23:05.

It's 55 minutes to the new year and here I am.

It has been a great week and counting - Just being here, being away from work, just being with r a y and doing all the couple-ish things we have not been able to. First time back in church last Sun was a tear-fest for me and though it was at Melb Town Hall which I've never been to before, it felt completely right and an easy fit.

Just like how the rest of things have been really. It might be a generalisation if I were to say that it felt like I have never been away, but there has been a certain smooth groove to living here.

Guess it felt like those last two months (last Dec and this Jan), post-uni and just enjoying the luxury of time and meeting up with friends and hanging around every day.

The last hour of 2005 and I choose to sit here alone to think.

[r a y - who I persuaded to allow me to walk home alone just now from qv - and the rest of church folks are walking over in a short while to catch the fireworks together on the roofdeck. think i worried him insisting on coming back alone, didn't want him to miss any thing.]

I need to. This is not just a holiday. Like how this (almost) past year has been, there are stuff to be learnt this trip.

Rubber soul or wooden heart I don't possess so well, I do get broken and bent and scratched.

It is a tradition since my early teens to spend time alone when one year passes into the next. Last year, I didn't had my usual quiet time, nope, but last year, we (ray, me, ken then vonnie and liz too) were at my home and we worshipped with voices, guitar and drums and my thoughts and me took some time out on the balcony overlooking Victoria Street and Elizabeth Street.

That place is no longer home.

Aah. I no longer have a home here. It's something that took me long to acknowledge and I guess I had to when I sneaked back on that day with my love and we stood in the middle of an empty living room. Little things left behind by housemates I have not lived with for over a year were familiar - that dish cloth, the non stick pans, the pens and markers and fridge magnets in a bowl, the rubber gloves tucked behind the laundry section door.

Stuff.

You know, stuff.

On the walk back just now on the crowded streets, a clear thought articulated this with a slight dash of defiance: "I should be able to walk alone at home and feel safe."

How did the heart and mind see it fitting to come up consistently with the term home? And how do here feel different and same and yet be known still as that?

Like last year, the struggles of feeling like having two homes are still present and this year, a third possibility has been added.

And all that you can't leave behind are always around and the stretching continues; it has gone on so 'nuff this year there are moments where flopping onto a couch and crying some rivers in hope that water sooths pain are reality.

Last year, in about 10 minutes time, I was running or rather trotting across to bouverie close from my place so we could catch the fireworks. In about five minutes, I'll be going up to the roof deck too. Same place, at least two similar persons, three including me, four including Omnipresence.

Everything changed. Some for immense good, others by faith I believe are good, and with all that is, I commit to practical again the lesson of walking on.

There's no other way. And my God is big. Big enough even for rubber souls, wooden hearts and all that are in between.

Godspeed Your answer, Dad.

And everyone else, happy new year.

17:53. Melb time :)

And the sun is still a-shining away.

It's good, all's good. It has been a great five days and there are many more great days to go :) Am much happy and contented. Been shopping, my poor baby has been amazing :) And lurve lurve lurve is in the air.

Oops, if I sound slightly high, I blame that tall glass of iced choc I had just now.

And can somebody concur with me, please that Dolce's Roche gelati rocks every pair of socks in the known universe. Or at least, it should.

All's good, people, will post again when I can.

[Shopping "fruits" so far - Revival retro tote bag, Dangerfield wrist cuff, Penguin retro polo tee from The Basement, Accessories earrings, shawl and bracelet, Billabong gym/ carry on bag, Cotton On sashay skirt, Jay Jay miltary jacket and strappy top, Jeans West aviator shades and Dotti sash belt]

And a short note on Narnia, which we watched (first movie we watched together as a couple) on Tuesday - That scene where the four kids enter the palace and walk towards the four thrones prepared for them? I couldn't help tearing again, especially at Edmund's face.

I could identify with that glee, excitement, bafflement and joy.

You see, you and me both, we screwed up heaps of times. We sold God out for candy too often, for tea and sympathy but God still tells us we are his kids, and He is willing (and has done so already) to die for us that we may live. And not just live, but live as kings and queens, as royalty , as a holy people dearly loved and highly treasured.

I am so thankful.

And that's how I want to start this new year - In thankfulness and joy, knowing I am hey hey hey, royalty and highly favoured, called with a purpose, that I am my Beloved and He is mine, that I'm wanted and loved and have a future, that all the bad things I have done before are washed clean, pure white by His blood.

Jesus Christ, You are my God, You are my King, You are my Lord.

Praise the Lord :)

14:26.

*exhales*

Whewww.....

Thank God for today's Off In Lieu. I'm more or less packed. More or less being that the remaining stuff can't be packed until I'm done with them later when I get myself ready to go. But basically, all's done and neat and tidy.

Woke up at 10am, had a po lo bao :) and my last bag of intense black tea. Did my packing. Have just been enjoying spending time with mom. Family's so dear. Had lunch just now, fishball noodles dry with lots of chili, and here I am now, trying to pass the time a bit I reckon.

Would leave the house at about 6pm or maybe earlier to accomodate cab-waiting time. It won't be the best of times to hail cabs since it's rush hour but I reckon we will take the chance. Flight QF10 leaves at 815pm and lands at Tullamarine at 0620 Dec 24. I hope I can use my BA on-flight shopping vouchers.

*breathes in, breathes out*

:)

It's a rainy day in Sg, direct contrast to what weather.com is saying about Melb today.

The quiet excitement is running through my bones, veins and mind.

Thank You, God. Thank You that we are finally here, on the threshold of being together again. Love You, Dad. LOVE You :)

For all that You have done, all that You are doing and all that You are going to do.

Christmas is near. Remember Jesus.

And I'm going to go ingest some fruits and more marvel comics. Then read the Word and get some time in with my God. Then get ready.

....

Be still my heart, be still.

Aack!

*HUGGGGS*

18:08.

Know something? :)

It says 1 day 12 hour 13 min 23 sec on my desktop countdown timer now.

Aaaah!

21:01.

There is something still very very nice about nightfall and nighttime in Sg. Balmy wind, a world finally at ease and peace after the day's shenanigans and toil, and light that's gentle, not in your face.

And dining ahem, alfresco and having zi zha (prob wrong pinyin here) with people you love... good stuff. And I never realised how cheap it is... $50 for 5-course dinner for five adults and two kiddies. Methinks tt's cheap.

And the fever and sore throat are on their way out. Praise God :) Back to work tomw!

18:44.

Decembers are always reflective months filled for me with many questions, attempts to bring coherence to the days past' and the life learnt.

[ Can you not squirm? The song in my head now plays Never Forget by Take That ;) ]

Journeys, paths, walks, sojourns, race. Whether nondescript or exhilarating, we all travelled some distance this year.

I'm... thankful.

Dad, You know how I felt thrown, crushed, stretched... all them things more than occasionally this year. And I know too how You have bought about gigantean bubbles of pure joy and tears from joy and gladness overflowing.

And You know too - as I do - that I'm Yours and will live for You evermore.

Thank You.

Thank You for helping me every single day, keeping my feet and heart going when I feel unable, for always holding me, for Your Word and promises, thank You for teaching me to believe more, to stand with faith on You, thank You for loving and caring enough to stretch me and train me. Thank You for assuring me, for teaching me, for helping me to be convicted I am called.

I know now more than ever who I am, what I want, what I have.

Last year this time, Dad, we battled with similar dilemmas, or at least I did. But I know I'm different now. Older, yes, more mature, yes. Battle weary? Nothing Your Rain can't cure. Tired? I'll just run to You.

The testing of passions seemed to be a strong thread through this year - Of writing and me, of roots and me, of my calling and me, of R a y (*huggs*) and me.

I want to be pure and holy.

I want to be pure gold.

The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, Lord, we want no chaff in our sacrifice.

Ideals have been tested even as my identity was moulded. I'll hold my head up high, my God calls me called and beautiful. My God calls me the apple of His eye. My God delights in me.

:)

How can one frown at that?

In just a little while, I will be blown away by the greatness of my God and Lord all over again. In just a little while, I want to touch Your Glory, dance in Your Rain of blessings and refreshment. In just a little while, we are soaring towards a higher plane.

There has been a lot more cost counting, and somehow, sitting in the furnace, your decisions get burned into your soul in a new way. It's great really 'cause the bad stuff that won't last also gets burned away even if you try to formulate them. I love it.

I have been back in Sg for 10 months and I have found I enjoy You where ever.

On Thursday during band pract, a thought bounced at me and loudly told me that I'm going to miss this (the pract, the people, the playing keys) even though I'm going to only be away from that for a month.

But see, who knows?

I don't, and that's part of the exhilaration of following God :)

I know He always watches my back and leads me on the right way, that His Spirit leads me on His path of greatness.

A few months back, while I was in the same position behind the keys, a different thought bounced at me ("bounced" describes their approach perfectly if you know what I mean) and quietly said you will leave this all for good one day.

Thoughts. I reckon when you have them and don't spend as much time on mediating on them, they are liable to jump you loudly in those moments some time when you don't expect. How lovely.

We have been prepared to get into the perfect take-off position.

And I can't wait for next year to get here.

ThankYou, thankYou, thankYou :)

I love You.

Identity. Calling. Counted cost. Furnaced. Writing. Perspective. Keys. Love. Humbled. Stronger. Hungrier. Everywhere I Go I See You. Faithful at all things. Faith. Speak out. Capacity to miss and love. Endurance. Guts. 351 days and counting.

Dad... You have made me so much stronger this past year.... thank You!

And Dad, for R a y... thank You. Words can't describe. We feel like the fulfilment of a promise, the fruits of honouring You in our love lives, a relationship better than I ever thought possible. This doesn't feel bgr, it feels like a different kind of Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascu experience with as much God and sparks and pure holy light and life changing power. Bye bye cynicism, hallo, soppiness. hah. No regrets, no looking back except to give thanks and smile dopeyly. Onwards to our eternity. I love you :>

And onto the God who is able to do all things, to Christ Jesus who love us who we love and honour and pledge our lives to, may 2006 be from glory to glory to glory to glory.

I am. happy. :)

Amen.

2142.

"Master, Saviour, my Creator
I love You
Words fail to convey
Please hear my heart say
I love You"

- song n prayer

20:48.

The sky changed on my way home.

From the glorious sunset lasting from the time I left work to when I walked against the commuters crush right to the end of Woodlands MRT platform so I could take a photo of the gorgeous colours above (I was duly amused when the station played their pls don't go near the edge warning when I reached my destination) to the cobalt sky as I walk home after dawdling around Causeway Point in search of something that my appetite could find fanciable 'nuff to when I was nearing my apartment block and the hues up above took on a reddish tinge.

Under the blood red sky.

The wind moves differently, feels as if it's from a special storeroom God has at the corner of heaven away from where its common cousin is kept. Not that heaven has limits.

You can feel in your bones that a storm's on its way.

And I can't wait for it to rain down.

-------------------------------------------------------------





7





... days.

Just one more week.

....

Whew.

You know that illustration of a runner keeping her eyes on the finishing line?

It's the last 100 metres.

The legs have long felt like they are going to fall off any moment and whatever other thoughts you have about them switches from pure numbness to a paranoia you fear may be grounded that one limb will just go into some spasm and fail you any random time.

Your eyes no longer feel the salty sting of perspiration dropping in but your vision's getting blurred by those droplets.

Your lungs, your waist, every joint hurts with every movement, every heave, every pant, every lifting of the feet, the thighs, the hamstrings, heck everything feels the effort, even your arms... you half wish you don't have them as they swing front-back, front-back in pumping mode.

You haven't heard the sounds of the spectators since very early on in the race. All you are aware of is the beat of your heart and the thump that resonates throughout your soul every time a foot lands.

It's the last 100 metres, that is all.

And all you can do is what you have been doing since a time you can't put a finger exactly on but you know the mantra long entrenched in your being - trust, obey, run on, girl - is true as it always has been. And at the last lap, the voice in your head saying almost there seemed almost flat because you have been running on push and hold on for well, a while.

But you are almost there, you are almost there, there is no giving up. Not these last seven days, not this year, not next year, not this lifetime, never.

God, more than us, You are. And I'm waiting on You to blow my mind. I'm not even waiting for 2006 to reach before You blow me away again. Lord, I want to see You!

I'm not stopping.

All I am for all You are.
All I have for all You are.

Jesus.

21:13.

10.

Before our one day.

Just 10, though even 10 just feels way too long.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was on the MRT on my way home just now. So was a group of five young teenagers. Colloquially so, they were sharing about what I hope is just a part-time job - door-to-door ice cream sales, where they have to lug big cool boxes around estates for a measly what, $20? a day if you sell enough load.

It's not even legal, I think though it's a grey area but whoever their bosses are, those shrewd types are really making modern day slave labour out of these 13/ 14-year-olds.

I remember interviewing runaway twin sisters two years back. One of them too made a living selling ice cream this way while she was on the run. That day, the two 14-year-olds let me into their world for just a bit just by answering my basic questions.

It perplexes me, shames me as a person so much better off and humbled me - Their world is all they know, a world where your mom's with someone else, where you can't talk to your dad about girly growing up needs, where you spend nights at some void deck with others latchkey kids like you, kids who you hang around with the neighbourhood shopping centres near your house instead of town, where your results suck and no one helps and you learn to embrace it as a badge of honour. You learn to embrace everything that makes you different as a shield and defence against the rest of the world.

But they were only kids.

I'm perplexed at the many worlds that exist in just my country (can someone please just call C r a z y Horse a stripping show instead of whatever high class pretenses it has? How stupid are all you big corporations and gov related agencies to embrace and support it as some proof of how open, liberal and creative you and we as a country are? Like baaaaaaaaaaaaaaa), neighbourhood, in just my block, in just my mind sometimes.

Yesterday, also on the MRT while on my way home, two kids - teenagers again, two young boys perhaps 15, were trading stories about exercise and such. They talked in a tone of one-uppity, you-did-such-and-such-yeah-me-too-you-know.... It's a familiar undertone in teenage voices. I remember I did that too - had a voice where your super boring life had to be broadcast in voices slightly exaggerated. Hearing them, or my teenage self - You would had thought we thought life is supposed to be a dramedy or sitcom.

But then, even adults do it. We are no wiser just by merit of age. Though when adults do it, I get even more perplexed.

Boy A (tanned, slightly chubby, spectacles, sports togs) suddenly started telling Boy B (who looks the same but spoke in less exaggerated tones) about a fishing experience.

"This uncle caught a lot of very big fishes *gestures size of fish*. You know why? Because he was using fishes to fish (he meant "bait"), live fishes, you know! Catfish! There was one that he kept throwing in and taking out because somehow no fish wanted to eat that one. And it was going to die already, you could see it, so he gave it to us. He said 'Aiyah, this one going to die soon. Give your lah'. We very cang ren ("cruel" in Mandarin) lah. We throw it against the ground, wah, the sound was so loud. Bang! We throw again, harder, hit its head against the ground. It was going to die but not dead yet. Then we tried again. Wah, the sound was so loud!"

And on he went about the demise of the poor fish. (And I really doubt that it was a catfish, I think that was the only breed that popped into his head then).

I was greatly perplexed by how cruelty and senselessness was trumpeted.

The way we humans try to find significance sometimes seem alike to animals peeing at a spot to mark their territory. Maybe it works for them animals. It's sad and unbelieveably disgusting to see humans do the same. It's not wrong to want significance, I think, but the way you go around doing it is sad.

Certain methods are plain stupid - the roots of racism and prejudice, social classes and probably more than a good half of all of society's ailments.

You think education is a cure and yes, education is good and should be freely available to all but that brings up the huge can of worms about the insanely inanely high costs of education. It's stupid.

It's stupid seeing grown adults thinking they are being adult and righteous through racist acts in Sydney (that includes the reverse racism attacks).

It's stupid reading how a Msian guy was reportedly murdered because he spoke English to ask some guys to back off from making cat calls at the girl he was out with.

It's stupid because I see all these educated folks, big shots in big companies and every where else all trying to mark their tuft by being defensive, self-promoting, "enemies" bashing and talking way too much about oneself.

It makes me sick.

Life is way too short to join the ranks unless it's in the army of God. Life is way too precious to dwindle at amazingly senseless insignificant things.

I'm perplexed, puzzled and have a headache with the thoughts and emotions going on in the head.

Don't leave a message in my guestbook to tell me all these are results of our fallen world. When people ask "why?", it doesn't always mean they don't know the answer. You can know the answer and still cry and wail "why??" because every thing inside of you knows, I know that this is NOT WHAT IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

There is more than this.

12:12.

Nothing changed, Lord, not this, never Our Love.

"I will lay down my life
for the cost of the cross
and I won't try to ignore
Your heart's cry is the lost
I will go if You say go
I will never let give it up
I will lay down my life
because You lay down Your life
because You lay down Your life
because You lay down Your life
to set me free"

- Planet Shakers

15:24.

From C.S. Lewis in Willing Slaves Of The Welfare State (1958)

"I believe a man is happier, and happy in a richer way, if he has the "freeborn mind". But I doubt whether he can have this without economic independence, which the new society is abolishing.

For economic independence allows an education not controlled by Government; and in adult life it is the man who needs, and asks, nothing of Government who can criticise its acts and snap his fingers at its ideology.

Read Montaigne; that's the voice of a man with his legs under his own table, eating the mutton and turnips raised on his own land.

Who will talk like that when the State is everyone' schoolmaster and employer?

Admittedly, when a man was untamed, such liberty belonged only to the few. I know. Hence the horrible suspicion that our only choice is between societies with few freemen and societies with none."

01:17.

Good night my love

00:04.

In the office being Sat rep for yesterday. Offstone (the time the paper goes to print) is at 1.14am. That will be the latest time I get off, unless something happens and we have to bust offstone. I hope not. The article I wrote over the evening has been cleared and should be going to the subs soon but the ed-in-chief asked to see it just now. He msged from his house. It has been a good evening. A productive one. God is very very gracious and very very good. It's the first time I'm Sat rep ever even though when you add up all the months from different stints, I've been working as a journo for over two years. As sat rep, you read the Chinese papers for any thing interesting to chase, handle the hotline calls and chase any breaking story that must be out for tomorrow's edition. Hmm, my story is still not laid yet. I think the ed-in-chief may be doing changes to get another related story run too for today. Came in yesterday at about 430pm, though the shift starts at 5pm, or well, technically, you could be activated to chase a story any time from Fri midnight. I felt slightly jumpy, or a lesser version of jumpy, when I went to bed last morning with my handphone next to me. Though I always sleep with my handphone next to me. Going to go home, cab it back once the duty editor says I can. Then I'd msg my poor dear boyfriend who I pray is having a good sleep now then he would wake up and call me (poor baby!) and we will chat (poor dear!) before we call it a night (for him, the second time). Then I will wake up at 7am and make sure I'm out of my door by 830am so I can reach church for band pract by 940am. And after church, I go to town by 2pm to celebrate an old-time friend's birthday. Oooh.

Melburnians, go support r a y c h u ah, planet uni's first intern and my most wonderful man at city church today! 6pm, rmit storey hall. he's graduating from church internship. bring poms poms. heh.

12:52.

For someone who has a fair streak of melancholy who is quite intense about life issues, this verse jumped out at me and conked me over the head. I must had read it before but somehow, it shouted today.

Ecclesiastes 9: 4 - 6
"Anyone who is among the living has hope —
even a live dog is better off than a dead lion!
For the living know that they will die,
but the dead know nothing;
they have no further reward,
and even the memory of them is forgotten.
Their love,
their hate
and their jealousy have long since vanished;
never again will they have a part in anything that happens under the sun."

18:26.

Hi there, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing folks who read my blog.

I have no idea who many of your are any more but no, I still mean every description in the greeting above :)

Are you in Melbourne?

Gorgeous!

What are you doing this Sunday?

Methinks you should trot along down to Planet Shakers City Church. They are meeting at RMIT's Storey Hall. There are two services - one at 345pm and the other at 6pm. But the one you should go to this week is the 6pm one.

Besides having a great time with GOD, you will also ta da! witness the graduation of an awesome man of God, R a y C h u a h who will officially complete his nine-month internship with the church.

It has been an awesome year.

To take up the internship and follow God's call when you are a fresh grad feeling unique pressures and expectations is "not easy", to express it simply and very inadequately.

I can't be there to scream, whoop, shout out very loud cheers, encouragement and total heartfelt pride; bop a bit while making my neighbours deaf; and turn paparazzi and news camera crew when planet uni's first intern goes up the stage, get his cert and get prayed for. I wish I can but I can't.

You, however can.

So go.

Being in the house of God and seeing His workers honoured is always a soul-moving time.

Go :)

17:45.

U2, U2.

17:29.

Aloneeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Heh *winks at Germie*

As Frankistein puts it, "Aloneeee! No goooodddd! Friendssss! Gooooood!"

lol.

Just random thoughts, folks.

Am drugged up on various flu medication and still feeling rather sick despite the whole afternoon of sleep. And my mind was going on and on about work too, arranging my schedule and such, I'm thankful that the medication conked me out fast enough before I started making calls to newsmakers and all.

Any way, I love God, God loves me, I love R a y, R a y loves me, I'm a happy girl. Though I certainly wish I am not ill. The bed again beckons, I shall stop rambling. La la la la la.

Boo! :)

19:53.

"It was said this man was of no reputation
Yet He could stop the rising storm
With a gesture of His hand
But He chose to use His hands to heal
Hearts of darkness, hearts of stone
Just like mine would be revealed

He was a man of no reputation
And by the wise, considered a fool
When He spoke about faith and forgiveness
In a time when the strongest arms ruled

But this man of no reputation
Loved the weak with relentless affection
And He loved all those poor in spirit just as they were
He was a man of no reputation

It was said this man brought only confusion
That He'd achieve his ends by any means
And the truth that it brings revolution
And for once they were right
The truth set us free

The hearts of the captive were his only concern
And the powerful knew their days were ending

He was a man of no reputation
And by the wise, considered a fool
When He spoke about faith and forgiveness
In a time when the strongest arms ruled

But this man of no reputation
Loved the weak with relentless affection
And He loved all those poor in spirit just as they were
He was a man of no reputation

One day soon the gates of heaven will open wide
And the Prince of Peace will come back for His bride
But for now we live on these streets
Forbidding and tough

Where push always comes to shove
And it's said love's never enough
Where a prophet in rags gives hope to a fearful world
No injustice, no heart of darkness
Will keep this voice from being heard

He was a man of no reputation
And by the wise, considered a fool
When He spoke about faith and forgiveness
In a time when the strongest arms ruled

But this man of no reputation
Loves us all with relentless affection
And He loves all those poor in spirit, come as you are
To the man of no reputation"

- Man Of No Reputation, Rich Mullins

And it was like I could not stop myself from crying.
Start stop. Start stop.
Again, Lord, again.
Nothing else matters except You.
And no one can pull me through this except You.
Because You are, I can.
I. can. do. all. things. through. Christ. who. strengthens. me.
With Christ in the vessel, I can smile at the storm.


"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." - 2 Cor 4:8 - 10


I wish I have the ability to express truly how every thing is for me; I can't. It's not all gloom and blah, no sir. But yes, sometimes it really feels like I am the cut down in Kill Bill Vol 1's Jap house scene; one of the fallen, cut limb spewing blood and me writhing on the wooden floor.


Then, me being me, I look at the stump and laugh at the ludicrous scene.


See, the pain is real. And the truth is only God knows. But the truth too is this - My God can breathe life into dead and dry bones. He can rise the dead. And indeed, even as I bleed, I know He can stop the fount of my pain with the fount of every blessing.


I'm walking on in my Jesus. I know who I am in You.


And I remain thankful.


'cause You are.


And that means I am, and can indeed do all things through You.


I love You, Lord.

16:03.

What's next for Israel?

19:18.

"My God, how wonderful You Are!
How beautiful Your Name!
With open arms I run into Your courts
I dance before You, King of ALL the earth"

- Great And Mighty

You are sooooooooooo beautiful! My God and Lord, my Jesus, my Saviour, Lord, You are so gorgeous, amazing, so awesome, so great, so mighty.

And I'm so in love with You.

Oh God, You are my God and I'll ever praise You. Oh God, You are my God and You are my first thing and first Love. Forever, for an eternity, for all of time, You are.

"More than any thing
more than any one
more than life itself
I love You Jesus
more than any thing"

And Dad, that will never change. Let that never ever change.

"...I’d surely rather be found dead, than to love [anyone] more than the one who saved my soul"

- Pledge My Head To Heaven, Keith Green

You are my one thing. Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere. Take the world but give me Jesus.

Jesus, I'm Yours.

15:30.

Gendercide.

I believe that as Christians, it is innately part of our faith and being to not perpetuate prejudice and gender prejudice - among Christians especially - is something that gets me worked up.

Don't do it.

17:43.

"I will
love the Lord with all my heart

I will love the Lord
with all my soul

I will love the Lord with all my mind

I will love
the Lord with all my
strength

Lord, I love You
For all the things You Are

Lord, I love You
For all the things You do

Lord, I love You
Help me love You more
With all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind."

- Old song

17:45.

Anne Rice turns to God.

Sec 3, history class, me.

Sat at the 2nd row of the 2nd row, an Anne Rice novel tucked in the little enclave beneath the desktop, me unable to put down the book even as the History teacher paced around excitedly telling us about the turn in events historically.

I eventually got caught and was asked to stop. He didn't ask me to stop reading. He was specific - "Stop reading that Anne Rice novel".

It was hard.

I had written essays about vampires, read many books about them and given this subject more attention than the average person, I reckon.

What drawn me into the Anne Rice books were simple - That existential angst and thrist for life, the idea of an eternity (though fairly tormented) to consume every knowledge, art and information I could about history, arts and so on. The idea of being on the outside looking in resonated too.

1997 - After one of the days of Joshua 21 conference (a youth conference focused on missions), I came home, went to my room, gathered the Anne Rice novels, went out to the living room, unlocked the front gate and went to dump the books down the chute.

The main content I object to in the Rice novels remain these - lust, and perhaps the notion of playing God (which is one accusation against the characters).

But see, I was very drawn to the searching. That same searching the characters were depicted to have.

Thank God - For me, I have redemption, I have salvation, I have answers. It is not my (or anyone's) lot to live a life damned for the non existence of a answer and saviour.

Give that a second of that - it is hell. Hell beyond my imagination. Hell so painful it is impossible to live and yet death offers no consolation.

But I read that article to the link up there and was glad.

Came across it accidentally while searching for a work related article. Got pleasantly diverted and distracted.

I reserve comments about the book though. I have not read it, and won't know whether I will buy it. I do reckon I will pick it up at the bookstore to have a browse through before I decide though.

Any how, just thought you all may like to read that piece too :)

18:05.

Pill culture? Interesting article.

17:28.

A colleague's playing Madonna's new album on his desktop; some record label folks are nearby at another desk chatting; a trio of sec school students are at another corner - here on a shadowing programme to observe and learn; the eds are at their evening meeting at the conference table, deciding and briefing each other on stories avail for tomw's edition.

I read this yesterday and was struck by the coherence. It's just a blog that acted as a journal, a requirement for a course I took last year, and though entries are merely thoughts, something about them talked to me about structure and coherence.

That last is not always very evident in my mind processes now and then, on days like today, I guess. *shrugs* *smiles* That will pass though, I do need to get more reading material to keep the grey matter satisfied though.

And oh man, Madonna's new album really sounds bad to me.

I really don't like dance music.

Because I live in a concrete jungle....

15:09.

"Long, long time ago, I can still remember
how that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance,
I could make those people dance
and maybe they'll be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
with every paper I delivered
Bad news on the door step,
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried
when I read about his widowed bride...
but something touched me deep inside
the day the music died."

- American Pie, Don McLean

24 years. It has been a while since I first cried.

We are mid-ankle and deeper into another November now. On quiet days like these, blessed loneness in the home, you just want to sit and feel time move by. They kind of dance sometimes, one of those graceful fairy type of boho whirl, as they keep moving on.

You sit there, knee deep in thoughts, enjoying the comfort of life and focus not on any one thing running around in your head or heart.

24 years is a long time.

More than 10 years after the existential bug struck, a quiet little tall girl has grown up. Everything physical have caught up to the mental exercises and thought trains long used to choo choo-ing through the convoluted mind of that girl-next-door.

"My, how you have grown. It's been a... little while."

- In a Little While, U2

Numerous things still confound me. And then, there are the things that drive me crazy. Things like stupid prejudice, like racisim, like ignorance, like bigots, like those who actually really believe the world exists to serve them, stupid social classes, stupid things the very institution and existence of money causes, games people play, how twisted society can be and have become in many aspects, how I partake too sometimes. Stupid system. Stupid insecurity that makes people act like baboons on speed. Doofus.

I would like to protect everyone I love from every thing wrong I see, every thing vile and crude and evil, that harms and spoils and destroys.

Not that I can, and not that that stops me trying or wishing sometimes. Yet, God is in charge and what I can't, I know He can. Thank God....

Thank God for Him. Thank God for saving me from the miry clay. Thank God for loving me and making me right with Almighty.

"Where would I be if You have not been by my side?
How could I rise to meet the morning of the day?"
- Don Moen

What to say? There's a keen sense of the existential in the air surrounding me. A keen awareness I am in something bigger than I know and I am not in control. I wait, I pray, I wait some more.

What has happened this past year?

The sweet miracle of ray and me.

The rejoining the journo world.

The bitchiness, slamming, ego matches played out alongside the gorgeousness of music reporting plus the unexpected shift to being more a lifestyle journo instead of news these days.

The maturing... man, I grew older this year, didn't I? Learnt so much.

I sat down with my journal and chronicled what I've learnt. The points just increased and increased as I filled the pages and picked up the pen again and again when the Word reminded me of yet another blessing, another lesson, another revelation.

Am going to post some up one day, methinks, not now 'cause the reflection is ongoing but it has been awesome.

Are we already at the end of 2005?

*breathes out*

:)

I love You, Lord.

14:43.

Ruminations
(while on the final lap)

Like a woman with child, we have faith that every symptom we feel now points to a birth that is on its way. We put up with nausea, dizzy spells, swollen feet, bloated faces, water rentention, loss and gain of appetite, hormonal changes, how our actual body morphs... because we believe that we are carrying something that's growing and coming to completion within. That within the concave of our being (or if in keeping with the parable of the pregnant woman, her belly), we believe there's the fruit of what's to come. When it's due.

So like the pregnant woman in the Bible who forgets the pain of the childbirth when she holds her newborn in her arms, Dad, we fully expect that the coming fruit we see and receive will be so awe inspiring that the pain of getting there becomes insignificant.

A woman with child doesn't doubt that she carries a new life within and that it is a new life that will be born forth when it comes to the end of her term.

So it is. With every part of our beings, this feels the same.

Our time has to come. At the end of the term of wrestling and struggling, the beginning of a new life, of the fruit of what we have sown... is coming.

It's irrefutable.

Dad, You got to come through for us.

We trust You, love You and honour You.

You rock.

16:27.





50





That's how many days till I see the best guy in the known galaxy again.

Feel free to fill in the blanks with your own boyfriend's/ spouse's/ crush's name, fair 'nuff.

But *grin* as for me, I meant my man, r a y c h u a h.

heh.

143 days since we became a couple. over 4 and a half months. when we finally meet again on Christmas eve, it would be over 6 months since a formal "us" existed.

I can't wait.

How we run the race now will affect how we enter into our next lap, our next chapter, the next phase. We are being prepared to take a land. This last lap, I want to sprint, I want to speed, I want to run harder than even how I have so far. I want us to give it our best shot.

'cause you deserve the best.

'cause I deserve the best.

'cause our God is so mind blowingly amazing we want to give all we have for Him.

50.

It's the second last month of 2005.

So much has happened, wow, there's a deja vu when I think back to this time last year.

Were we not boo-ing at the end of Urban Life 2005 too? Was I not telling Dad to take me whichever country He will, the same way your heartcry was and is? We were going to God as individuals about how we feel for each other. Now, we tell Him and each other how we are in love every day :)

This November, we will prepare, we will tie up any loose ends we need to at our sides of the world and in our lives, we will hold on, we will sprint.

And 50 days later, we will be together again.

1210. sg time.

" Make my life a prayer to You
I wanna do what you want me to
No empty words
and no white lies
No token prayers
no compromise

I wanna shine the light You gave
Thru Your Son You sent to save us
From ourselves and our despair
It comforts me to know You're really there

Well I wanna thank you now for being patient with me
Oh it's so hard to see when my eyes are on me
I guess I'll have to trust and just believe what You say
Oh you're coming again
Coming to take me away

I wanna die and let You give
Your life to me so I might live
And share the hope You gave me
The love that set me free

I wanna tell the world out there
You're not some fable or fairy tale
That I've made up inside my head
You're God the Son and You've risen from the dead! "

- Make My Life A Prayer To You, Keith Green

17:08.

me:

Why do artists paint, writers write, photographers shoot?

We seek to immortalise someone else's beauty which in one rare moment was unveiled. Humbled to be privy, enraptured by the echos of eden, we capture it.

We capture it because it's in our very soul's essence to do so. We capture it because it is our revolt against all that is wrong in the world, our protest against how linear time sweeps such beauty away from us. We capture it because it is good.

And with it, we hope to show our fellow sojourners the goodness that still exist in our living.

'cause we see very clearly too, like you do, no doubt, that the world is quite screwed up. and we, like you, no doubt, see too that the world still possesses great beauty of the Divine.

So in this cosmic time frame the world walks a one-way street in, we create, we press the "stop" button when the good passes so we can look at it again when everything else seems grey, wrong and stinking bad.

We are watchmen on the towers, history keepers, scribes. Largely forgotten, sometimes despised and labelled as voyeurs, almost never money-ed and probably scorning such categorised rewards with inarticulate understanding.

Why do artists paint, writers write, photographers shoot?

Because it is what we are meant to do.

16:57.

A re-post, from two years back in this blog, an article written a dozen years ago. Some bit cynical, whimsical and even among such traits, probably guilty of romanticising.


Published 1993 Sept 24
Author: A sad Lat if

SINGAPORE takes pride in its food. I do not mean the confluence of so many culinary cultures here, though that is important. I am talking about the way people eat.

I used to visit a restaurant - "eating-place" is more accurate - in Kerbau Road, off Serangoon Road. There, at peak hours, would gather a congregation of the hungry, appetites sharpened into devotion by long hours of toil. Some
moulded stone and mortar into the houses and roads of Singapore. One wrote about Singapore on computer screens.

Those who had just arrived would sit back in grateful expectation after ordering their food. I joined them.

As the food arrived, we dipped our fingers slowly into the rice, feeling its heat. We spread it out as if to increase its yield, spicing its taste with salivary waiting. The vegetables and spices were mixed in, slowly, calmly. We mixed them in a little more, the pace increasing.

And then, in the abandon of delicious freedom, we began eating. Rice, avial, sambar, papad, more, pickles, meat, egg or fish, we ate it all, great, shameless quantities of it all. Ours was a gusto which, if watched by the merest of artists, would have turned his canvas into a masterpiece.

The food swept into us, strengthening our limbs and gratifying our hearts, uniting a ragtag band of devotees into seamless, undistracted impatience.

It cost $3 for the chicken-meal, $2.50 for the fish-meal. The rice and vegetables were unlimited. The pieces of meat or fish were fixed. But the gravy was unlimited.

The restaurant has since moved, leaving no address behind.

THE closure of the restaurant meant the destruction of a community, for me, anyway. For it was there I learnt that a community is a group of people united by a common purpose though they may follow different paths, rarely agree with
each other and often have little to do with each other as individuals.

Which brings me to the market.

If you go to a market quite late in the day, when prices are likely to be lower than during peak hours, you will see old women scanning the remaining fish. They smile with a kind of sheepish greed that is meant to disarm the vendor but actually irritates him. Though the fish themselves are becoming second-rate, the vendor can be quite rough with these second-rate customers.

That attitude becomes doubly irksome if he happens to be nice to you, a proper customer who is late because he did not have the time - not because he did not have the money - to come earlier.

And when the old lady smiles at you because you are trying to make things a little better for her by smiling, you know that the only thing you can do is write.

I AM sometimes tempted to divide the world into three groups: states, unreal people and real people.

The state we know about. Unreal people are the kakis of the state.

They owe their livelihood indirectly to the state as a source of power. Conservatives, democrats, situational democrats, anarchists, armchair anarchists, intellectuals, economists, staid senior leader/feature writers (Selfews), Contentious news reporters (Connerps) snapping at the Selfews' ideological heels - all are hangers-on of the state, pretenders to imaginary thrones, parasites feeding on suspect lineages, unreal people all.

Those at the receiving end of their actions are real. Children, housewives, students, teachers, hawkers, entrepreneurs, engineers, doctors, lovers stealing a kiss in the dark, rubbish-cleaners, dreamers - these are the real people of the world.

Unreal people speak: Real people are spoken about. Unreal people write: Real people are written about. Real people love or at least make love: Unreal people make money by writing about love.

Now, mark me, I do not have anything against the state. I do not understand those who are railing forever against "the state", as if there was a viable alternative to it. Nor am I saying that real people are "good" and unreal people "bad". Life is hardly as uncomplicated as that, and roles do overlap.

The loan-shark is a real person, but I doubt that you would want him as your friendly next-door neighbour. No one but journalists (if even they) likes journalists, but imagine a world without (unreal) journalism.

Which brings me to my point. Journalism is perhaps the only unreal profession which exists only because there are real people around. Democrats could chant passages from De Tocqueville and economists could continue to disagree with each other, but only journalists are privileged to enter the lives of real people without knocking. They are suffered, as all intruders are, but they are suffered on trust. And it is that trust they need to keep when they write.

I HOPE that the thoughts on food and markets are some small proof of this, even though I am a Selfew who was once a Connerp. Though this is not always possible, I feel that it is better to try and describe things well than to explain them, for most explanations debase the thing being explained.

"To discover the various uses of things is the work of history," Marx wrote, on the first page of the first volume of Das Kapital. He himself lived up to that challenge quite well; as someone said recently: "No other writer gives more vivid, intense accounts of modern 'things'. No one has better described the ambience of a great textile mill or the misery of a brickfield or the enigmatic nature of commodities."

Unlike his successors, Marx was not a Marxist; unlike them, the early Marx at least understood how important it was to allow things to speak for themselves instead of getting polemic to speak for them. It is not surprising that Marx was once a practising journalist; so was Dickens.

SO IT is that real people create real situations, and that journalists must write about them.

I was travelling by bus last week. At a stop, I was looking around idly, when my eyes fell on two teenage schoolgirls. One of them was waving at a student who had entered the bus and saying something; the other was giggling, her right hand cupped lightly over her mouth.

What a sight. I do not have a sister, but if I did, and if she at 16 had giggled like that, my brother's-heart would have awakened from its slumber and soared on the wings of her laughter. Dear girl, hold on to your laughter; keep your giggling youth as long as you can. For one day you will be as old as I am. You will not only have to think before you speak, but think before you laugh.

But, then, as a journalist, you will have the freedom to capture your captivity and turn it into words.

16:48.

Sort out my head
Someone
up above
Please

Sort out my heart
You
up above
please

Too stretched to do anything else but cling

cling
cling

when consciousness hardly seems like a gift
and though eyes closed the pain refuses to sleep

i cling

again, Lord, it seems all too much for me

i look to You
i look to You

i cling.

15:36.

"And I know it's not the first time
and it will not be the last...
when You find me here on my knees
praying for the storm to pass"

- How Do I Love Her, Steven Curtis Chapman

Feels like it has been forever since I have been in the house alone on an afternoon.

I think it's going to storm in an hour or so, I hear distant rumblings, it's a Thursday afternoon.

Today marks the first time I ever experience co-payment medical fees. Under the benefits as a full-time staff, I pay 10 % of the total bill when I visit the clinics affiliated to the designated medical company for my company.

It is pretty cool when the nurse warns you that one of the medication is pretty expensive and then charges you a whopping... $3.

I reckon that made the 35 minute walk I took to find that place worthwhile.

And not that any one who doesn't know woodlands well will understand this but why on earth is block 883 so far away from block 888? Where got 20-minute walk to find somewhere which is supposed to be 5 blocks away loh.

I think I properly broke in the mint green havianas r a y sent me traipsing around the neighbourhood.

I had to change two feeder buses to get back home.

Whinge (and weird acting stomach) aside, it has been a nice day.

I was sitting at the kitchen table just now, reporter's notebook out and reporter's mind planning workflow for a story, deciding whether to call a newsmaker for a short interview and whether to call my ed to brief and debrief so I can arrange for an intw on sat.

Then, it hit me - you know, girl, you can do this tomorrow. really. Shoved the workaholic to the back seat and decided to enjoy the day.

Sg has been stormy the past week, and I reckon I love it. Makes the walk to the clinic not as warm and heaps more enjoyable. Makes the mood more mellow.

October seems to be really taking its time to move along.

But we are going to make it.

Dad's got our back.

*lops off to take it easy, and journal some*

Peace out.

16:35.

Yet will I praise You.

"I'll sing for joy at the works of Your hands
Forever I'll love You
Forever I'll stand
Nothing compares to the promise I have in You"
- Shout To The Lord

14:10.

The past few days, probably the whole past week really, were started in the same style - I woke up slightly earlier or immediately at my alarm with uncharacteristic total mental "awakeness", body aching but mind completely unerringly up. Makes me get out of bed faster than I usually do.

Today, I didn't, choosing to snuggle my face into the pillow and will myself to return to sleep for a chance to dream.

I was dreaming that I was on a familiar street - Elizabeth, coming down from the hospital's side, that round about bit, past the yellow and blue building and the various shops flanking the roads.

Was on a bus with church friends, the same folks who just came back from a China mission trip. Was chatting with them before looking up and suddenly realising I am in Melbourne, that home is just two hundred metres away on the right.

I got up from my seat, tried to make my way to the front, the rickety bus swaying me from side to side. And I was quiet and half in shock at how I am almost home, how I unexpectedly just turned up here (weren't we supposed to be in rural China? the bus sure felt like it's supposed to be er, rustic), and I was talking loudly over the din, telling whoever would listen that I live here, trying to direct the unseen driver to drive to the left so I could stop outside of CCBC.

Then the alarm rang.

I woke up, thought to myself "maybe they (bosses at work) are sending me for a junket soon or something" then burrowed in to try to get back home.

It's exactly 60 days till I see you again.

And I wish the days will disappear, fast forward straight to the fourth week of December.

20:29.

Say what?

It has been a good day, good week, good month. Yes, the politicking, wrestling, continuous (not continual) pushing on seem to had cast a general dreary hue over the landscape of the past month. But yet, despite everything, it has been good.

I'm blessed. Beyond any thing, I am.

The big social, hierarchy of human contrasts and behaviour is filled with way too many layers and way too convoluted for me to understand.

Yes, so I am built such that I still try.

But I am thankful.

I am thankful for that. Thankful that I can sit here and type a post about what's in my head.

So I may fight learned behaviour in faith and life but I am free. I am free to think what I want, I am free to make arguments, I am free to decide and live.

I am thankful... very.

Despite everything that You shown me, Dad, everything about the world, the not very good stuff right down to the what-the-heck-is-going-on-bits... I am thankful that I am not sheltered from such. Not hid from the cynism and pain.

I want every bit that life has to offer. I want every thing You have for me. I want to fulfil my calling completely totally absolutely without the hums and huhs.

I am not afraid to still say I am not satisfied. I am contented but I am not satisfied. There is way more than this and way way more than what I can even imagine or comprehend.

And even if the folks around me don't get it and think me insane or deluded, oh Dad, I believe.

You made me, me.

Such simple words, duh words even, kids in sunday school could give you that textbook perfect answer yet I am in awe.

I accept myself. I know myself. I love myself.

Because I am more than worthy now that You have set me free.

I don't want to fight myself any more. I fight men, I wrestle with You, I do my share of bouts and spats. I am not fighting me anymore because I am because You are.

And You know every thing - all the things I don't get and may never truly get, all the things I feel that makes me cringe up and cry in the secret place, all the thoughts in my mind that sometimes give me headaches, tangled are their knots and intense are emotions.

You know. And I know this - that Lord You are good and Your mercies endure forever.

Clear the way, Lord. As I prepare the way for You, make a way for me.

For You are good. You are good. You are good.

And for eternity and with all that I am and have and ever hope to be, I love You most.

Lead us this week, Dad, lead us this week.

Shine in us, on us and out of us. For Your Name and Your Glory.

Amen.

And we are saying alrightokuhhuhamen.

15:56.

"You love me, Lord
stronger than any thing
You love me, Lord
more than my heart could sing
You love me, Lord
more than I love myself

You love me, Lord
You love me, Lord
You love me, Lord"

13:47.

My day started at 7.25am; someone else's days ended forever a few hours earlier.

Was woken up by a call from the office. A hotline caller had just called them - Someone jumped down at an apartment block near where I stay. The police spokesperson was uncontactable, could I just go down and check it out?

Sure, no prob.

Brushed teeth, washed face, pulled on jeans, tee, and lugged my bag - notebook, press pass, pens, camera - over my right shoulder and I was out of the door in less than five minutes.

I walked.

My ears open for any wailing or sirens, my eyes skimming what's ahead, looking for any thing to confirm the news or debunk it as the work of a prankster.

I walked past old folks doing taiji, kindergartens whose walls could not contain the children's glee at some nursery rhyme.

I walked.

And I found them.

Not the body, but people in shock and grief. A group of about eight young 20-somethings huddled near some benches, another two older men some distance away hosing down a spot on the ground.

Instinct is right at these stuff, found out later that was where the body was.

Approaching people who just probably heard or seen a friend or family jump to his death is not something any one fancies, I reckon. And less so when you are there on work, having to identify yourself as a reporter and trying to get info.

A girl, eyes rimmed red, shot me a look and waved me away. I tried again, this is my job, I try, that's what I always have to do. No go. I walked to the two men hosing down the ground, no blood could be seen, whatever cells that spilled out were washed away. They talk a bit, before shutting up.

I called the office, they drove off, I climbed stairs to knock on doors to ask for eyewitnesses.

The world is so normal though one just voluntarily chose death a while ago.

I did my job, I tried, I left and walked home when told I can drop it, we don't have enough to write a piece.

I returned to my home, sat down at my dining table, started eating the noodles Dad bought me. I wondered how the deceased's family will ever do something as simple as this again. I wondered if they will sit at the dining table and be remembered of their loss, I wondered if they will bear to walk along the same corridor their loved one jumped down at, I thought the family members must had left earlier with the body and left the friends behind. I wondered what happened.

On my way back, I had accidentally stepped on that big puddle of water and I flinched. Flinched because that was water that washed away someone's remains. In a while, that ground would be dry, nothing left to tell a story with.

Kids will skip over it, aunties, uncles, everyone will walk over it. No one will cast a second glance at it except for those who know.

And I wonder how they would ever live there again.

Suicide is a real deal to me but thankfully, not as real as it is to those folks.

There is nothing more to say.

14:50.

Ok, to avoid aggravating my former roommate :P, the ticketholder pictured holds a Sg-Melb-Sg return air ticket for myself.

Lots of stuff have been happening these past two weeks.

I'm a full-time staff now, God faithfully pulled things through, and so with the intangibles that comes with full-time (confirmation only comes after I pass the compulsory shorthand course), I now have annual leave.

Since it's pro-rated, the 21 days become 19 days.

And the Grace of God saw my editors approving my ahem, pretty long leave. From 27th Dec to 24th Jan. Thank God for the many Public Holidays during the period which stretched out the hol for me.

I fly on the night of the 23th, arrive on Christmas Eve and leave on Jan 18 thereafter Ray and I will decide whether to spend time in Sg or KL first.

Was told by colleagues such long leaves are not often approved, so thank God again.

Was warned that taking such a long leave is not a good idea when I'm awaiting confirmation but I said I will make sure I work extra hard now.

In fact, I will work super duper hard (someone kick me if I slack off, yeah) so I can perhaps take Off - In - Lieus (which you get when you work on a rest day) on Jan 25, 26 and 27 (Wed to Fri). Then, Ray and I can have more time in each other's homelands before Chinese New Year descends on the 29th (a sunday).

So that's about 71 days till I see my love again.

Until then, I will w.o.r.k sooooper hard.

:)

*takes a breath*
copyright/amadeo

22:23.

people r strange.

Creative press kits do bring smiles to the days.
copyright/amadeo

The packet is to promote some show on cable.
copyright/amadeo

Spread The Word, Not Disease, a surgical mask. The tagline sounds biblical, no?
copyright/amadeo

Wipeout The Unknown, some tissue wipe thing
copyright/amadeo

Kill The Invisible, some sort of cleaning liquid

copyright/amadeo

Why I love Dilbert strips: Of power hungry dogs, cubicle workers and humour, both of the dry wit variety and the corn sort.
copyright/amadeo

hehehehehehhehehehhehehehehheehehhehehhee. *much amused* =)
copyright/amadeo

16:12.

Hey, there's a SG-PJ lux coach route :)

11:56.

Franz Ferdinand, Simply Red, Switchfoot, The Cardigans, Sugababes, The Bravery and others I cannot remember....

To all the bands I could had interviewed if not for the fact I'm no longer doing Entertainment, maybe one day.

Perchance.

23:02.

18:13.

Got tagged by the casschew :)

Seven things that scare me
- Waking up one day and realising I have not fulfilled/ am not fulfilling my calling; Lizards; Irrational hatred and prejudice; My loved ones suffering; Not being able to help those I love; Losing my loved ones; Becoming someone I won't like

Seven random facts about me
- In my dreams, I can always drive; I wanted to be a novelist before I wanted to be a journalist; I wrote a mini "novel" when I was 14; I don't put sugar into my beverages; I would like to visit a castle one day; I'm wearing my black Havianas now... at work; I have 3 guitars, 1 piano, 1 keyboard, 1 tambourine and 1 harmonica (hey, that's 7 things!)

Seven things I hope to do before I die
- Get married; Work in a Christian org full-time; have my own column; See an obvious, undeniable miracle; Interview U2; Live (not just exist) fully; Master (not just play) an instrument

Seven things I can do
- Love; Er, bitch. I don't but I know I can do it too well; Be random; Skateboard; Multi-task effectively; Write; Not cry because of physical pain

Seven people who should fill this out
. R a y :)
. Aggie
. Vonnie
. Ketiak
. Jen
. DW
. Hannah

15:05.




It's international rabbit day on Sat. Heh =)

19:28.

Yesterday, Pastor J read out a copy of the senior pastor's letter to the church about his decision to step down. Pastor Thomas has debated long and hard and decided that his family and himself will be moving to Perth next year to study three years in bible school.

Pastor Tho was one of God's servants I admired and respected. He's 40, wasn't the best of kids when he was younger, studied till his 'O's before taking on the world not expecting that God will take on a rebellious kid like him and change his life. He used to be the children's pastor, he taught himself to play the keys and guitar, 5 years ago, he took on the senior pastor position.

The church has been through a lot since its inception. In the chinese church, I'm no doubt sheltered from the problems the main congregation go through but he's not.

He always had a contagious smile on his face, he would smile to greet you even when you could tell his weariness from the lines on his face, what with, God knows best. During worship, he is the only one constantly right in front, jumping, raising his hands, passionate for God even when the congregation seems humdrum. Three weeks ago, I visited the main congregation since I wasn't playing that week. As I got caught up in praise and jumped, I was suddenly aware that some folks were staring and I was aware that in the whole hall, there's only me in the back and Pastor Tho right in front who were jumping up and down.

Not that jumps are accurate measures of faith level, mind you. I was just struck by the image.

I don't know how hard it is to pastor a church where faith level generally seems complacent. I don't know how my pastors do it week after week, day after day, faithfully, surely and constantly.

Pastor Tho once told me that people ask him how he always have that joy in him expressing in that easy laughter, ready smile, welcoming demeanour. And his answer was that he know who he is and who he has been called to be.

I'm excited for him. Excited for him and his wife and three young kids about to take this leap of faith. It's not easy, and it has got to be hard leaving, not just because you are walking away from your comfort zone but because you have got an ailing mother here in Sg. Even while knowing the church needs prayer now as it seems like we have to seek outside pastoral employment for the first time in 14 years, the involuntary reaction is to feel glad. Feel glad for him. For his family. Smile at how a brother is obeying the call of God. Be thankful for this pastor who led by example.

Godspeed, Pastor Thom and God bless.

18:57.

It is a Monday evening on the 269th day of AD2005. I sit on the 7th floor of a 11-storey HDB flat; in 1 of the 6 apartments that are located on this landing. It has been 7 years since we move here; I'm 24 years old, 1.7metres tall and 51 kgs heavy. I'm 1 of 4 who lives in this 4-room flat - There's mom and dad, 58 years old, and brother, 26 years old. I live on an island that 's 697 sq km big with a population of 3.5million and growing. We moved from 3rd world to 1st within less than the 40 years since we declared independence.

I used to study in a PAP (People's Action Party, the ruling party) kindergarten school like most kids did; then I studied six years at H o n g Dao Primary, sadly now defunct; and 4 years at M a y f l o w e r Secondary School; 3 years at N g e e Ann Polytechnic and 1 year in R M I T, Melbourne.

I work at a media conglomeration, which owns most except one of Singapore's various languaged newspapers. I first entered their doors when I was 19.

That was as an intern in year 2000.

My lecturer told me I was probably the third student in the history of my faculty to get an internship "despite" being from a polytechnic.

I resumed journo duties in 2002, left in 2004, returned in 2005.

All in all, I've clocked over 2 years of work with this company.

I have roots, I have memories, I have treasures in this job, in this company, in this home, in this land, in this family. Familiar scents, familiar faces, familiar sounds, familiar way of life, familiar loved ones. Familiar feelings familiar objects bring on.

And yet Melbourne calls still.

Even before Melbourne, that call inside to put aside everything, burn the oxen, chop up their yoke (rem Elisha's call?) and move on has been there.

I'm counting the cost more than I ever had and the price is clearer to me more than ever. Yet, surely whatever it takes, the cost is lesser than the cost of disobedience to the call.

One life to give. 24 years already gone.

Dad, when?

What? All. All of me for all of You.

How? By faith and through providence.

Who? You, you, the flock on Your heart.

Where?

16:15.

Yes, kind of inspired by Aggie's shoes post :)






















Satin bubble dress, tube dress, lovely lovely. Yet another item I fancy but would not buy for the price. I fancy the Samantha dress and the Dorothy dress too. Link here.

15:12.

From here.


















That's an almost 61-metre long bunny.

I am not going to be in Italy any time soon, at least, not that I know of. And yes, even if I am, there's no guarantee that I will spend time climbing a mountain and then the bunny. But oooh, how I fancy the idea of bouncing on that bunny's tummy. And someone, tell me, how on earth are the folks who thought up the idea going to keep the soft toy non-gross after the rain and stuff get to it?

Um.

19:44.

Wrestling God


In Genesis 32:24 to 29, Jacob's overnight wrestle with God was chronicled and we read that God blessed Jacob and named him Israel because he had "struggled with God and with men and have overcome".

The meaning of "Israel" is he struggles with God.
The meaning of "Jacob" is he grasps the heel, alluding to Jacob's reputation as a deceiver.

But prior to Jacob's meeting God, first... "that night, Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two maidservants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions. So Jacob was left alone..." (v. 22 to 24a).

He sent across his loved ones and possessions. He was alone.

Hold on, don't start reading into the story now. Let's go back a bit further to the events before Jacob even reached the shores of the ford and what awaits him across it.

In chapter 31, Jacob has just lied to his father-in-law Laban and took his two wives, many children and many many livestock and possessions and fled.

One wife, Rachel has even stolen her father's household gods, which gave Laban a pretext to pursue Jacob's camp.

Laban chased Jacob for seven days and caught up, confronted his son-in-law and asked him why he ran off instead of declaring his intentions to travel to his ancestor's land. And why did you steal my gods, Laban asked, and raided Jacob's camp to find them.

Rachel thwarted her own dad by hiding the idols, Jacob and Laban had a verbal showdown and Jacob finally told Laban flatly he had enough of the older man's attempts to rip him off over the years.

Things ended peacefully, Jacob even saw angels as he proceeded.

Still, I'd had found that confrontation emotionally draining and be probably pretty exasperated with the wife (it seems reasonable that Rachel would had told Jacob about it after Laban left) I love most for stealing, of all things, idols when the Lord has commanded us to go back to the land of my fathers.

But that wasn't the last of it.

Potential trouble continued in Chapter 32, as Jacob's convey to Esau (whose land lies after the ford of Jabbok) returned to say that Esau and 400 men were coming to meet them. Upon hearing this, Jacob was in "great fear and distress".

He spilt up his camp into a few groups and despatched them with gifts ahead of him, in hope of appeasing Esau, whose birthright Jacob stole many years ago. An Israelite's birthright is one of the most important things in the culture, and along with the birthright comes blessings. Jacob stole Esau's blessings and there is no hiding the obvious blessings in his life (wives, kids, many possessions). How was Esau to react when he sees Jacob and the many with him?

That was the situation before we reach Chapter 32: 22, earlier quoted, where Jacob sent across the last group to go before him - a camp made of his loved ones (2 wives, 11 sons, two maidservants who had borne him sons on behalf of their mistresses) and all his possessions.

Jacob was alone.

Alone at night, facing what could be a diastrous meeting in a few hours, about to face the exact person he had ran away decades ago (read Chapt27:43, Jacob first went to Laban's to flee Esau's murderous rage about his stolen birthright).

When we talk about wrestling with God, we often only mention the act and the blessings but see, Jacob was fighting for his blessing before he even wrestled that stranger in the night.

Then the man said, "Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men and have overcome."(v. 28)

Before Jacob struggled with God, he had to be completely alone.

Before Jacob was alone, he struggled with men. Again and again, with Esau, with Laban, he struggled for decades.

"I will not let go until You bless me!"

Say that not only when you are wrestling with the Almighty Himself but see that even when you are fighting the world of men - the politicking, the disapproval, the accusations, the mundane threatening to drown purpose, see that amidst these, you are actually fighting too. Wrestling for your blessing.

The path to get your new name is not that fast and easy, not a one-step.

It doesn't happen in one night.

Wrestling with God is a solitary affair, without your loved ones' obvious support, away from the rest of your family. Often it is when you are in a place where you know you can't go backwards and yet feel the strain of continuing forward. Often, it is when you are in a spot where you are in between your recently emerged struggles and yet another coming battle.

When God comes down and wrestle with you, you will have already wrestled with men too. You may be barely holding on, but you will be surprised at the tenacity of your grip when you know desperation, the desperation that comes from knowing there is only One Way to get through everything now - When you get hold of Him.

But when you have fought, when you have held on and wrestled (holding on limply to someone is no wrestling), when you have undergone the trial of lone-ness, of battle with men, and held on tightly to the Almighty, you will receive your blessing.

You will receive your blessing.

And you will be forever changed, with a new name, even if you walk with a limp and gathered scars in the process.

Dad, I'm not letting go until You bless me.

I. Am. Not. Letting. Go.

So come on.

14:03.

Flashback to Thurs: Ambling from office to ladies', still unawake from an early morning and two late work nights (left at 11.10pm on Wed) previously. Craving for something sweet for an energy boost and then, like an italicised scrolling text through my mind, I realised I was craving for a Safeways chocolate cookie. Not that there was a chance of getting my tired fingers on any of them at that time, so I shrugged and walked on, and dully marvelled at how one single mundane craving sums up so much.

As I type this, Grace should be in Melbourne. I smile at the thought. There's a girl who knows how the missing goes in Sg, and how when family responsibilites and personal desires clash, you just bite your lip and walk on and do the right thing.

There are perhaps three dreams I have had throughout my life - To write, to serve full-time in the ministry, and another which after my conversion, I realised was not worth the trying.

That third is chaff on the wind, the first, I've been doing and am doing still, the second still tries me, drives me, wears me, sometimes, it seems, teases me.

I'm getting so acquainted of Roms 4:8, the years have brought more situations where you are squashed like a pretzel and have no options but to walk on or lay down and die.

That last reminded me of Job's wife's words to her beleagued husband at the receiving end of a cosmic wager - curse God and lay down and die, she told her husband.

But no. Never let it be that we forsake You. Never let it be that we have any other God besides You. Ever let it be that we will seek Your Face.

And despite being a writer, it would seem I'm cursed with a mute's lot when grappling with destiny.

Dad, what would I look like by the time we get through this?

How many scars to wear, how contrasting the battle marks and the proud chin held high and back held straight.

What is the purpose of man?

I still ask questions which I do not hold capacity to understand in totality.

But this is how You made me.

And that is one of the lessons You are teaching me - to know me. To know me in You.

17:54.

Ray, It has been three months.

Three months exact to today - Sept 15 2005, since we became a couple.

92 days.

And about 94 days since the first time you told me you love me? :)

Oops, now everyone knows. Heh. Well, baby, I love you too.

20 months since I first knew of your existence, when I saw you sitted cross-legged on Ching's living room floor while I, a first-timer to O C F, sat on her couch about 45 degrees to the right of you. Don't ask me how I remember, you know I always remember the smallest, most random details but I can still see you in that white shirt with a mouth print.

I noticed the shirt. And I knew who you were because Hannah pointed out to me the media students and the other R M I T students. We never talked. Never anything, really, not until you added me to your Msn list (you got the info off the O C F contact list) because you wanted to ask me to drum for you in May.

And so we started.

The Msn chats that went on for hours, till 5am even, always platonic, funny, encouraging. We laughed at each other, quoted scriptures at each other, made random jokes, egged each other to have indomee and unhealthy snacks in the wee hours of the mornings.

We grew to share dreams and aspirations; the first time I saved one of our Msn convo was when I shared that I wanted to go to Bible School after my O levels and did do some courses and you shared the same. I never met someone else who had the same experience.

Except you.

You.

See, dear, I could always (or for a long time) understand the gloriousness or love and what it could be but too many things were in place to hold me still, reluctant to jump.

"When I fall in love, it would be forever", yes, despite my chagrin at the horrors of quoting a Celine D i o n song, my convictions echoed that.

I never felt inspired to jump and make that leap of faith until you.

It has been eight months since we had our nerve wracking convo about our feelings, after all the struggle we had to go through with God and ourselves.

Three months since we are a couple.

The year is 3/4 past and we have spent only about 6 weeks together in the same physical space in this time. I won't pretend it is easy. Even as the distance teach me lessons and we are stronger and more in love amidst this constant training, dear, in the same way you are the only one who inspired me to jump, you are still the one who makes me laugh harder, love harder and also cry.

I've teared while telling God I miss you, while praying up a storm about us, I've teared while we spoke on the phone, our every night phone calls which always make the day better. Like you, I've battled with that feeling of "separated-ness". Like you, I have wrestled with God and myself. Like you, me, I miss you so much and my capacity to miss you is widened and deepened every day.

Dearest R a y Chuah, how I love you.

It is three months, my boyfriend, the best man in the entire flippin' universe.

And the best is yet to come.

I love you.

17:09.

My latest purchase, from the office's c h a t line, a forum where people buy/ sell and talk miscellaneous. And it happened that the lady was selling the green one. New Trek thumb drive mini with swivel cap, 256MB for... $37 :)

Good buy?

16:34.

:/
- Latest news flash: Severed head left in O r c h a r d underpass.

:(
- Three dark-skinned workers on the open back of a lorry on the expressway... while it is raining.
- Their expressions
- Politicking
- How power make some people stupid
- Malicious irrational gossiping
- Feels like a slight flu is trying to rear its head. again.

:)
- Church, last Sunday, drumming after service, working on a new 16-beat thang. Mission full-time staff came up unnoticed. Commented and asked if I'm still with the paper. Upon my affirmation, he said he wanted to a journo before. I went, "Really? I rather be in full time!" He went, "Reallyy?" Me: "Yeah, just waiting for God's timing." It's nice to be able to talk of such things.
- Call a Melb friend from the company yest (work related query involved too, yes) and having a nice catch-up chat
- S p a review on Wed to sort out my bones and shoulders
- Many mooncakes for the eating in the office
- Being able to buy bak kwa as snacks
- Nice colleagues and lovely folks in my life
- I'm free
- My Beloved is mine and I am His. His banner over me is love.
- 4-pg spread tomw, 3-pg spread on Sun. It's good to see your work out.
- GOD loves me and totally has my back.
- R a y loves me and does his best to let me know that :)
- Mom is going on Kunming mission trip on Sunday
- The best is yet to come
- It's Friday