19:50.
Much Afraid - Jars Of Clay
Empty again
Sunken down so far
So scared to fall
I might not get up again
So I lay at your feet
All my brokenness
I carry all of my burdens to you
All of these things
I've held up in vain
No reason nor rhyme
Just the scars that remain
Of all of these things
I'm so much afraid
Scared out of my mind
By the demons I've made
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
So happy to love
Yet so far to go
You lead me on to where I've never been before
All of these things
I've held up in vain
No reason nor rhyme
Just the scars that remain
Of all of these things
I'm so much afraid
Scared out of my mind
By the demons I've made
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
Sweet Jesus, you never ever let me go
Oh, sweet Jesus, never ever let me go
Friday, December 26, 2003
19:03.
she pulls her poodle's ear and yelps
the pain that came she felt it first
crazy woman alone in the night
dressed in black to blend with the nile
the thoughts were not unfamiliar but their names were lost
what to call them, she could not recall
and so she walked to the pigeon's hole
down the rabbit burrow alice fall
alice, alice, what are you doing?
how are you to know if it's wonder you are wandering in?
alice alice, that kitty's evil
pull its head and let it quiver
the fat lady sings in time
to the marching band by peru's side
the conductor's a candy, a gingerbread man
oh hazel run on and never slow down
on and on and on you tire
but where's a rest and what's the time?
haze will fall and sun will shine
but its hue may not be light
she pulls her poodle's ear and yelps
the pain that came she felt it first
crazy woman alone in the night
dressed in black to blend with the nile
the thoughts were not unfamiliar but their names were lost
what to call them, she could not recall
and so she walked to the pigeon's hole
down the rabbit burrow alice fall
alice, alice, what are you doing?
how are you to know if it's wonder you are wandering in?
alice alice, that kitty's evil
pull its head and let it quiver
the fat lady sings in time
to the marching band by peru's side
the conductor's a candy, a gingerbread man
oh hazel run on and never slow down
on and on and on you tire
but where's a rest and what's the time?
haze will fall and sun will shine
but its hue may not be light
Sunday, December 14, 2003
18:49.
I cannot remember at which station they got on, but they rode with me to Woodlands. A pretty lady in her early 30s, I first noticed her and noted her preppy knee length skirt when she walked straight into my line of vision, and a little girl about eight perhaps trailing behind her as they settled against the panel opposite mine.
I noticed the latter's ears first. Imagine if you will ears flipped upside down 180 degrees, with the smaller end on top and the tops were pointed! I first noticed the point and immediately thought, "Elf!" then realised the "inverted-ness" of the ears.
I really don't know why but I thought the mother - I assume that's their relation - was gay. I really don't know why, don't ask.
The little girl was tanned, unlike her fair mother who ignored her most of the journey. She had her chin-length satin-smooth black hair tied back in two knots, showing off her unique ears. She wore striped baby blue and pink socks, and her denin peddalpushers had pink embroidered flowers at the end.
I liked her.
Her voice was soft. I saw her mouth move, her mother ignore her, I never heard what was said. Her eyes too were soft, and also unsure.
You know the little child actress in Homerun?
Yeah, my little Totto Chan on the train had a pensive heart-shaped face like hers.
Her mother stood cross-armed against the door, at times turning to face it full-on to look out, and never spoke to her daughter voluntarily.
Or just once anyway - "Go and sit lah". No, not in a tone laced with concern.
The little girl - her eyes always fixed on her silent mother - rushed to the next available seat when it was vacanted. While many parents would move over to stand near their kid or sit with them, taking their offspring on their laps, this one didn't.
If you had not seen them together during their earlier part of their journey, you won't know that they were together.
The two metres separating them felt long, even to me as a bystander.
All the little Megan-lookalike could do was sit right at the edge of the plastic orange seat - her feet did not even touch the floor yet - and stare, head turned and lifted slightly, at her mother whose head was turned away from her.
We reached Admiralty, and the child - her mom blocked from her line of vision by a happy family (3 kids running around their pony-tailed Dad while he was on the phone) - scrambled to her feet to tiptoe and see her mom.
She thought it was the right stop.
Her mom never looked back, and she sat back down. For a small moment, her downturned mouth twisted slightly and if possible, she looked even more unsure.
Twice, I saw her smile when the other children were scrambling in fun but that unsure, almost sad look reclaimed her fast both times.
It was her almond eyes. They were not particularly big or stunning but they were constantly fixed on her mother. Those eyes kept mine on her throughout the journey. And she never noticed, she only had eyes for one person.
Her mother finally acknowledged her when our train rolled into Woodlands station. I walked behind them, saw them held hands as they approached the elevator, and her develop a skip in her steps and start to chatter to her quiet mother.
At the ticketing rails, she tapped her yellow ez-link card onto the wrong reader. Her mom grabbed her arm over to the right one but the card has been read and the wrong turnstile activated. They didn't notice and kept trying to tap the card onto the "right" reader. I saw her start and look up at her mom. I'm afraid there was fear in her brown eyes.
That's where I lost them. Though I pretended I was waiting for someone and stopped near the ticketing booth to look for them.
How terrible it is for a child to be with an adult in a bad mood, or worse, an adult who's not interested in you.
Maybe some people just shouldn't ever be parents.
I cannot remember at which station they got on, but they rode with me to Woodlands. A pretty lady in her early 30s, I first noticed her and noted her preppy knee length skirt when she walked straight into my line of vision, and a little girl about eight perhaps trailing behind her as they settled against the panel opposite mine.
I noticed the latter's ears first. Imagine if you will ears flipped upside down 180 degrees, with the smaller end on top and the tops were pointed! I first noticed the point and immediately thought, "Elf!" then realised the "inverted-ness" of the ears.
I really don't know why but I thought the mother - I assume that's their relation - was gay. I really don't know why, don't ask.
The little girl was tanned, unlike her fair mother who ignored her most of the journey. She had her chin-length satin-smooth black hair tied back in two knots, showing off her unique ears. She wore striped baby blue and pink socks, and her denin peddalpushers had pink embroidered flowers at the end.
I liked her.
Her voice was soft. I saw her mouth move, her mother ignore her, I never heard what was said. Her eyes too were soft, and also unsure.
You know the little child actress in Homerun?
Yeah, my little Totto Chan on the train had a pensive heart-shaped face like hers.
Her mother stood cross-armed against the door, at times turning to face it full-on to look out, and never spoke to her daughter voluntarily.
Or just once anyway - "Go and sit lah". No, not in a tone laced with concern.
The little girl - her eyes always fixed on her silent mother - rushed to the next available seat when it was vacanted. While many parents would move over to stand near their kid or sit with them, taking their offspring on their laps, this one didn't.
If you had not seen them together during their earlier part of their journey, you won't know that they were together.
The two metres separating them felt long, even to me as a bystander.
All the little Megan-lookalike could do was sit right at the edge of the plastic orange seat - her feet did not even touch the floor yet - and stare, head turned and lifted slightly, at her mother whose head was turned away from her.
We reached Admiralty, and the child - her mom blocked from her line of vision by a happy family (3 kids running around their pony-tailed Dad while he was on the phone) - scrambled to her feet to tiptoe and see her mom.
She thought it was the right stop.
Her mom never looked back, and she sat back down. For a small moment, her downturned mouth twisted slightly and if possible, she looked even more unsure.
Twice, I saw her smile when the other children were scrambling in fun but that unsure, almost sad look reclaimed her fast both times.
It was her almond eyes. They were not particularly big or stunning but they were constantly fixed on her mother. Those eyes kept mine on her throughout the journey. And she never noticed, she only had eyes for one person.
Her mother finally acknowledged her when our train rolled into Woodlands station. I walked behind them, saw them held hands as they approached the elevator, and her develop a skip in her steps and start to chatter to her quiet mother.
At the ticketing rails, she tapped her yellow ez-link card onto the wrong reader. Her mom grabbed her arm over to the right one but the card has been read and the wrong turnstile activated. They didn't notice and kept trying to tap the card onto the "right" reader. I saw her start and look up at her mom. I'm afraid there was fear in her brown eyes.
That's where I lost them. Though I pretended I was waiting for someone and stopped near the ticketing booth to look for them.
How terrible it is for a child to be with an adult in a bad mood, or worse, an adult who's not interested in you.
Maybe some people just shouldn't ever be parents.
Friday, December 12, 2003
19:58.
Imagine by John Lennon is one of my favourite songs but whenever I sing it, I know I don't believe in its lyrics. What I believe in and what touches me is the spirit of the song, the spirit that says imagine a better place, let's dream of a better place, you are allowed to dream of a better place.
Not the lyrics, which advocated an impractical one-ness.
So when I read this, I had to post it. I wonder how many hate mail the journalist got so far.
Imagine by John Lennon is one of my favourite songs but whenever I sing it, I know I don't believe in its lyrics. What I believe in and what touches me is the spirit of the song, the spirit that says imagine a better place, let's dream of a better place, you are allowed to dream of a better place.
Not the lyrics, which advocated an impractical one-ness.
So when I read this, I had to post it. I wonder how many hate mail the journalist got so far.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
20:13.
If you can consider JB to be overseas, then I effectively went on my first overseas assignment on yesterday.
Am now in the office, waiting for a call from the UK about the piracy story I chased yesterday. Depending on your leanings, those two sentences may sound exciting or dulled by a been-there-done-that favouring. I would tell you my angle, which is new, but since the article may be held, let's be quiet.
It was a rainy day yesterday. Rained throughout the whole time we were in Malaysia.
For a girl living in Woodlands, JB's a skip and a hop away. So, yes, I did feel slightly so somewhat like, "This is it? My first overseas assignment?"
Ingrate, me. I've been so conditioned by my material world, that's one reason why I need to leave what I have now and go somewhere new.
But guess what? I did enjoy the feeling of being on assignment in a foreign environment, even if it's just JB. Yes, so out of three leads, only one turned up all right and yes, so the photog and driver were feeling rather bummed, as was I, after one lead turned out to be a joke, literally so.
But I liked it. I liked how I felt like I have to swin or sink. For the piracy story, I separated from my photog and driver. Worked alone, posing first as a customer, gaining entry into the little private room where the wares were and asking questions as disarmingly as possible. Then, deciding if I should identify myself.
I liked that "uh oh" that went off in my head when once, I introduced myself to a pirate. His entire face changed and all his kakis stopped whatever they were doing and looked at me. I liked having to think on my feet pronto.
I've already thought of story ideas I could pursue in Melbourne.
....
I questioned a lot about journalism and my role in it. There were times when I wondered about my calling to it too. But thank God, through many little things, I know I've been called to this industry and I have a role to play.
It's amazing how things just work out when you wait, trust, and walk on. God is great.
I'm going to Rmit's Media Studies. On Monday, while en route to work, the IDP representative called me to go down to his office since the Aussie representive was there. I rushed down in a cab.
I wasn't dressed to impress, I was in denim jacket and mini skirt, carrying a backpack, I looked like a kid.
I wasn't equipped to impress. I didn't have my portfolio or resume, two things that normally give me a lot more assurance during interviews.
It all went wonderfully though. I really liked the guy and he accepted me into the programme at the end of the approximately half-hour interview/ discussion.
Have I written that God is great?
He really is.
And just a couple of days ago too, two scholar colleagues informed me that if I applied and get a scholarhip, they are sure I won't have to do a 6-year bond since my course is for only a year.
The bond duration was what deterred me from any thoughts of entertaining a scholarship application. But come Monday, I will speak to my bosses about it.
Yeah, I don't know if I make the cut. My results ain't that great and my performance at work, though not lousy, have had its moments and non.
There's an assuring sense of rest and peace inside of me though. Whatever happens, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, God is there with me.
This feels so good.
If you can consider JB to be overseas, then I effectively went on my first overseas assignment on yesterday.
Am now in the office, waiting for a call from the UK about the piracy story I chased yesterday. Depending on your leanings, those two sentences may sound exciting or dulled by a been-there-done-that favouring. I would tell you my angle, which is new, but since the article may be held, let's be quiet.
It was a rainy day yesterday. Rained throughout the whole time we were in Malaysia.
For a girl living in Woodlands, JB's a skip and a hop away. So, yes, I did feel slightly so somewhat like, "This is it? My first overseas assignment?"
Ingrate, me. I've been so conditioned by my material world, that's one reason why I need to leave what I have now and go somewhere new.
But guess what? I did enjoy the feeling of being on assignment in a foreign environment, even if it's just JB. Yes, so out of three leads, only one turned up all right and yes, so the photog and driver were feeling rather bummed, as was I, after one lead turned out to be a joke, literally so.
But I liked it. I liked how I felt like I have to swin or sink. For the piracy story, I separated from my photog and driver. Worked alone, posing first as a customer, gaining entry into the little private room where the wares were and asking questions as disarmingly as possible. Then, deciding if I should identify myself.
I liked that "uh oh" that went off in my head when once, I introduced myself to a pirate. His entire face changed and all his kakis stopped whatever they were doing and looked at me. I liked having to think on my feet pronto.
I've already thought of story ideas I could pursue in Melbourne.
....
I questioned a lot about journalism and my role in it. There were times when I wondered about my calling to it too. But thank God, through many little things, I know I've been called to this industry and I have a role to play.
It's amazing how things just work out when you wait, trust, and walk on. God is great.
I'm going to Rmit's Media Studies. On Monday, while en route to work, the IDP representative called me to go down to his office since the Aussie representive was there. I rushed down in a cab.
I wasn't dressed to impress, I was in denim jacket and mini skirt, carrying a backpack, I looked like a kid.
I wasn't equipped to impress. I didn't have my portfolio or resume, two things that normally give me a lot more assurance during interviews.
It all went wonderfully though. I really liked the guy and he accepted me into the programme at the end of the approximately half-hour interview/ discussion.
Have I written that God is great?
He really is.
And just a couple of days ago too, two scholar colleagues informed me that if I applied and get a scholarhip, they are sure I won't have to do a 6-year bond since my course is for only a year.
The bond duration was what deterred me from any thoughts of entertaining a scholarship application. But come Monday, I will speak to my bosses about it.
Yeah, I don't know if I make the cut. My results ain't that great and my performance at work, though not lousy, have had its moments and non.
There's an assuring sense of rest and peace inside of me though. Whatever happens, it's going to be okay. Whatever happens, God is there with me.
This feels so good.
Saturday, December 06, 2003
12:43.
Hallo world.
It's good to know things are settled. Not that every single thing has been so, but now I know I am definitely going to Australia for the spring intake, I feel more... grounded. Less up in space floating like debris about to collide with a space cow.
[I echo your "eh?" on the animal mention, don't know where that came from either]
I've not been posting in my own voice for a while simply because that voice has not been very coherent.
The last two or three weeks handed my mind a microphone and pushed it into the milky way. Every thought inside my head was amplified, and none was within my grasp of reason or in the sphere of mono-logic.
It didn't help that the university folks were not very, well, switched on. After a written test and a phone interview a month after, I waited three weeks to receive with pleasure an email affirming I made the cut and can finish the journalism programme in a year.
I reverted with an email responding to the choice of compulsory subjects I have to take and they revert with an email saying I need one and a half years to do the programme instead.
Which threw me up against the wall since I was already mentally settled on going, and since Hannah had already found and paid a deposit for the apartment.
I fell back on my back-up plan - Media Studies, which I can definitely complete in a year, but just received another email from the Journ folks clarifying a one-year programme provided I take Radio Journ, Online Journ and two journ subjects among my eight modules.
To summarise, effectively, I now have three offers - UniMel Arts (2 yrs), Rmit Journ (1 yr with compulsory subjects) and Rmit Media Studies (1 yr, with no compulsory subjects).
UniMel is definitely out.
And by Monday, I have to make up my mind whether I want Journ or Media Studies. The only thing holding me back from Journ is the compulsory module Radio Journ.
I'm loathed to do group work. This anti-social nerd has thrived in the independence of working life as a journalist and is admitedly, unsure about group work in a student setting again.
Oh, I want to study. Fer sure, ye. And as scary as it sometimes is to me, I need to be a fish out of the water again so I get out of my comfort zone and complacency.
Then, there's the pride which is my thorn in my flesh. The pride that recoils in horror at the thought that I may not be as competent as I fancy at a subject which I rather not take (though I do see its interesting side and am interested in it).
[Interlude: *takes knife and stabs Pride*]
hehehheehhehe, oh well, such a long post deserves an interlude.
But to revert to the topic at hand which I have no doubt will have a significant bearing on my future, part of me wants to run away, skipping into Australia and such a new phrase of my life. Another wants to remain at my desk in the daily's office, hitting some good shots at times and seeking comfort from the little things.
Both are good places to be at but I am not omnitranscient.
Good thing God is, and He will be with me everywhere. It feels a bit like I am Peter about to step out of the boat to walk on water, and I am scared fric-less but I'm daring to move because God is with me.
Choices, choices, choices.
I don't want to be po ma (indecisive) any more. It's a strange trait to take on and not particularly appealing.
There's a lot more areas and issues and feelings to talk about and share but I should demure. I can see eyelids at half-masts already.
Abba's Take A Chance On Me is playing in my head.
Take a chance?
Okay.
Hallo world.
It's good to know things are settled. Not that every single thing has been so, but now I know I am definitely going to Australia for the spring intake, I feel more... grounded. Less up in space floating like debris about to collide with a space cow.
[I echo your "eh?" on the animal mention, don't know where that came from either]
I've not been posting in my own voice for a while simply because that voice has not been very coherent.
The last two or three weeks handed my mind a microphone and pushed it into the milky way. Every thought inside my head was amplified, and none was within my grasp of reason or in the sphere of mono-logic.
It didn't help that the university folks were not very, well, switched on. After a written test and a phone interview a month after, I waited three weeks to receive with pleasure an email affirming I made the cut and can finish the journalism programme in a year.
I reverted with an email responding to the choice of compulsory subjects I have to take and they revert with an email saying I need one and a half years to do the programme instead.
Which threw me up against the wall since I was already mentally settled on going, and since Hannah had already found and paid a deposit for the apartment.
I fell back on my back-up plan - Media Studies, which I can definitely complete in a year, but just received another email from the Journ folks clarifying a one-year programme provided I take Radio Journ, Online Journ and two journ subjects among my eight modules.
To summarise, effectively, I now have three offers - UniMel Arts (2 yrs), Rmit Journ (1 yr with compulsory subjects) and Rmit Media Studies (1 yr, with no compulsory subjects).
UniMel is definitely out.
And by Monday, I have to make up my mind whether I want Journ or Media Studies. The only thing holding me back from Journ is the compulsory module Radio Journ.
I'm loathed to do group work. This anti-social nerd has thrived in the independence of working life as a journalist and is admitedly, unsure about group work in a student setting again.
Oh, I want to study. Fer sure, ye. And as scary as it sometimes is to me, I need to be a fish out of the water again so I get out of my comfort zone and complacency.
Then, there's the pride which is my thorn in my flesh. The pride that recoils in horror at the thought that I may not be as competent as I fancy at a subject which I rather not take (though I do see its interesting side and am interested in it).
[Interlude: *takes knife and stabs Pride*]
hehehheehhehe, oh well, such a long post deserves an interlude.
But to revert to the topic at hand which I have no doubt will have a significant bearing on my future, part of me wants to run away, skipping into Australia and such a new phrase of my life. Another wants to remain at my desk in the daily's office, hitting some good shots at times and seeking comfort from the little things.
Both are good places to be at but I am not omnitranscient.
Good thing God is, and He will be with me everywhere. It feels a bit like I am Peter about to step out of the boat to walk on water, and I am scared fric-less but I'm daring to move because God is with me.
Choices, choices, choices.
I don't want to be po ma (indecisive) any more. It's a strange trait to take on and not particularly appealing.
There's a lot more areas and issues and feelings to talk about and share but I should demure. I can see eyelids at half-masts already.
Abba's Take A Chance On Me is playing in my head.
Take a chance?
Okay.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
22:11.
Everybody hurts - REM
When the day is long and the night,
the night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life,
well hang on
Don't let yourself go
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life,
well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh, no
Don't throw your hand, if you feel like you're alone,
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life,
the days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on,
Well, everybody hurts sometimes, everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
(Everybody hurts. You are not alone.)
Everybody hurts - REM
When the day is long and the night,
the night is yours alone
When you're sure you've had enough of this life,
well hang on
Don't let yourself go
Everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along.
When your day is night alone
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life,
well hang on
Everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don't throw your hand, oh, no
Don't throw your hand, if you feel like you're alone,
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you're on your own in this life,
the days and nights are long
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on,
Well, everybody hurts sometimes, everybody cries
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So, hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
Hold on, hold on.
(Everybody hurts. You are not alone.)
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
16:30.
"As a kid, I would have loved to have learned to play the piano. I think I'm more than angry about the reasons I didn't. Without the band I would explode. Or worse, I'd just numb that area.
"I think that's what happens to people who have a gift and they can't get it out; they fence it off, put a lot of ice on it, and walk with a limp. So I kind of got to mark that moment; that's really what art is to me. And to use humour. U2 songs are not a bag of laughs, but with these works I got up to some mischief." - Bono, U2, from here
"As a kid, I would have loved to have learned to play the piano. I think I'm more than angry about the reasons I didn't. Without the band I would explode. Or worse, I'd just numb that area.
"I think that's what happens to people who have a gift and they can't get it out; they fence it off, put a lot of ice on it, and walk with a limp. So I kind of got to mark that moment; that's really what art is to me. And to use humour. U2 songs are not a bag of laughs, but with these works I got up to some mischief." - Bono, U2, from here
Monday, November 24, 2003
16:58.
The first step to awareness. About the Cambodian displaced, the 2nd generation of Cambodian refugees and how again, their families are broken up now. Here.
The first step to awareness. About the Cambodian displaced, the 2nd generation of Cambodian refugees and how again, their families are broken up now. Here.
Saturday, November 22, 2003
12:55.
Help. The Mandarin version of Lemon Tree is playing on 95.8FM, my Dad's favourite station. *Cringes and cowers*
Yay. The 12-year-old neighbour just stopped by at our gate excitedly to announce she has got one A* and 3 As for her PSLEs. I didn't even know she's in Primary Six. Her immense glee - Mom told me the little girl had recently confided in her worries about PSLE results - is sweet.
The usual: I am still rather undecided as to what choice to make for the future. Every new day, and every new person I tell my dilemma to, just stirs up more confusion. There are many practical arguments and my pragmatic self and my idealistic self keeps shoving and shouting at each other.
I am thankful for this choice, the ability and privilege to have a choice to make, and I don't want to give that up and just say, ok God, shut one door so I can choose the other by default.
This time, I really want to know and hear it from You. Exercise my choice and choose correctly the best path You have for me.
So help me, God. And please pray for me.
Help. The Mandarin version of Lemon Tree is playing on 95.8FM, my Dad's favourite station. *Cringes and cowers*
Yay. The 12-year-old neighbour just stopped by at our gate excitedly to announce she has got one A* and 3 As for her PSLEs. I didn't even know she's in Primary Six. Her immense glee - Mom told me the little girl had recently confided in her worries about PSLE results - is sweet.
The usual: I am still rather undecided as to what choice to make for the future. Every new day, and every new person I tell my dilemma to, just stirs up more confusion. There are many practical arguments and my pragmatic self and my idealistic self keeps shoving and shouting at each other.
I am thankful for this choice, the ability and privilege to have a choice to make, and I don't want to give that up and just say, ok God, shut one door so I can choose the other by default.
This time, I really want to know and hear it from You. Exercise my choice and choose correctly the best path You have for me.
So help me, God. And please pray for me.
Thursday, November 20, 2003
22:07.
Sometimes, people relations seem like the hardest thing in the world.
And I am DNA. Um.
You are DNA. You're a smart person, and you appear
incredibly complex to people who don't know
you. You're incomparably full of information,
and most of it is useless.
Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Sometimes, people relations seem like the hardest thing in the world.
And I am DNA. Um.
You are DNA. You're a smart person, and you appear
incredibly complex to people who don't know
you. You're incomparably full of information,
and most of it is useless.
Which Biological Molecule Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Monday, November 17, 2003
20:57.
I am in the train station. The no-man's land, the limbo between worlds, and I'm just waiting for the train to come.
I am not alone.
I look around and I see many others. Some, like me, have that look in their eyes. They are waiting for the same train, sometimes doubting their faith that it will come. Others, distracted souls, have embraced this temporal stage as life and are convinced that this is all there is. They look at me like I'm a foolish sod.
That may not be that far from the truth but I'm not about to switch sides just for a coat of primary coloured gloss on black-and-white-clad me.
How long should I wait? What should I do while here? Will I lose it or will I gain that eternal treasure?
Let's not talk about eternity, but look at the here and now via micro-lens. The first question in that last paragraph still applies. I know that while I wait, I shall do unto The Lord and seek, as with every undertaking, to honour my Lord.
Things are happening at work and in life. Stuff are being stirred up and I am rather clueless, Lord, as to what to do. On one hand, it feels like finally the proverbial bridge is here. On the other hand, the trodden path is still avail and its familiarity has a number of comforting factors.
After all, I walked it for 14 months and I've learnt to see the flowers besides the roadside. I've also, by Grace, learnt how to walk on and smile at the rays of sunshine.
Then, there are other people who have fallen into ranks; they share my journey.
I do not detest this path, but how long really, how long can I remain here? I feel like I need to take off this hat, shrug off this skin and kick off my boots. But I will not be a runaway. I refuse to do that.
It's a strange choice isn't it? If I finally get what has eluded me this far, and I choose to walk away from it.
Is it unusual? Yes. But is it really unusual? No.
It's always the narrow paths.
It's finally here. The choice to be made. I don't very clearly know my choices yet but they are getting less vague.
All I can do is wait. And as I wait, I have to pray and be still. Soon, I will have reached the bridge. Soon, I will know whether to walk onto it or steer away.
My Lord, My God, take my heart and mind. And for this final lap, help me work unto You and smile.
Be near, O Lord, be near.
I am in the train station. The no-man's land, the limbo between worlds, and I'm just waiting for the train to come.
I am not alone.
I look around and I see many others. Some, like me, have that look in their eyes. They are waiting for the same train, sometimes doubting their faith that it will come. Others, distracted souls, have embraced this temporal stage as life and are convinced that this is all there is. They look at me like I'm a foolish sod.
That may not be that far from the truth but I'm not about to switch sides just for a coat of primary coloured gloss on black-and-white-clad me.
How long should I wait? What should I do while here? Will I lose it or will I gain that eternal treasure?
Let's not talk about eternity, but look at the here and now via micro-lens. The first question in that last paragraph still applies. I know that while I wait, I shall do unto The Lord and seek, as with every undertaking, to honour my Lord.
Things are happening at work and in life. Stuff are being stirred up and I am rather clueless, Lord, as to what to do. On one hand, it feels like finally the proverbial bridge is here. On the other hand, the trodden path is still avail and its familiarity has a number of comforting factors.
After all, I walked it for 14 months and I've learnt to see the flowers besides the roadside. I've also, by Grace, learnt how to walk on and smile at the rays of sunshine.
Then, there are other people who have fallen into ranks; they share my journey.
I do not detest this path, but how long really, how long can I remain here? I feel like I need to take off this hat, shrug off this skin and kick off my boots. But I will not be a runaway. I refuse to do that.
It's a strange choice isn't it? If I finally get what has eluded me this far, and I choose to walk away from it.
Is it unusual? Yes. But is it really unusual? No.
It's always the narrow paths.
It's finally here. The choice to be made. I don't very clearly know my choices yet but they are getting less vague.
All I can do is wait. And as I wait, I have to pray and be still. Soon, I will have reached the bridge. Soon, I will know whether to walk onto it or steer away.
My Lord, My God, take my heart and mind. And for this final lap, help me work unto You and smile.
Be near, O Lord, be near.
15:57.
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
- J R R Tolkien
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
- J R R Tolkien
Sunday, November 09, 2003
23:45.
Whenever I read stuff I written from eons ago, I get struck by how similar certain things have remained, especially all I care about. And I get struck by how I managed to articulate what I wanted simply maybe because I am kind of mucking now.
These old writings remind me to be who I want to be.
Presenting the second time, my artistic identity. It's posted near the bottom.
Whenever I read stuff I written from eons ago, I get struck by how similar certain things have remained, especially all I care about. And I get struck by how I managed to articulate what I wanted simply maybe because I am kind of mucking now.
These old writings remind me to be who I want to be.
Presenting the second time, my artistic identity. It's posted near the bottom.
22:55.
"I want to be a hunter again
want to see the world alone again
to take a chance on life again
so let me go." - Hunter by Dido
Disclaimer: The plea to be let go is not aimed at any one.
I was just reading my guestbook. This has been a good restful stay-at-home weekend, I've notched up so many hours sleeping that I can't hit the sack yet. Too wide awake. Too late to be playing the piano so here I am, reveling in my nerd-dom.
The guestbook brought back many memories. I really miss you all so much. But here we are, on our way to growing up, we grow apart. Is this it? Maybe.
Am just here listening to songs like Iris and Runaway Train, songs that fit in such moments.
Sigh, bittersweet symphony the song in my mind. Is this really the way it's going to go the rest of my life? People come, people go and you can't help it 'cause your get on different trains and become different people. And even if your still appreciate each other, your can never meet at the same platform again.
It's nobody's fault. No one's to blame. It just is. And it may not help that I suck at initialising the maintainence.
*The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band*
I had some time to think these two days. And somehow, it was just random scenes from my past that kept coming at me.
I saw myself with my primary five class walking up the stairs to that third-floor classroom, and Mr Lim asking me if I wanted to be a prefect; baseball with the boys; the first boy who said he loves me; the depression years; the McDonald hangout; boyband days; the libraries; the counsellor's room; talking to the discipline master; auditioning; interviews to get into Mass Comm; stepping into mud while on the way to the library....
*Angel - Sarah Mclachlan*
Too many things to put down in type or paper. Reels played mentally and I just felt like whoa, so many days have passed.
So many days have passed.
What have I been doing? Getting ready, getting prepared, but it has been two decades and counting.
I've felt old since I was 15, and while I wear this same feeling now along with my first realisation of youth, I still feel my years and admit, fear that I may no longer wear scars as badges of honour, but cringe whenever one could be inflicted.
I look around and realise what they say about 30 being the new 20 is true. Being a grown up is no different from being a kid.
Paraphrase from Calvin and Hobbes:
Dad: You know when I was a kid, I thought that adults knew everything.
Mum: Yeah?
Dad: If I knew it was all ad-libbed, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to grow up so fast.
Forgive my ramble but things like concise, reason, and structure is kind of beyond my reach at the moment.
And using a recycled kicker, Let's dance.
"I want to be a hunter again
want to see the world alone again
to take a chance on life again
so let me go." - Hunter by Dido
Disclaimer: The plea to be let go is not aimed at any one.
I was just reading my guestbook. This has been a good restful stay-at-home weekend, I've notched up so many hours sleeping that I can't hit the sack yet. Too wide awake. Too late to be playing the piano so here I am, reveling in my nerd-dom.
The guestbook brought back many memories. I really miss you all so much. But here we are, on our way to growing up, we grow apart. Is this it? Maybe.
Am just here listening to songs like Iris and Runaway Train, songs that fit in such moments.
Sigh, bittersweet symphony the song in my mind. Is this really the way it's going to go the rest of my life? People come, people go and you can't help it 'cause your get on different trains and become different people. And even if your still appreciate each other, your can never meet at the same platform again.
It's nobody's fault. No one's to blame. It just is. And it may not help that I suck at initialising the maintainence.
*The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band*
I had some time to think these two days. And somehow, it was just random scenes from my past that kept coming at me.
I saw myself with my primary five class walking up the stairs to that third-floor classroom, and Mr Lim asking me if I wanted to be a prefect; baseball with the boys; the first boy who said he loves me; the depression years; the McDonald hangout; boyband days; the libraries; the counsellor's room; talking to the discipline master; auditioning; interviews to get into Mass Comm; stepping into mud while on the way to the library....
*Angel - Sarah Mclachlan*
Too many things to put down in type or paper. Reels played mentally and I just felt like whoa, so many days have passed.
So many days have passed.
What have I been doing? Getting ready, getting prepared, but it has been two decades and counting.
I've felt old since I was 15, and while I wear this same feeling now along with my first realisation of youth, I still feel my years and admit, fear that I may no longer wear scars as badges of honour, but cringe whenever one could be inflicted.
I look around and realise what they say about 30 being the new 20 is true. Being a grown up is no different from being a kid.
Paraphrase from Calvin and Hobbes:
Dad: You know when I was a kid, I thought that adults knew everything.
Mum: Yeah?
Dad: If I knew it was all ad-libbed, I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to grow up so fast.
Forgive my ramble but things like concise, reason, and structure is kind of beyond my reach at the moment.
And using a recycled kicker, Let's dance.
Saturday, November 08, 2003
19:58.
"You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." - John 8:31, 32
The truth wasn't the red pill, but it is the new world that unveiled after taking it, the light outside Plato's cave, but like Neo, in rags and a hole in his skull, we sometimes think and feel like we are still chained.
'cause we are still surrounded by all the glop, and still in the system, and if we look at ourselves in its mirrors, we see unglamourous, pitiful machine-influenced persons, in sackcloth and wasteland.
BUT we have been freed. It's true. Freedom - post red pill (the decision to accept Jesus Christ into your life) - is a realisation in the mind. Faith is not based on works and miracles. It's not how you feel, it's what simply IS.
"You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." - John 8:31, 32
The truth wasn't the red pill, but it is the new world that unveiled after taking it, the light outside Plato's cave, but like Neo, in rags and a hole in his skull, we sometimes think and feel like we are still chained.
'cause we are still surrounded by all the glop, and still in the system, and if we look at ourselves in its mirrors, we see unglamourous, pitiful machine-influenced persons, in sackcloth and wasteland.
BUT we have been freed. It's true. Freedom - post red pill (the decision to accept Jesus Christ into your life) - is a realisation in the mind. Faith is not based on works and miracles. It's not how you feel, it's what simply IS.
19:29.
"What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."
"You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up. Ironically, that's not far from the truth. "
- Morpheus, The Matrix.
[For more quotes from the movies, click here]
It's spot-on right-on bull-eyes like these along with many many wonderful perception versus reality, relativity against the absolutes cornerstones of life, faith, human fraility issues in one darn super cool black-leathered package that converted me.
Without fangirl's prejudice, I will say this. Matrix Revolutions does not suck. It is not lousy. It is not damned.
Yes, it does not thrill and grab you like Matrix, but the movie experience is different from Madonna singing Like A Virgin. You cannot recapture the exact essence of that first time because it cannot be as organic and new any more when it is no longer new.
But Revolutions is all right, not amazing, not wow but decent enough for me to go buy the whole trilogy now. It didn't had a conventional safe ending. I like that, I like that there is no run-of-the-mill type happy ending, I like it that Trinity died because that's real.
It's important that the movie retained that errie realness.
I want to discourse, but I can't discourse unless someone throws some punches. Argh.
"To be great is to be misunderstood." - Oscar Wilde
"What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."
"You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up. Ironically, that's not far from the truth. "
- Morpheus, The Matrix.
[For more quotes from the movies, click here]
It's spot-on right-on bull-eyes like these along with many many wonderful perception versus reality, relativity against the absolutes cornerstones of life, faith, human fraility issues in one darn super cool black-leathered package that converted me.
Without fangirl's prejudice, I will say this. Matrix Revolutions does not suck. It is not lousy. It is not damned.
Yes, it does not thrill and grab you like Matrix, but the movie experience is different from Madonna singing Like A Virgin. You cannot recapture the exact essence of that first time because it cannot be as organic and new any more when it is no longer new.
But Revolutions is all right, not amazing, not wow but decent enough for me to go buy the whole trilogy now. It didn't had a conventional safe ending. I like that, I like that there is no run-of-the-mill type happy ending, I like it that Trinity died because that's real.
It's important that the movie retained that errie realness.
I want to discourse, but I can't discourse unless someone throws some punches. Argh.
"To be great is to be misunderstood." - Oscar Wilde
Saturday, November 01, 2003
21:30.
The world is on its back at 3am. Everything's bathed in subdued movie lights, the world is a stage and I'm its only player walking out of my company.
Down that long road that is really just a carpark, I walked flanked by cars, and the cars, they were (are) flanked by trees. I walked fast, the hour was late, I was tired. I wanted to linger for the night was beautiful, I wanted to linger in the open to feel the moonlight and fill my lungs with the cold crisp air.
It was after a storm or drizzle I didn't hear, and the ground was still wet. Everything was clean and I felt a measure of vigor.
Then, in mid-stride, I saw it. A small shape on the road, stationary and shadowed. I heard a small squeak then I ran.
When I was a child, I saw a half-squashed rat on the road while on my way to the market with my mother. Roadkill. Even when I'm in the front passenger seat of a car cruising somewhere, I avert my eyes when I spot something that looks like roadkill.
That shape on the road, with a longish extension on one side looking like a tail and four legs-like shadows when its belly was, looked like that albino rat I saw as a child.
I didn't scream, I almost did, but I ran in a foolish fit, immensely thankful when I realised the squeak was from my sandals on the wet road. At least that meant if it was indeed roadkill, it was not struggling to live with horrendous injuries.
I hope.
So there I was, the still of the night and my mood disrupted. I walked faster, there was no cab in sight, but wait, one - green taxi sign still switched on - was parked along the parking spaces at the right side of the side gate.
I walked over, waving a few times to get the cabbie's attention. Closer up, I saw he was concentrating on, looking down at something on the seat next to his. I paused at the opposite side of the road, and waved again.
He didn't look up. And with half a mind wondering if he may be engaged in dubious activities and half a mind just tired and longing to get home, I crossed the road. Tapped on the bonnet, he didn't look up. I walked to the front passenger side and tapped the window. He jumped.
He was counting his day's earnings. I hope I didn't look like a robber.
Any how, he refused to take me and I walked up to the main road and got a cab almost as soon as I reached that end of the road.
Thank God.
Fast forward.
The traffic lights are so pretty at night. I always wanted to film the scene from the back of a car or take photos. I had my digicam with me, but unfortunately no guts to take it out and start shooting and perhaps disturbing my kind driver and inviting a barrage of questions. So I did not. Sigh. The next time I am in a friend's car, and I sit up front, and it is early morning where the lights are on, I will shoot.
That morning ended at 4am, when I finally lay myself down to sleep, tummy full from a very late dinner Mom kept for me.
I love Mom's cooking.
The world is on its back at 3am. Everything's bathed in subdued movie lights, the world is a stage and I'm its only player walking out of my company.
Down that long road that is really just a carpark, I walked flanked by cars, and the cars, they were (are) flanked by trees. I walked fast, the hour was late, I was tired. I wanted to linger for the night was beautiful, I wanted to linger in the open to feel the moonlight and fill my lungs with the cold crisp air.
It was after a storm or drizzle I didn't hear, and the ground was still wet. Everything was clean and I felt a measure of vigor.
Then, in mid-stride, I saw it. A small shape on the road, stationary and shadowed. I heard a small squeak then I ran.
When I was a child, I saw a half-squashed rat on the road while on my way to the market with my mother. Roadkill. Even when I'm in the front passenger seat of a car cruising somewhere, I avert my eyes when I spot something that looks like roadkill.
That shape on the road, with a longish extension on one side looking like a tail and four legs-like shadows when its belly was, looked like that albino rat I saw as a child.
I didn't scream, I almost did, but I ran in a foolish fit, immensely thankful when I realised the squeak was from my sandals on the wet road. At least that meant if it was indeed roadkill, it was not struggling to live with horrendous injuries.
I hope.
So there I was, the still of the night and my mood disrupted. I walked faster, there was no cab in sight, but wait, one - green taxi sign still switched on - was parked along the parking spaces at the right side of the side gate.
I walked over, waving a few times to get the cabbie's attention. Closer up, I saw he was concentrating on, looking down at something on the seat next to his. I paused at the opposite side of the road, and waved again.
He didn't look up. And with half a mind wondering if he may be engaged in dubious activities and half a mind just tired and longing to get home, I crossed the road. Tapped on the bonnet, he didn't look up. I walked to the front passenger side and tapped the window. He jumped.
He was counting his day's earnings. I hope I didn't look like a robber.
Any how, he refused to take me and I walked up to the main road and got a cab almost as soon as I reached that end of the road.
Thank God.
Fast forward.
The traffic lights are so pretty at night. I always wanted to film the scene from the back of a car or take photos. I had my digicam with me, but unfortunately no guts to take it out and start shooting and perhaps disturbing my kind driver and inviting a barrage of questions. So I did not. Sigh. The next time I am in a friend's car, and I sit up front, and it is early morning where the lights are on, I will shoot.
That morning ended at 4am, when I finally lay myself down to sleep, tummy full from a very late dinner Mom kept for me.
I love Mom's cooking.
Friday, October 31, 2003
16:16.
Came across an excerpt of these lyrics here and felt enough connection to go check out the full lyrics. I've never really checked out Dubstar but darn, I have to download this song. The lyrics are too spot on for those melancholic moments.
Stars - Dubstar
Is it asking too much to be given time
To know these songs and to sing them
Is it asking too much of my vacant smile
And my laugh and lies that bring them
But as the stars are going out
And this stage is full of nothing
And the friends have all but gone
For my life, my God I'm singing
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
Is it asking too much of my favorite friends
To take these songs for real
Is it asking too much of my partner's hands
To take these songs for real
But as the stars are going out
And this stage is full of nothing
And the friends have all but gone
For my life, my God I'm singing
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
Leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
Leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
Came across an excerpt of these lyrics here and felt enough connection to go check out the full lyrics. I've never really checked out Dubstar but darn, I have to download this song. The lyrics are too spot on for those melancholic moments.
Stars - Dubstar
Is it asking too much to be given time
To know these songs and to sing them
Is it asking too much of my vacant smile
And my laugh and lies that bring them
But as the stars are going out
And this stage is full of nothing
And the friends have all but gone
For my life, my God I'm singing
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
Is it asking too much of my favorite friends
To take these songs for real
Is it asking too much of my partner's hands
To take these songs for real
But as the stars are going out
And this stage is full of nothing
And the friends have all but gone
For my life, my God I'm singing
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside, leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
Leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
Leave our lives behind
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
I'll watch the stars go out (was I asking too much)
We'll take our hearts outside (was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
(Was I asking too much)
