18:15.
Some people seem to have it all together.
They understand why they are where they are, they can tell you about the meaning they have in their work and their life, they are set. Steadfast. Able to explain why they are cool with whatever happens.
Some people think I am one of those persons.
I am not.
For the life of me, though I do know with my entire being that all things work together for the good of those who love God and that things will always work out in His time, yes, I really wonder.
Wonder at why I am here.
In this country. In this company. In this church. Even in this family.
I'm nobody's saviour.
I'm thankful for what I have but I don't see my purpose for being here. I love my country, work, church and family but I don't see how I can plug the holes they have.
And I am a zillion percent aware that though I can be used as an instrument of God, I am not the answer.
Could I be the catalyst for bigger things? That history maker we sing about?
Yes.
But help me.
I have gone to bed with questions in my head, questions like those I have listed. And sometimes during these moments, when I got into my bed, I would be eager to close my eyes and let sleep overtake. So that I do not need to think.
Life is too long to live without purpose.
Life is not worth living without God.
I have God. And because I do believe in Him and all He promised, because I have touched the Divine and lived, because again and again, I have seen my God pull me through every closed wall and impossible situations, I can live.
Because of You. Because of the Love You have shown me and given to me through You and the people You have blessed me with.
But so help me, God.
I'm not that strong. And I need answers.
My Lord and God, make me steadfast. I hate it when I am double minded. I detest it when I am unsure about what I want. It's not about being weak. I know I am weak and I have acknowledged it but Lord, even in weakness, may I have conviction. May I have passion. May I not be average or mediocre or bend to other people's or society's will.
Dad....
I'm standing on Your Word.
Not my will but Yours be done, but my God, can I not be in the waiting for much longer?
Help.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
02:40.
I talk to cats.
Mostly, it's just a "hey there", "hallo" or today to the orange tabby "hey babe" while mentally wondering if the cat might be meowing in soft objection at being called the moniker of a certain hog in a hollywood movie.
And about 200metres away from my hi-bye conversation with a cat, I saw what I presume was a headless squashed mynah on the road. I cringed, tensed up and retracted my steps down the path it was on, and walked down another pathway to cross the road and get to my company.
Yeah, I was at the office on Sunday. And on Sat too actually. Worked from about 1pm to 7pm on Sat and about 2.30 to 4.30pm on Sunday. Would be taking my Leave In Lieu today though so I am glad.
Besides talking to cats - and I wondered if the cat might had been the killer of that bird - I spend most of my days now at work.
Thankfully, work is interesting, and I have much to be thankful for. The working hours suit me fine, there are some great colleagues about, I get away with casual clothes with a cardigan/ blazer/ jacket thrown over to look less casual and warm me against the freezing air con.
Singapore is strange. So warm a tropical country - I woke up three days in a row with a headache from the exceptionally warm weather - and so cold at so many places. Who was it who first said that we are an air conditioned nation? She/ he is right indeed.
Last Thursday was my one-month "aniversary" at this job. I'm enjoying it, though the hiccups do come my way. And I miss zucchinis, asparagus and mushrooms.
Sometimes when I write, I come up with one-liners that strike me with their accurancy. No, I am not referring to the veggies related line but something I remember writing before - "Maybe at the end of the day, I fight change as much as I fight routine."
Maybe.
In that same vein, even as I settle down, I miss the place that is still also home in my heart. Even as I get used to and even quietly enjoy the familiarity of working girl life, I miss the student lifestyle of old.
In the same way, I am settling into church well, serving on music almost every week but I know inside of me, I am not convinced that this is my church home.
It feels like home, it really does. But in some cases, paradoxically so, no changes can be weary for the soul even as changes seemingly weighs down your spirit.
I enjoy wearing summer clothes all the time but long for the cool weather that is autumn in Melbourne. I love being with family but sometimes think about the independence and loneness. And honestly, I would like to do my laundry again. But just mine. Oops.
I miss seeing rainbows so often, glorious in their full arch and double rainbows appearances. I miss the crisp cool wind. I miss standing on my balcony just to feel that wind, and sometimes, some sun. And I miss looking out for visitors from my window.
It has been 80 days.
I remember the feeling of displacement that came when I uprooted to go to Melbourne. I remember the acute displacement that struck when I first came back here. I remember too how I felt like a stranger in a strange land for most of my life.
The feeling of home sometimes come geographically. Walking down a certain street feels like home. Certain people feel like home. Certain streets and people, you feel you belong to and with.
But feeling like the girl who fell to earth... that bit, I honestly have to say, is an appearance throughout my life's story thus far.
And I won't be surprised at all if I have to uproot again.
I don't know when or where.
When I went to Melbourne, I felt like I was sent. Missionary simply means Sent One, I had learnt, and I felt that way.
When I came back, again, I felt like I was sent here again. Not returning. But sent.
So what is home? People, and certain landscapes and weather that embraces.
Where am I supposed to be?
Am on a journey that teaches faith, trains and equips.
One day, I will be Home. But honestly, life is too long the living unless it has purpose.
But every moment's made for worshipping, every moment I am alive, we are alive, there can be more than this.
*hugggggggs*
I talk to cats.
Mostly, it's just a "hey there", "hallo" or today to the orange tabby "hey babe" while mentally wondering if the cat might be meowing in soft objection at being called the moniker of a certain hog in a hollywood movie.
And about 200metres away from my hi-bye conversation with a cat, I saw what I presume was a headless squashed mynah on the road. I cringed, tensed up and retracted my steps down the path it was on, and walked down another pathway to cross the road and get to my company.
Yeah, I was at the office on Sunday. And on Sat too actually. Worked from about 1pm to 7pm on Sat and about 2.30 to 4.30pm on Sunday. Would be taking my Leave In Lieu today though so I am glad.
Besides talking to cats - and I wondered if the cat might had been the killer of that bird - I spend most of my days now at work.
Thankfully, work is interesting, and I have much to be thankful for. The working hours suit me fine, there are some great colleagues about, I get away with casual clothes with a cardigan/ blazer/ jacket thrown over to look less casual and warm me against the freezing air con.
Singapore is strange. So warm a tropical country - I woke up three days in a row with a headache from the exceptionally warm weather - and so cold at so many places. Who was it who first said that we are an air conditioned nation? She/ he is right indeed.
Last Thursday was my one-month "aniversary" at this job. I'm enjoying it, though the hiccups do come my way. And I miss zucchinis, asparagus and mushrooms.
Sometimes when I write, I come up with one-liners that strike me with their accurancy. No, I am not referring to the veggies related line but something I remember writing before - "Maybe at the end of the day, I fight change as much as I fight routine."
Maybe.
In that same vein, even as I settle down, I miss the place that is still also home in my heart. Even as I get used to and even quietly enjoy the familiarity of working girl life, I miss the student lifestyle of old.
In the same way, I am settling into church well, serving on music almost every week but I know inside of me, I am not convinced that this is my church home.
It feels like home, it really does. But in some cases, paradoxically so, no changes can be weary for the soul even as changes seemingly weighs down your spirit.
I enjoy wearing summer clothes all the time but long for the cool weather that is autumn in Melbourne. I love being with family but sometimes think about the independence and loneness. And honestly, I would like to do my laundry again. But just mine. Oops.
I miss seeing rainbows so often, glorious in their full arch and double rainbows appearances. I miss the crisp cool wind. I miss standing on my balcony just to feel that wind, and sometimes, some sun. And I miss looking out for visitors from my window.
It has been 80 days.
I remember the feeling of displacement that came when I uprooted to go to Melbourne. I remember the acute displacement that struck when I first came back here. I remember too how I felt like a stranger in a strange land for most of my life.
The feeling of home sometimes come geographically. Walking down a certain street feels like home. Certain people feel like home. Certain streets and people, you feel you belong to and with.
But feeling like the girl who fell to earth... that bit, I honestly have to say, is an appearance throughout my life's story thus far.
And I won't be surprised at all if I have to uproot again.
I don't know when or where.
When I went to Melbourne, I felt like I was sent. Missionary simply means Sent One, I had learnt, and I felt that way.
When I came back, again, I felt like I was sent here again. Not returning. But sent.
So what is home? People, and certain landscapes and weather that embraces.
Where am I supposed to be?
Am on a journey that teaches faith, trains and equips.
One day, I will be Home. But honestly, life is too long the living unless it has purpose.
But every moment's made for worshipping, every moment I am alive, we are alive, there can be more than this.
*hugggggggs*
Thursday, April 21, 2005
21:59.
Newspaper feature writing, newspaper entertainment coverage differs fundamentally. The space given, the research and fluidity, the prose and laxity, the wonder of the story you write is different. Weaving together an article and weaving together a story is different. They can both come together, I am sure, but working with space requires a mastery I guess I can't exercise as yet.
Now I am in entertainment, I would like to meet fascinating characters and write a story. Stories like this and others I posted before and perpetually read when researching or just reading.
I pray I can wield a pen better.
Lord. *makes puppy dog eyes*
Heh.
Newspaper feature writing, newspaper entertainment coverage differs fundamentally. The space given, the research and fluidity, the prose and laxity, the wonder of the story you write is different. Weaving together an article and weaving together a story is different. They can both come together, I am sure, but working with space requires a mastery I guess I can't exercise as yet.
Now I am in entertainment, I would like to meet fascinating characters and write a story. Stories like this and others I posted before and perpetually read when researching or just reading.
I pray I can wield a pen better.
Lord. *makes puppy dog eyes*
Heh.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
22:49.
She told us she saw heaven.
As she stepped into the church sanctuary, with just one foot in over the threshold, the old lady demonstrates then gestured excitedly, she saw the stage and everything else turn to gold and a cool wind blew at her and her physical aches were relieved just like that.
She's 74 years old, a plump old lady Jen and I met while prayer walking about the estate our company is located in. We were walking along one void deck, one of those with flats on the first floor too. It was also one of those "upgraded" estates (that's the term we use in Sg for old blocks which get overhauled with major renovation to pretty them up) so the lift - as in keeping with the old style - was not on the first floor, but a half floor away, or one stairs up, from the first floor.
Yeah, it's hard to describe but I digress.
Yes, the old aunty was lugging a heavy looking trolley (those metal-go-to-market types where you dump everything in) and we stopped to help her carry it up those stairs. Then, she lives on a level where the lift doesn't stop directly at so we helped her carry it up those stairs too.
She was asking us if we are evangelising and then said she has been a Christian for 10 years. Then, with great joy she shared about the vision she had.
She told us too about how her elder brother "bullies" her. They live together. She prays for him everyday, she says. And before we took our leave, we prayed for her and him.
Yes, in Mandarin.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I really wanted to write about an interesting interviewee I talked for two hours to yesterday night but am going to be prudent and not write about it until the story comes out. Yes, yes, I am paranoid but some other journo might read this and try to tackle it too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And just for a more detailed idea of my work scope now:
Sunday night - Attended N K F charity show, colleague who I attended the show with and myself filed a story that night for Mon's News pages. Left office at 1am, which was earlier than I expected
Monday - Filed TV review for Joey, made calls in the afternoon, met very interesting newsmaker in the evening until 8pm (for news story, not entertainment)
Tuesday - Short intw at 1130. Met interviewer at company's lobby. Called many people for feature on a new local programme, couldn't write it up because broadcaster did not get back in time (and i hv been chasing for a week now). Left work on time at 7pm and at home, watched a video for work purposes.
Wednesday - If the above comes through, file it. Would make calls and if I can't start writing that, then I'd start writing article on Garbage instead. Oh, and meeting at 11am.
Thursday - Write the local programme article or Garbage's, depending on which one got done on Wed.
Friday - File Garbage CD review. Do phoner with model we shot last week. Try to file the beautiful people weekly column for which this is for.
And next week, we will start again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I miss you.
She told us she saw heaven.
As she stepped into the church sanctuary, with just one foot in over the threshold, the old lady demonstrates then gestured excitedly, she saw the stage and everything else turn to gold and a cool wind blew at her and her physical aches were relieved just like that.
She's 74 years old, a plump old lady Jen and I met while prayer walking about the estate our company is located in. We were walking along one void deck, one of those with flats on the first floor too. It was also one of those "upgraded" estates (that's the term we use in Sg for old blocks which get overhauled with major renovation to pretty them up) so the lift - as in keeping with the old style - was not on the first floor, but a half floor away, or one stairs up, from the first floor.
Yeah, it's hard to describe but I digress.
Yes, the old aunty was lugging a heavy looking trolley (those metal-go-to-market types where you dump everything in) and we stopped to help her carry it up those stairs. Then, she lives on a level where the lift doesn't stop directly at so we helped her carry it up those stairs too.
She was asking us if we are evangelising and then said she has been a Christian for 10 years. Then, with great joy she shared about the vision she had.
She told us too about how her elder brother "bullies" her. They live together. She prays for him everyday, she says. And before we took our leave, we prayed for her and him.
Yes, in Mandarin.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I really wanted to write about an interesting interviewee I talked for two hours to yesterday night but am going to be prudent and not write about it until the story comes out. Yes, yes, I am paranoid but some other journo might read this and try to tackle it too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And just for a more detailed idea of my work scope now:
Sunday night - Attended N K F charity show, colleague who I attended the show with and myself filed a story that night for Mon's News pages. Left office at 1am, which was earlier than I expected
Monday - Filed TV review for Joey, made calls in the afternoon, met very interesting newsmaker in the evening until 8pm (for news story, not entertainment)
Tuesday - Short intw at 1130. Met interviewer at company's lobby. Called many people for feature on a new local programme, couldn't write it up because broadcaster did not get back in time (and i hv been chasing for a week now). Left work on time at 7pm and at home, watched a video for work purposes.
Wednesday - If the above comes through, file it. Would make calls and if I can't start writing that, then I'd start writing article on Garbage instead. Oh, and meeting at 11am.
Thursday - Write the local programme article or Garbage's, depending on which one got done on Wed.
Friday - File Garbage CD review. Do phoner with model we shot last week. Try to file the beautiful people weekly column for which this is for.
And next week, we will start again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And I miss you.
Monday, April 18, 2005
23:47.
"God has a plan for my life
God has a plan for my life
I just can't wait to see what's in store for me!
Oh God has a plan for lil old me."
- A children's song titled (I reckon) God Has A Plan For My Life
Was reading Aggie's blog and the chripy song popped into my head, along with a long ago memory of a teenage me singing the song softly but very happily, especially the third line. I had such excitement.
Dear Lord, I know You have much in store for me and I am waiting for You to blow my mind.
"God has a plan for my life
God has a plan for my life
I just can't wait to see what's in store for me!
Oh God has a plan for lil old me."
- A children's song titled (I reckon) God Has A Plan For My Life
Was reading Aggie's blog and the chripy song popped into my head, along with a long ago memory of a teenage me singing the song softly but very happily, especially the third line. I had such excitement.
Dear Lord, I know You have much in store for me and I am waiting for You to blow my mind.
23:32.
"Do not let this Book of the the Law depart from your mouth; mediate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it." - Joshua 1:8
The verse made me recall the one about guarding our hearts. We so often hear about how we must memorise scripture to guard our hearts, and often, the verses cited are those in the line of Joshua 1:8.
"that you may be careful to do everything written in it" is one reason to take the Word to heart and mind more seriously. There are many more reasons but on Sunday, as during we looked at Joshua 1:8 during discipleship, something that I never really expressed before came to me.
I take God's Word in not just so I may not sin against Him. But in totality, the Word of God is a guard for my heart and mind and all of me.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This guards my heart against despair and helplessness.
"I have plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." This guards my heart against hopelessness.
Hiding Your Word in my heart makes my heart keep beating, it keeps it flesh and red and alive. And Your Word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my eyes.
I love You, Word of God.
"Do not let this Book of the the Law depart from your mouth; mediate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it." - Joshua 1:8
The verse made me recall the one about guarding our hearts. We so often hear about how we must memorise scripture to guard our hearts, and often, the verses cited are those in the line of Joshua 1:8.
"that you may be careful to do everything written in it" is one reason to take the Word to heart and mind more seriously. There are many more reasons but on Sunday, as during we looked at Joshua 1:8 during discipleship, something that I never really expressed before came to me.
I take God's Word in not just so I may not sin against Him. But in totality, the Word of God is a guard for my heart and mind and all of me.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This guards my heart against despair and helplessness.
"I have plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." This guards my heart against hopelessness.
Hiding Your Word in my heart makes my heart keep beating, it keeps it flesh and red and alive. And Your Word is a lamp for my feet and a light for my eyes.
I love You, Word of God.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
20:29.
Thursday night, I worked till 1am Friday morning before I caught the company's night transport mini bus home. Covered my first fashion show, ain't a big scale one, a small showcase from a rising Taiwanese designer.
The sole male model got screams from er, the females from the organising company. And the male reporters got an eyeful when a female model popped out of her very low cut dress. The Asia Pac media show up was as different from the good looks on stage as possible. One gent possibly from Taiwan or China was in berms and a crumpled Tee shirt.
But let's leave that day behind, as it already is.
Tomorrow night, I would be working late again, covering an annual charity show, then getting into the office to file the story to be appear in Monday's edition of the paper.
As of now, I have a TV review, a music review, three music related features to write and explore, one feature about a new local show, a news article to chase, and a weekly column whose photos have been shot but interview not completed yet.
This week, I would have to finish: That charity show article, the tv review, the local show feat, and chase one music feat. Would like to finish the weekly column thing too if I can. And am doing the news interview on Monday.So may have to write that up too.
I am, often: In that mode where the brain is firing away, keeping itself updated on the work one has to complete by when. That mode which cannot be switched off even when you walk out of the office. Which prevents you from soothing your tiredness with a nap on the train home, 'cause your mind takes time to slow down.
Yeah, baby, I am back in the flow, full-on, that journo delirium of deadlines. And it's so familiar it's soothing in a weird manner.
I am enjoying the work.
Loving doing interviews. This part is a very real bit, I savoured the interviews I had done so far. The face-to-face ones, that is, and a certain assuredness I feel going into interviews and during interviews that I well, simply savour.
Since I returned - and it has been a while - I have got a few comments about how I look different; one ex-editor mentioned that there's something different but she can't put her finger on it. I thought about it and put it down to 2004 being a time when I grew into my skin more. Like how I told a good friend, I know now more than I ever did that I am a child of the King, not a servant, and I will keep holding my head up high.
I am thankful for what I am doing, and enjoying it, but having time sometimes feels like something I don't have much any more. Time management - Ah, that is so important now. Knowing that a life without more of God is not one I want has to translate more into actions, constant morning and night seeking.
Sometimes, I catch myself feeling tired. Other times, just simply quietly happy in spite of any tiredness or the feeling of trying to juggle many things all at once.
That familiarity I mentioned earlier, helps me a lot during these times. I am not new to this. And that helps way lots. And the familiarity of it reminds me how I like this job.
I wonder: Does missing a place and people still mean you are not embracing where you are now?
I am still wondering, but I reckon the line on that is not that black and white indeed.
Ponder with me then.
And the rain outside that has since ceased, and the bright room light above has caused those tiny little flies to fly around the light before somehow falling to the ground, crawling around and just dying.
Poor things.
Thursday night, I worked till 1am Friday morning before I caught the company's night transport mini bus home. Covered my first fashion show, ain't a big scale one, a small showcase from a rising Taiwanese designer.
The sole male model got screams from er, the females from the organising company. And the male reporters got an eyeful when a female model popped out of her very low cut dress. The Asia Pac media show up was as different from the good looks on stage as possible. One gent possibly from Taiwan or China was in berms and a crumpled Tee shirt.
But let's leave that day behind, as it already is.
Tomorrow night, I would be working late again, covering an annual charity show, then getting into the office to file the story to be appear in Monday's edition of the paper.
As of now, I have a TV review, a music review, three music related features to write and explore, one feature about a new local show, a news article to chase, and a weekly column whose photos have been shot but interview not completed yet.
This week, I would have to finish: That charity show article, the tv review, the local show feat, and chase one music feat. Would like to finish the weekly column thing too if I can. And am doing the news interview on Monday.So may have to write that up too.
I am, often: In that mode where the brain is firing away, keeping itself updated on the work one has to complete by when. That mode which cannot be switched off even when you walk out of the office. Which prevents you from soothing your tiredness with a nap on the train home, 'cause your mind takes time to slow down.
Yeah, baby, I am back in the flow, full-on, that journo delirium of deadlines. And it's so familiar it's soothing in a weird manner.
I am enjoying the work.
Loving doing interviews. This part is a very real bit, I savoured the interviews I had done so far. The face-to-face ones, that is, and a certain assuredness I feel going into interviews and during interviews that I well, simply savour.
Since I returned - and it has been a while - I have got a few comments about how I look different; one ex-editor mentioned that there's something different but she can't put her finger on it. I thought about it and put it down to 2004 being a time when I grew into my skin more. Like how I told a good friend, I know now more than I ever did that I am a child of the King, not a servant, and I will keep holding my head up high.
I am thankful for what I am doing, and enjoying it, but having time sometimes feels like something I don't have much any more. Time management - Ah, that is so important now. Knowing that a life without more of God is not one I want has to translate more into actions, constant morning and night seeking.
Sometimes, I catch myself feeling tired. Other times, just simply quietly happy in spite of any tiredness or the feeling of trying to juggle many things all at once.
That familiarity I mentioned earlier, helps me a lot during these times. I am not new to this. And that helps way lots. And the familiarity of it reminds me how I like this job.
I wonder: Does missing a place and people still mean you are not embracing where you are now?
I am still wondering, but I reckon the line on that is not that black and white indeed.
Ponder with me then.
And the rain outside that has since ceased, and the bright room light above has caused those tiny little flies to fly around the light before somehow falling to the ground, crawling around and just dying.
Poor things.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
23:23.
Random:
There is a cabinet where the daily paper gets stacked in the office, where we go to grab our copies of the paper every day. I visited that grey cabinet four times today and it's random and strange and utterly duh really but the first three times, I opened the cabinet door, and looked at the pile of papers, checked the date on the paper (April 12) and somehow, somehow, I have no idea why, I walked away with the impression that they were backdated copies. As I stared at the date, I thought that to myself immediately. Somehow, somehow. In my mind, it was the 21st, I really don't know why. So yeah, I walked away three times with the same impression. And it was only after I spotted the paper on a colleague's desk when I was woken from my reverie of sorts and realised waitaminute, that's the cover similiar to the one in the cabinet. And thus my fourth time walking over to finally grab it. Strange, strange, strange.
Random:
There is a cabinet where the daily paper gets stacked in the office, where we go to grab our copies of the paper every day. I visited that grey cabinet four times today and it's random and strange and utterly duh really but the first three times, I opened the cabinet door, and looked at the pile of papers, checked the date on the paper (April 12) and somehow, somehow, I have no idea why, I walked away with the impression that they were backdated copies. As I stared at the date, I thought that to myself immediately. Somehow, somehow. In my mind, it was the 21st, I really don't know why. So yeah, I walked away three times with the same impression. And it was only after I spotted the paper on a colleague's desk when I was woken from my reverie of sorts and realised waitaminute, that's the cover similiar to the one in the cabinet. And thus my fourth time walking over to finally grab it. Strange, strange, strange.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
12:43.
I am sat at my desk at the media conglomerate of Singapore.
(Yes, after a year-plus break, here I go again employing the above phrase).
I am a desk away from my old desk. This new desk faces the main entrance of the paper's office. I've pinned up some pictures that used to be up on my old desk too. On my right - black and white print-outs of a shot of U2 taken in the early 80s and Kurt Cobain at the microphone with his guitar; magazine cut-out of The Beatles, the four portraits arranged in a square; and a little comic strip of three Rolling Stone album cover parodies of the Simpsons posed like the shots on Nirvana's Nevermind, Bruce Springsteen's Born In The USA and The Beatle's White Album.
Behind my computer moniter, a colourful square of six colours from a magazine advert.
To my left, a long Beatles For Sale brochure from an exhibition held here, pinned next to a flyer from the exhibition Imagine: The Art Of John Lennon.
The only new additions on my desk's partial walls are a photo of the St Kilda sunset taken Dec 30 2004 on the beach, and a group photo at the airport, taken Feb 5 2005.
I am settling into life in Sg, no doubt.
Heck, I can even wear blazers and cardigans out without perspiring (Oh all right, in the evening times only, notably only after I leave the freezing office).
I still don't seek out particular food to eat but enjoy what local fare I do consume.
And though I spent something like 14 days out of the 18 days I've worked thus far with some flu, fever or cold, I am settling back into work too. Adopting the same timeline, enjoying the un-9-to-5-routine pop-ups like walking down a would-be red light district last Saturday night. Loving the fact that I can dress casual and get away with it. Being comfortable with the programmes we use with work and every thing else. Comfortably enjoying the access of little food places and services still avail in the clusters of shops around the HDBs that surround this company. Even comfortably liking the routine walk in and out to work from the MRT station nearby.
Yes, indeed I know for a fact I am settling in.
The nostagia is still here, though, in as real ways as ever.
That, my dears, was the good life.
What I had in Melbourne, notably the last few months of summer.
The significance of seasons have been shown me and taught to my heart. I can never again scorn the romanticism people exhibit about summers with its seasonal fruit offerings, clothing allowance and general warmness.
I miss the life - cutting downstairs to buy some fruits and groceries, popping to Maccers down the street or the Korean shop across the road just to grab something to eat... I miss the availability of stuff that were well, avail.
Having time on your hands to do whatever you would - I miss that even as I settle into this new routine peacefully now.
Staying up to any time, even if it was just to chat on Msn or watch DVDs at a friend's, or various laid-back casual activities. Sleeping in till 10-ish or 11-ish in the morning, in glorious non humid, very sleep conduive weather. Waking up on my futon hugging my pillow, loving the feel of my duvet on bare skin, seeing the sky peeking in through that big picture window. Getting up, having breakfast - tea and biscuits or toast - sat next to the living room window, watching the world below. Getting cleaned up, popping out for an errand or to meet friends, coming back, popping out again... the accessibility of every thing.
The ease of the days.
The way it was so comfortable just being with friends and in my world in Melbourne.
Nostagia is present. And would probably always be now in this strange and wondrous exercise of life where those good old days would never repeat in its entirety. And of course, we love them more so because of that preciousness of non-continuity.
Ah.
Where do we go from here?
Ray, Ken, Aggie, Germie, Hannah, Sun, Mei Sun, Angeline, Paul, Marcus, MJ, Drin, Ian... um, I just realised it's impossible to name everyone, not when everyone made up a part of Melbourne for me.
Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here?
Be still, my heart, and know Your Maker.
Indeed, how good and pleasant it was - and is - when we live together in unity.
Your are amazing.
I am sat at my desk at the media conglomerate of Singapore.
(Yes, after a year-plus break, here I go again employing the above phrase).
I am a desk away from my old desk. This new desk faces the main entrance of the paper's office. I've pinned up some pictures that used to be up on my old desk too. On my right - black and white print-outs of a shot of U2 taken in the early 80s and Kurt Cobain at the microphone with his guitar; magazine cut-out of The Beatles, the four portraits arranged in a square; and a little comic strip of three Rolling Stone album cover parodies of the Simpsons posed like the shots on Nirvana's Nevermind, Bruce Springsteen's Born In The USA and The Beatle's White Album.
Behind my computer moniter, a colourful square of six colours from a magazine advert.
To my left, a long Beatles For Sale brochure from an exhibition held here, pinned next to a flyer from the exhibition Imagine: The Art Of John Lennon.
The only new additions on my desk's partial walls are a photo of the St Kilda sunset taken Dec 30 2004 on the beach, and a group photo at the airport, taken Feb 5 2005.
I am settling into life in Sg, no doubt.
Heck, I can even wear blazers and cardigans out without perspiring (Oh all right, in the evening times only, notably only after I leave the freezing office).
I still don't seek out particular food to eat but enjoy what local fare I do consume.
And though I spent something like 14 days out of the 18 days I've worked thus far with some flu, fever or cold, I am settling back into work too. Adopting the same timeline, enjoying the un-9-to-5-routine pop-ups like walking down a would-be red light district last Saturday night. Loving the fact that I can dress casual and get away with it. Being comfortable with the programmes we use with work and every thing else. Comfortably enjoying the access of little food places and services still avail in the clusters of shops around the HDBs that surround this company. Even comfortably liking the routine walk in and out to work from the MRT station nearby.
Yes, indeed I know for a fact I am settling in.
The nostagia is still here, though, in as real ways as ever.
That, my dears, was the good life.
What I had in Melbourne, notably the last few months of summer.
The significance of seasons have been shown me and taught to my heart. I can never again scorn the romanticism people exhibit about summers with its seasonal fruit offerings, clothing allowance and general warmness.
I miss the life - cutting downstairs to buy some fruits and groceries, popping to Maccers down the street or the Korean shop across the road just to grab something to eat... I miss the availability of stuff that were well, avail.
Having time on your hands to do whatever you would - I miss that even as I settle into this new routine peacefully now.
Staying up to any time, even if it was just to chat on Msn or watch DVDs at a friend's, or various laid-back casual activities. Sleeping in till 10-ish or 11-ish in the morning, in glorious non humid, very sleep conduive weather. Waking up on my futon hugging my pillow, loving the feel of my duvet on bare skin, seeing the sky peeking in through that big picture window. Getting up, having breakfast - tea and biscuits or toast - sat next to the living room window, watching the world below. Getting cleaned up, popping out for an errand or to meet friends, coming back, popping out again... the accessibility of every thing.
The ease of the days.
The way it was so comfortable just being with friends and in my world in Melbourne.
Nostagia is present. And would probably always be now in this strange and wondrous exercise of life where those good old days would never repeat in its entirety. And of course, we love them more so because of that preciousness of non-continuity.
Ah.
Where do we go from here?
Ray, Ken, Aggie, Germie, Hannah, Sun, Mei Sun, Angeline, Paul, Marcus, MJ, Drin, Ian... um, I just realised it's impossible to name everyone, not when everyone made up a part of Melbourne for me.
Where do we go from here? Where do we go from here?
Be still, my heart, and know Your Maker.
Indeed, how good and pleasant it was - and is - when we live together in unity.
Your are amazing.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
17:45.
Who is this Jim White?
The interview above got me intrigued.
Random quotes which struck a note:
"I think if you take people who were genetically bred to live in Scotland where it's cold and rainy all the time and you put them in this crucible of Southern heat and humidity and poverty, I think there's a kind of madness that comes over people, and I think Flannery O'Connor and Faulkner and up to modern day people all talk about that in their work. White Southerners are strangely displaced. If you look at them just within a lifetime, they belong here, but if you look at them over a thousand years, they're displaced. And because of that, they have sort of an ache, and that ache has to be medicated by God and drugs and love and sex and it creates, I think, a more virulent appetite for existence. Because of that, displaced people always fight harder than people who are settled into their lives."
"[Blues music] doesn't try to in any way intellectually resolve itself, and that's really good, because you can talk yourself out of anything if you find enough words. I admire the fact that it's not reconciled, that it's free-floating. Much of the truth of life is that many things are irreconcilable."
"You keep thinking and you'll be fine. Either that or you'll go crazy."
Ah, the idea of an interviewee fascinating and intelligent, an interview which inspires one to weave words around and about even as the endeavour to get inside his/ her head comes off impossibly so far from 100 per cent because of her/ his depth.
Who is this Jim White?
The interview above got me intrigued.
Random quotes which struck a note:
"I think if you take people who were genetically bred to live in Scotland where it's cold and rainy all the time and you put them in this crucible of Southern heat and humidity and poverty, I think there's a kind of madness that comes over people, and I think Flannery O'Connor and Faulkner and up to modern day people all talk about that in their work. White Southerners are strangely displaced. If you look at them just within a lifetime, they belong here, but if you look at them over a thousand years, they're displaced. And because of that, they have sort of an ache, and that ache has to be medicated by God and drugs and love and sex and it creates, I think, a more virulent appetite for existence. Because of that, displaced people always fight harder than people who are settled into their lives."
"[Blues music] doesn't try to in any way intellectually resolve itself, and that's really good, because you can talk yourself out of anything if you find enough words. I admire the fact that it's not reconciled, that it's free-floating. Much of the truth of life is that many things are irreconcilable."
"You keep thinking and you'll be fine. Either that or you'll go crazy."
Ah, the idea of an interviewee fascinating and intelligent, an interview which inspires one to weave words around and about even as the endeavour to get inside his/ her head comes off impossibly so far from 100 per cent because of her/ his depth.
Monday, April 04, 2005
20:44.
This is the first day of my third week of work. There are a few stories up in the air all at once now, you know, those half-researched stories that need some more direction or stuff before you start writing. Filed stuff so far includes just one story and one review.
I have taken to wearing my new pair of Levis' 593 (the exact same cut as that other pair I wore everywhere in Melbourne) to work, with a nice top and blazer over. Truth be told, I dress the same I would back in Melb, when I was merely going out.
Oh, no short skirts though. But in skinnyland SG and where going to town takes about an hour, and where I take public transport, somehow, the convenience of jeans is a whole lot more attractive. To continue on this inane out-of-mind thought, I should continue to give you the random useless information that even in Melb, I wore short skirts only when I wasn't going to be out long.
Yes, useless information spewed out. Now we move on.
My mind rewinds to that second last scene in Reality Bites, where Winona Ryder stands on her small little front porch that was more like an elevated place before her apartment's door, besides the staircase to the little front yard, and below, two metres away stood Ethan Hawke, his slouched posture in utter contrast to her straight nervous back.
They faced each other, faced off if you like and the camera cuts to Troy, the name of his character.
A medium close up of Troy, in a brown fitted suit, Troy with his greasy hair, stubble and squinty eyes full of pain. And as he described his sorrow over reacting that badly that other morning, he said something along the lines of, "it's like I have a mountain of regret on my shoulders".
It's like I have a mountain of emotions on my shoulder too, and whatever nerves and spots it is that they are pressing on, it causes my heart and head to feel that load's weight too.
What uncertainty does is show you with full clarity the few things you can depend on, while all around falls apart. What uncertainty also does is wear a few blisters onto your heart. But as clinched as it may sound and as trite or self-rationalising, I have to admit uncertainty teaches faith in a most decisive way.
It's hard to believe Glory to Glory in such: like you are standing on a mountaintop, except it's a really thin mountain, shaped like an i and all around is mist. Can't really see, though you are not in darkness, and you are not in the pits.
I am on a mountain top. But I can only see a circle around where I stand, just that bit of circumference about my feet, and I know I am on a mountaintop, somewhere high. But I can't see.
The number of questions that come to me amount in such frequency the questions sometimes seem to zoom into each other and I can't decipher one from the other when I actually stop and try to read them.
Oh, the emotions and the rationale. The head and the heart. The left brain and right. Jerusalem and Athens.
Reality's fight. Ideals' struggle.
"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you;
He will never let the righteous fall."
- Ps 55:22
I learn and try to cast my cares on You.
You, Lord Jesus.
You.
When all is said and done, it's really all about You.
And I'm going to keep at this, all of this, because I know it's worth it and because I have to and want to. And I know I can.
I also know I am not going to glide through every thing. This is life. But more than that, I know I will get through whatever comes.
Because You are, I am.
This is the first day of my third week of work. There are a few stories up in the air all at once now, you know, those half-researched stories that need some more direction or stuff before you start writing. Filed stuff so far includes just one story and one review.
I have taken to wearing my new pair of Levis' 593 (the exact same cut as that other pair I wore everywhere in Melbourne) to work, with a nice top and blazer over. Truth be told, I dress the same I would back in Melb, when I was merely going out.
Oh, no short skirts though. But in skinnyland SG and where going to town takes about an hour, and where I take public transport, somehow, the convenience of jeans is a whole lot more attractive. To continue on this inane out-of-mind thought, I should continue to give you the random useless information that even in Melb, I wore short skirts only when I wasn't going to be out long.
Yes, useless information spewed out. Now we move on.
My mind rewinds to that second last scene in Reality Bites, where Winona Ryder stands on her small little front porch that was more like an elevated place before her apartment's door, besides the staircase to the little front yard, and below, two metres away stood Ethan Hawke, his slouched posture in utter contrast to her straight nervous back.
They faced each other, faced off if you like and the camera cuts to Troy, the name of his character.
A medium close up of Troy, in a brown fitted suit, Troy with his greasy hair, stubble and squinty eyes full of pain. And as he described his sorrow over reacting that badly that other morning, he said something along the lines of, "it's like I have a mountain of regret on my shoulders".
It's like I have a mountain of emotions on my shoulder too, and whatever nerves and spots it is that they are pressing on, it causes my heart and head to feel that load's weight too.
What uncertainty does is show you with full clarity the few things you can depend on, while all around falls apart. What uncertainty also does is wear a few blisters onto your heart. But as clinched as it may sound and as trite or self-rationalising, I have to admit uncertainty teaches faith in a most decisive way.
It's hard to believe Glory to Glory in such: like you are standing on a mountaintop, except it's a really thin mountain, shaped like an i and all around is mist. Can't really see, though you are not in darkness, and you are not in the pits.
I am on a mountain top. But I can only see a circle around where I stand, just that bit of circumference about my feet, and I know I am on a mountaintop, somewhere high. But I can't see.
The number of questions that come to me amount in such frequency the questions sometimes seem to zoom into each other and I can't decipher one from the other when I actually stop and try to read them.
Oh, the emotions and the rationale. The head and the heart. The left brain and right. Jerusalem and Athens.
Reality's fight. Ideals' struggle.
"Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you;
He will never let the righteous fall."
- Ps 55:22
I learn and try to cast my cares on You.
You, Lord Jesus.
You.
When all is said and done, it's really all about You.
And I'm going to keep at this, all of this, because I know it's worth it and because I have to and want to. And I know I can.
I also know I am not going to glide through every thing. This is life. But more than that, I know I will get through whatever comes.
Because You are, I am.
