14:14.

Some part of me, some times, want to somehow grab all of these and perserve it some way. All of these that I look upon when sitting by the window in the most beautiful day that has been for quite a while in a cold winter (I'm in a tee and berms, like whoa). The Saturday Vic Mkt crowd with their trolleys and boxes and bags, crossing the roads that make up the junction in front of the house; the blues skies and clouds straight out of The Simpsons; the trees in their various incarnations which are for now bare and brown almost elegantly. And in this world, the life that I have been able to lead - the quiet days; the time to just sit with God and myself, to feel; the company of the friends I have made. Going to church and enjoying it so much; being in the company of people who loves God so much and also hanging with every one else.

It's like everywhere I go, I see God, like how that Rich Mullins song goes.

Dearly love my family I do, but yet living apart from family is enjoyable.

Those bubbles of joy that wells up inside and burst, manifesting in uncontrollable laughter at times accompanied by jumping around, are oft and embracing.

It's so easy to want all of these to last. To want this life to last and continue. But I don't want to reach out and frantically try to clutch this bliss, surely its very nature will dissolve in my hands and elude my attempts. And if any thing, inside of me, I do know well that there is a time for every chapter, and to stay somewhere or do something beyond its time would be ruinous.

I realise how every thing that has been before in my 23 years seem so far away. School, Mass Comm, even journalism, all those stuff, bylines, photos, career, the life I led at every stage before, they all seem so long ago.

Many uni students in their final academic year ponder over stepping into the working world proper for the first time but no one speaks of the strangeness of being in industry, then uni academia, and facing anew the cliff, the crossroad, the junction.

I'm 23. Honestly, I don't truly know what that is supposed to be about. I don't quite care about the usual conventional expectations of age here, and I do not think 23 has to mean the usual corporate aspirations or supposedly grown up habits.

But 23... I'm flabbergasted. Yesterdays seem far away, yes, but yet again, I think of a passed milestone and wonder if it was that many years ago. This is when my being go into and just is in a place and moment, feeling a still something I have no words for.

I think I feel the rat race reaching out to me and I feel as if I should be striving like I did when I was in poly, striving to get freelance jobs, to gain experience in the art of writing. And perhaps I feel slightly disturbed by this feeling.

Aware, I just feel very much so aware that I have a life in Singapore, and I have a life here. Both are me. There really isn't a choosing between the two. It's not even these are, but this is.

And thus I live.