01:11.
Last evening's speaker at OCF delivered a sermon that was probably the most intelligent and biblical one I have heard for a good while. There were inferences, but theologically grounded mostly, and time was extended to explain part of the women-should-not-talk scripture in the Epistles. I appreciate that. I sincerely do. Again, it feels like it has been a good while since I heard from the pulpit affirmation for my gender, specifically tackling supposed scriptural anormalities like those. I learnt the stuff he explained through my readings a good while ago, probably four years or maybe three when I had to tackle my feminity with my faith and the church but so many still need to hear and be reminded.
So many things to learn.
So many things to analyse and wrap my head around.
Reminders spring at me, left, right and center, of how I need to study my faith. How I need to understand theological workings and innings. How I need to be able to use the (perhaps) vanity of words to define realities my spirit already recognise.
And even as these reminders, like thistles and thorns thrown at my heart, abound, a part of me seem to be resting, finding peace in the idea of returning to journalism. A certain joy and quiet gladness at the thought of spending hours and days and months and some years just telling stories, telling people's stories.
And yet, to add a third leg to this diagram, a browse through a publication just now opened up the door to another angle. It was not this sole publication that tripped me down a non-angry almost-rant. How vain these words, how useless are words, how utter wasteful, stupid and nonsensical it should be that so much of what is written never really makes sense. All but mere vanity, words written to fill pages just for that sake, words empty, containing only puffed attempts to illuminate and gather, communicate and encapsulate. Yet so heartless because they are but some exercise.
People talk too much. In the same way, they write too much sometimes (I am not excused). And like how a babble falls to the ground like slime or dust and takes up way too much space and captures some bit of attention which you are not willing to spend, empty words occupies too much even in their inherently meaningless existence.
Clutter. That's what these are.
And like all deconstructivist theories, the theories themselves are as full of holes as the ideologies they debunk. Or seek to. I write in some derision about writing. Isn't that ironic?
Ah. Shut up. I am going to bed.
Sleep well.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
22:29.
I love my CDs, I resist the portable MP3 wave, and I am sentimental towards my much abused discman. But. Look at this.
Its cost can buy me a decent electric guitar and amp, plus a couple of good albums but this really could make me make the switch. I really like it.
Black! Red! Silver!
Engraved signatures!
But oh, the cost!
I love my CDs, I resist the portable MP3 wave, and I am sentimental towards my much abused discman. But. Look at this.
Its cost can buy me a decent electric guitar and amp, plus a couple of good albums but this really could make me make the switch. I really like it.
Black! Red! Silver!
Engraved signatures!
But oh, the cost!
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
00:22.
Another one of those times when I flip through my history to remember what it was like last year this time - archives.
Asad Latif's article at the end of that page still is as relevant to me now. Your are the actors, I am just a writer. I live a life that writes about life.
Is this my calling, Lord? Not just vocational but ministry. Are the two streams simply one for me, and manifested in journalism?
Word of God, speak.
I will be still, and trust and believe.
I love You, Jesus and I never want to forget You.
Another one of those times when I flip through my history to remember what it was like last year this time - archives.
Asad Latif's article at the end of that page still is as relevant to me now. Your are the actors, I am just a writer. I live a life that writes about life.
Is this my calling, Lord? Not just vocational but ministry. Are the two streams simply one for me, and manifested in journalism?
Word of God, speak.
I will be still, and trust and believe.
I love You, Jesus and I never want to forget You.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
22:26.
Fresh scallops are amazing stuff. Absolutely totally far-out good stuff. And they are only about $15 per kg. How far out is that. Germaine and me were wondering where abouts in Singapore we could get fresh scallops (with the orange coral intact) and we really could not think of any where which would sell these beauties we get from the lovely Vic Mkt.
I got a tray (about 400grams?) for $5 near closing time. Baked one batch with prawns and veggies and sauteed the other batch with butter, mixed herbs, garlic salt and a dash of lemon.
I am addicted. Gonna eat more of these gorgeous seafood before I leave here.
And I am the new owner of a 3-disc Elle Fitzgerald set, The Byrds Super Hits, Johnny Cash's Ring Of Fire and The Best Of Don McLean... all for $31. Melbourne record stores sales are good for classics fans like me. I was already very much restrained, honest.
Fresh scallops are amazing stuff. Absolutely totally far-out good stuff. And they are only about $15 per kg. How far out is that. Germaine and me were wondering where abouts in Singapore we could get fresh scallops (with the orange coral intact) and we really could not think of any where which would sell these beauties we get from the lovely Vic Mkt.
I got a tray (about 400grams?) for $5 near closing time. Baked one batch with prawns and veggies and sauteed the other batch with butter, mixed herbs, garlic salt and a dash of lemon.
I am addicted. Gonna eat more of these gorgeous seafood before I leave here.
And I am the new owner of a 3-disc Elle Fitzgerald set, The Byrds Super Hits, Johnny Cash's Ring Of Fire and The Best Of Don McLean... all for $31. Melbourne record stores sales are good for classics fans like me. I was already very much restrained, honest.
0322.
So I am not going to be able to change my sleeping habits soon, huh?
Ok, over at the photo blog - pictures of last morning's click-fest. No pictures of sunrise, because the sun eluded me. The skies turned light and blue but its source was coy. I stood on the balcony as first light manifested and as I took photographs, realised my hands were shaking, in part due to the morning chill (pleasant chill, me reckon) and the lack of sleep. Thus, wrong as it felt to hit the sack when the world is bright, I did.
Time to hit the sack.
Peace out.
So I am not going to be able to change my sleeping habits soon, huh?
Ok, over at the photo blog - pictures of last morning's click-fest. No pictures of sunrise, because the sun eluded me. The skies turned light and blue but its source was coy. I stood on the balcony as first light manifested and as I took photographs, realised my hands were shaking, in part due to the morning chill (pleasant chill, me reckon) and the lack of sleep. Thus, wrong as it felt to hit the sack when the world is bright, I did.
Time to hit the sack.
Peace out.
Friday, October 22, 2004
0435.
This is odd.
All is done.
Done.
Completed.
I have finished my final essay, that one due next Tuesday, I have finished it.
I am feeling... feeling-less at the moment. Hah.
I remember blogging last year after a late night at work, 3am to be precise. I don't think I ever expected that 3am working nights would become such a norm for me now. Or rather, they have been.
Now that I don't have any more school work to do, maybe I won't stay up so late any more.
This is weird.
Is it done?
Yes, it is. My Asian Cinema essay on Asia and Asian-ness representation in Kill Bill Vol. 2, it is done. Not a brillant piece of work, and I realise how Cinema subjects are a lot more enjoyable during the semester when you are watching films and discussing them rather than having to put pen to paper and make coherent cultural arguments.
I just yawned. It's 0442am. For some reason, I feel wide awake. Despite that yawn, yes. Some night bird - nightingale, could it be? - has been singing somewhere outside for a long time and likewise, for some while already, the traffic has been increasing.
All is quiet in the house, me at "my end" of the kitchen table, except for the tick-tock of the living room clock and the tapping of these keys I hit.
Oh wow. I can't believe I am done.
It is October 22 2004.
On Feb 09 2004, I boarded a Qantas plane at Singapore and arrived here in Melbourne on Feb 10, early morning.
It was a drizzly day. It was my first time flying alone, I didn't had any sleep at all on the flight, and my first glimpse of this apartment was that it looked like a condo, like an apartment, not a home. It was spartan, it still is if not for our clutter, and oooh, yes, the lovely drum set. But since that day, this has become home in a lot more ways.
It has been some days past eight months since Melbourne became my city of residence. And it has been about eight months since I started school and now (unofficially, albeit) I end?
Between now and graduation on Dec 15, what do I do?
Actually, now what do I do is a question that flitted through my mind just... oh my gosh! The skies are turning blue!!! Sunrise is coming!!!
*scuttles off to get camera*
Am back.
This is so darn cool.
A number of times when I worked till after 4am, I told myself I should just stay up till 5am and catch the sunrise but never did. What better day than the last day I have to stay up late for work to do this?
It's 0453. Skies are turning indigo, I have an idea where the sun should be rising from but I don't see a significant lightness in the skies there.
I sit and wait.
Life.
Is.
Good.
This is odd.
All is done.
Done.
Completed.
I have finished my final essay, that one due next Tuesday, I have finished it.
I am feeling... feeling-less at the moment. Hah.
I remember blogging last year after a late night at work, 3am to be precise. I don't think I ever expected that 3am working nights would become such a norm for me now. Or rather, they have been.
Now that I don't have any more school work to do, maybe I won't stay up so late any more.
This is weird.
Is it done?
Yes, it is. My Asian Cinema essay on Asia and Asian-ness representation in Kill Bill Vol. 2, it is done. Not a brillant piece of work, and I realise how Cinema subjects are a lot more enjoyable during the semester when you are watching films and discussing them rather than having to put pen to paper and make coherent cultural arguments.
I just yawned. It's 0442am. For some reason, I feel wide awake. Despite that yawn, yes. Some night bird - nightingale, could it be? - has been singing somewhere outside for a long time and likewise, for some while already, the traffic has been increasing.
All is quiet in the house, me at "my end" of the kitchen table, except for the tick-tock of the living room clock and the tapping of these keys I hit.
Oh wow. I can't believe I am done.
It is October 22 2004.
On Feb 09 2004, I boarded a Qantas plane at Singapore and arrived here in Melbourne on Feb 10, early morning.
It was a drizzly day. It was my first time flying alone, I didn't had any sleep at all on the flight, and my first glimpse of this apartment was that it looked like a condo, like an apartment, not a home. It was spartan, it still is if not for our clutter, and oooh, yes, the lovely drum set. But since that day, this has become home in a lot more ways.
It has been some days past eight months since Melbourne became my city of residence. And it has been about eight months since I started school and now (unofficially, albeit) I end?
Between now and graduation on Dec 15, what do I do?
Actually, now what do I do is a question that flitted through my mind just... oh my gosh! The skies are turning blue!!! Sunrise is coming!!!
*scuttles off to get camera*
Am back.
This is so darn cool.
A number of times when I worked till after 4am, I told myself I should just stay up till 5am and catch the sunrise but never did. What better day than the last day I have to stay up late for work to do this?
It's 0453. Skies are turning indigo, I have an idea where the sun should be rising from but I don't see a significant lightness in the skies there.
I sit and wait.
Life.
Is.
Good.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
13:10.
I was lying half on my futon, Anna Sui's extraordinary moisturing mask (ah, the joys of freebies) at its rehydrating work and me just looking up at the clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds peeping in through the window.
And a sense of time struck me, like one of that imaginary Cupid's arrows.
That moment of perfect satisfaction, that moment of peace and contentment, that moment of wonder at the now-and-now, it will never repeat. Every moment will never ever replay again. They are here once and not ever again and this is time. This is life.
I look at my overspilling wardrobe drawers and contemplate life.
Thought about packing up the winter clothes and sending the coat to a dry cleaner.
Idyllically mentally running past shops front windows along Lygon and Elizabeth to remember where cheap dry cleaning services exist.
I thought about the people in my life now and my heart felt heavy at the thought of the tomorrows after I leave.
People with whom I make connections, acquaintances who I do care for and want to know better, beautiful people whose paths I want to share.
I think I feel most alive when I am answering doubts, comforting pain, sharing a life's tale.
So what? Every story gets cut off when I leave?
Goodbye S k y e T, nice knowing you. See you in heaven, maybe.
Is that it?
Oh the pain.
Maybe at the end of the day, I fight change as much as I fight normalcy.
And the only baggage I can bring is all that I can't leave behind.
My heart aches.
I was lying half on my futon, Anna Sui's extraordinary moisturing mask (ah, the joys of freebies) at its rehydrating work and me just looking up at the clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds peeping in through the window.
And a sense of time struck me, like one of that imaginary Cupid's arrows.
That moment of perfect satisfaction, that moment of peace and contentment, that moment of wonder at the now-and-now, it will never repeat. Every moment will never ever replay again. They are here once and not ever again and this is time. This is life.
I look at my overspilling wardrobe drawers and contemplate life.
Thought about packing up the winter clothes and sending the coat to a dry cleaner.
Idyllically mentally running past shops front windows along Lygon and Elizabeth to remember where cheap dry cleaning services exist.
I thought about the people in my life now and my heart felt heavy at the thought of the tomorrows after I leave.
People with whom I make connections, acquaintances who I do care for and want to know better, beautiful people whose paths I want to share.
I think I feel most alive when I am answering doubts, comforting pain, sharing a life's tale.
So what? Every story gets cut off when I leave?
Goodbye S k y e T, nice knowing you. See you in heaven, maybe.
Is that it?
Oh the pain.
Maybe at the end of the day, I fight change as much as I fight normalcy.
And the only baggage I can bring is all that I can't leave behind.
My heart aches.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
01:50.
Burn me up, wash me clean. When I'm with You, I don't need to speak. All are meaningless and words are vain. Yet with this form I enter now, I'll discard them in a while, for though words are my tools, definitions and craft, You are my peace and in quietness and trust, I will find rest in Christ alone.
On Fire, Switchfoot
Tell me where I need to go
Tell me when I'll need to leave
Tell me what I need to know
Tell me who I need to be
But everything inside me knows
There's more than what I've heard
So much more than empty conversations
Filled with empty words
And I'm on fire
When You're near me
I'm on fire
When You speak
I'm on fire
Burning at these mysteries
Give me one more time around
Give me one more chance to see
Give me everything You are
Give me one more chance to be... (near You)
Cause everything inside looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I'll take
When I'm on fire
When You're near me
I'm on fire
When You speak
And I'm on fire
Burning at these mysteries
these mysteries...
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge
Burn me up, wash me clean. When I'm with You, I don't need to speak. All are meaningless and words are vain. Yet with this form I enter now, I'll discard them in a while, for though words are my tools, definitions and craft, You are my peace and in quietness and trust, I will find rest in Christ alone.
On Fire, Switchfoot
Tell me where I need to go
Tell me when I'll need to leave
Tell me what I need to know
Tell me who I need to be
But everything inside me knows
There's more than what I've heard
So much more than empty conversations
Filled with empty words
And I'm on fire
When You're near me
I'm on fire
When You speak
I'm on fire
Burning at these mysteries
Give me one more time around
Give me one more chance to see
Give me everything You are
Give me one more chance to be... (near You)
Cause everything inside looks like
Everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I'll take
When I'm on fire
When You're near me
I'm on fire
When You speak
And I'm on fire
Burning at these mysteries
these mysteries...
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge of me
I'm standing on the edge
22:07.
I know: That we all still exist in the system and all that are here are coloured with the lens within the matrix. That being fallible, it is impossible for us not to make mistakes. And being human, the works of our hands are created, conceptualised, birthed from the cursed earth we hold them in. So when I see the failings in the way we choose leadership, smut on church hierarchy and the problems of religious language, it's nothing new. And nothing to bring out a guillotine for a new spin on Salem's. But knowing all these doesn't mean I feel better.
I know: That we all still exist in the system and all that are here are coloured with the lens within the matrix. That being fallible, it is impossible for us not to make mistakes. And being human, the works of our hands are created, conceptualised, birthed from the cursed earth we hold them in. So when I see the failings in the way we choose leadership, smut on church hierarchy and the problems of religious language, it's nothing new. And nothing to bring out a guillotine for a new spin on Salem's. But knowing all these doesn't mean I feel better.
Monday, October 18, 2004
21:58.
I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
So if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
So why don't we go
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
- Somewhere Only We Know, Keane
Such a melancholic song and so very beautiful. Not representative of my about-to-tackle-first-ever-cinema-essay mood but ah, so beautiful. And Marty did it immensely well too. There you go, my first Australian Idol reference in this blog.
Woebeme?
I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
And if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
Oh simple thing where have you gone
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin
So if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
So why don't we go
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
- Somewhere Only We Know, Keane
Such a melancholic song and so very beautiful. Not representative of my about-to-tackle-first-ever-cinema-essay mood but ah, so beautiful. And Marty did it immensely well too. There you go, my first Australian Idol reference in this blog.
Woebeme?
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Friday, October 15, 2004
12:52.
I am heartbroken.
Totally, absolutely impossibly heartbroken.
The physical area where that dub-tub organ sits physically hurts.
The lyric playing in my head for the moment is "Cry-ai-ai-ai-in" (Crying, by Roy Orbison). The song actually playing on my laptop is Here Is Gone, by Goo Goo Dolls.
My housemates just witnessed me wailing around the house.
Sigh.
Did S k y e T finally surpass that commitment phobia, ventured into a relationship and got hurt?
Hmm... the first bit is correct, the rest are figments of your imagination.
For the life of me, why I got so affected over an academic affair is beyond me.
Crown me the queen of nerds, even though I still need my roommate to exterminate the spyware and adware and various ailments that were in my laptop.
Ok, in a nutshell, story is this.
I submitted my final photography portfolio yesterday, deadline's today. I submitted the last assignment last week but the lecturer only got back to me today.
I got a 9/10 for my last assignment and I am utterly chuffed about that but *insert a dozen sighs* I didn't include half of the photographs in that assignment in my final portfolio. I pray this won't cost me my HD.
Hm. I am feeling okay already.
All right, moving on.
I am heartbroken.
Totally, absolutely impossibly heartbroken.
The physical area where that dub-tub organ sits physically hurts.
The lyric playing in my head for the moment is "Cry-ai-ai-ai-in" (Crying, by Roy Orbison). The song actually playing on my laptop is Here Is Gone, by Goo Goo Dolls.
My housemates just witnessed me wailing around the house.
Sigh.
Did S k y e T finally surpass that commitment phobia, ventured into a relationship and got hurt?
Hmm... the first bit is correct, the rest are figments of your imagination.
For the life of me, why I got so affected over an academic affair is beyond me.
Crown me the queen of nerds, even though I still need my roommate to exterminate the spyware and adware and various ailments that were in my laptop.
Ok, in a nutshell, story is this.
I submitted my final photography portfolio yesterday, deadline's today. I submitted the last assignment last week but the lecturer only got back to me today.
I got a 9/10 for my last assignment and I am utterly chuffed about that but *insert a dozen sighs* I didn't include half of the photographs in that assignment in my final portfolio. I pray this won't cost me my HD.
Hm. I am feeling okay already.
All right, moving on.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
16:40.
Article On SG's death penalty rate:
Mind you, I believe and applaud the work of Amnesty International and I'm not an advocater of the death penalty but if the spokeperson's best argument for our "safe and tough on crime" (you don't think there's a co-relation between the two?) city to rethink the death penalty is that "by carrying out high numbers of executions, Singapore is going against global trens towards abolition of the death penalty", then forgive me for expressing some scorn.
Your best argument is that we should abide by the majority?
There's a reason why I like Mahathir and his anti-West, nationalistic sentiments.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
22:45.
Excerpt from some Buffy fanbies pop culture references decoder site, about a comment one of the characters made about "to serve man":
" 'To Serve Man' is the title of an episode of The Twilight Zone in 1962. Aliens come to earth, offering man help. A book, which was written in an alien language, was decoded and was found named 'To Serve Man'. They thought this meant that this was a book on helping man, but it wasnt until they were on the ship that they realised that it was really a cookbook, and they were the main course."
*laughs till head pops*
Excerpt from some Buffy fanbies pop culture references decoder site, about a comment one of the characters made about "to serve man":
" 'To Serve Man' is the title of an episode of The Twilight Zone in 1962. Aliens come to earth, offering man help. A book, which was written in an alien language, was decoded and was found named 'To Serve Man'. They thought this meant that this was a book on helping man, but it wasnt until they were on the ship that they realised that it was really a cookbook, and they were the main course."
*laughs till head pops*
15:55.
Lyrics and prayer
Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Prone to wander Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
Let Thy grace Lord like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Lyrics and prayer
Come thou fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Prone to wander Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy redeeming love
O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
Let Thy grace Lord like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander Lord I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Here's my heart Lord take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above
Friday, October 08, 2004
Monday, October 04, 2004
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.
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.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
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
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
Friday, October 01, 2004
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.
*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.
