23:32.

Just got off the phone with me mum. Among other things, she was telling me about the church band and its developments. My pastor emailed me a couple of days ago too telling me, among other things, about the band's development. Basically, I left them drummer-less with my decision to come here. And they lost a keyboardist and guitarist with me too.

Me, with my half-past six musical skills, was the best musician the chinese church had. Weird, yeah, I used to tell them no, I suck, every time they tell me how good I played at a certain song or session simply because I was aware of how good other bands are. Which is why playing in a new band intimidates me, I suppose, because from being the one who knew what was going on and what to do every time, I would then be the one who doesn't.

But yet, I miss playing so darn much. I miss the getting caught up and tearing even while playing, and drumming with my eyes squeezed shut tightly. I miss the falling into the music and moment and being surprised by how my fingers move in ways I didn't know I know on the keyboard.

I suppose I was spoilt, with three guitars at home and a keyboard and piano, and a drumset every Sunday in church. And I didn't even practise or work at it. I just did musical doodles and play when I feel like it. Now, I look and can't touch. I starve.

I starve so much I'm willing to try, to play in a new band, and if I make a mistake or can't make the standard, to bury myself some three feet underneath, or burrow myself into a dark corner, cringe and half-die of embarassment before I get over it and look people in the eye again.

When you are this hungry, you are willing to grab any thing.

Do I sound desperate? These are withdrawal symptons.

In your Hands, Lord, take me. In your Will, Lord, let me be.