I'm opening up wide
Wet feathers pulled out from beneath me
And You're teaching me to fly

For the strength that comes with friendship
For the warmth that comes with hope
And for the love time can't diminish
And for the time love takes to grow
And for the moonlight on the water
And for the bright and morning star
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart

And for the moonlight on the water
And for the bright and morning star
Lord I give you praise for all that makes
For the hatching of a heart

1157.

I think God is trying to cheer me up the previous post's unfortunate incident.

I'm typing this at our living room's dining table. Hannah and Germ are both out at school. Me, I've got to start on neglected schoolwork today. Been up since 9am. Had breakfast, did QT and the laundry and here I am.

Back to the Divine providence and concern.

It's really a simple matter - I had a good weekend. Can't say I quite remember where Saturday went but I enjoyed my Fri, Sat and Sun quite so. Back home, the weekends are easily spent with good friends in town. Here, since I have to watch my budget and since I'm not surrounded by friends though surrounded by school work, I tend to spend weekends more or less in.

They are my favourite time of the week really.

So what was special about this weekend? Nothing quite actually but somehow, I feel... happy. I enjoyed last Friday's cell group and I could see how God helped me be cheerful and more extroverted. I was impressed by my cell leader's confession and apologies that she had not prepared the materials very well because she was spiritually down that week. And somehow, I suppose I feel more sense of familiarity with these folks whom are my family here in Melbourne.

Last Sunday, I went to church and the Mercy Ministry - which helps the refugees seeking asylum in Australia - was presenting. I felt an urge to join, knowing this is something really worthwhile.

And God help me, while I have completely, absolutely no idea of where I am going and what the future holds, knowing that the future always hold God and indeed, he holds my yesterdays, today, and tomorrows is not just assuring, but so very very much for me.

How long would my stay in Australia be? That popped through my mind while I sat in that service, looking at and hearing the Mercy Ministry's presentation.

The thing is, for me now, any thing can be. I've left the life I built up behind and from here, I know I can go any where, God willing and in His leading. I've reliquished control. I think all the plans I've made before have crumpled to a pile of dust. Is this brokenness? I don't quite know who I am and I do not know in detail what I want in my life except to truly live and honour God with my every work.

"Growing Young" by Rich Mullins has been going round in my head. That's somehow how I feel, that I am growing young, maybe just learning to be God's child again

Growing Young, Rich Mullins

I've gone so far from my home
I've seen the world and I have known
So many secrets
I wish now I did not know

'Cause they have crept into my heart
They have left it cold and dark
And bleeding
Bleeding and falling apart

And everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry
Well I've been around enough to know that that was the lie
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons
Well we are children no more we have sinned and grown old
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms
And be growing young

Growing young

I've seen silver turn to dross
Seen the very best there ever was
And I'll tell you it ain't worth what it costs

And I remember my father's house
What I wouldn't give right now
Just to see him and hear him tell me that he loves me so much

And everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry
Well I've been around enough to know that that was the lie
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons
Well we are children no more we have sinned and grown old
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms

And when I thought that I was all alone
It was your voice I heard calling me back home
And I wonder now Lord
What it was that made me wait so long
And what kept You waiting for me all that time
Was Your love stronger than my foolish pride
Will You take me back now take me back and let me be Your child

'Cause I've been broken now I've been saved
I've learned to cry and I've learned how to pray
And I'm learning I'm learning even I can be changed

And everybody used to tell me big boys don't cry
Well I've been around enough to know that that was the lie
That held back the tears in the eyes of a thousand prodigal sons
Well we are children no more we have sinned and grown old
And our Father still waits and He watches down the road
To see the crying boys come running back to His arms
And be growing young

Growing young

Growing young

1154.

So. I went to OCF just now and after the whole thing, while we were lingering outside the church where we meet, Hannah and myself were talking to one of the guys, a FIFTH-year medical student. The dude was 24 years old, I asked him how old he was, and he actually said, "I think you are older than me."

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

I'm younger, you doon! I'm younger, you loon!

I then attempted to push him onto the road (we were on the pavement) but of course, nice and kind as I am, I didn't quite. Any way, after I went, "I am younger than you!!!" (and here I was dressed all retro 50s, in 80s-type black tube, funky green cardigan, pants, black and white dangly ball earrings, and Elvis Presley black and white small tote bag), I then engaged in the mock push-you-toot-onto-the-road, any way, hmmph.

The dude - bless his heart, I know he meant no harm - then went, "No, I heard you were working so I thought you would be older". Dude, backtracking ain't gonna help too much. Then, he went, "Noo, you don't look old at all!!" after I made various sounds.

Hahhaha.

Bleh.

He then tried to guess how old I was but I beat him by saying "a year younger than you". My housemate then said, "You should have let him guess." I countered, "No, he probably feel guilty and he would try to guess a younger age like 18." Bless the honest dude's heart, he admitted yeah, he already had the figure "19" in his head, and he was going to say that.

Gosh, so help me God. I'm already introducing myself as 23 when people ask my age even though, technically, I AM still 22!!

That's an awful lot of exclaimation marks for one post. Very unusual for me.

To balance this all up though, last evening, someone thought I was a year-one uni student which meant I was 18 or 19.

So there.

Wah.

21:32.

Early morning this morning (I knew it was morning because I only retired after midnight), while it was still dark, I woke up to loud strains of "Be Thou My Vision".

A very grand, majestic and impassionated rendition.

Thing is, all was dark and the song was kind of unexpected, if not unscheduled. A lovely hymn but it was an abrupt awakening.

Rather um, disrupted, the just-awake me looked across at the roommate's mattress parallel to mine. She was rather lost and sprawled out flat under the comforter and in the dark, I had the impression she wasn't there.

Was she then playing music loudly at whatever hour this was? I thought. Um, maybe she's in a bad mood, I thought, groping to find my handphone to check the time.

It was 645 or there abouts, and in the light of my handphone screen, I noticed a tuft of hair from said parallel comforter.

Wait, that means Eliza was sleeping and since my other housemate, Hannah, was away on a retreat for the weekend, who's playing loud music in my house?

Maybe Eliza left her iBook on and it went to some screensaver which played music, maybe Hannah came back suddenly, I didn't quite know what to make of it so I got up and ventured out of my warm comforter and room.

No body was in the living room, wait, the music came from Hannah's room.

I walked over, peeked in, aiyah.

It's her hi-fi cum alarm clock. That girl forgot to programme off her morning call before she left.

Aiyoh.

Yeah, I know.

Rather surreal, and Eliza slept through it.

16:25.

So yesterday, I had my first cell group in Overseas Christian Fellowship (OCF). This, at my fifth time joining their meetings. It has been three weeks since school officially started for me, two weeks for the folks who attend Melb Uni but it feels like finally, the beginning for my time with OCF is here.

That sounds cryptic, I know. I just simply mean to say I'm glad the cell groups are starting proper (I arrived in Melb at the end of their summer time programme which didn't include cell groups).

To be truthful, I have not made any friends in the Fellowship (ooh, sounds like LOTR) despite having attended for a while. Yes, I know faces and names and so do them me, and I have made chit chat and such. A more extrovert type would have gleaned more contact, conversation and perhaps in the process, friends. But it's not quite me to make the rounds, is it?

The thing is: despite the last paragraph, I feel fairly comfortable in the place. Yeah, I may feel slightly squirmy before everything starts proper during the period when everybody's chatting with everybody but then, I've always been like that.

When the worship starts, I am not aware of myself any more. Or merely aware on a different level. The band's smacking - I don't fancy "spanking" - good and since I have been here, I find myself almost desperate to touch God every praise and worship session.

The "format" of the Friday meetings are unusual to me. Everyone gathers at an old rented church for praise and worship, then we break up into different cell groups, after which we might or might not regather for any more important news, then as the various cells finish, people linger and mingle and some go for supper.

I went once to supper and liked the banter enough but have not ventured to another since I want to save money, I'm not a supper person, and supper's normally at places a couple of streets away and I live directly opposite the old church so yeah, I'm rather um, energy efficient.

Why am I glad about yesterday?

I need the symbolic actuality perhaps, for a new beginning to be articulated in form.

I still have my inhibitions, I do feel rather old still since the average age of the OCF-er in this group is about 20 or 21. The age thing, the way I feel inhibited because of it, baffles me since it's really about two years difference and I never quite have difficulty communicating with younger folks.

Maybe it's part of my emotional baggage from having ventured and returned from the working world?

Could it possibly be that I actually wear some sort of invisible battle dirt and grime and corporate scars on my person unknowingly?

Is this the same reason why I have fallen comfortably into the mode of school life but yet am not reaching out to people to know them, and indeed, I don't feel the urge to reach out and make contact with classmates?

I think I should just quit examining myself under my own telescope.

Let's change a ramble topic.

I'm glad too because after struggling with whether to make it known to the OCF band that I can play and would like to join them if they would have me, I did so yesterday through a little slip of paper which I indicate desire to serve in the area of music ministry - with a footnote, saying: "Drums, keyboards, guitar. I played in church but would need further coaching. You guys are too good" - and proofreading or writing for and with any publication.

I still haven't decided or found the church I want to settle down in but I really want to do more than what I'm doing now.

A month has already passed. I do want to give my best shot and squeeze every last ounce of life I could lead in the remaining nine months or so.

Whew.

22:17.

Hallo, can you hear me?

I'm restless, restless, restless. Is there something I want? Maybe everything, I'm not too sure but now is not the time for me to talk priorities with me.

It's the 3rd week of school and today, for what I believe to be the first time, I walked home from school feeling contented and happy. It was just after a short rain which must had fell while I was in lecture watching a documentary about the British beat boom which included a lot of The Beatles.

"I like this weather" - That was one of the first thoughts I had. The weather was refreshingly biting and fresh but not cold enough for me to feel uncomfortable in my jeans, tee and a fairly thin jacket.

I was wondering at the breakfast table this morning if I'm already too cynical, too jaded, and if these could be the reasons why I'm not excited and feeling alive.

Yeah, it has been bothering me - my lack of excitement.

This year - already given to God a few times over - was seen as, and is, a clean break away from the life I led for a while. The life that was devoted to work, and when work got too tough, I indulged in shopping therapy.

The life that was fulfilling when I finished a spanking article by 2am, the life when I had the license to probe into strangers' lives, a life when I was finding comfort in the little things.

I suppose I sound like I'm looking over my shoulder. Am I? I'm not too sure really. As I sit here typing this, my heart is aching. Sounds like a bad song but I'm not too sure why my heart is saying something I just don't understand.

I like my life now though I miss especially getting calls and being able to call people, arrange meetings or talk about nothing.

Be still and know I'm God. Be still, be still.

Thrice now, once while eating breakfast one day, once more today while walking home, and once just staring out of the balcony - The silent thought, swift and fleeting, raced through my mind: I'll be sad to leave. And it's just eight months more to go.

So soon, it will be gone.

Life is like that, at least, it has been so to me. Increasingly, with each and every day, time seems to bear down on me.

It's not just about getting older, turning 23 in four months time, though getting older is symbolic and representative of the continuity of time.

Psalm 39 speaks of numbering my days. I'm all too aware of the limited span life holds and now and then, at moments like this, it's like I bow in weight of this truism.

I wish I can express this all better but maybe it's part of some holy mystery at work in me but life, oh life.

I have flown away and indeed I am midair. But I'm not too sure of the world I am in here. Where can I go and what can and can't I do? I'm alone, with God, but the wind rushing pass my ears and into my eyes obscures my vision and hearing.

More than ever, I'm using my legs. More than ever, I'm sure and unsure all at once. More than ever, I feel secure but yet, yes, I'm not quite sure where I am.

I'm only sure of one thing - that God is with me, that He who has started a good work in me will complete it.

All things else - my heart included - I'm afraid I'm not sure of them.

21:47.

I am feeling awfully sated.

It's that home-made mocha-cum-suckao, I tell you.

I just boiled some milk, threw in chunks of Lindt's 85 percent cocoa dark chocolate, stirred till they all melt into a glorious smelling rich brew, poured it into a mug, add coffee and a bit of sugar, and then gulped it all - foam and chocolate remnants -down.

Guess this was enough fuel to get me to finish this short presentation I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow of an article summary.

On the same note of school, we watched a documentary of the development of rock n roll for the course, Popular Music & Society. From Buddy Holly to Bill Haley and The Comets and Elvis Presley to Jerry Lee Lewis, along with the history of how rock n roll developed from the black man's blues (genre, not mood), it was the kind of stuff I read about.

After the documentary, the lecturer was talking about some of the points the documentary made and he mentioned that Jerry Lee Lewis' 13-year-old bride was his cousin. At that, a wide percentage of the students gasped, laughed or made general expressions of shock and amusement.

I smiled and was somehow surprised that it seemed that so many people didn't know that.

This is not meant to sound superior or arrogant but I honestly felt somewhat lifted up after that episode. I felt verified, validated somewhat even maybe. I know my stuff. I'm not a walking encyclopedia of music, nowhere even near being a poor one but I felt assured somehow now that I know I know my stuff better than my fellow students.

Be still my soul, be still my soul and smile more.

14:47.

The fish is bloody and I am a walrus.

The sun is shining, the weather about 19 degrees and my hands are cold.

Such irony aside, I had meant to fill you in on the tragic events on my laptop, the injuries (internal) I inflicted on my hard drive unknowingly, specifically on my C drive.

It all begun with a virus, or more specifically, darn those inventions, a worm, I am told.

So what this worm (how apt a name) did was manifest in a pop up window five minutes after I get online to inform me that a certain programme has problems and I have to go offline. In that little, innocuous looking window, a timer watch will start its count down and in 30 seconds time, I will be booted offline.

My roommate, bless her tech-ly soul, identified the worm's blasted name immediately and helped me downloaded something to eradicate it off my less than a month new laptop.

After running that and a few virus scans to be careful, rightfully, it should had been mission accomplished, right?

Nope, wroonggg.

Somehow under the impression that my office software was original - actually, only the OS is - I ran winupdates since it was advisable.

That evening, sated in the knowledge I finally have a net account after about 10 days of randomly borrowing Hannah's account, I was just sitted at my laptop.

Like right now actually. Laptop on small square white Ikea table at the end of my mattress, me cross-legged on the mattress, typing.

I organised all the photos I have taken since the 9th, when I left Singapore, into neat respective folders then thought it wise to start an accounts document to keep tabs of my spending.

So there I was, that fateful night on the 19th last month, at peace and happy while my housemates were chatting gaily away in our room.

Then, a pop up window appeared and could not be cancelled.

I had to restart my laptop twice and when all seemed finally calm again, the whole of my Microsoft Office suite was gone.

Not quite knowing what to do and silently baffled by the suddenness of it all, I tried searching for the programmes and when the search proved futile, I decided to run the system recovery discs that came with the laptop.

I understood its workings to be that it would restore the laptop's everything to an earlier time. This is not entirely incorrect, just that system recovery actually restores the laptop back right to the beginning when you bought it.

I lost my office suite already, that wrong move wiped out my C drive.

Thankfully, my D drive was untouched and I had some of the old documents in my C drive on a CDRW from when I was transferring files from my desktop to my laptop.

When one does something that stupid and wrong, one has to pay a price of course.

What did I lose?

All the photos I took with my loved ones at the airport, at reunion dinner, my only family portrait.

Also, stuff whose loss I can swallow - Albums which I painstakingly transferred, Adobe software, Icq, Nikon View (all software replaceable any how).

I was really completely flabbergasted. Rather surreal, when your laptop takes on a life of its own like that. It wasn't until a day later while talking to the laptop's customer service people that I was told that Office wasn't included in it. That was when I grasped what most likely happened. That when I downloaded winupdates, Microsoft, the corporation, noted the pirated office and somehow installed something that wiped out the whole suite when office was activated.

This is really a tale of how much one person can get things wrong and shoot herself in the foot three times.

First was downloading winupdates when I was using a pirated programme.

Second was running System Recovery without backing up my drives.

And third? Please read on and share my pain.

So in the days that followed after the apocalypse (insignificant when compared to the real coming apocalypse), I was downloading programmes that promises file recovery.

And I. Found. One. That. Shows. Up. Almost. Every. File. I. Lost. After. I. Run. A. Scan. With. It.

Wow, right?

Again, I was flabbergasted since I was operating on minimum hope but doggedly Must-At-Least-Try-ness and perhaps I did not expect to actually find a programme that does so much.

Well, I did but it cost about $50 to buy online.

So, I did the practical thing. Don't buy yet, surf around, try to see if there are any other way to get my hands on it without buying.

Then school started and I didn't had the time to pursue all the retrieving business.

But I was commiting my third mistake throughout the week - I continued to use the laptop, I installed programmes I lost, I downloaded songs.

Why was this a mistake?

Because all of that meant that these new files were being written over the fragile, already-formated-once, files I wanted to retrieve.

So the day before, I tried a couple of programmes a new friend lent me, found them not as good as the original one that gave me hope and reassured me, and I decided to buy the original software.

That's when the folly of my ways came back to haunt me.

This has been a long post already. To summarise on my third wrong, basically, even the programme that could once trawl up almost all the lost files could no longer do so.

Some files, it seems, are gone forever.

I can still see the photos of my loved ones at the airport. That is a day that will never again come. Those captured moments were time which time can never reverse for.

So I grieve.

My heart hurts in a numb manner, my grieve stronger because I'm in this situation because I screwed up.

It was my own hands which pulled the plug. Perhaps that's why the pain is so mute but nevertheless painful.

So I think of the one-linear flow of time and how one can never get back what one lost.

Sigh.

That's why I am a walrus.

I wish I can have those pictures back, so I can look at the faces of people I love, so I can remember in physical form a significant day that will never repeat.

I wish.

It was been some time since my photos were torn away from my heart. The resignation is starting to sink in.

I've got one more chance. I'm going to try to recover the photos from the memory card itself. That needs new programmes and a memory card reader and lots of prayer.

The memory card, a CompactFlash, has been overwritten on about three or four times or perhaps even five before.

Be still my soul.

It's strange but I can actually say I have learnt very valuable lessons. I suppose when a lesson is this costly, you learn faster.

And I can give thanks because God - though I don't understand why this happened and if there are reasons - has showed me the right programmes to use and given me people who can aid in the process.

For now, it still hurts but you never know.

Let's try with the memory card.

And to end, today is the first day of Autumn.