You were once mine. And for that, I give thanks. "Yet will I praise Him" 'cause I honestly have more reasons to than any thing else. Cheers, Lord.
copyright.skye.t/

12:15.

What do you say when your entire mind is filled with feelings and not words?

I guess you sit numbly and think of images to fit those feelings.

13:42.

"The heart has its reasons that reason cannot know."
- Blaise Pascal

From Germie.

Under my bookmarks, there's a bookmark named Misc Melb. Just 10 seconds ago, I aimlessly, carelessly clicked through it and clicked on weather.com.

Truth is, I didn't even need to do that. Besides the fact that I am in warm Singapore now, guess what? Weather.com is still on the "speed-dial" (short-cut keys?) place on top of my Mozilla Firefox's tags.

And yes, I still click on it. Both out of sheer habit, and more out of an irrational desire just to know the weather in Melbourne so I can better picture my loved ones in its surroundings.

Apparently, right now, it's 19 degrees. Sounds mighty good to me.

But back to the heart that started this post.

Can we even put the "heart" in the same sentence as "reason"?

I sometimes really wonder.

My room mate, housemate and a friend returned to Melbourne on Wednesday. Wednesday night, I was chatting to Hannah (housemate) online. Last night, I was chatting to Germie (room mate) [insert"ex-" before terms, I can't do it yet] online.

Strange, strange, strange, the rules of space and distance.

Not as strange as the unfathomable logic of the heart, but as strange, especially when viewed through a heart entwined impossibly with well, the very nature of itself.

Ironies add 3D measure to life. All three of them returned without that 100% I-want-to-go-back; me, sitting here - listening to the familiar tapping of my laptop keyboard, the whirl of the fan blowing at me from behind, and the conversation of kids playing downstairs - would gladly swop places. If it was only my time to go.

But yes, so be it. 20 days since Feb 5, and counting. I know I can and will get through whatever comes.

As mysterious as the innings of the heart are the ways of my Lord and God.

If I do not trust in His Heart so, I would probably had dissolved by now in some desperation, worry and plain inability to find peace, my heart and mind possibly thrown off further with activities of the affairs of the heart.

But I trust in His Heart.

When our hearts don't make sense, trust His.

19:43.

Well, sometimes my life
Just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small

So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart

So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something
I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees

And this Salvation Army band
Is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin

So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

- Hold Me, Jesus, Rich Mullins

There are moments when I stop with a start and realise I somehow paused in breathing. Such are blisters on one's soul. Then I have to consciously breath.

01:53.

Just... thank you.

Really.

You know who you are.

21:08.

The wind, as if rain is about to descend, is blowing through the windows. I have an urge to run downstairs and when it rains, to just stand in it and let it wash over me.

I unpacked a second piece of luggage just now. Stored my winter wear in my battered dark green hard-case, looked at the graduation lanyard, tag and book. In a while, I would assemble all those Ikea boxes I bought a few days ago and put these emblems of memories into them.

I never knew that missing a place, missing a person, missing people can be this hard.

Lord, You have my heart.

19:21. / in another place still referred as home, 22:21.

Am sitting at my blue Ikea table listening to Neighbourhood, Vonda Shepherd.

Two weeks and counting since I left that neighbourhood.

This coming week may bring some turbulence, watching people go back to Melbourne while I stay behind. There's no resentment, just a longing that has accompanied the missing which has not stopped.

Yet, I know I am stablising.

We always write of and observe a dualism in us people. Sometimes, we call our double-mindedness the divide between heart and soul, sometimes, we term the conflict one of the left and the right brain. Impatience, perhaps dismiss it as weakness.

Whatever it is, my longing for Melbourne still grips my heart even as I pray now for the environment I am in, people I am with and country I live in. Practical stuff to do, conscious decisions for conduct have been made, and there are much I know that requires extra hands, more prayers, just love.

Lord, I'm half scared to pray this but in the measure You taught me to give myself to and in Melbourne, help me to give myself to Singapore now. I see so clearly so many of the lessons You brought me 3,500 miles over to there for and time will made clearer why You brought me 3,500 miles back. I believe in my King, my Jesus, the heart of my God.

Help me, Lord. Love me and help me love others. Bless me and help me bless others. Lead and guide me so that I can be such a light to guide others on life's path. Use me, Lord, for Your Glory. And in the midst of every thing, as long as I have breath in me, guide my heart, dear Dad. Guard my heart. Guide my heart.

13:17.

Woke up, waited for aching bones to knit, prayed quietly for you and the day as I waited, only physically got up a full 30 minutes after I reached consciousness. Had a lao po bin, that Hong Kong flat pastry for brekkie along with normal Lipton tea that still tastes very lacking.

Tried playing October on the piano, went back to room, locked myself in. Extremely lazily lounged on super single sized bed, thinking and praying about some things. When I over-lazed (and it is very possible to reach that point), finally got up, read through Galatians. Finally broke through and prayed with intensity. Worshipped very loudly. Prayed, interceded.

Over church here, over church in Melb, over OCF there, over loved ones both here and there, over shared worries of life - jobs and finances. Prayed that I would be able to share what He would have me to later in music ministry. Prayed that I would be able to play keyboard as a worshipper.

Yup, I am playing the keys for this Sun at my church :) It has been over a year now. Do pray for me.

I feel like I can't praise him more. I feel like I can't stop praising because honestly, it is well with my soul, because He has "set my heart free" (Psalm 119), because "it is for freedom that Christ has set us free" (Gal 5) and I'm "called to be free" (Gal 5).

Because all things work together for the good of those who love God (Roms 8:28).

Because He reached down from on high and took hold of me (Psalm 18).

Because He is the God who stooped down to make me great (Psalm 18).

Because He will never leave me or forsake me.

And because He is all that He is. And the same power that raised Christ from the dead is available to me as my inheritance as a saint (Eph 1).

Yes, it's just putting one foot in front of the other now but yet, it is well with my soul. It is well. And I could sing of His love forever.

02:07.

Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures forever.

:>

Praise Him, Praise Him.

02:13.

I've wondered and agonised for long why one's heart could still be volatile and hurt and feel so much even after you place something onto the altar. After all, burned up sacrifices are not supposed to feel or crawl off the altar. Then, just now, another thread of coherency came to me.

Surely even when Abraham tied up Issac and placed his beloved onto the altar, he still loved his son. Surely, even when they walked up the mountain to the place of sacrifice, Abraham's heart bleed and was heavy. Surely, even when he raised the knife, his heart broke and felt every emotion known to man. Every single emotion like love, pain, confusion at his God's direction (yet he knew His Master's voice so well he knew the voice which commanded him this unthinkable task was God). Surely as he sought to obey His God, the heavens and his son witnessed an Abraham, tears flowing so rapidly, hands shaking at the task before him, a man trying to do the right thing with a heart that felt ripped to shreds, tore with deeper gashes than what that knife would or could inflict upon his loved son.

Surely.

So maybe I've asked the wrong questions when I wondered why.

Perhaps laying down something, someone precious comes with every emotion opposite to detachment, disinterest and general non-feeling.

Perhaps it means the exact opposite.

Lord?

17:16.

Scenario: Bro's desktop monitor went yellow tinted.

Bro: Argh, what should I do?
Me: Put it under the sun. That's what they do with babies with jaundice.
Bro: Maybe I should do a raindance.

Lol.

On another note, I realised that City Of Blinding Lights would always belong to Melbourne now, along with the image of the city at night sprawled out before us as we drove on some bridge to the airport after Boom. That scene, and the seagulls flocking around the lamp lights.

23:20.

It rained today for the first time since I have been back in Sg.

And for some reason, precipitation made me happy, especially when I remember thinking just a while back about the absence of rain and the daily monotonous weather. When I stepped out of the church hall and saw the drizzle, I swerved out of the covered walkway and strolled under the light rain, one arm out to feel and receive the refreshment.

For some reason, as I walked out of church premises under heavier drizzle, the thought that it is a new day came to me.

I am done. Kaput with... I really don't quite know how to put it, whinging perhaps, general down-ness... perhaps more permission to be melancholic than I should had allowed myself. That said, I believe truly that it is okay to be down. I mean, look at me. And that said, I am convinced that being honest about my struggles is the only way to go. But all said, I guess I am tired of being as strained as I felt. Being as torn, as worn out, that regular a passenger on the emotional rollercoaster.

I still don't know for sure sure where I am meant to be, and I sure do not know when I am supposed to be where. Nor do I know which job I should take, and a whole lot of other things. Repeating "I don't know" might be true but that can be tinged with despair if you fall into its arms.

I am done with that. Pah. Be gone.

I still get haunted (sorry, I can't find a better word) by Melbourne and its memories. Life in Melb and life in Sg seems like some parallel universes, cruelly detached at times but so be it. This is life. Locations are distinct because without distinction, they won't be separate locations. If an apple looks like an orange, it won't be called an apple. Melbourne is not meant to be Sg, Sg is not meant to ever be Melbourne. So I will feel different, that's natural.

I guess it was so hard because I truly love Melbourne. I truly love church, my home, the people I know and want to know, the streets, the food, the freedom, the memories. I feel like a better person in Melbourne. I want to be behind the drumset at CCBC on Feb 25, drumming for Parkville. I want to be at the launch of Urban Life, be there at the international students ministry banquet and start-up and all, I'm excited to see the Women's Ministry start. I miss my drumset, people, places and just had a sudden urge to visit the Gaslight market again.

Knowing you were once a part of all these things you love, and now you are not... well, hurts and tears at your heart. And I know that even if I return now, things would have already been different in some areas to some aspect. The truth is that wherever I be - Sg or Melb, there would be many things to deal with that are hard. I honestly don't think either way is the easy way out.

If you allow me to explain why I seem to be just having too much of a hang up, yeah, can I just say it is because of love? I love my time in Melb. And I can't say it enough. And since the very nature of love requires attachment, as I argued in Philo, I have to go through every trial that attachment comes with.

So be it. At least I am alive.

But I'm done. There are so many memories that will always stay a part of me, replay in my mind, jumpstart to life when the smallest of things trigger it - oranges, morning fresh, black tea (if I can find it....), certain songs, Ally McBeal, movies I watched, mat songs Roomie and I shouted along to before collapsing in laughter, Aust fruits on sale at Cold Storage, Fish N Chips, Gelare, even drumsets. There are too many to describe. I know I have been blogging really long posts....

But yes, despite missing you, Melb. Despite that stab of ouch that still jabs at me when I acknowledge that I will never walk your streets again, and may never be in our home at 222 Victoria Street (I keep seeing Sg's Victoria Street on brochures and directions, that's another trigger-er of memories) since even if I go back, Hannah and Germie might no longer be there and I won't have access to this home and even if I do, it will look different [that's what excerbates the pain I guess - that every thing changed and I really don't and won't have access to what I left behind in the same way ever again], despite everything and without denying the ouch ouch and ouch, I am laying this down.

Melbourne, I give you to my God. Memories, hopes, fears, dreams, laughter, tears, music, I give your all to my King.

For He's in charge. He knows better than I do or ever will and He loves me more than life. So I know with all I am that I can trust Jesus.

And I'm going to be giving my shot at throwing every door open (remember these words in case we all get surprised by what comes next) but I am putting out the fleeces calmly and logically, and I will rest in Him.

Peace out.

12:57.

Argh.

I. miss. you.

I know it will be okay.

but I do.

That's all.

I do.

12:05.

"Because You live, I can face tomorrow
Because You live, all fear is gone
And because I know, I know
You hold the future
And life is worth the living just
Because You live"

- Because You Live

Last Sat, got home at about 530am, walked about the house in impending limbo for a while, prayed, finished packing at 730am, splitting headache, laid down to sooth it, fell asleep, awake with a start at 845am, realising I just slept away the time I meant to spend finish writing cards, showered, got ready for the last time before those full length wardrobe mirrors, walked about house discovering random things I have yet to pack like my belts hanging behind the door, walked to Bouverie Close at 1005am, walked up about three steps to its entrance before looking up and seeing Ray at the lobby couch see me and get up, walked to Ink, found it was closed, went to Edelweiss on Elizabeth instead, ordered Big Breakfast and a Vienna Coffee, he had bacon and eggs on toast and was it a cappuccino?, ate, sat, talked, it's so good to have good conversation with a good friend over good coffee, walked up elizabeth to go back home to write cards and finish the last of the packing at about 1230pm.

Finished what I needed to do, threw away three more big bags of stuff, saw ray and qiming walk over even as I made a call to see if I could borrow a lock for my adidas bag, eelin, ray and qiming in my house, me walking about to settle every thing, got the boys to take my white Ikea coffee table and duvet, stood on balcony and shouted his name (just because I can't do that again) as they crossed the road facing our balcony, they put down the table, sat on it and waved hallo, I laughed.

That day ended in Singapore. Left for the airport about 240pm, I think, went through those metal unfeeling doors at about 440pm, I think. Held up human traffic and took forever in the plane aisle to get my haversack and bag of food up into the storage space, potentially irritated the English lady sitting next to me right beneath the storage space (sorry, can I just stuff these there first *stuff my passport and boarding pass into her magazine compartment*). When I finally settled down - randomly stretching out my right arm towards a window to sms with two bars of connectivity till a air steward says it's time to switch if off - I started reading letters and cards and finally cried some.

Here I am.

That day ended in Singapore, feeling the warm night air rush in from a door in the connecting tube from plane to terminal, which prompted an involuntary smile from me, walking about the airport full aware of the irony that I was lost - momentarily lah - in my own airport, got to the baggage collection so late that some airport staff had already placed my stuff off the belt onto the tiled floor, saw June, Germie, Anne, Hannah, Germie's parents and my parents waiting for me outside the glass doors (hear that, Tullamarine? glass), was received by my loved ones, had drinks at Burger King, not Hungry Jack's, saw every thing with new eyes, heard every thing with new ears and felt swept over in some degree.

Here I am.

Two worlds are probably colliding in me, though you can't tell by looking at me. Depending on who you are, you probably won't even be able to tell if you talk to me either.

"You are God and I am man,
so I leave it in Your hands"
- No One Else Knows, b429

I am still waking up missing. And there are moments when I feel half paralysed by my worlds.

But all things work together for the good of those who love God and there is something I know for sure, how much I love You yet You love me more. So I can do all things.

Amen.

21:25.

It's still Friday here in Sg, but it's Saturday now in Melbourne.

While I can still use the description "last week", indulge me. Allow me to do this.

Last Friday, I finished more of my packing, got ready, then met Ray at 3.30pm outside Nando's along Swanston St. We were going to Laurent's, a lovely French cafe he introduced me to last December. When I walked up to Nando's, Pohan, Tjokro and Ivan were there chatting with Ray. We walked along a bit then separated for Laurent's.

Ken joined us, we sat about. I left earlier at 5-ish, thrown off by something and 'cause I had to finalise packing. Went over to Ray's at 7, spent time blogging, surfing and singing along to Fly Me To The Moon, Tony Bennett style in his room while the others chatted outside and waited for tarrying parties. I wasn't feeling brilliant but it got a lot better.

Dinner at Nortturnos, hanging out at Ray's, a pillow fight, conversations with people, prayer session at Yvonne's that stretched from 230am to over 5am.

Melbourne, last Fri, you were still mine.

2028.

It's interesting how every thing changes and yet some things are so similar.

Was near the neighbourhood I grew up in today, a town called Ang Mo Kio. Had lunch with two friends I knew since Secondary School, persons I have known for nine and ten years respectively. We lunched at Maccers (In Sg, we just say Macs), a place which was started during our early teenhood and where we spent much time after school. It was the "cool" place, I guess and sitting around junking on junk food was somehow revered. I can still remember our clique sitting around a table, all elbow to elbow and munching away on fries. $2 for a large one, I think it was.

On Monday, when I walked into one of said friend's place, I took the lift up with her dad and we were both unsure if each other were who we think. I've grown up into a lady, he said. When I stepped into the 3-room HDB flat, I realised it has been 10 years from when I first stepped into the house.

In that apartment, we congregate for various work relating to our fave past time then. I ate her Mom's Burmese styled curry and I remember a few of us dressing up and taking photos of each other once. You know, teenage girls do that... and yes, it is excusable for teenage girls to do that.

When I was at Causeway Point on Sunday, I walked into a photocopy shop (!!! 35cents for 6 pages!) and realised the girl serving me was the same girl I talked to before when I was temping in the shop opposite. The Christian bookshop which has been replaced by a winter wear shop called Cold Wear. I spent the interim period of waiting between O levels and poly (about 6 months) working at Mount Zion bookshop, and returned almost every holidays to work there. We got so used to each other, I was such a maniac in knowing the products - I could memorise where books, gifts and CDs were... and ahem, if you wanted a song but didn't know the title, you could sing it to me and I would find the song and CD for you :) - that I could return as supervisor. Which honestly was kind of errr.

But that shop was no longer there, the new shop space had a different lay out, the cashier counter was in a different place. And a part of me was like, "Aaaaahhhh, you can't do that!"

But I will live.

I mean, I'm typing this now which does mean I have not expired.

The night air - its smell and caress, the way it's not cold or warm, just balmy, the way it lifts your hair and tempts you to just stretch out your arms and make like you are flying or something - is the same. As lovely as ever.

People still talk the same. And I am not complaining.

Singaporeans - or maybe it's just the young and supposedly in crowd - still have terrifyingly high expectations of body image. Now, that bit I will gripe about and say shut up and let any one wear what they want to, whether they look perfect or not. It is very wrong when the average young girl is probably a Size 6. It's plain wrong. Don't impose standards on people like that.

There are still buskers playing at Woodlands Mrt station. The sound of kids playing at the playground still travels very clearly to my room. The other day, an uncle started singing karaoke on his home entertainment system. The Malays still hang in the void deck and play guitar, people still beep their ezlink card at the outgoing beep point as they walk to their seats on feeder 900. There are still kids who scream in public places and my friends still get annoyed.

The sun still rises and sets and I saw the first nice sunset since I got back the other day. Peeking from between Hdb flats, that's the same sun that captured my heart in Melbourne as I shot it again and again from my bedroom window.

I count the days every day, days since I left. It has been five days now.

Last Thursday, I started it off screaming in the rain for a while running back home in pouring rain from Bummers Paradise with Ray. Made my Safeway run, placed my clothes into my suitcase, met a former cell leader for dinner, accompanied a former cell member to my place to pick up the electric guitar, then went to 609, lounged around then to Norturnos for a last (for now) late night coffee.

I still think of home. And wonder if I overused the word "miss".

In time, maybe I would think of there as just "Melbourne". For now, it's always "home" before I mentally push the word away to replace it with just "Melbourne".

I still think life is strange but some things are getting clearer.

1644.

I feel like I am in between lives.

The relatives have come, some have gone, and I would be going to visit my Godma later. I've played with my niece, hugged my aunts and lived in the moment. Then, when I have time to breathe, I remember Melbourne. Every one asks how it is like adapting, I tell them honestly it's hard 'cause I miss Melbourne very much. What is one to do?

We talk so much of chapters, likening life to books. So Melbourne and Singapore are pages of the book of my life? Well, I find myself wishing I can flip the pages as and when I want to, within a spilt second, so I can be and go to where I want to be.

3,500 miles is 500 miles x 7.

1120.

"You take me as I am
Into Your nail-scarred hands
When I run so far away
You always call me back again
Into Your open arms
No matter what I've done
Amazing grace has found me here
Because of what You've done, I am free"
- The Weight Of The World, Planet Shakers

The tears have started and I know I need them. Maybe saltwater disturbs limbo and shake one out of oneself. Maybe.

I cried myself to sleep last night, driven by ambiguity, uncertainty and general lostness. Locked my door, sobbed quietly so my folks won't hear me, and literally cried myself to sleep, when you cry so hard, it's kind of draining.

I woke up at 6.30 - and I am speaking now in sg time, having finally re-set laptop and mobile phone time to local, since local is now sg - with stark clarity and my first thought was the realisation of how I'm not on my futon and how the walls, ceiling, light coming into the room, room space... every thing were different.

Have You called me back here, Lord? I guess I didn't prepare myself for how much I miss Melb its people and life in the city of trams. After washing my face just now in the bathroom, I look into the small mirror and saw the same eyes once staring at me from a much bigger mirror, a panel above the sink with a tube of white light perched on the edge of the top side.

Every difference shouts at me. My environment seems to tear at me sometimes. And I feel like I don't know how to navigate my world right now.

Did you call me back, Lord?

Oh, yes the peace was real and I know I could choose to throw off all baggage now and learn to run forward, in Sg. But yet, up to the last minute in Melb, I'd had stayed if You had given me a job, Lord.

I guess Your choosing not to says something.

But were/ are You saying my time for now is in Sg?
Or, were/ are You wanting me to realise how much Melb is to me before You put me back there?

I've realised in greater depth how much I needed your, how much I drew from Melbourne and how lost I feel without you, you, you, you, you, you, you.

But - and this is not a new thought - maybe I've to be apart from all that because I need to re-find myself again; who I am, at a more detached distance from you who love me and believe in me and make me feel beautiful.

Your brought out the best in me and now I've to learn to be that person without your here.

Is that how it is, Lord? The relationship between S k y e T, attachment, dependence and continuous neccessary detachment, now fuelled differently without a commitment phobia? I don't know.

I'm not sure how we are going to do this and the thought of not being there hurts. And I still walk the Sg streets wondering how you would like it.

Life is a terrible - on the most existential level - strange affair and I'm living it.

Speak to me, Lord, speak to me. I'm so aware of how I could screw up every thing, how I could be making the wrong choice and giving up those I love for a life I am not meant to return to. Help me.

Help.

17:54.

"God will always believe that what He sends out in love can come back to the love that dared to let it fly in the first place." - Desperate For You, Integrity, taken from Casschew.

When you lay something on the altar, it gets burned, because that's the treatment awaiting sacrifices. Every thing precious to me, I keep having to lay down. Because I would have no other god. Because I vowed and want to give my all in full complete entirety.

And if your Issac gets spared after you laid it down... tears flowing, heart wrenching, your entire being given up to giving your treasure to God, and if your sacrifice gets resurrected, it would be purified, better, new, stronger, cleansed, meant to be.

I keep laying down Issacs.

And God help me, 'cause I can't see the future. And what I want to see I keep having to give up.

Lord, Lord, Lord.

Lord.

-backlog-

Met up with friends, went to Chinatown, marvelled at the cheap prices, had a coconut for SGD1, bought the first ever anklet I bought myself for SGD2, went ga ga over Chinese embroidery bags and tissue holders, unsuspectingly spent SGD25 on some Taiwanese jelly.

I loved being in the bustle of a place with the feel of a night market. There was a pasar malam at the field next to Woodlands MRT too, and a UK fun fair. The latter reminded me of the Mooba I won't be at, the pasar malam I loved for the Malay food.

Soaking in culture is enjoyable.

Had prawn mee for dinner, followed by fruits, just like old times in the office, since my dinner companion happens to be someone I worked with before.

Meeting up with old friends remain something that brings a smile on my face. Your make me feel at home, feel normal, and feel okay. Thank you for being who your are.

Being on the MRT again, being on bus 900, walking that path between the bus stop and my block again was soothing and quietly great. I looked up at the stars - I always did that - and could see many. They looked less bright, somewhat diminished but they were there.

I have to emphasise I am glad to be back, seeing you people at the airport waiting for me really felt good, getting sms-es and calls, emails and such. I am glad to be back. I really am.

But I have a habit of being brutally honest with my feelings, and I do miss Melb and ppl now and thus expresses so. I don't want your to feel slighted, please be assured that I don't mean that I am not glad to be here. I am just navigating my own limbo and adaptation.

*hugs*

-backlog-

"I want to go home" was the predominant thought in my head today.

On an average of 10-minute frequency, "I want to go home" "I miss you" "I miss your" "I miss Melb" rotated at high speed.

The homesickness hit at about 2am, me in a cluttered room with two hard-case luggages, a haversack, a laptop bag, a sticks bag and stuff already here all standing in the centre of the room with me while I looked with a certain hopelessness into the mirror. I felt some bit of depressed, rather low and decided to crawl into bed.

Woke up at 9am-plus and laid on my super single bed staring at the ceiling for a while wondering at the strangeness of it all. A morning ago, I was having brekkie with Ray and now, here I was. It all seemed strange.

Melbourne and Singapore are seven-hour flight away, on two continents at something like 3,500 miles apart (I checked the flight info continuously during my flight), a distance which costs SGD1,000 to bridge but knowing and knowing is different and I started to feel the distance.

I spent Sunday missing Melbourne, and as if my mind was detached from this body tied down by time and space, it automatically calculated Melb time, a process accompanied by mental footage of I would be doing in Melb if I was there.

Except I was not.

At 11am/ 2pm, I would be finishing QT and getting ready to meet Ray at 3pm at Bouverie Close so that we could go for prayer meet.

At 12noon/ 3pm, we would be walking to Storey Hall for prayer meet before church.

At 1pm/ 4pm, City Church's first service would have started.

At about 3.15pm/ 6.15pm, the first service would have ended and we would be sticking around for the second. That Sunday, they would have been going off after service to have dinner with Ken, who was flying off that night.

At about 8pm/ 11pm, they would have been at the airport.

At about 9pm / 12midnight, Ken should have gone in/ be going in.

And I felt the distance of it all. Like parallel universes and another life, every thing goes on. Except I am now here and your are there.

To get some essentials stuck in my other luggage, I walked to Causeway Point 15 minutes away and felt like an alien in my own country. The sun shone brightly, I put on my shades and realised I was attracting some stares. Consciously became aware, with a mute shock, that interaction with service staff here is not "hey, how ya doing" "heya" and smiles, not "ta" and "cheers", just pure silence and some expectation to be served and for silent transaction.

I caught myself holding myself in, consciously not saying "ta", and as time worn on, it was as if every greeting or thank you I naturally offered became softer, a response to the non-reciprocation.

Twice or more, I shook my head walking away and whispered "so weird" with some frustration, not at the service staff but just at the disorientating difference.

More than twice, I whispered "so weird" to myself.

Walked through supermarket Cold Storage. Seeing pummets of Australian peaches going for $7.90, where you could get them at a kg a dollar back in Melb. Or button mushrooms going at $3.90 per 200grams, where they go for $4 to $6 per kg back at Vic Mkt.

I see pictures of my empty house, of the lonely drumset, of the balcony I won't step out on again in my head.

I see Safeway, I see my friends, I see church.

I see the final image of my room in my head - my futon stripped, my side of the wardrobe half opened to reveal the empty metal hangers, my white table and duvet at a better place.

When I am in my kitchen here, or my mom's kitchen, I see in my head - again - myself at the sink at home.

Every difference shouts at me.

And I keep wishing you are here, your are here, or I am there. Even as I do enjoy being here again and love the night air that Sg offers.

2354, Sat. / 0254, Sun

Here's my first blog from Singapore, about 45 minutes since I got home, courtesy of Germie and her folks who drove me and my folks home. I could still remember directions about the neighbourhood... cool.

I look tall in the house due to the lower ceiling, and keep hitting the wall at waist level for light switches that are not there, the living room looks so brightly coloured in contrast to the beigeness of the one in Melb (and I keep saying "back home"), and so many things look strange or new to me, even as I sometimes recognise them.

I have no idea where to get started, where my clothes are, where to put what. Though I have my own room, it seems somehow cluttered, I am no longer used to seeing every thing I cuminated in 23 years in one room.

Internet connection would be a problem, without a router.

My mobile no would only be up on Tuesday, "somewhere during office hours".

And on the plane, I realised that that bag that your had to send to me - my lugguge was 14 kgs over - contained very essential stuff and I feel kind of lost without them.

As I walked out of the airport, as the car went past HDBs and a fun fair next to Woodlands MRT station, as I walked through the balcony that led to our family home and looked out at the sight before me as well as the construction... I miss you.

I wish you are here with me to see every thing, I wish your are here with me 'cause I know your would see things with new eyes the way I am feeling it now.

And this is not much of an entry for a first post, my apologies... I'm still running on one-hr sleep and a lot of deju vu and uncertainty even as I do not feel repulsed or any thing either.

I am glad to be back.

But yes, I miss Melb.

01:28.

Am at Bummers Paradise for the last time. Am feeling better, still in limbo but am... ok. You know, fairly decent.

19:33.

18 hours more. Lesser.

At this moment, my heart can't take the limbo and I need to run.

I need to run.

I had a dream the other day.

It started with a close up shot of a pair of shoes, the same pair of wedges I happen to be wearing today, with a pair of female feet in it.

In my dream, I was thinking why someone is wearing my shoes. And who it was. Then the shot zoomed out and I saw I was the one wearing them, except it didn't feel like me. And I was looking at me and not feeling like I was the girl wearing my shoes.

There's some expression about stepping into someone's shoes, an expression that involves being replaced. That was what I felt in the dream - that someone else would just step into my shoes now.

And as stupid and totally childish it is - I am not that deluded to not recognise the unreasonable-ness of this paranoia and insecurity - I feel that way.

And I hate it.

Be still, my heart. Be still, be still, be still.

02:50.

It's a veritable gale out there. Veritable gale. Wind at 47 kmh, temperature 12 degrees. I pity the guy friend who had to walk me back, even if it was only two streets away. I screamed for a good 10 seconds in disbelief and cold when we stepped into the very real cold - both with brollies right in front of us shielding us from the wind blowing rain horizontally at us - and spent the next 5 seconds going "it'sfreakycold, it'sfreakycold, it'sfreakycold".

Veritable gale. It has been raining for 32 hours non-stop.

Did I mention it's summer here now?

16:24.

I just sloshed back 10 minutes ago from an errand run amongst other things. The temperature now is get this, 11 degrees; precipitation 90 percent and rainfall has possibly exceeded over an inch, as accords info on weather.com.

Slosh, slosh, slosh.

*brolly gets blown inside out*

*me - very amused look, and with hair whipping all over, swinging said brolly around to the direction where the wind blew in back into shape*

Melbourne, Melbourne.

It's my fourth day left here in the city of trams, unpredictable weather and very nice living conditions.

Come Sat, I will leave 222 Victoria St at about 2.30pm, arrive at Melbourne Airport at about 3pm, check in, dawdle around, say goodbye numbly or maybe cry, and walk through those feelingless steel doors. At 510pm, my Boeing 747 will take off and at 930pm, Sg time, 1230am, Melb time, I would be stepping on Singapore space and breathing the Singapore air.

That last bit doesn't make sense since air, like the moon and skies, are shared universally and in fact, probably one of the things lovers and romantics and thinkers find comfort in when lovers are separate, romantics are lovelorn and thinkers are contemplating this strange wondrous love affair of Life.

I love Melbourne.

But surprise, surprise, I love Singapore too.

Peace is mine now even as my heart still gets jabbed at little and bigger things involving this . that is about to be inserted at this junction of my living.

Dropped by the school just now with a friend and picked up transcripts.

I will never walk through those weirdly coloured, pseudo stained-glass sliding doors again or drink a Strawberry Mocha from the school cafe. I will never go up the escalators leading to the library and stop before I do so to pick up postcards from the rack. I will never go into RMIT bookshop again.

I walked - in the pouring whipping gale - to Big W, to upload photos to be developed. That's the place where I printed all my photos. That big underground monster cocoon of Big W and Safeway - opposite each other staring each other down creating a concrete brightly lit cocoon - will no longer hold me soon.

I walked to the money changer next to Starbucks, where I had sat down with girlfriends and friends to while away time with good conversation and shared company.

Cashed in some foreign currency because the accounts I did last night reflected my suspicion that I am in the red and then I walked to Target.

Because I can.

I didn't want any thing. Didn't really have the money to spend there, really. But I wanted to walk through its stocked space once again. Just like I did before, with the roomie, and alone.

It was once upon a time a ritual. A place our household initially hit every Sunday after church before the new-ness of it wore off though it remained on my roomie and my regular hitlist.

Walked through Myers, got honey-coasted Macademias and am seriously considering buying them for the family if I have enough cash to spare, and walked through Melbourne Central. All in a convenient bid to escape the rain and to say goodbye.

Sometimes, you got to be physically somewhere to say goodbye. You don't have to say any thing, you don't have to feel any thing particularly emotional, your presence does the fare thee well.

I walked through familar streets, felt the weight of the fact that I won't be walking through them for an unknown period (and if I do again, it would be within different context), and my feet said goodbye to the ground it touched.

Outside, the rain streams down steadily. Weather forecast for tomorrow is as gloomy as today. The precipitation is potentially so the coldest rain I have ever been in, as my bare feet and legs attested in shock this morning when I walked home.

I sip on my coffee with honey, Salvation Jane (that's the honey's name) from Vic Mkt.

And I have to go and pack.

The idea that I will be in a different country and enter a different life in seven hours [on Sat] is quietly baffling and hugely head-shaking inducing.

Love ya.

14:46.

Because "wherever you take me, I am following You".

Because I have sung and meant it - "Send me, I will go" "To the ends of the earth".

Because You are the King who remembers my name.

Because I will fight for the heart of my King.

Because "You have my heart and I will search for Yours".

Because "I am Yours. Jesus, I am Yours".

"I will go where You send me".

I will go where ever You send me.

In Your arms, I have peace.