13:50.

In a moment yesterday, the distance between S k y e T circa Jan 2004 and S k y e T circa now hit me between the eyes.

It was in church, and the pastor was acknowledging that people have been hurt by the church and there are some who might or may have felt or feel that they love God but do not love the church. Invountarily, I mumbled, "That sounds familiar" after which my own words kind of struck me. The intensity of the days when I just didn't like the church even as I could love it in some ideological sense fleetingly touched me there as I sat in my chair in church.

Those days are over.

It's as simple as that. As final and absolute as such. Over.

I started praying about my return a while back. Not just the where-should-I-go bit but praying for my God to prepare me for this return and to open the way and bless my future endeavours and for me to be able still to bless others and love more.

There in church, I threw away the worries and doubts and fears and I cover 2005 with faith. Light flooded the future in my mind's eye. Not unlike some sci-fi movie, a picture of myself being flooded with light from the inside by a beam of light coming right at me was in my head.

It was about three weeks back perhaps when while walking up the stairs (this is exercise) and remembering the goodness shown me throughout the years, God spoke.

"Whatever you put your hands to, I will bless."

I was taken back. I know this not to be a licence to chase and hanker after my own desires for their fulfillment but a promise like the one given to Solomon and the kings of Israel. As long as I seek You first above all else, You will bless me and make the way straight.

Thank you, Lord.

00:19.

Age is a dodo.

22:34.

There are moments when it seems I am estranging myself from what has become my norm. Whether this is a draw-back-because-I'm-leaving or my-head-is-too-noisy-and-I-don't-have-the-words-to-tell-you-about-what's-going-on knee-jerk reaction, I am - you guess it - not too sure.

I have dug my heels in and refused to turn back, I want to run the final lap and grab as much as I can but tomorrow seems to hold my heart, and he is treating it like a wooden heart that is not supposed to feel or react.

I turned my attention to yesterday and tried considering the possible results if I had not gone down the paths I have. I dare not imagine. Or rather, I cannot see it any other way. Maybe studying what I did and do and being in these endeavours have made my mind a lot more complicated but I rather be this way than to never had known.

I rather be in the question than to never even be able to recognise there's an itch to scratch.

Hold me Jesus
'cause I am shaking like a leave
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

21:56.

Age has a way of making you like the rest.

How do you want to deal with it?

01:51.

*smiles*

It rocked. It really did. Drumming a song like Accidentally In Love with delightful company, all persons who know their stuff heaps more than I do. The energy, the synergy, the whole fun of playing in a band and performing instead of playing for a worship session, every thing clicked, gelled and rocked.

[And I chose the song.]

Some of these folks really impress me. The 18-year-old who breaks into guitar solos that actually make my jaw drop and spine tingle in pleasure and amazement, the 24-year-old medical student and very encouraging and helpful fellow musician who so gamely does silly stuff to get people to laugh, the 22-year-old bassist who decides he wants to sing lead for the first time and gutsy-ly does so while playing bass too. These folks blow my mind.

The only time I looked up from the set and into the crowd, I saw cameras flashing and folks advancing towards the band with videos and what-nots. It felt rather... good. All in good fun, you know. Just like drumming in a dress after kicking off my heels.

I am chuffed. God is amazing.

It's unreal. I finally performed a song as a musician. I think all of us were grinning or chuckling when we ended, it was such good fun but all that practice and all was over in three - all right, maybe four - minutes?

Golly gee.

Golly, golly, golly.

19:17.

Help. I baked bread pudding and I can't stop eating it.

13:56.

"Five bucks, a coffee and a fag, that's all we need."

Or something like that, from Reality Bites between Winona and Ethan's characters.

I have not wanted to sleep the last two nights. My body did, the rest of me didn't. I wanted to sit, just sit and think and space out in intervals, maybe things will seem clearer to me if I work my body and mind out of my rountine.

Get me an Ethan, I have five bucks, we can have a coffee and skip the fag.

I believe in words. If I speak, will reality's boundaries and lines seem clearer?

I don't want normalcy, yet I seek some sort of balance in the wise restraints. I want to walk on the edge and feel like I am doing so all the time so should I throw my caution off the cliff?

Some days, nothing makes sense, least of all my own head and heart and their uniform foolishness.

I am much afraid of settling. Not settling as in marriage and kids, but settling as in compromise. I don't ever want to settle for someone because I am tired of holding out for the right one or finding it too hard to believe in there being one right one. I don't ever want to settle in a church that is comfortably, possible complacent, for my weak soul. I don't want to ever settle for a job that is okay. I don't ever want to be in the middle.

So should I now jump?

My soul feels like it is just being squeezed.

And to be random, as a sidenote, Metalica: Some Kind Of Monster is a great documentary. Go catch it, even if you are not a fan. I am not really one but I love music.

My Lord and God, Jesus Christ, give me some peace. Or help me receive it.

23:47.

Found something in my mobile's outbox yesterday while clearing sms-es; short prose I typed once when I must had been without pen and paper somewhere.

Broken alabaster
Shards of pain
If Good is born
my death is gain

Last Friday, I led the weekly Bible Study. Theme for the week was Vision, from this book on Character that we are using for the semt. I got every one to write their own eulogy, telling them too that this was what a lecturer did to me before.

That afternoon, I had written my own. Could not use the one I wrote for WritComm in 2000 now, could I? If any thing, I don't have it with me and cannot recall its exact words but do so its gist.

My eulogy for me, circa Sept 24, 3.15pm:

She loved Jesus, not religion
Challenged conventions
Lived in Athens and Jerusalem
Walked on the edge
to find Faith, not just traditions
She was real and honest
not afraid to cry or scream
She was alive
In her questions and doubts
she rested in the Everlasting Arms
She showed me Jesus


The Athens and Jerusalem bit was tripped off a great quote from some past great.

It must had been about a week ago when my own first name flashed into my mind and looked completely strange to me. Strange not as in weird, but strange as in unfamiliar. Who is S k y e?
I know and yet don't know.

These couple of days, there's an utterly strange (as in unusual) girlish chirpyness that has taken over me. I am half appalled.

It's some sort of teenagehood I never had perhaps... am drumming *big grin* Counting Crows' Accidentally In Love on Friday for a contest we are having. For all those years of various instruments, passion for music and all of that, I never played a - I hate to use the term - "secular" song with a band before. Never. The band scene in Singapore always seemed to me limited to the rich kids who have money to buy instruments and a private house to jam in, the Malay boys, or I am now told, the church youth are getting into it, not that I have ever joined my church's youth group. So there you go.

Now I should go listen to the song umpteen times to get the fills.

10:54.

Spring turns my thoughts to Singapore.

It's the warmer weather, I guess, and the rains, but the pivotal thing would be the feel of the air. There's a certain smell in Spring's embrace that is similar to Singapore in the evenings. The first time it hit me, I had to shake my head to clear the deja vu.

Even now. Nursing my empty cuppa black tea and flanked by my brekkie plate with toast remnants and the big picture window into the outside world, half of me is doing a curious cautious dance with that deja vu, which the dreary half-overcast sky brought.

Maybe it's part of being sick for 8 days with nights spent pulling the duvet over my head so I won't disturb my roommate with my hacking coughs, and a particular bad night where I literally burned in discomfort and sleeplessness; maybe it's the admin problems the school provided regarding certified true copies of my transcripts and me feeling rather helpless that I can't do any thing from here except call home and get my bro to run errands for me (bless his heart, he did, and I do miss him); maybe it's hearing the "miss you" in my Dad's voice when I call home but I miss my family so much.

The idea of being stateless seem to mean so much. This idea, first introduced in cinema classes in relation to the characters of anime... dye my hair blue and get me some cute outfit, no wait, I don't mean it. Not the latter half any way.

I can never be Su Tan.

That's the name I am called by by admin people and doctors and what-nots, people who look at an application form and automatically assume the first word of my Chinese name is my first name. Considering I have two Christian names, I really don't quite get why they don't just use either one.

Su Tan is a butchered name, a created entity due to her Asian-ness of which she is very proud of. Su Tan is an invented name for a person who does not exist.

I can never be Su Tan.

Perhaps this is why at this moment any way, I know that Australia can never be where I settle down in.

Stateless.

God help me get sorted out, lead me as I send resumes, hold my heart and let me not be a cynical punk.

I can fly. And I will fly above the chaos and find the order in my head and heart.

20:58.

I will wrestle the angel for more than a name.

02:33.

Interview with Johnny Cash:

Are you happy?

"Happy is a yuppie word. I am blessed."

Like woohooo. And multiply that some trillion times over.

*grins*

Went for my first gig in Australia. Heard of Switchfoot? Yup, that band who dared you to move on the Spiderman 2 soundtrack.

It was held at the Mercury Lounge at Crown, and I suppose this is the smallest gig I have ever been at, floor-size wise and ok, band rep wise too but man, they rawkk.

They sung a new song inspired by that above quote and it made me laugh and laugh.

This is the first time I attended a gig where I know the band members are Christian (Switchfoot is not marketed as a Christian band though).

Integrity.

I suppose the fact that they did not mumble the bits of their lyrics involving existence and being meant to live impressed me more than I can express. And they were technically very apt, very good in fact, good rapport with audience too (I never experienced a set where the band is close enough to the audience in small enough a place to point out people and say stuff or dedicate songs to them....), good energy, good live band, Switchfoot, good songs.

Hearing the whole place sing in one chorus "we were meant to live" was rather mind-blowing, though it was probably 500 people and not a football stadium.

I am still running a fever, coughing incessantly and my throat is swollen. When I got out of the place, I could only speak in a really hoarse raspy voice.

*laughs*

I really enjoyed it.

No, no, this was not meant to be a review so don't kill me for not giving details. You can mail me or something if you want details.

But oh my gooosh, oh my gosh. Heh.

*jumps excitedly*

Peace out!

13:53.

1130pm last night, feverish and with a sore throat, I sat before God and was quiet. Just asking Dad honestly, what should I do? The nature of time cannot be stopped and I will not refuse to move on but what should I do? Next year this time, where would I be? Last year this time, I was in the newsroom. 2002 this time, I just started work at the daily. 2001 this time, I was doing Tribune and loving it.

The bug got too much for me and I crawled into bed, the same questions running through my mind and directed towards God and myself. I tried to keep my eyes open but must had failed. Woke up at 10am today with the house phone ringing, painfully dragged myself up and answered with a surprisingly hoarse voice. An ex-colleague - whom I rather liked as a person and don't mind being called - was asking if I had contacts in Perth she could use. I crawled back into bed, aching bones refusing to stay upright, and woke again at 1230pm.

Scones and tea for brekkie. Joy. And then Germaine alerted me to the news back home. I really didn't see this coming and it didn't bring any emotions remotely relating to positivity.

I look at my home, Singapore, and don't quite see a place where I want to work. Yes, my dreams were simple. The two Singaporean publications I wanted to write for when I was a journalist-wannabe growing up have carried my bylines in them before I turned 21.

Yes, it would be a thrill (perhaps) to do politics or reach correspondent level but I am not excited by these. I would say I have done most of what I wanted to do. Small dreams, maybe but as far as writing goes, here, these are the stuff I want to do:

- Cover a war
- Have my own column
- Interview U2
- Write for a good Christian mag

As I typed that list, I saw an image of myself with ahem, Nelson Mandala, and literally felt the wonder and captivated attention and curiousity I feel when interviewing a subject. I still believe that every one has a story to tell. I still believe and want to tell those stories. I still want to craft art with words and be that stupid idealistic dreamer (took the words out of your mouth, eh?).

So yes, I can still be in the business for a long time because I still love writing so much.

But God help me, I can't see very much right now.

18:13.

The further dearth of punk.

12:23.

Some days - like today - when I just can't seem to fire up the old engine, I re-read my old writings. Some times - like today - what I read seems so relevant to the reader who was the writer.

Sept two years ago.

I throw a brick through a window.

20:59.

New U2's album name will be How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb.

-------

Dissonance.

The old too oft-used word reaches out and holds my world in its deceiving cocoon. I remember to breath but am treading on pink glob, murk not unlike those that covered Neo when he was unplugged from the pods.

Dissonance.

Darling, is there a reason why you follow me? The ancients defined the mind as the feeling "organ" while the heart is the thinking one. I am one of the moderns. Shouldn't it be the other way then?

Tell me if what happens repeatedly is a coincidence. I believe it not. There is a purpose why the people around me are who they are and we click and I care for them but what makes You think I could be strong enough to shine in this midst?

Dissonance.

Mental media
New age wave
Be still my stillness
Cease the shout of my name

In my weakness, You are strong. In my every thing, You are strong.

I babble.
My head hurts.
Living waters.
Drown me in Your Goodness.

18:47.

Questions.

Should I stay in Melb till after Christmas?

Would there be any thing or persons to celebrate the commemoration of Christ's birth if I do?

What should I do between my last assignment and the day I leave?

Should I apply for a job here?

Should I apply for an internship with a particular daily?

Where do I want to work? Country, industry, company?

Where do I see myself next year?

What do I want to work as?

Which countries and places should I apply for jobs at?

What do I want?

I want His will to be done but what do I want, specifically?

I need to dream.

The approaching convocation, adminstrative stuff about applying for block credit transfer with the office, and just the soon to come end of the term call my name. Hallos, goodbyes is still something that doesn't come with bittersweet melancholy and a lot of emotional and mental engagement.

22:52.

On rock n roll and faith, and the seeming exclusiveness of both:

"I have been through this thing of really not knowing if I should be in the band or not... It was recounciling two things that seemed for us to be mutually exclusive. We never did resolve the contradiction. That's the truth. And probably never will."

- The Edge, in Walk On, book by Steve Stockman.

Maybe this is the way it is. Living in a contradiction. 'cause living in a contradiction does not have to mean confusion. On the contrary, it can mean life. Abundant life.

00:45.

New pix up at the photo blog. So your can see how I actually look like now. Not that much diff, I reckon but I might be wrong. *shrugs*

*muack*

23:53.

Strange incisions
Cut purity
Grey visits
Are these eyes seeing right?

Cloud my mind
Stuff my heart
Am I dead?
Or will I rise again?

Emotion Quotient
My head spins
All that I want
Are you killing me?

Help me just be.
Just be.
Be.

What is life about, Lord? Truly, sometimes it seems like I miss the trees for the wood. How do I see both, can I see the interaction, the transalanticism, the same meaning infused in both? I know You are making me stronger and that You are closer but Lord, my questions increase, and I am muted with inability.

I want to love You with all my mind.

I already know I love you with all my heart.

But I cannot stop here.

Won't You make it clearer? 'cause my head hurts, not as painfully as my heart does, but its dull throbbing ache is so constant. Locked in the physical, I can't comprehend all but what I can, let me in. Let me in, Lord.

Never let it be that I be plastic.

Never let it be that I become unreal.

Never let it be that I stop questioning.

Never let it be that I ever stop believing.

You taught me faith, you taught me love and to love, teach me more.

Find me in the river, meet me at the cross, tear away the cliches. I want to stand on nothing else except the Risen Christ.

Teach me what is Truth.

Two police cars, an ambulance and a of cars slowing down to kaypoh at the car crash downstairs (see next pic). Happened a while back, forgot to post it till now.

copyright.skye.t/

Yup, that white car on the right was banged right onto the curb. Very freaky.
copyright.skye.t/

16:18.

And you ask me why I love U2? *shakes head, baffled*

Like A Song, U2

Like a song I have to sing
I sing it for you.
Like the words I have to bring
I bring it for you.

And in leather, lace and chains we stake our claim.
Revolution once again
No I won't, I won't wear it on my sleeve.
I can see through this expression and you know I don't believe.
Too old to be told, exactly who are you?
Tonight, tomorrow's too late.

And we love to wear a badge, a uniform
And we love to fly a flag
But I won't let others live in hell
As we divide against each other
And we fight amongst ourselves
Too set in our ways to try to rearrange
Too right to be wrong, in this rebel song
Let the bells ring out
Let the bells ring out
Is there nothing left?
Is there, is there nothing?
Is there nothing left?
Is honesty what you want?

A generation without name, ripped and torn
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain
Nothing at all
And if you can't help yourself
Well take a look around you
When others need your time
You say it's time to go... it's your time.

Angry words won't stop the fight
Two wrongs won't make it right.
A new heart is what I need.
Oh, God make it bleed.
Is there nothing left?

15:40.

From here:

U2.Com can exclusively reveal that completed tracks from the upcoming album include:
Vertigo,
Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own,
City of Blinding Lights,
A Man and A Woman,
Yahweh
and
Crumbs From Your Table.


The album, produced by Steve Lillywhite, will feature 11 tracks and is set for a late November worldwide release.

'It feels like a special' record', explains Bono in the October edition of the UK's Q Magazine. 'From the start we wanted to make our own Who's Next where every track mattered and I think we have done that.'


Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The titles sound so goooooooooooooooooooodddddddddddddddd!!!!!

Sounds like they are returning to their Joshua Tree roots, inspiration wise. You realise how every title so far has biblical meanings?

I am so darn excited.

I have a feeling I will be buying the CD once it comes out even though new CDs here are not cheap.

U2!

:D

15:22.

*shrugs*

Ouch, did I just dislocate a shoulder?

A headache has downed me since this morning. I made the effort to sleep earlier than the 3ams I have been keeping these days, and I did managed to catch close to eight hours of shut-eye but still, I woke up rather grouchy. I was early, had time to go to class, even walked to school at an hour coinciding with my first class at 1130, yet I skipped my two tutorials today.

Was walking to school to print out the Parkville newsletter I did for the centre. Black and white, photocopies, this grungy zine looking creation, so I figure I should try to get the original copy printed on a laser printer which produces way better quality than the usual 'chines.

Thank God there was an available lab. Last night, I went back at 7pm 'cause the labs were being used for classes while I was in school. It was a good evening, started raining when I head back but I liked the stillness and solitary of having all the labs to me alone. Also ran into two friends who were about to conduct their radio show on Syn FM, RMIT's radio station. What's really cool about it is that the broadcasts are on the airwaves proper, not just within the school.

After getting every thing (including something like 100 pages of reading for my online photography course) printed out, I went to sit a while in the radio studio and watch the two girls. Darn, fluent Mandarin is so nice to listen to and how wondrous it is that bantering in fluent Mandarin sounds that good. Makes me shake my head in half-shame at my Singaporean accent.

It was nice being in a radio studio again and as I watched, I felt the slightest of itch to be behind a console again. Oh well, we will see, eventually.

It's now 16:39, a long time since when I first started the post. Am listening to Rattle And Hum while a strong drizzle just started coming down.

The Parkville newsletter is at the photocopying shop being zapped into 70 sets.

I suddenly feel a lot happier.

22:46.

"The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.” - C S Lewis

11:58.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died
My richest gain I count but loss
And pour contempt on all my pride

Forbid it Lord that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ my God
All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to His blood

See, from His head, His hands, His feet
Sorrow and love flow mingled down
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet
Or thorns compose so rich a crown

Were the whole realm of nature mine
That were an offering far too small
Love so amazing, so divine
Demand my soul, my life, my all

Oh the wonderful cross

Oh the wonderful cross

Bids me come and die and find that I may truly live

Oh the wonderful cross, Oh the wonderful cross

All who gather here by grace draw near and bless Your name

- The Wondrous Cross

20:38.

There is something amazingly liberating, refreshing and joy-inducing at being able to don a short skirt and slippers, find a nice patch of grass at some park and plod yourself down, enjoying the sunshine and breeze while working on my laptop.

Something amazingly so satisfying. And somewhat enriching in some way, what with the sense of free-ness one gets.

Good company, sunshine, gelati, parks off lygon and bouverie, green grass... immense joy is found in things like today's leisurely events.

I've no idea if Spring is already here, but it feels like it. Maybe the season's called Spring because that's what you feel like doing at the change of climate. Or rather, when the change involves a moving on from a cold that was at times getting to be monotonous, your heart just does little jigs.

:)

whiz.
copyright.skye.t/

15:44.

I planned to graduate in the Singapore convocation for RMIT students instead of at the grand telstra dome with all other graduates this semester. But after making some queries, I discovered that the offshore convocation might be held late next year so that both the folks who graduate this semt and next can combine for convocation.

Nope, doesn't look fancible, does it? It costs more to graduate in Sg too.

The idea of having my convocation here both appeals and does not. The arena, the sentimentality and symbolic nature of the experience (darn iconic gown and mortar board) are fanciable but the boredom and long wait, plus the fact that I am not graduating with people I know deter me. They had three years together. I came in for a year, and honestly have not mingled much.

The third possibility is this - Graduate in absentia.

Don't attend any ceremonies.

Whatever it is, I have got to make up my mind by Sept 3. That's the deadline for the application to graduate. Yes, we got to fill out a form if we are confident that we will finish our programme this semt. Guess in a school this big, you never know if the students on your list are actually alive, or studying 'nuff to graduate. Oh well.

23:41.

Crop off my head
make me attached
separate, living
dead to breath

Drown me in song
while standing tall
to the ancient hieroglyphs
a distant memory

Let me bleed

The sirens songs
lack melody
it stank of blood
distant feuds

The earth gods rot
fed by dust
The seasons come
eternally round

When shame turns red the yellow earth
and the children of the soil are damned
Wings of change, strip bare this land
Till the old bones come to life

Let me bleed
That I might live
It all makes sense
I just do not see it yet

17:27.

Wheee.

23:20.

Frickin' toolbar. So the perks of Google having bought Blogspot manifested in my Gmail account, but frickin' darn search toolbar (see above) which I did not and do not want. Its presence has automatically transformed this journal to part of some corporate entity, and stamped its biz identity onto my blog. I am linked to "next blog". Joy, we are all cows on the conveyor belt. Visit the zoo. Yeah, yeah, I know it's not as if Midair doesn't already have to have that little Blogger button down below and I am after all using this as a free account but this, its in-your-face-ness, takes the whole cake. And did I say it throws off all composition? Like hush.

17:56.

It's not dark yet outside! Almost six o clock and it's not dark yet! *laughs* Seasons are so wondrous. Don't laugh at me, laugh with me. This rocks. Winter's on its last leg. I didn't detest it but some change will be nice. Hah.

17: 48.

Leaving a part of your heart in others' lives - Read the Fri 13th post here. Maybe we hear stories like these oft enough but they still mean something.

And from the same site, an excerpt from another post there:

"That old man that you brushed aside? The one you called a liberal and a wishy-washy Christian? He spent the last fifty years with his hands and his heart in the pages of that sacred book. He has wept over it and searched for truth in its stories. His unanswered questions have increased every year until finally he knows nothing at all but the love of God and neighbor."

It's the July 16th entry. Some parts may be arguable but there's truth in there.

10:40.

John The Baptist archaeology links?

Fly me to the moon.
copyright.skye.t/

16:37.

A thought struck me last night.

Instead of asking "am I called to full time?" and "how do I know", why don't you ask, "what are the signs that I am not called to full time and do I see these in my life?".

Could it be simpler?

23:03.

Fumbling [her] confidence
And wond’ring why the world has passed [her] by
Hoping that [s]he’s meant for more than arguments
And failed attempts to fly, fly

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside

Dreaming about Providence
And whether mice or men have second tries
Maybe we’ve been livin' with our eyes half open
Maybe we’re bent and broken, broken

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
Somewhere we live inside

WE WANT MORE THAN THIS WORLD'S GOT TO OFFER
WE WANT MORE THAN THIS WORLD'S GOT TO OFFER
WE WANT MORE THAN THE WARS OF OUR FATHERS
AND EVERYTHING INSIDE SCREAMS FOR SECOND LIFE

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?
We were meant to live
We were meant to live

- Meant to Live, Switchfoot

16:20.

Will these questions be with me all my life, sometimes haunting me; when I am weak, kicking me; at times simply driving me.

I have taken to videotaping my life here. Not continuously, of course - as in life doesn't already feel too 1984 some times - but just during the regular stuff... church, school, walks, OCF.

Got an email regarding graduation this week. I have to submit some application and let the uni folks know where I want to graduate and stuff like that. For the life of me, I have no freakin' idea. Of course I don't. I have no idea where I will be. I have no idea when I am leaving Melbourne. I have no idea how it's all going to work out.

I know it will all work out and I just have to trust now and keep walking, and that it is all right to feel up in the air but - that is my problem, that I feel a "But". Not that I even know what it is logically.

My head spins, I realise more than ever the need to study the tenets of my faith, more than ever I want to articulate every aspect of this faith in a clear coherent intelligent manner. I want to be able to paint it with words, even as I desperately want to paint it with my life.

I am scared. There, I said it. I am scared of being cynical again. I am scared I will be facing that "is this all there is?" again even though I do know there is pleasure and beauty and service in the common things. This is one of those questions that has marked me. One of those that seemed to already be part of me.

I am scared. Scared that after going back to Singapore, the difference in lifestyle might mean a certain detachness again. It won't be leaving God, it won't be letting go of faith but I am afraid of being average. I don't want to be lukewarm. I don't want to be immersed in salt, feeling like a dead piece of meat floating on the dead sea.

And I am losing my words and running on emotions here. And I am completely aware I cannot force it and try to stay here either. You got to run with arms wide open, and hands open and not clenched. You can't hold on to time.

What do you want to say, girl. I don't know.

This semester, I met a coursemate who was from Mass Comm too. Never knew her then, she's a year my junior. I was and am glad for company and that familiarity that unravels once we identify each other's alma mater. It's not unfamiliar having friends who find their life in drugs, alcohol and getting laid and I enjoy their company still and do not condemn them. Yet sometimes, in utter unreasonable manner, I feel some sort of frustration, as if she reminds me of a world I don't particularly want again.

Media speak, slang, attitude. You can always identify your own kind. And it's not that I hate the industry, very darn far from it. And I know even while in it, I am not completely part of it (Perpetual question II - Am I always to be the different one?). But I don't know. I keep thinking, I don't want to live that life.

I don't know. Maybe she is representative of a world where I feel decidedly helpless at times, a world when I have to network and mingle, do the PR and project the right image. A world where I have to find a place to scream. Scream.

Scream.

I don't know. Do you? I really don't.

And for a moment, I felt like smashing the TV.

Let go, girl. Let go.

0145.

Cause and effect. If all is ruled by cause and effect, then does that mean all is determined? If every person or event's end and conclusion and unravelling is brought about due to some actions in this logical causal way, then what of free will?

23: 28.

Too. many. grey. areas.

Too many.

Objects are seen as shapes, colours as varied greys. Muted the emotions but no less their strength. My head might spilt from my mind and its kamikaze thoughts.

So much are just a chasing after the wind, there is nothing new under the sun, meaningless meaningless, so much, so much are meaningless. And the dog freakingly returns to its own vomit.

I am a stateless desperado, nope under no one's window, just writing my own dispora of a distopia. I feel honestly stateless at this moment, nationality and identity based on geographical boundaries fluid or simply non-existent.

Is there something I can do after spitting out lyrics to Creep and Sexed Up, trying to remember new chords on my Epi?

Every thing seems to be either a containing or a detaching, the former more than the latter. The normalcy of life birthed from structure.

Language, the words I speak, write and think in. Could they be guilty of containing infinity?

After all, when the inventors of this device I type on called it a laptop, they forever limited it. If someone else in some jungle saw it for the first time and called it something else, they will be "corrected". All that infinity of what it could be called, and with every name, a different feel, connatations, implied character and traits, every. thing. limited.

Sigh with me. Every thing's a contradiction.

20:51.

When are character traits learned and when are they part of you? At which point does learned behaviour become rooted and morph into innate characteristics? If that happens, can you separate it from "you" any longer? And in doing so, are you ridding part of yourself or just something alien?

This has been one of those days, when boredom and melancholy combine to just immobilise me. I suppose I have a part in it, allowing inertia and exercising choice to not do and do the things I did not or did.

I got some work done, enjoyed certain moments and activities of the day, but the boredom and desire to just not do any thing is still here.

*stares at screen*

Argh.

Household outing to Brand Smart at Nunawading today. Brand Smart is this plaza where many factory outlets gather to sell stuff at obscene prices (well, at least some were. I still won't pay $150 for a $400 Calvin Klein jacket) while Nunawading is about 40 minutes away from the city.

copyright.skye.t/

Nunawading train station.
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Nunawading train station.
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Nunawading train station.
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Swirl. Sky. Scrapers. Windsill.
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Through the train window.
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22:39.

Think.

If you would, of a long neverending corridor, reminscent to that cold white one with many doors in The Matrix's.

Then again, think. Of a sound panel - sound proof of course - a thin straight division cast from floor to ceiling right smack in the exact center of this corridor. And in the middle, with the plastic-looking panel enclosing like a perfect cut-out looking like it's cutting through me, me. Not physically cut in half, but stuck in between two worlds.

One ear hears Garbage, Shirley Manson singing, "My head explodes and my body aches"; the other - if it is the other - hears Blur, Damon Albarn's almost defiantly bored drawl, "I'm a professional cynic, but my heart's not in it".

And though that clinical, plastic looking division/ panel/ wall is not cutting into me but merely in its perfect fit, gripping me perfectly , my head still feels as if it's being pressed, constricted, pressured.

Too many questions. My random theory formulated during Philo of humans being mere passive receptors of emotions and colours and every thing projected by our surroundings comes to mind. Too much to think about. And they are not even really immediate or to put it poorly, directly related to me but stuff on a bigger whole.

But I am rambling.

I read a nicely crafted lead and felt a part of me go, I want to write features like that. I want to shape and craft and mould art, my art of wordsmithery. And yet, again sometimes, I think of what I left and don't feel a desire to return.

Do I love my craft any lesser? Enjoy and desire the adrenaline chase any less? Stop believing in the power to change the world through the media?

No.

No.

No.

I still stand in many ways the same idealistic, wet-behind-the-ears, 14-year-old girl who decided to be a journalist and is willing to shed tears and blood for it. Just not dreams. And why I added that last three words in I have no idea.

Where is the mind located in the body? Is it a physical object? How does it dictate to the material body movement?

Too many questions. Too many questions. Too many questions. And I am not even expressing the linkage to theology yet. Nor will I for sanity's sake, mine and yours.

I keep thinking of Plato's cave in relation to my own situation.

But back to my Matrix-esque white corridor for which I am the conductor between the two sides. I am stuck like Anthony Kiedis, Red Hot Chili Peppers, in their Can't Stop video. Stuck in the wall like a paper cut-out, a chalk drawing on the ground. But I am alive.

"The world I love
The tears I drop
To be part of
The wave can’t stop
Ever wonder if it’s all for you
The world I love
The trains I hop
To be part of
The wave can’t stop
Come and tell me when it’s time to"
(Can't Stop, RHCP)

17:55.

Malaysia's take on screening The Passion.

Bombings targeted at Iraqi churches.

14:14.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And thus I live.

02:22.

Drummed for the first time this semester - the fourth or three-and-a-half time so far since May - just now. My arms are tired, there's really something wonderful, liberating and so very enjoyable about being able to smash cymbals and hit skins loudly, probably almost as loud as I can.

If you know your Christian songs, check out the song list:

Every Day, Hillsong
Big, Planet Shakers
This Is How We Overcome, Hillsong
Lift Up Your Eyes, Planet Shakers
Forever, Hillsong
How I Love You, Planet Shakers
Worship Forevermore, Planet Shakers 

Nope, not an easy set at all. Very fun songs to play though... if you know your stuff. There's a 6/8 song in there too, and I only ever drummed one 6/8 song before ever, and that was in July Camp.

It's hard to say whether it went well or not 'cause I can't really judge, I suppose. And when I play, I'm caught up enough that I don't quite notice every thing or have spare mental facilities (um) to detach and evaluate myself and people. Not that intensely any way.

But I'm happy. Very tired, about to crash, sleep, zzz, in about five minutes.

Nights, people.

23:10.

I want to re-read The Little Prince. Darn, I can't remember much of it at all.


You are the fox.

Saint Exupery's 'The Little Prince' Quiz.
brought to you by

20:43.

Article on City Church in Herald Sun.

22:15.

Over at the photoblog - some photos from July Camp. Here.

12:08.

It's hard to love the weather when you are down with a fever, sore throat and the sniffles. Plus a tummy that's acting up major. This must be the fourth time I'm falling sick here and with basically the same symptons. So instead of being at my philo tute, I'm nursing a mug of barley here, along with a heavy head and a grumpy disposition with the question, should I go for my next one-hour tutorial?

I hate being sick. Hate.

22:35.
 
*boggled mind*
 
A random search on Google turned up this. It's some forum thing where pros and cons of academic courses are discussed... scroll down, and you will find the poly I came from and my name (?!!) cited - along with other properly famous folks who went through the same school - to back up the prospects of the course.
 
?!!

19:59.
 
Don't quite know what to make of this.

18:19.

Zombie PCs.

*shudder*

12:01.

School starts today. And I'm officially due at my first lecture of the semester (Understanding Philo: Themes from Pop Culture) in about 90 minutes time.

Full results for last semester is out:

Popular Music & Society - Distinction
Race Ethnicity & Racism - Distinction
Reading Media Texts - Distinction
Asian Modernities - Higher Distinction

I'm trying to close my gaping mouth. Thank you, God.

22:35.

My firstfruits, the thing that is most precious to me, I give it to You, the Keeper of my faith, the Lord of my life, the All Consuming Fire.

Even this, even this, this desire for full-time, the tears I cry and all I feel, even this, I give to You.

Sanctify it, Lord. Sanctify me. Never let it be that I take a good thing and wrong it with my self. Never let it be that I dishonour Your Name that way. Take my heart, take all of it, use me Lord.

In whatever way. My dreams are yours. And as I lay them on the altar and Holy Spirit, You do your work in me and with these, I trust You will ignite in me Your will, You will give me big dreams, You will return to me, speak into my life, put into my heart purified things of You.

Amen.

22:06.

Just came back a while ago from City Church's 1830 service. For the past couple of weeks, partly due to the lull of holidays, I have been attending Church Of Christ on Swanston Street at 11am, then going to City Church - more commonly known as the Planet Shakers church - in the evening.

July Camp's speaker Matt Fielder is from this church too, except he is at the Adeleide's youth ministry Universe.

This was my fourth or fifth time I attended City Church, but yeah, details like that you don't quite need to know.

I guess I wanted to share how that, even now as I sit and type this, I feel something pulling at my heartstrings, how I almost feel like crying. Church is not about the songs, not about the style of praise and worship, not about denomination and such. But singing with a crowd of people "You are all that I want, You are all that I need, You are all that I live for in this world" to the only Person I really ever need in all of life, my best friend, Jesus Christ, was phenomenal.

No, it's not unusual or uncommon to be in such a setting... I could go into a ramble here but I will stop. I suppose I'm just awed, awed by how real God is. How real and how close the Creator of the universe is to us, His children. And when I sung just now, I half-shouted and at times, did shout out the lyrics. And when the pastor asked the congregation to kneel down as and if we feel like we want to surrender our lives over to God, I think I am just immensely touched at the knees that bowed. My stomach kind of crunched - I'm describing this terribly - but sometimes when I'm in the presence of God, my hands shake (and they shook), I tremble as my earthly body makes contact with the supernatural Lord of the universe, and inside of where my tummy is, I kind of constrict.

On a lighter note, I don't think I ever jumped up and down in three-inch knee high boots before.

Jesus, Jesus, how I love You.

And Lord? I love these people here. I don't know them well. They don't know me well but I love them and I want to serve them. Help me be Jesus to them. Let me be your instrument of love and power, peace and joy.

I'm in love with God and I never want this to end.

01:45.

I want to dance with God and never let go. Waltz and lindy hop, ballroom slow dance, holding You close and being held close. I want to love You, be in love with You, always adore You. I want to be beautiful for You. I want to see You. I want to know my Maker as I am known.

I want to know You.

23:55.

Five minutes and I move into a new year. 22. 22. 22. 22. 22. 23.

Am sitting here doing something I've done regularly thus far this year, nursing a cuppa black tea at the kitchen table, laptop facing me, fingers moving to construct the sentences in my head.

I've absolutely no idea what I will be doing on my birthday and whatever it is - even if it's nothing - it's quite fine by me. But instead of getting ahead of time, let me chronicle instead the day that is even now, in the passing.

During July Camp, the Ocfers celebrated some of the July birthdays. Three to be precise, one being mine. Just now, it was July Camp testimonies and sharing session. When the time came for stuff to be wrapped up and the last testimony to be shared, some folks started chanting my name. After a period of looking half-mortified, I got up to share. At the end of what I had to say, as I got up to get back to my spot in the corner, one of the sisters rushed up to stop me. Lights went out, and a birthday cake with four candles appeared as people broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday.

These are sweet folks. And like I told them in my sharing, they are my family.

One of the greatest things about being a Christian is that Christians never say goodbye. Not literally, I mean of course we use the word goodbye like everyone else but we never really say goodbye. I may meet a fellow believer at the other end of the world for a day, and never see the person again but I know I will see him or her one day - when I stand in the presence of Almighty God, with the angels crying Holy Holy Holy, when every tear is wiped dry and every thing is finally perfect.

I never understood the depth of the words "Lord Jesus come" until I stood at a place where I felt God's heartbeat for the lost and glimpse the state of the world and how much we, how much I need God so.

It's 12.20am now. Happy birthday, S k y e T a n.

And that's the first time I type my name in this blog since I moved to this space.

What is this post about?

After the session just now, I was actually thinking I wanted to try to articulate somewhat the experience of July Camp. I did so for Easter Camp and somehow, every thing was really clear then. It's not so for July Camp. There was a night when I walked out to the edge of the forest, look into the trees and up at the sky and silently screamed "Why"; a time when I walked to the ladies after a sermon and in the enclosure of a cubicle, allowed tears to fall as I trembled from emotions welling up from inside of me; when I went to sleep tired physically by the emotions spent in the day.

Then there was the peace that came on me the last day. The indescribable peace of the Almighty, covering me. An assurance - maybe not an answer - was given in the ministry of the Holy Spirit.

The three guidelines I went into camp with were fulfilled in some capacity - I served, I learnt to love, I was humbled.

Every praise and worship session, God's presence was real. So extremely real. And I felt so very much that that was where I belong. This - in the presence of God - is where I belong. My knees bent, doing so as if before I even made a conscious decision to, tears flowed, I can't describe what my heart felt. How I felt. Except that I was surrendered, and that was where I belong. Where I always want to be. Whether praying for others, on the floor, knelt down tears wetting the floor which I was burying my face into, worshipping, listening to the sermon, or observing how God moved among my sisters and brothers.

It was good. Good stuff.

I, we met God.

Spiritually, I felt that I was set on fire in the heavenlies. Fire consecrates, cleanses, prepares the way for a new crop and harvest. Fire burns away the old and unlovely, the things that have cease to bear good fruit, the dead. In the single-digit temperature of Adekate Camp, I was warm. Physically.

And I was empowered and affirmed spiritually. Though I lack the words to tell you what happened or how I know these.

But here's something else I do have more words to employ with. I have never as clearly wrestled with my calling with myself and God. And in this new year, this is what I seek to know - my calling to ministry.

I won't blog now about how I had always felt a call to full-time ministry. But I would say for a while, specifically after I entered into the media industry, it had been hard for me to see it. For the period I was in the paper, I knew that God had called me there at that time. And I know still that the media needs Christians to shine their light in the industry and using the industry as a mean, shine out of the industry too.

To cut a long story short - and cut short the rambles which I am extremely capable of rendering - I have laid down the desire for full-time at the cross.

I do not mean I am giving up my desire to serve full-time. What I mean is that I'm surrendering this to God, to be sanctified and dealt with as He pleases and if He then wills, He will affirm it in me with a fire.

See, I want to be in God's perfect will.

I'm serious. So I will lay bare my heart and lay down my desires. And even in a good thing like wanting to be in full-time, I will say Lord, Your will and not mine be done because at this point, I cannot be sure how much of me and how much of God makes up my previous conviction and (still) current desire for full-time ministry.

Whether I venture back into the "secular" world or I do full-time, it will be hard and easy in almost the same measure. I have desire and love for both. But while I laid down journalism after a short struggle, I know laying down my desire for full-time ministry requires more. But I have made the choice to do so. And I have done so. And unless You convict me otherwise, I won't push for it. But whatever it is, I want to know my calling. And whatever it is, I will serve You.

I'm 23 years old.

I want to know my Maker as I'm known.

Sunset, 1st day at Adekate Camp (June 30th).
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Sunset, 1st day at Adekate Camp (June 30th).
copyright.skye.t/

18:49.

I baked an apple crumble today, cut it into eight pieces and um, finished five pieces already. And I enjoyed the process of baking so much I'm looking forward to baking the next one.

Besides such tales of my domesticated ways, I have been enjoying having the house to myself. G's at Sg, H's at Sydney and me, I enjoy the nice change of having the whole place to myself, no offence to the housemates of course.

I spend a lot of time sitting by the window, legs propped up on another chair, drinking a hot drink, reading my Bible, or just staring outside and talking to God or thinking, sometimes singing a song to the Lover Of My Soul, Jesus Christ.

July Camp was rather amazing. Some of your probably wonder what I mean when I speak of the presence of God. The presence of God was so real at July Camp that my hands were heavy, my arms were heavy, the air was thick with the Holy Spirit. When I moved my hands, the air was heavy with the Glory of the Almighty.

We sung of Consuming Fire and I felt physically warm despite being in under-10 degrees winter country weather.

God is real. Jesus Christ is real. The Holy Spirit is real. And He wants to be involved in your life.

17:32.

Practice today definitely went better than yesterday. I'm thankful. I'm still not smooth or "steady" enough and there are two places where I have no idea how to follow the original recording's fills. But am continuing to just trust and pray.

Early next morning, Hannah and I would have to cross the road and get to the meeting place which is just across the street. Joy. Then it's a drive to Adekate Camp where we would stay till Sat.

Went to school just now, got an overall Distinction for one subject, or so the lecturer informed me as I picked up my work. I'm glad, not delirious but glad enough. Paid about a third of my school fees instead of the whole sum. Think the bank imposed a daily credit limit though I requested for it to be lifted before I came here but well, it shouldn't be a problem paying the rest.

"The world is empty, pale and poor
compared to knowing You my Lord
Lead me on, I will run after You
Lead me on, I will run after You"
- One Pure and Holy Passion

22:03.

Now I know more than ever I am not as strong as I think I am. As I thought I was. I acknowledge too that I'm dependent, not just on God alone but in certain areas, I need people. So, I face the fact I was loathe to acknowledge - I am not an island, whatever my namesake alludes to. The question now then - after admitting that even I can't always be content and at peace with being alone - is what next? Do I learn to reach that higher level of independence, a place where there is only God and me? Or do I learn to be dependent on people too, while always placing God first and as my cornerstone? That former sounds lofty, doesn't it? Its detachness alien from the Christ I serve, the God who came as Jesus Christ, left his divine powers, got involved in this messy humanness... for our sake and salvation.

Maybe I'm just learning to love. I'm not too sure who I am showing to the world but I'm trying not to be overly conscious and not to walk away.

22:50. Drumming on Fri night went all right. In fact, I really enjoyed the whole night - backup singing, drumming, nerves and an enroaching cramp in my right leg before I started drumming, encouraging band members and well, the music and the target of our affections - God.

I don't think I ever even dared try drumming Did You Feel The Mountains Tremble in the safety of times when nobody but me was in church with the drum set. There was an improvement from the last time and I wasn't besieged by the nerves, fears and worries of the first time too. Thank you for your prayers, those of your who prayed.

It seems like most of my posts recently have been about music, drumming and what God has been doing in these areas of my life and in me. Well, they are my current focuses, somehow.

Next Wed to Sat, I will be away for July Camp. I just signed up today. As with Easter Camp, I took forever to decide whether to go or not, yes. Last week, a brother asked if I could drum for his session during July Camp. It took some to-ing and fro-ing in my heart and mind, but I agreed to play. It's not exactly because I'm more confident, I'm not really though I did see an improvement in my drumming and endeavour to keep at it. But an email he forwarded me about the aim of the camp and the aim of the session prompted me to keep stepping out. The basic gist of the content that pushed me was about using whatever we have to glorify God. I may not have much but I know that I have to use them and give them.

It will be my third time drumming for OCF and it still unnerves me so. Will be playing on the Thursday night session. Do pray for me, folks.

Only listened to the songlist today and realised one of the songs - a slow one so one might think it should be easier - has triplets going on on the hats. Less than a month ago, I didn't even know what triplets are. Tomorrow, I should practise and see if I can get it. Be still my heart, be still my heart.

I love you, Lord.

11:30.

In our living room, there is now a drum set, an electric guitar and its amp, a keyboard with a gorgeous sound, bongos and percussion, and my acoustic guitar.

It brings a smile to my face just listing out the items and their current temporary dwelling.

Had band practice just now. Since it's something called Celebratory Night - or it could be Celebration, I'm not that sure - there's extended praise and worship. We have two drummers, two keyboardists and two worship leaders, all swopping places after the first three songs.

No whatever musician pride or ego here, I'm just glad I'm taking the slower songs because I'm not confident of the fast ones.

The first time I drummed, when the first song started, I realised an uncomfortable warmth on the back of my neck spreading upwards (not to my whole face thankfully), that was how the frog in my throat and butterflies in my stomach decided to manifest.

Again today, it happened with the first song I drummed. I can only hope I did not turn red. I think rehearsal got better as it progressed, perhaps away from the first mid-tempo track to what we normally term "worship" songs.

I am excited, and eager to practise further before the next rehearsal at 3pm tomorrow. I also really really want to make a sound on an electric guitar for the first time in my life (!!!) and indulge in worship on the keyboards. I half can't believe this blessing.

Oh and yes, I was really enjoying it when the guys started jamming at the end of the rehearsal. Hearing the opening rifts to Smells Like Teen Spirit made me jump up of my chair and scream. Which was embarassing but I was really well, excited somehow and hopping with gladness, not that I hopped too. That would be even more embarassing. And they did Come As You Are too. Why they and not me? 'cause I can't just play songs out of the air like that.

Wheeeeee.... :>

22:14.

Photo blog.
It would be updated whenever there is reason to.

12:03.

So, I said yes. And yes, this sounds rather like some working out of a marriage proposal but it is not. I said yes to drumming next week. Probably when I wrote the last post, the decision was made in my head somewhere in deeper recesses just that it was not vocalised.

Every thing I posted about the rawness of drumming as a fledgling and the grating effects on the heart stand true still now. But something has happened in this same heart, I'm not sure when and how exactly but something has happened. The shift in focus from me to Jesus in this area of service feels real now. It is no longer a struggle where I continuously have to shove Me away, wharp myself on the head and say, look at Him, you toot! It feels like something solid has shifted in, in my heart. And pride, previously just bloodied and cut down, seemed to have taken a different place. A place where, musically, it doesn't interfer with faith.

Which is why when an unusual arrangement was proposed - that the worship leader, who's a drummer, drums the first few fast songs while I go to back-up vocals and the keyboardist take lead vocals - I was perfectly okay with it.

No wounded would-be musician pride or any thing, I was aware that whatever the arrangement and even if I do not play, I'm okay with it as long as God is lifted up high. And well, whatever's best, whatever would make the session work better, be more conduive for the fellowship is highest priority.

The Me in the equation doesn't need to be there. I don't matter, and I'm not saying this is any spirit but one of honesty and without woe-be-me-liness or bitterness or ashes-and-sackcloth-spirit. I may like to drum but it doesn't mean I have to, because it's not about me.

I'm recounciled. Not too sure exactly recounciled between what and what but it feels that way. And I can honestly say I - "I" as in me pride and as a musician, not me as an existential whole - don't matter in this greater scheme of things.

Last night was... interesting. And I have to stop falling back on the word when I'm lost for descriptions.

Somewhere during worship after the sermon, I think, I realised something. And I believe God was speaking to me. My heart hurt physically then for some moments, facing this realisation - that I have never worked at what I have been given. Writing, music, certain capacity for theology and questioning from that innate curiousity and need to understand... all these I have never seeked to develop properly but had always functioned with them on whatever undemanding level I could exercise them at. In a parallel to the parable of the talents, I feel like I have been the servant who buried his talent, except that in my case, it was not in fear that I would lose it in ventures but sadly because I have been too indisciplined, lazy, slothful.

And it hurts because I do want to serve God and use all I have for His Glory and Kingdom and I believe I am all and who I am because He does have a purpose for my life encompassing all these traits and abilities He has graciously given to me. But me, I have not sought to advance or use them. It's like I reach a wall on the path I tread and instead of seeking to get over it, I just either stand there or knock my head against it. Because they are easier courses of action. With music, with words, with burning questions which answers could benefit the fellowship, I had failed to be a good steward.

(That last area was further hammered into my heart during supper time, when the visiting pastor was introducing theological concepts to our table of dear brothers and sisters who were mostly unexposed as yet to those concepts, the same concepts that drove me slightly crazy a few years ago.)

Well now that I'm aware, I want to change circumstances. I will work at my music, I will absorb the classics and refine my craft of wordsmithery, I will read and follow through arguments and theological labyrinths.

I will accept His Word and store up His commands within me, turn my ear to wisdom, apply my heart to understanding. I will call out for insight, I will cry aloud for understanding, I will look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasures, and thus I will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God (paraphrase Proverbs 2:1-5).

I seek now.

16:50.

Seems like I blog rather often when I'm here, sitted by the living room window, perched on our Ikea foldaway wooden chair at the Ikea wooden table with a hot drink between my laptop and me.

Am having a cuppa black tea and two shortcake cookies before Hannah and me go across the road for OCF meeting.

It has been a good day. Really lazy, but good. Woke up, or rather lounged in my futon for a long time before I got up at noon. Had a lamington and the two remaining hardened (tragic, ain't it? Only spotted a Best Before... label on the box yesterday) choco chip cookies with tea for breakfast/ lunch. Took a long shower, played drums, then retreated to the room while Hannah's co-cell leader dropped by. Tried different combos of layering tops (hah), did make-up, devotion and hey, whaddaya know, it was already 4pm. The days here end about 6pm or even earlier now, as sunshine becomes a sporadic occurance that even when appearing, gives way without a fight as 5.30pm reaches.

Somehow, I like it. For now, any way... these short days.

:)

I'm finally rid of the essays tension that lingered on all along after the 9th, when I handed up my last assignments ahead of schedule. I breathe easy now, and as the days become short and tire-less, I have adopted a two-meal diet and since we are not sharing cooking now that Germie is back in the Sg, simple meals are the order of the day. And I enjoy the lifestyle of such.

It's 5.32pm now and it's dark outside already. We lost some time on this blog just now when the Ocf guys came to transport some speakers, the drumset and varied equipment stored at our place. Was very tickled by the sight of four dudes carrying various parts of a drumset and crossing the street. Heh.

Hmm, I have been asked to drum again next week by the same worship leader who chose me the first time. Even if I don't say yes, I'm thankful for the encouragement of being asked to play again. Yes, and I'm not heeding the tinny voice by my ear that says it's because we are short of drummers. Hah. Have got to give my answer later on and I'm still not that sure what to say. But you know something?

I enjoyed playing the last time around. I really did. Even though I screwed up the bridge section of one song very obviously and I had to be paced by the bassist, who's also a drummer, during the slow songs, there was a moment - or even a few moments - when I mentally stopped and realised how I enjoy the feeling of playing again. And playing songs that has always intimidated me as a musician. And playing in a good band, a privilege I would say I never had.

Sure, the whole episode had so many tortuous moments and pride and ego were bashed and murdered again and again. Nerves overtook me like they never had for years and years, and I was truly feeling helpless and inadequate.

Here's something from a blog dated April 19:

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

That was exactly what happened. And it was painful and trying even though somewhere at the back of my head and heart, I was very aware of how good the experience is for me - in reducing pride, in making me to be humble, in learning as a fledging musician. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like heck, because in the process the musician part of myself was cut down and up, and even as I was glad to be made aware of my bad habits, a part of me felt handicapped and utterly torn down. "I suck, I suck, I suck" was hard to keep away.

So... yeah. Back to the present.

I do like to play again but I'm aware that my bad habit in my default beat has not been totally righted, and I see it surface when I play songs instead of just rhythms. I also really don't want to think "oh the second time will be easier" in case I depend on myself instead of God. And God knows me depending on my half-baked skills is a recipe for diasaster. I would also acknowledge that there is an element of pain to play when one is aware of one's vulnerabilities. Because you are laid bare, and you are stripped of whatever you can take pride in, but yes, that's why playing is good, it's such an exercise in faith and trust.

Trust me to wax lyrical and make something seemingly simple so convoluted. Yeah, sometimes I drive me crazy.

The drum set has been kept here for about two or three weeks now and I'm praying it will come back to my apartment after tonight's meeting too.

One night somewhere between the first rehearsal and the Friday I was playing, as I laid down in bed, in a bolt of clarity coated not without frustration, I told God and myself I would work at my drumming. I would be serious this time and not do the mere musical doodles and undisciplined laziness loafer bit. If I say I want to serve Him through music, then I should work at it. I should try to be as best as I can be. I should run, endeavour, seek, pursue excellence. It's the easiest and most tempting thing to do to walk away when you can't do something well but I don't want to do that. Not now.

Two nights back, as I was spending quality/ quiet time with God, I suddenly laughed out loud. In my head, I had seen images of drummers I have seen in my church and I laughed because I realised how almost every drummer I've seen here is better than those of us at church back home.

It was not a mean laugh, or malicious or any thing. I was amused somehow, probably rather in awe too at how God has showed me a new standard possible in these drummers here at Melbourne. How just by watching and being exposed to them, I'm shown new things I can learn and the standard I'm aware of is raised. I think my laughter was half wry, knowing that I have a long long way to go but glad that I'm aware of greater heights now. I smile now as I write this and I'm not doing a happy face symbol because there have already been too many in this post, yuppers.

Hm. If I say yes later, I would be fighting against similar fears, worries and anxieties. Can you pray for me then?

*muack*

*grins*

This is the good life, innit.

20:36.

The shift of global economic power.

18:35.

It has been a cold cold day. Brrr. The weather reports says it's 10 degrees, feeling like 7 degrees but darn if it doesn't feel even colder. I'm properly cold, in capris, socks, two T-shirts and a sweater. If this goes on, I'm going to be keeping the heater on.

Hope the roommate is enjoying the 32 degrees weather of Singapore. Gak.

Hah.

20:50.

I want a reason to dance, to sing, to jump and scream. I want a reason to live. And I know with all I am that I do have this reason. It's just that sometimes, knowing and living exists on different planes. And they don't meet.

17:52.

My last two deadlines for the semester are tomorrow, 5pm but thank God, I have finished both on Tuesday about 5pm and handed them up yesterday about 2pm. So for the first time in a while, my brain has nothing urgent to tackle. What stress there was has melted away, and violent tendencies have disappeared. Yeah, violent tendencies. They were rather real when I had PMS and deadlines all together. Spilt personalities... most of them (like the violent me) have disappeared or are lying dormant.

Though I feel finally... uncoiled, and it is a darn goood feeling, my brain seemed to have entered into Sleep mode. Either that, or it is in shock, stunted by the idea that there are no schoolwork for a month.

Yesterday, Germaine and I went to our respective schools to hand up our assignments. Then all three of us, our entire household went to Brunswick, then from there back home to deposit our shopping, before going to Crown and then to Lygon for beloved roche and rum and raisin gelati which by the way, is one of the best things about Melbourne. It never fails to make me happy, Roche gelati.

And now I lay me down. Just for a rest.

22:36.

Say a prayer.

Today's sunset.
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Yesterday's sunset.
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13:33.

This is the good life, I know it's true. Nevermind the thistles along this road I tread, this is the good life. Woke up at 11am, had breakfast, devotion, showered, and now I'm gearing up to further tackle my essay. I look out of my room window and see the gorgeous blue sky and the upstairs neighbour's plants on her balcony flapping in the wind. There's sunshine today and a lightness in my heart. Life is too beautiful, thorns, petals, bee stings and all.

12:02.

When I first reach consciousness after a night of slumber, my mind has a far-reaching capacity. Literally so, I can feel my mind move up from where I still lie and then out, manoveuring through the distance between the room door and me and then out of the door. And I can somehow see a picture of what lies beyond my sight through my mind.

Yesterday morning and today's too, my mind went on its usual check-out-what-lies-beyond ritual and what it saw seemed to transport me elsewhere. What I know and what was projected was different. I know that once out of my room door, the kitchen is to the right but, my mind was seeing it to the left. I was disoriented for a moment, trying to get a grab on my surroundings for a while before I realised what was happening.

In my mind, I was home. Home in Woodlands, in Singapore. And my mind somehow chose to navigate those familiar settings instead of Vic St's. I heard the microwave door shut. In my mind, I saw Mom doing the action but I knew it was that... all in the mind.

And yet, yet, as I lay there, I knew I would miss this place and everything it has been to me and shown me thus far when I leave. Whenever that is. A friend called my almost-anxious predisposition towards my future "final-year syndromes". That's as accurate a description as any, I reckon, but one thing, this is my first-year too.

*shrugs*

Have a good day, folks. An essay is calling my name.

15:02.

News:

Death of a President.

Unborn Baby Snatchers.

Sigh.

15:02.

I keep writing and stopping, saving posts as drafts and logging out these days. Somehow, I just don't have the words to use though my mind is a minefield of explosive and dormant thoughts and random weirdness. The perpetual work has had a part to do with all these I suppose, cuminating in me changing my Msn nick to mymindleftmew/opermission. Yeah, that's another thing, all these Msn chats are probably making my world all the more hyperreal.

My mind seems to be detached from my body, my heart has a will of its own and my general being just feel rather lost and unusual. I laugh too hard, my head whirls too fast, and I keep going to fantasyland when what I need to do is concentrate and get my last essay started.

I'm distracted. Very. By too many things. And in the midst of the flurry, I tell myself to be still, to be still and know He is God but my mind refuses to obey. Too many issues have been haunting me these days, or if not haunting, demanding my attention and making me start, ununusual are their nature.

I'm kind of tired and I find myself wanting to burrow into the sheets, pull my duvet over my head and get away from the world.

I doubt myself, my pride is shattered, my mask torn. I've been shown I am weaker, even weaker than I knew myself to be, and I'm seeing cracks not just in me but in what's around me too.

And I'm not dealing with the worries of finances and future as well as I should be. Sigh. Come on, girl, let's get this essay out of the way and maybe we will get back in order again.

Taken from our balcony.
copyright.skye.t's

How can the diminishing of life be so beautiful?
copyright.skye.t's

13:39.

First day of winter. My first winter in a country with four seasons.

12:50.

This time last year, I was in the old news building at Genting Lane, sent there with a small passel of colleagues in some Sars contingency plan. Rotating or fluctuating between a-change-of-environment-is-good and argh-i-have-been-banished-and-will-never-get-confirmed-this-way.

Then, in between then and now, I've lived my journalist childhood ambition, dealt with politics, spent the year as an economically independent adult, enjoyed a truly good year actually, and then followed as God opened the way to come here. To leave behind the material world I have embraced and come here. To be a student again and to rest. And live in a different manner, to find and see and learn new things.

What a difference every year brings. And have I not yearned for this difference? Seeked for changes? Thirst for more?

Then this is what I want. This scared-to-death-but-I-will-step-out-of-the-boat feeling, this start-breathing-my-heart-is-beating-too-fast-while-my-hands-are-cold nerves. If people can jump out of an airplane for thrill, if people can do every thing they do for self-gratification, then I can do this for God.

Come on girl, get your act together. God is made stronger in your weakness, nothing can get you down if the ALMIGHTY is with you. As I've desired, so You have provided. As You have promised, I will deliver.

I love you, Lord.

More than life.

I really do.

20:47.

I will lay bare my heart.

Or at least I want to, or think I want to, I'm not too sure where I am and what I really feel, what of what I feel belong to me and what don't. I like to share my struggles, that the last two weeks have been trying, trying as I fight spirits of discouragement, fear, worry, anxiety. I want to tell you how God sent two people to tell me I can do it, and that He has confidence in me. I will also admit how I slid down the porcelain pipe and all I wanted was to pull the covers over my head and not face the world. And that even now, I have to fight to stay up. I like to share with you how I hit a low last night, and felt like I have no one to call because it seems like I have or am or am expected to be the strong one in my friendships. How I started tearing once I heard my Mom's voice over the line. How I sobbed silently when she prayed for me and sporadically teared throughout the conversation, so reassuring and wonderful her voice and herself is, how I could hear home in that voice and in the background. How God used Msn Msger to bring me comfort as I chatted with faithful friends. How I was truly desperate, truly weak, and how it required all of me to struggle against the enemy.

Over a drumming session. A service unto God. An act of worship I wanted to commit myself to. And yes, do still want despite my faltering feet and trembling legs. Over this one-hour praise and worship to be held tomorrow at 7pm, Aust time, I stand - or really kneel or lay - in the center of a struggle, a going-on in the heavenlies of such flurry I can't really comprehend the reason for.

I'm weak beyond words can describe just like my Jesus Christ's strength, love and faithfulness are more certain and real than my feeble lips can utter.

I will be transparent.

Who is Skye t? But a jar of clay.

Use me, Lord, fill me, heal me, work through me, use me.

And you, whoever you are, pray for me. Whether you think me dramatic, think me disturbed or think me weak, just pray for me. You can think whatever you want of me. Just pray for me. To my Lord Jesus Christ.

Greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world. Greater. My God is greater than all these, than all of me, and any thing that could possibly be or is. My God is big.

fading flames.
copyright.skye.t's

... in flaky shots of reamless colours.
copyright.skye.t's

watercolour skies from my bedroom picture window.
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as the world ends, the fading sun reaches out one last time. for the day anyway.
copyright.skye.t's

shadows of a pink sunset. it peeks through blinds.
copyright.skye.t's

20:37.

Now and then, I wonder how it is like at home. I still call my, our HDB flat in Woodlands home even though I refer to 5*/2*2 Victoria Street as home too in conversation and in my daily life here.

When I pick up the phone to call across the seven-hour plane journey between my family and me, I see them - in my mind's eye - at their various places in the living room, kitchen and rooms. I see the phone ring, I see Dad, sitting at his comfy chair next to the phone reading his newspapers for the day, picking up the ringing apparatus or Mom, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and rushing out of the kitchen to get the phone. I can hear the radio playing 95.8FM, Dad's favourite channel, or sometimes, it's the television that's on, on Channel U, 8 or Cable Channel 49, 55 or 56. Or Discovery Channel, which Dad loves. I can see them all in some distant mirage-like real manner in my head. Playing like a mind reel of the home I lived in for five years. With the family I've had for 22 years, 10 months and some.

The people I love most in the world.

You can call this egoistic, I don't think it is, I just think it channelled-introspection. I do wonder how they live without me. If they stop some time and look into my room and miss me for a moment the way I miss them. If they sometimes just stop or wake up feeling like they want me home because I do feel this way regarding them.

Two or three mornings ago when I finally woke up properly - it was one of those cold mornings where it's very hard to get out of a warm duvet and futon - I turned around and hugged my pillow. And I thought, "Mom". Then "Home". For a moment, spanning the half-second I pressed my eyes shut, I found myself wishing myself home.

I guess even a 50-year-old would miss his/ her mom, dad and family. Age doesn't really matter, does it? Or maturity? *shrugs* I want to hug Mom and Dad.

23:25.

But a jar of clay
Shattered into pieces I can’t find
No man could put me back again
Except the One with the divine touch

Broken alabaster jar
Good for things earthly eyes can’t see
I’m feeling my scattered pain
Oh Lord won’t you come and work in me

Beauty for ashes
Gold for toil
Undeserved kindness
From the King who saved my soul

When all I can see is the dust I’ve fallen in
And I’m caught up, in myself and me
Break me Lord out of who I am
To be who You called me to be

When in silly sorrows I bury my name
Refuse my birthright
Bring shame to your Name
Forgive me, Abba, and clothe me again

I’m sorry.

13:32.

Today was the first day I woke up on time for my morning lessons so far. Lest you think me decadent, sleepyhead and lazy, the last two notes may be true but it's actually just two lectures I missed since I don't have classes on Mondays.

Today is also the day I got my first Credit for the semester. Sigh. I know it's okay to not get straight Distinctions and Higher Distinctions and really any how, I have never been a Straight-As student (unless you factor in sporadic moments in primary school and then selected subjects only across the ages but consistency has never been with me somehow) but it seriously doesn't feel good. Feels rather bad really and it makes me edgy now I'm facing two essays, two presentations (next Wed, both) and two journals. Just have to work harder and keep plugging away. Pray for me please. There's a lot of work to get done.

After class, I went to print out an essay, submitted it, meandered to a music instruments store to look at drum sticks, walked a long way to the post office in North Melb to retrieve a package to find out it was a unauthorised repeated internet purchase that I should not be getting, walked the 20minutes home, lift was not working, climbed five flights of stairs, discovered one of the lens on my shades was missing a screw.

Whew, eh? As I walked the stairs, I was wondering if it is going to be one of those days and dialoguing wryly with Dad.

Then, my day received a ray of sunshine.

Ahem, ahem, I cooked Char Kway Teow *beams*. Tasted quite good and authentic, if I may say so myself, though it didn't have clams (not going to go hunt for them and deshell them) and lard (never been a fan any how).

*beams more*

*grins*

*chuckles*

*rolls eyes at myself*

But back to serious matters... do pray for me.

Next Friday, I'm drumming for OCF. It would be my first time drumming and until last night, I didn't know another center will be joining us. It's also one of those nights when we have a speaker instead of spliting into bible study groups like we usually do. This I didn't know until last night too.

Regular readers of this blog will know how much I miss playing for God. How much I miss drumming, my piano and playing in the worship team. And I am immensely thankful that I was asked to play next Friday. I have to be honest though that I am also nervous. Sometimes even very nervous. And it doesn't help that the song list is entirely unfamiliar to me. No, the Mandarin congregation I was at the last seven years didn't play fast Hillsong or Planet Shakers songs which makes up next Friday's song list.

Yes, I need a lot, a lot of prayer.

Dear Lord, hold me close and hold my hands.

20:42.

Interesting....